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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Contemporary One-Act Plays, by Various
+
+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
+
+
+Title: Contemporary One-Act Plays
+
+Compiler: B. Roland Lewis
+
+Author: Sir James M. Barrie
+        George Middleton
+        Althea Thurston
+        Percy Mackaye
+        Lady Augusta Gregor
+        Eugene Pillot
+        Anton Tchekov
+        Bosworth Crocker
+        Alfred Kreymborg
+        Paul Greene
+        Arthur Hopkins
+        Paul Hervieu
+        Jeannette Marks
+        Oscar M. Wolff
+        David Pinski
+        Beulah Bornstead
+        Hermann Sudermann
+        August Strindberg
+
+Release Date: November 10, 2011 [EBook #37970]
+[Last updated: January 23, 2012]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+
+
+
+CONTEMPORARY
+ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+WITH OUTLINE STUDY OF THE
+ONE-ACT PLAY AND BIBLIOGRAPHIES
+
+BY
+
+B. ROLAND LEWIS
+
+Professor and Head of the Department of English in the University of Utah;
+Author of "The Technique of the One-Act Play"
+
+CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+
+NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+The plays in this book are fully protected by copyright and the
+professional and amateur stage rights are reserved by the authors.
+Applications for their use should be made to the respective authors or
+publishers, as designated
+
+             TO
+     THE MEN AND WOMEN
+WHO SO KINDLY HAVE PERMITTED ME TO
+  REPRINT THESE ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+This collection of one-act plays appears because of an increasingly
+large demand for such a volume. The plays have been selected and the
+Introduction prepared to meet the need of the student or teacher who
+desires to acquaint himself with the one-act play as a specific dramatic
+form.
+
+The plays included have been selected with this need in mind.
+Accordingly, emphasis has been placed upon the wholesome and uplifting
+rather than upon the sordid and the ultra-realistic. The unduly
+sentimental, the strikingly melodramatic, and the play of questionable
+moral problems, has been consciously avoided. Comedies, tragedies,
+farces, and melodramas have been included; but the chief concern has
+been that each play should be good, dramatic art.
+
+The _Dramatic Analysis and Construction of the One-Act Play_, which
+appears in the Introduction, also has been prepared for the student or
+teacher. This outline-analysis and the plays in this volume are
+sufficient material, if carefully studied, for an understanding and
+appreciation of the one-act play.
+
+B. ROLAND LEWIS.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+INTRODUCTION                                                           3
+
+
+                 LIST OF PLAYS
+
+THE TWELVE-POUND LOOK      _Sir James M. Barrie_                      17
+
+TRADITION                  _George Middleton_                         43
+
+THE EXCHANGE               _Althea Thurston_                          61
+
+SAM AVERAGE                _Percy Mackaye_                            85
+
+HYACINTH HALVEY            _Lady Augusta Gregory_                    103
+
+THE GAZING GLOBE           _Eugene Pillot_                           139
+
+THE BOOR                   _Anton Tchekov_                           155
+
+THE LAST STRAW             _Bosworth Crocker_                        175
+
+MANIKIN AND MINIKIN        _Alfred Kreymborg_                        197
+
+WHITE DRESSES              _Paul Greene_                             215
+
+MOONSHINE                  _Arthur Hopkins_                          239
+
+MODESTY                    _Paul Hervieu_                            255
+
+THE DEACON'S HAT           _Jeannette Marks_                         273
+
+WHERE BUT IN AMERICA       _Oscar M. Wolff_                          301
+
+A DOLLAR                   _David Pinski_                            321
+
+THE DIABOLICAL CIRCLE      _Beulah Bornstead_                        343
+
+THE FAR-AWAY PRINCESS      _Hermann Sudermann_                       365
+
+THE STRONGER               _August Strindberg_                       393
+
+
+               BIBLIOGRAPHIES
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+COLLECTIONS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS                                         405
+
+LISTS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS                                               406
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY OF REFERENCE ON THE ONE-ACT PLAY                        408
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY ON HOW TO PRODUCE PLAYS                                 409
+
+
+
+
+CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+THE ONE-ACT PLAY AS A SPECIFIC DRAMATIC TYPE
+
+
+The one-act play is with us and is asking for consideration. It is
+challenging our attention whether we will or no. In both Europe and
+America it is one of the conspicuous factors in present-day dramatic
+activity. Theatre managers, stage designers, actors, playwrights, and
+professors in universities recognize its presence as a vital force.
+Professional theatre folk and amateurs especially are devoting zestful
+energy both to the writing and to the producing of this shorter form of
+drama.
+
+The one-act play is claiming recognition as a specific dramatic type. It
+may be said that, as an art form, it has achieved that distinction. The
+short story, as every one knows, was once an embryo and an experiment;
+but few nowadays would care to hold that it has not developed into a
+specific and worthy literary form. This shorter form of prose fiction
+was once apologetic, and that not so many years ago; but it has come
+into its own and now is recognized as a distinct type of prose
+narrative. The one-act play, like the short story, also has come into
+its own. No longer is it wholly an experiment. Indeed, it is succeeding
+in high places. The one-act play is taking its place among the
+significant types of dramatic and literary expression.
+
+Artistically and technically considered, the one-act play is quite as
+much a distinctive dramatic problem as the longer play. In writing
+either, the playwright aims so to handle his material that he will get
+his central intent to his audience and will provoke their interest and
+emotional response thereto. Both aim at a singleness of impression and
+dramatic effect; both aim to be a high order of art. Yet since the one
+is shorter and more condensed, it follows that the dramaturgy of the one
+is somewhat different from that of the other, just as the technic of the
+cameo is different from the technic of the full-sized statue. The
+one-act play must, as it were, be presented at a "single setting": it
+must start quickly at the beginning with certain definite dramatic
+elements and pass rapidly and effectively to a crucial movement without
+halt or digression. A careful analysis of any one of the plays in this
+volume, like Anton Tchekov's _The Boor_, or like Oscar M. Wolff's _Where
+But in America_, will reveal this fact. The shorter form of drama, like
+the short story, has a technical method characteristically its own.
+
+It is a truth that the one-act play is well made or it is nothing at
+all. A careful analysis of Sir James M. Barrie's _The Twelve-Pound
+Look_, Paul Hervieu's _Modesty_, Althea Thurston's _The Exchange_, will
+reveal that these representative one-act plays are well made and are
+real bits of dramatic art. A good one-act play is not a mere cheap
+mechanical _tour de force_; mechanics and artistry it has, of course,
+but it is also a high order of art product. A delicately finished cameo
+is quite as much a work of art as is the larger statue; both have
+mechanics and design in their structure, but those of the cameo are more
+deft and more highly specialized than those of the statue, because the
+work of the former is done under far more restricted conditions. The
+one-act play at its best is cunningly wrought.
+
+Naturally, the material of the one-act play is a bit episodical. It
+deals with but a single situation. A study of the plays in this volume
+will reveal that no whole life's story can be treated adequately in the
+short play, and that no complexity of plot can be employed. Unlike the
+longer play, the shorter form of drama shows not the whole man--except
+by passing hint--but a significant moment or experience, a significant
+character-trait. However vividly this chosen moment may be
+interpreted--and the one-act play must be vivid--much will still be
+left to the imagination. It is the aim of the one-act form to trace the
+causal relations of but _one_ circumstance so that the circumstance may
+be intensified. The writer of the one-act play deliberately isolates so
+that he may throw the strong flashlight more searchingly on some one
+significant event, on some fundamental element of character, on some
+moving emotion. He presents in a vigorous, compressed, and suggestive
+way a simplification and idealization of a particular part or aspect of
+life. Often he opens but a momentary little vista of life, but it is so
+clear-cut and so significant that a whole life is often revealed
+thereby.
+
+The student must not think that because the one-act play deals with but
+one crisis or but one simplified situation, it is therefore weak and
+inconsequential. On the contrary, since only one event or situation can
+be emphasized, it follows that the writer is obliged to choose the one
+determining crisis which makes or mars the supreme struggle of a soul,
+the one great change or turning-point or end of a life history. Often
+such moments are the really vital material for drama; nothing affords so
+much opportunity for striking analysis, for emotional stress, for the
+suggestion of a whole character sketched in the act of meeting its test.
+
+The one-act play is a vital literary product. To segregate a bit of
+significant experience and to present a finished picture of its aspects
+and effects; to dissect a motive so searchingly and skilfully that its
+very roots are laid bare; to detach a single figure from a dramatic
+sequence and portray the essence of its character; to bring a series of
+actions into the clear light of day in a sudden and brief human crisis;
+to tell a significant story briefly and with suggestion; to portray the
+humor of a person or an incident, or in a trice to reveal the touch of
+tragedy resting like the finger of fate on an experience or on a
+character--these are some of the possibilities of the one-act play when
+bandied by a master dramatist.
+
+
+THE PROPER APPROACH TO THE STUDY OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+To read a one-act play merely to get its story is not in itself an
+exercise of any extraordinary value. This sort of approach to any form
+of literature does not require much appreciation of literary art nor
+much intelligence. Almost any normal-minded person can read a play for
+its story with but little expenditure of mental effort. Proper
+appreciation of a one-act play requires more than a casual reading whose
+chief aim is no more than getting the plot.
+
+If the shorter form of drama is to be appreciated properly as a real
+literary form, it must be approached from the point of view of its
+artistry and technic. This means that the student should understand its
+organic construction and technic, just as he should understand the
+organic construction and technic of a short story, a ballad, or a
+perfect sonnet, if he is to appreciate them properly.
+
+The student should know _what_ the dramatist intends to get across the
+footlights to his audience, and should be able to detect _how_ he
+accomplishes the desired result.
+
+It must not be thought that the author urges a study of construction at
+the expense of the human values in a play. On the contrary, such a study
+is but the means whereby the human values are made the more manifest.
+Surely no one would argue that the less one knows about the technic of
+music the better able is one to appreciate music. Indeed, it is not too
+much to say that, within reasonable limits, no one can really appreciate
+a one-act play if one does not know at least the fundamentals of its
+dramatic organization.
+
+In fact, students of the one-act play recognize in its constructive
+regularity not a hindrance to its beauty but a genuine power. This but
+lends to it the charm of perfection. The sonnet and the cameo are
+admirable, if for no other reason than their superior workmanship. The
+one-act play does not lose by any reason of its technical requirements;
+indeed, this is one of its greatest assets. And the student who will
+take the pains to familiarize himself with the organic construction of a
+typical one-act play will have gone a long way in arriving at a proper
+appreciation of this shorter form of drama.
+
+
+DRAMATIC ANALYSIS AND CONSTRUCTION OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+I. THE THEME OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+The one-act play, like the short story, is a work of literary art, and
+must be approached as such. Just like a painting or a poem or a fine
+public building, the one-act play aims at making a _singleness of
+effect_ upon the reader or observer. One does not judge a statue, or a
+poem, or any other work of art, by the appearance of any isolated part
+of it, but by the sum-total effect of the whole. The fundamental aim of
+a one-act play is that it shall so present a singleness of effect to the
+reader or to the assembled group who have gathered to witness a
+performance of it, that the reader or observer will be provoked to
+emotional response thereto.
+
+Thus, when a student reads a play like George Middleton's _Tradition_,
+he is made to see and feel that the life of a daughter has been
+handicapped and the longings of a mother smothered because of the
+conventional narrowness of an otherwise loving father. This is the
+singleness of effect of the play; this is its theme. This is precisely
+what the author of the play wished his reader or observer to see and
+feel. When one reads Bosworth Crocker's _The Last Straw_, one feels that
+a reasonably good and worthy man, because of his sensitiveness to
+criticism, has been driven to despair and to a tragic end by the
+malicious gossip of neighbors. One's sense of pity at his misfortune is
+aroused. This is what the author intended to do. This idea and effect is
+the theme of the play. And when the student reads Paul Hervieu's
+_Modesty_, he feels that a woman, even though she may lead herself into
+thinking she prefers brutal frankness, instinctively likes affection and
+even flattery. This is the effect produced by the play; this is its
+intent; this is its theme.
+
+In approaching a one-act play, then, the very first consideration should
+be to determine what the purpose and intent of the play is--to determine
+its theme. This demands that the play be read through complete at one
+sitting and that no premature conclusions be drawn. Once the play is
+read, it is well to subject the play to certain leading questions. What
+has the author intended that his reader or hearer shall understand,
+think, or feel? What is the play about? What is its object and purpose?
+Is it a precept or an observation found in life, or is it a bit of
+fancy? Is it artificially didactic and moralizing? With what fundamental
+element in human nature does it have to do: Love? Patriotism? Fear?
+Egotism and self-centredness? Sacrifice? Faithfulness? Or what?
+
+A word of warning should be given. The student should not get the idea
+that by theme is meant the moral of the play. A good play may be
+thoroughly moral without its descending to commonplace moralizing. Good
+plays concern themselves with the presentation of the fundamentals of
+life rather than a creed of morals, theories, and propagandas. Art
+concerns itself with larger things than didactic and argumentative
+moralizing.
+
+
+II. THE TECHNIC OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+Once the student satisfies himself as to the singleness of effect or
+theme of the play, he will do well to set himself to the task of seeing
+just how the dramatist has achieved this effect. He should keep in mind
+that the playwright is a skilled workman; that he has predetermined for
+himself just what he wishes his audience to think, feel, or understand,
+and has marshalled all his materials to that end. The way by which he
+accomplishes that end is his technic. Technic is but the practical
+method by which an artist can most effectively convey his message to
+his public. In a play the materials that the dramatist uses to this end
+are character, plot, dialogue, and stage direction. If he is skilled he
+will use these elements in such a way that the result will be an
+artistic whole, a singleness of effect, an organized unit that will
+exemplify and express his theme.
+
+_A._ THE CHARACTERS IN THE ONE-ACT PLAY.--Generally speaking, drama
+grows out of character. Farce, melodrama, and extravaganza usually
+consist of situation rather than of character. In any event, the student
+should avail himself of every means to understand the characters in the
+play under discussion. His real appreciation of the play will be in
+direct ratio almost to his understanding of the persons in the drama.
+Any attention given to this end will be energy well spent. The student
+should get into the very heart of the characters, as it were.
+
+Thus, ADONIJAH, in Beulah Bornstead's _The Diabolical Circle_, is a
+narrow, self-centred, Puritan egotist who has little about his
+personality to appeal to the romantic and vivacious BETTY. LADY SIMS, in
+Sir James M. Barrie's _The Twelve-Pound Look_, is a woman who really is
+pathetic in her longing for some human independence in the presence of
+her self-centred husband, "SIR" HARRY SIMS. And MANIKIN and MINIKIN, in
+Alfred Kreymborg's _Manikin and Minikin_, are conventionalized puppets
+representing the light yet half-serious bickerings, jealousies, and
+quarrellings of human nature.
+
+The student will do well to characterize the _dramatis personæ_
+deliberately and specifically. He should not now value himself for
+working fast; for things done in a hurry usually lack depth. He must not
+be content with vague and thin generalities. In analyzing a character it
+might be well to apply some specific questions similar to the following:
+Just what is the elemental human quality in the character? Loving?
+Trusting? Egotistic? Superstitious? Revengeful? Treacherous? Selfish?
+Discontented? Optimistic? Romantic? Or what? How does the dramatist
+characterize them: By action? By dialogue? By spirit of likes and
+dislikes? By racial trait? By religion? By peculiarity of manner,
+speech, appearance? Are the characters really dramatic: are they
+impelled to strong emotional reaction upon each other and upon
+situation? Do they provoke one's dramatic sympathy? Do they make one
+feel their own point of view and their own motives for conduct?
+
+_B._ THE PLOT OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY.--Plot and character are integrally
+interlinked. Plot is not merely story taken from every-day life, where
+seldom do events occur in a series of closely following minor crucial
+moments leading to a climax. The dramatist so constructs his material
+that there is a sequential and causal interplay of dramatic forces,
+ending in some major crisis or crucial moment. Plot may be said to be
+the framework and constructed story by which a dramatist exemplifies his
+theme. It does not exist for its own end, but is one of the fundamental
+means whereby the playwright gets his singleness of effect, or theme, to
+his reader or hearer. From the story material at his disposal the
+playwright constructs his plot to this very end.
+
+Careful attention should be given to the plot. The student should
+question it carefully. Do the plot materials seem to have been taken
+from actual life? Or do they seem to be invented? Is the plot well
+suited to exemplifying the theme? Reconstruct the story out of which the
+plot may have been built. Since the plot of a one-act play is highly
+simplified, determine whether there are any complexities, any
+irrelevancies, any digressions. Does the plot have a well-defined
+beginning, middle, and end?
+
+1. _The Beginning of the One-Act Play._--Having but a relatively short
+time at its disposal, usually about thirty minutes and seldom more than
+forty-five minutes, the beginning of a one-act play is very short. It is
+characterized by condensation, compactness, and brevity. Seldom is the
+beginning more than a half-page in length; often the play is got under
+way in two or three speeches. The student will do well to practise to
+the end that he will recognize instantly when the dramatic background of
+a one-act play has been laid.
+
+Whatever else may characterize the beginning, it must be dramatically
+effective. Instantly it must catch the powers of perception by making
+them aware of the initial situation out of which the subsequent dramatic
+action will develop. A good beginning makes one _feel_ that suddenly he
+has come face to face with a situation which cannot be solved without an
+interplay of dramatic forces to a given final result.
+
+Thus, when one reads Althea Thurston's _The Exchange_, one is made
+suddenly to feel that human beings are discontent with their
+shortcomings and possessed qualities, and that they always feel that
+they would be happier if they possessed something other than what they
+have. The JUDGE, who handles the cases as they come in for exchange, is
+disgusted with the vanities of humankind, and is ready to clear his
+hands of the whole matter. Here is a situation; it is the beginning of
+the play. In the beginning of Lady Gregory's _Hyacinth Halvey_ one is
+brought suddenly to the realization that HYACINTH HALVEY instinctively
+rebels against the highly colored and artificially created good name
+that has been unwittingly superimposed upon him. This situation,
+suddenly presented, is the beginning of the play. Out of this initial
+situation the subsequent dramatic action evolves.
+
+Is the beginning too short? Too long? Does it make the initial dramatic
+situation clear? How has the playwright made it clear and effective?
+Just where is the end of the beginning? Although the beginning and the
+subsequent plot development are well blended together, so that there is
+no halting where the beginning ends, usually one can detect where the
+one ends and the other begins. It is a good idea, for the purpose of
+developing a sense of the organic structure of the one-act play, to draw
+a line across the page of the play, just where the one ends and the
+other begins.
+
+The _setting_ of the play is a part of the beginning. Is the setting
+realistic? Romantic? Fantastic or bizarre? Are the details of stage
+design, properties, and especially the atmosphere and color scheme in
+harmony with the tone of the play itself? Is the setting really an
+organic part of the play or is it something apart from it? Note that the
+setting is usually written in the third person, present tense, and in
+italics.
+
+2. _The Middle of the One-Act Play._--The middle of a one-act play is
+concerned primarily with the main crucial moment or climax and the
+dramatic movement that from the beginning leads up to it. A good play
+consists of a series of minor crises leading up to a major crisis or
+crucial moment. It is for this crucial moment that the play exists; it
+is for this big scene precisely that the play has been written. Indeed,
+the play succeeds or fails as the crucial moment is strongly dramatic or
+flabbily weak. This is the part of the play that is strongest in
+dramatic tension, strongest in emotional functioning.
+
+A study of Sir James M. Barrie's _The Twelve-Pound Look_ shows that the
+crucial moment comes at the point where "SIR" HARRY SIMS in his
+self-centred egotism discovers that his wife's, LADY SIMS'S,
+heart-longing could easily be satisfied if she were permitted no other
+freedom than merely operating a typewriter. In Althea Thurston's _The
+Exchange_ the crucial moment comes when the several characters, who
+unwittingly had exchanged one ill for a worse one, find that they can
+never re-exchange, and that they must endure the torments and
+displeasure of the newly acquired ill throughout life.
+
+Just where is the crucial moment or climax in the play under
+consideration? Determine the several minor crises that lead up to the
+crucial moment. Is the crucial moment delayed too long for good dramatic
+effect? Or is it reached too soon, so that the play is too short and too
+sudden in reaching the climax? Does it make one _feel_ that some vital
+result has been attained in the plot movement? Is it characterized by
+strong situation and by strong emotional reactions of character on
+character or of character on situation?
+
+For purposes of impressing a sense the organic structure of a one-act
+play, it is a good plan to draw a horizontal line across the page at the
+close of the crucial moment. Keep in mind, however, that the crucial
+moment is _not_ the end of the play as it appears on the printed page or
+as it is acted on the stage.
+
+3. _The End of the One-Act Play._--The end of the one-act play is an
+important consideration. Too often it is entirely lost sight of. It is
+the part that frequently makes or mars a play. When the crucial moment
+or climax has been reached, the plot action of the play is completed,
+but the play is not yet completed. The play needs yet to be rounded out
+into an artistic and dramatic whole. In life the actual crisis in human
+affairs is not often our chiefest interest, but the reaction of
+characters immediately _after_ the crisis has occurred. Thus, in a play,
+the emotional reaction of the characters on the crucial moment and the
+more or less sudden readjustment between characters after the crucial
+moment must be presented. For this very purpose the end of the one-act
+play is constructed. The end is of need very short--usually even shorter
+than the beginning. Usually the end consists of but a speech or two, or
+sometimes only of pantomime that more effectively expresses the
+emotional reactions of the characters on the crucial moment than
+dialogue.
+
+Thus, in Sir James M. Barrie's _The Twelve-Pound Look_, the end consists
+of but pantomime, in which "SIR" HARRY expresses his emotional reaction
+upon his wife's longing for the human liberty that even the operating of
+a typewriter would provide her. The end of Bosworth Crocker's _The Last
+Straw_ comes immediately after the pistol-shot is heard in the adjoining
+room and MRS. BAUER'S voice is heard: "Fritz! Fritz! Speak to me! Look
+at me, Fritz! You didn't do it, Fritz! I know you didn't do it!" etc.
+
+Is the end of the play under consideration in terms of dialogue? In
+pantomime? Or both? Is it too long? Too short? Is it dramatic? Is it
+conclusive and satisfying?
+
+_C._ DIALOGUE OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY.--Dialogue, like plot and
+characterization, is another means whereby the theme of the play is got
+to the reader or audience. Good dramatic dialogue is constructed to this
+very end. It is not the commonplace, rambling, uncertain, and realistic
+question and answer of every-day life. Usually good dramatic dialogue is
+crisp, direct, condensed. It is the substance but not the form of
+ordinary conversation. Its chiefest characteristic is spontaneity.
+
+_The highest type of dramatic dialogue is that which expresses the ideas
+and emotions of characters at the points of highest emotional
+functioning._ It will readily be seen, then, that not all dialogue in a
+play is necessarily dramatic. In truth, the best dramatic dialogue
+occurs in conjunction with the series of minor crises and the crucial
+moment that go to make up the dramatic movement of the play. Often there
+is much dialogue in a play that essentially is not dramatic at all.
+
+In analyzing dramatic dialogue it is well to inquire whether in the play
+it serves (1) to express the ideas and emotions of characters at points
+of highest emotional functioning, (2) to advance the plot, (3) to reveal
+character, or (4) what. Is it brief, clear, direct, spontaneous? Or is
+it careless, loose, insipid? Wit, repartee? Didactic, moralizing?
+Satirical, cynical?
+
+_D._ STAGE-BUSINESS AND STAGE-DIRECTION IN THE ONE-ACT PLAY.--The
+stage-business and stage-direction, usually printed in italics, of a
+play are an essential part of a drama. They must not be ignored in
+either reading or staging a play. The novel or short story generally
+uses narration and description to achieve its desired result; a play, on
+the contrary, uses dialogue and concrete objective pantomime that may be
+seen readily with the eye. A play is not a story narrated in
+chronological order of events, but it is a story so handled and so
+constructed that it can be acted on a stage by actors before an
+audience. It is a series of minor crises leading to a major crisis,
+presented to a reader or to an audience by characters, dialogue, and
+stage-business and pantomime. For purposes of indicating the pantomimic
+action of the play, the dramatist resorts to stage-business and
+stage-direction.
+
+Does the stage-direction aid in making (1) the dialogue, (2) the plot,
+(3) the dramatic action, or (4) the character more clear? Does it
+shorten the play? Does it express idea, emotion, or situations more
+effectively than could dialogue, if it were used?
+
+And, finally, do not judge any play until all the evidence is in, until
+you have thoroughly mastered every detail and have fully conceived the
+_author's idea_ and _purpose_. It is not a question whether _you_ would
+have selected such a theme or whether _you_ would have handled it in the
+same way in which the author did; but the point is does the _author_ in
+_his_ way make _his_ theme clear to you. The author has conceived a
+dramatic problem in his _own mind_ and has set it forth in _his own
+way_. The question is, does he make you see his result and his method?
+
+Do you like the play? Or do you not like it? State your reason in either
+case. Is it because of the author? Is it because of the theme? Is it
+because of the technic--the way he gets his intent to his reader or
+audience? Is it because of your own likes or dislikes; preconceived
+notions or prejudices? Is it because of the acting? Of the staging or
+setting? Does it uplift or depress? Does it provoke you to emotional
+functioning?
+
+    "Though old the thought and oft expressed,
+    'Tis his at last who says it best."
+
+
+
+
+THE TWELVE-POUND LOOK
+
+BY
+
+SIR JAMES M. BARRIE
+
+
+_The Twelve-Pound Look_ is reprinted by permission of Charles Scribner's
+Sons, the publisher in America of the works of Sir James M. Barrie. For
+permission to perform, address the publisher.
+
+
+SIR JAMES M. BARRIE
+
+Sir James M. Barrie is rated as the foremost English dramatist of the
+day; and his plays, taken together, make the most significant
+contribution to English drama since Sheridan. Practically his entire
+life has been given to the writing of novels and plays, many of the
+latter having their heroines conceived especially for Maude Adams, one
+of America's greatest actresses. He was born in Kirriemuir, Scotland, in
+1860. He received his education at Dumfries and Edinburgh University.
+His first work in journalism and letters was done at Nottingham, but
+soon he took up his work in London, where he now resides.
+
+Sir James M. Barrie's literary labors have been very fruitful. His _The
+Professor's Love Story_, _The Little Minister_, _Quality Street_, _The
+Admirable Crichton_, _Peter Pan_, _What Every Woman Knows_, and _Alice
+Sit-by-the-Fire_ are well known to every one.
+
+In 1914 there appeared a volume of one-act plays, _Half Hours_, the most
+important of which is _The Twelve-Pound Look_. And in 1918 appeared a
+volume, _Echoes of the War_, the most important one-act play therein
+being _The Old Lady Shows Her Medals_.
+
+Barrie is a great playwright because he is so thoroughly human. All the
+little whimsicalities, sentiments, little loves, and heart-longings of
+human beings are ever present in his plays. He is no reformer, no
+propagandist. He appeals to the emotions rather than to the intellect.
+He continues the romantic tradition in English drama and gives us plays
+that are wholesome, tender, and human. And with all this, he has the
+added saving grace of a most absorbing humor.
+
+While Barrie is not a devotee of the well-made play, his _The
+Twelve-Pound Look_ is one of the most nearly perfect one-act plays of
+contemporary drama. His interest in human personalities is not more
+manifest in any of his plays than in LADY SIMS and "SIR" HARRY SIMS in
+this play.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+
+    "SIR" HARRY SIMS
+    LADY SIMS
+    KATE
+    TOMBES
+
+
+
+
+THE TWELVE-POUND LOOK[A]
+
+
+     _If quite convenient (as they say about checks) you are to conceive
+     that the scene is laid in your own house, and that_ HARRY SIMS _is
+     you. Perhaps the ornamentation of the house is a trifle
+     ostentatious, but if you cavil at that we are willing to
+     redecorate: you don't get out of being_ HARRY SIMS _on a mere
+     matter of plush and dados. It pleases us to make him a city man,
+     but (rather than lose you) he can be turned with a scrape of the
+     pen into a K.C., fashionable doctor, Secretary of State, or what
+     you will. We conceive him of a pleasant rotundity with a thick red
+     neck, but we shall waive that point if you know him to be thin._
+
+     _It is that day in your career when everything went wrong just when
+     everything seemed to be superlatively right._
+
+     _In_ HARRY'S _case it was a woman who did the mischief. She came to
+     him in his great hour and told him she did not admire him. Of
+     course he turned her out of the house and was soon himself again,
+     but it spoiled the morning for him. This is the subject of the
+     play, and quite enough too._
+
+     HARRY _is to receive the honor of knighthood in a few days, and we
+     discover him in the sumptuous "snuggery" of his home in Kensington
+     (or is it Westminster?), rehearsing the ceremony with his wife.
+     They have been at it all the morning, a pleasing occupation._ MRS.
+     SIMS _(as we may call her for the last time, as it were, and
+     strictly as a good-natured joke) is wearing her presentation gown,
+     and personates the august one who is about to dub her_ HARRY
+     _knight. She is seated regally. Her jewelled shoulders proclaim
+     aloud her husband's generosity. She must be an extraordinarily
+     proud and happy woman, yet she has a drawn face and shrinking ways,
+     as if there were some one near her of whom she is afraid. She claps
+     her hands, as the signal to_ HARRY. _He enters bowing, and with a
+     graceful swerve of the leg. He is only partly in costume, the sword
+     and the real stockings not having arrived yet. With a gliding
+     motion that is only delayed while one leg makes up on the other, he
+     reaches his wife, and, going on one knee, raises her hand superbly
+     to his lips. She taps him on the shoulder with a paper-knife and
+     says huskily: "Rise, Sir Harry." He rises, bows, and glides about
+     the room, going on his knees to various articles of furniture, and
+     rises from each a knight. It is a radiant domestic scene, and_
+     HARRY _is as dignified as if he knew that royalty was rehearsing it
+     at the other end_.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Complacently._] Did that seem all right, eh?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Much relieved._] I think perfect.
+
+SIR HARRY. But was it dignified?
+
+LADY SIMS. Oh, very. And it will be still more so when you have the
+sword.
+
+SIR HARRY. The sword will lend it an air. There are really the five
+moments--[_suiting the action to the word_]--the glide--the dip--the
+kiss--the tap--and you back out a knight. It's short, but it's a very
+beautiful ceremony. [_Kindly._] Anything you can suggest?
+
+LADY SIMS. No--oh, no. [_Nervously, seeing him pause to kiss the tassel
+of a cushion._] You don't think you have practised till you know what to
+do almost too well?
+
+     [_He has been in a blissful temper, but such niggling criticism
+     would try any man._
+
+SIR HARRY. I do not. Don't talk nonsense. Wait till your opinion is
+asked for.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Abashed._] I'm sorry, Harry. [_A perfect butler appears and
+presents a card._] "The Flora Typewriting Agency."
+
+SIR HARRY. Ah, yes. I telephoned them to send some one. A woman, I
+suppose, Tombes?
+
+TOMBES. Yes, Sir Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. Show her in here. [_He has very lately become a stickler for
+etiquette._] And, Tombes, strictly speaking, you know, I am not Sir
+Harry till Thursday.
+
+TOMBES. Beg pardon, sir, but it is such a satisfaction to us.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Good-naturedly._] Ah, they like it down-stairs, do they?
+
+TOMBES. [_Unbending._] Especially the females, Sir Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. Exactly. You can show her in, Tombes. [_The butler departs on
+his mighty task._] You can tell the woman what she is wanted for, Emmy,
+while I change. [_He is too modest to boast about himself, and prefers
+to keep a wife in the house for that purpose._] You can tell her the
+sort of things about me that will come better from you. [_Smiling
+happily._] You heard what Tombes said: "Especially the females." And he
+is right. Success! The women like it even better than the men. And
+rightly. For they share. _You_ share, _Lady_ Sims. Not a woman will see
+that gown without being sick with envy of it. I know them. Have all our
+lady friends in to see it. It will make them ill for a week.
+
+     [_These sentiments carry him off light-heartedly, and presently the
+     disturbing element is shown in. She is a mere typist, dressed in
+     uncommonly good taste, but at contemptibly small expense, and she
+     is carrying her typewriter in a friendly way rather than as a badge
+     of slavery, as of course it is. Her eye is clear; and in odd
+     contrast to_ LADY SIMS, _she is self-reliant and serene_.
+
+KATE. [_Respectfully, but she should have waited to be spoken to._] Good
+morning, madam.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_In her nervous way, and scarcely noticing that the typist
+is a little too ready with her tongue._] Good morning. [_As a first
+impression she rather likes the woman, and the woman, though it is
+scarcely worth mentioning, rather likes her._ LADY SIMS _has a maid for
+buttoning and unbuttoning her, and probably another for waiting on the
+maid, and she gazes with a little envy perhaps at a woman who does
+things for herself_.] Is that the typewriting machine?
+
+KATE. [_Who is getting it ready for use._] Yes. [_Not "Yes, madam" as it
+ought to be._] I suppose if I am to work here I may take this off. I get
+on better without it. [_She is referring to her hat._
+
+LADY SIMS. Certainly. [_But the hat is already off._] I ought to
+apologize for my gown. I am to be presented this week, and I was trying
+it on.
+
+     [_Her tone is not really apologetic. She is rather clinging to the
+     glory of her gown, wistfully, as if not absolutely certain, you
+     know, that it is a glory._
+
+KATE. It is beautiful, if I may presume to say so.
+
+     [_She frankly admires it. She probably has a best and a second best
+     of her own; that sort of thing._
+
+LADY SIMS. [_With a flush of pride in the gown._] Yes, it is very
+beautiful. [_The beauty of it gives her courage._] Sit down, please.
+
+KATE. [_The sort of woman who would have sat down in any case._] I
+suppose it is some copying you want done? I got no particulars. I was
+told to come to this address, but that was all.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Almost with the humility of a servant._] Oh, it is not work
+for me, it is for my husband, and what he needs is not exactly copying.
+[_Swelling, for she is proud of_ HARRY.] He wants a number of letters
+answered--hundreds of them--letters and telegrams of congratulation.
+
+KATE. [_As if it were all in the day's work._] Yes?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Remembering that_ HARRY _expects every wife to do her
+duty_.] My husband is a remarkable man. He is about to be knighted.
+[_Pause, but_ KATE _does not fall to the floor_.] He is to be knighted
+for his services to--[_on reflection_]--for his services. [_She is
+conscious that she is not doing_ HARRY _justice_.] He can explain it so
+much better than I can.
+
+KATE. [_In her businesslike way._] And I am to answer the
+congratulations?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Afraid that it will be a hard task._] Yes.
+
+KATE. [_Blithely_] It is work I have had some experience of. [_She
+proceeds to type._
+
+LADY SIMS. But you can't begin till you know what he wants to say.
+
+KATE. Only a specimen letter. Won't it be the usual thing?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_To whom this is a new idea._] Is there a usual thing?
+
+KATE. Oh, yes.
+
+     [_She continues to type, and_ LADY SIMS, _half-mesmerized, gazes at
+     her nimble fingers. The useless woman watches the useful one, and
+     she sighs, she could not tell why._
+
+LADY SIMS. How quickly you do it! It must be delightful to be able to do
+something, and to do it well.
+
+KATE. [_Thankfully._] Yes, it is delightful.
+
+LADY SIMS [_Again remembering the source of all her greatness._] But,
+excuse me, I don't think that will be any use. My husband wants me to
+explain to you that his is an exceptional case. He did not try to get
+this honor in any way. It was a complete surprise to him----
+
+KATE. [_Who is a practical_ KATE _and no dealer in sarcasm_.] That is
+what I have written.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_In whom sarcasm would meet a dead wall._] But how could you
+know?
+
+KATE. I only guessed.
+
+LADY SIMS. Is that the usual thing?
+
+KATE. Oh, yes.
+
+LADY SIMS. They don't try to get it?
+
+KATE. I don't know. That is what we are told to say in the letters.
+
+     [_To her at present the only important thing about the letters is
+     that they are ten shillings the hundred._
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Returning to surer ground._] I should explain that my
+husband is not a man who cares for honors. So long as he does his
+duty----
+
+KATE. Yes, I have been putting that in.
+
+LADY SIMS. Have you? But he particularly wants it to be known that he
+would have declined a title were it not----
+
+KATE. I have got it here.
+
+LADY SIMS. What have you got?
+
+KATE. [_Reading._] "Indeed, I would have asked to be allowed to decline
+had it not been that I want to please my wife."
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Heavily._] But how could you know it was that?
+
+KATE. Is it?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Who, after all, is the one with the right to ask
+questions._] Do they all accept it for that reason?
+
+KATE. That is what we are told to say in the letters.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Thoughtlessly._] It is quite as if you knew my husband.
+
+KATE. I assure you, I don't even know his name.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Suddenly showing that she knows him._] Oh, he wouldn't like
+that!
+
+     [_And it is here that_ HARRY _re-enters in his city garments,
+     looking so gay, feeling so jolly, that we bleed for him. However,
+     the annoying_ KATHERINE _is to get a shock also_.
+
+LADY SIMS. This is the lady, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Shooting his cuffs._] Yes, yes. Good morning, my dear.
+
+     [_Then they see each other, and their mouths open, but not for
+     words. After the first surprise_ KATE _seems to find some humor in
+     the situation, but_ HARRY _lowers like a thunder-cloud_.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Who has seen nothing._] I have been trying to explain to
+her----
+
+SIR HARRY. Eh--what? [_He controls himself._] Leave it to me, Emmy; I'll
+attend to her.
+
+     [LADY SIMS _goes, with a dread fear that somehow she has vexed her
+     lord, and then_ HARRY _attends to the intruder_.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With concentrated scorn._] You!
+
+KATE. [_As if agreeing with him._] Yes, it's funny.
+
+SIR HARRY. The shamelessness of your daring to come here.
+
+KATE. Believe me, it is not less a surprise to me than it is to you. I
+was sent here in the ordinary way of business. I was given only the
+number of the house. I was not told the name.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Withering her._] The ordinary way of business! This is what
+you have fallen to--a typist!
+
+KATE. [_Unwithered._] Think of it!
+
+SIR HARRY. After going through worse straits, I'll be bound.
+
+KATE. [_With some grim memories._] Much worse straits.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Alas, laughing coarsely._] My congratulations!
+
+KATE. Thank you, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who is annoyed, as any man would be, not to find her
+abject._] Eh? What was that you called me, madam?
+
+KATE. Isn't it Harry? On my soul, I almost forget.
+
+SIR HARRY. It isn't Harry to you. My name is Sims, if you please.
+
+KATE. Yes, I had not forgotten that. It was my name, too, you see.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In his best manner._] It was your name till you forfeited
+the right to bear it.
+
+KATE. Exactly.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Gloating._] I was furious to find you here, but on second
+thoughts it pleases me. [_From the depths of his moral nature._] There
+is a grim justice in this.
+
+KATE. [_Sympathetically._] Tell me?
+
+SIR HARRY. Do you know what you were brought here to do?
+
+KATE. I have just been learning. You have been made a knight, and I was
+summoned to answer the messages of congratulation.
+
+SIR HARRY. That's it, that's it. You come on this day as my servant!
+
+KATE. I, who might have been Lady Sims.
+
+SIR HARRY. And you are her typist instead. And she has four
+men-servants. Oh, I am glad you saw her in her presentation gown.
+
+KATE. I wonder if she would let me do her washing, Sir Harry? [_Her want
+of taste disgusts him._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With dignity._] You can go. The mere thought that only a
+few flights of stairs separates such as you from my innocent
+children----
+
+     [_He will never know why a new light has come into her face._
+
+KATE. [_Slowly._] You have children?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Inflated._] Two. [_He wonders why she is so long in
+answering._
+
+KATE. [_Resorting to impertinence._] Such a nice number.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With an extra turn of the screw._] Both boys.
+
+KATE. Successful in everything. Are they like you, Sir Harry?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Expanding._] They are very like me.
+
+KATE. That's nice. [_Even on such a subject as this she can be ribald._
+
+SIR HARRY. Will you please to go.
+
+KATE. Heigho! What shall I say to my employer?
+
+SIR HARRY. That is no affair of mine.
+
+KATE. What will you say to Lady Sims?
+
+SIR HARRY. I flatter myself that whatever I say, Lady Sims will accept
+without comment.
+
+     [_She smiles, heaven knows why, unless her next remark explains
+     it._
+
+KATE. Still the same Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. What do you mean?
+
+KATE. Only that you have the old confidence in your profound knowledge
+of the sex.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Beginning to think as little of her intellect as of her
+morals._] I suppose I know my wife.
+
+KATE. [_Hopelessly dense._] I suppose so. I was only remembering that
+you used to think you knew her in the days when I was the lady. [_He is
+merely wasting his time on her, and he indicates the door. She is not
+sufficiently the lady to retire worsted._] Well, good-by, Sir Harry.
+Won't you ring, and the four men-servants will show me out? [_But he
+hesitates._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In spite of himself._] As you are here, there is something
+I want to get out of you. [_Wishing he could ask it less eagerly._] Tell
+me, who was the man?
+
+     [_The strange woman--it is evident now that she has always been
+     strange to him--smiles tolerantly._
+
+KATE. You never found out?
+
+SIR HARRY. I could never be sure.
+
+KATE. [_Reflectively._] I thought that would worry you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Sneering._] It's plain that he soon left you.
+
+KATE. Very soon.
+
+SIR HARRY. As I could have told you. [_But still she surveys him with
+the smile of Mona Lisa. The badgered man has to entreat._] Who was he?
+It was fourteen years ago, and cannot matter to any of us now. Kate,
+tell me who he was?
+
+     [_It is his first youthful moment, and perhaps because of that she
+     does not wish to hurt him._
+
+KATE. [_Shaking a motherly head._] Better not ask.
+
+SIR HARRY. I do ask. Tell me.
+
+KATE. It is kinder not to tell you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Violently._] Then, by James, it was one of my own pals. Was
+it Bernard Roche? [_She shakes her head._] It may have been some one who
+comes to my house still.
+
+KATE. I think not. [_Reflecting._] Fourteen years! You found my letter
+that night when you went home?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Impatient._] Yes.
+
+KATE. I propped it against the decanters. I thought you would be sure to
+see it there. It was a room not unlike this, and the furniture was
+arranged in the same attractive way. How it all comes back to me. Don't
+you see me, Harry, in hat and cloak, putting the letter there, taking a
+last look round, and then stealing out into the night to meet----
+
+SIR HARRY. Whom?
+
+KATE. Him. Hours pass, no sound in the room but the tick-tack of the
+clock, and then about midnight you return alone. You take----
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Gruffly._] I wasn't alone.
+
+KATE. [_The picture spoiled._] No? Oh. [_Plaintively._] Here have I all
+these years been conceiving it wrongly. [_She studies his face._] I
+believe something interesting happened.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Growling._] Something confoundedly annoying.
+
+KATE. [_Coaxing._] Do tell me.
+
+SIR HARRY. We won't go into that. Who was the man? Surely a husband has
+a right to know with whom his wife bolted.
+
+KATE. [_Who is detestably ready with her tongue._] Surely the wife has a
+right to know how he took it. [_The woman's love of bargaining comes to
+her aid._] A fair exchange. You tell me what happened, and I will tell
+you who he was.
+
+SIR HARRY. You will? Very well.
+
+     [_It is the first point on which they have agreed, and, forgetting
+     himself, he takes a place beside her on the fire-seat. He is
+     thinking only of what he is to tell her, but she, womanlike, is
+     conscious of their proximity._
+
+KATE. [_Tastelessly._] Quite like old times. [_He moves away from her
+indignantly._] Go on, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who has a manful shrinking from saying anything that is to
+his disadvantage._] Well, as you know, I was dining at the club that
+night.
+
+KATE. Yes.
+
+SIR HARRY. Jack Lamb drove me home. Mabbett Green was with us, and I
+asked them to come in for a few minutes.
+
+KATE. Jack Lamb, Mabbett Green? I think I remember them. Jack was in
+Parliament.
+
+SIR HARRY. No, that was Mabbett. They came into the house with me
+and--[_with sudden horror_]--was it him?
+
+KATE. [_Bewildered._] Who?
+
+SIR HARRY. Mabbett?
+
+KATE. What?
+
+SIR HARRY. The man?
+
+KATE. What man? [_Understanding._] Oh, no. I thought you said he came
+into the house with you.
+
+SIR HARRY. It might have been a blind.
+
+KATE. Well, it wasn't. Go on.
+
+SIR HARRY. They came in to finish a talk we had been having at the club.
+
+KATE. An interesting talk, evidently.
+
+SIR HARRY. The papers had been full that evening of the elopement of
+some countess woman with a fiddler. What was her name?
+
+KATE. Does it matter?
+
+SIR HARRY. No. [_Thus ends the countess._] We had been discussing the
+thing and--[_he pulls a wry face_]--and I had been rather warm----
+
+KATE. [_With horrid relish._] I begin to see. You had been saying it
+served the husband right, that the man who could not look after his wife
+deserved to lose her. It was one of your favorite subjects. Oh, Harry,
+say it was that!
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Sourly._] It may have been something like that.
+
+KATE. And all the time the letter was there, waiting; and none of you
+knew except the clock. Harry, it is sweet of you to tell me. [_His face
+is not sweet. The illiterate woman has used the wrong adjective._] I
+forget what I said precisely in the letter.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Pulverizing her._] So do I. But I have it still.
+
+KATE. [_Not pulverized._] Do let me see it again.
+
+     [_She has observed his eye wandering to the desk._
+
+SIR HARRY. You are welcome to it as a gift.
+
+     [_The fateful letter, a poor little dead thing, is brought to light
+     from a locked drawer._
+
+KATE. [_Taking it._] Yes, this is it. Harry, how you did crumple it!
+[_She reads, not without curiosity._] "Dear husband--I call you that for
+the last time--I am off. I am what you call making a bolt of it. I won't
+try to excuse myself nor to explain, for you would not accept the
+excuses nor understand the explanation. It will be a little shock to
+you, but only to your pride; what will astound you is that any woman
+could be such a fool as to leave such a man as you. I am taking nothing
+with me that belongs to you. May you be very happy.--Your ungrateful
+KATE. _P.S._--You need not try to find out who he is. You will try, but
+you won't succeed." [_She folds the nasty little thing up._] I may
+really have it for my very own?
+
+SIR HARRY. You really may.
+
+KATE. [_Impudently._] If you would care for a typed copy----?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In a voice with which he used to frighten his
+grandmother_.] None of your sauce! [_Wincing._] I had to let them see it
+in the end.
+
+KATE. I can picture Jack Lamb eating it.
+
+SIR HARRY. A penniless parson's daughter.
+
+KATE. That is all I was.
+
+SIR HARRY. We searched for the two of you high and low.
+
+KATE. Private detectives?
+
+SIR HARRY. They couldn't get on the track of you.
+
+KATE. [_Smiling._] No?
+
+SIR HARRY. But at last the courts let me serve the papers by
+advertisement on a man unknown, and I got my freedom.
+
+KATE. So I saw. It was the last I heard of you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Each word a blow for her._] And I married again just as
+soon as ever I could.
+
+KATE. They say that is always a compliment to the first wife.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Violently._] I showed them.
+
+KATE. You soon let them see that if one woman was a fool, you still had
+the pick of the basket to choose from.
+
+SIR HARRY. By James, I did.
+
+KATE. [_Bringing him to earth again._] But still, you wondered who he
+was.
+
+SIR HARRY. I suspected everybody--even my pals. I felt like jumping at
+their throats and crying: "It's you!"
+
+KATE. You had been so admirable to me, an instinct told you that I was
+sure to choose another of the same.
+
+SIR HARRY. I thought, it can't be money, so it must be looks. Some dolly
+face. [_He stares at her in perplexity._] He must have had something
+wonderful about him to make you willing to give up all that you had with
+me.
+
+KATE. [_As if he was the stupid one._] Poor Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. And it couldn't have been going on for long, for I would have
+noticed the change in you.
+
+KATE. Would you?
+
+SIR HARRY. I knew you so well.
+
+KATE. You amazing man.
+
+SIR HARRY. So who was he? Out with it.
+
+KATE. You are determined to know?
+
+SIR HARRY. Your promise. You gave your word.
+
+KATE. If I must--[_She is the villain of the piece, but it must be
+conceded that in this matter she is reluctant to pain him._] I am sorry
+I promised. [_Looking at him steadily._] There was no one, Harry; no one
+at all.
+
+SIR HARRY.. [_Rising._] If you think you can play with me----
+
+KATE. I told you that you wouldn't like it.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Rasping._] It is unbelievable.
+
+KATE. I suppose it is; but it is true.
+
+SIR HARRY. Your letter itself gives you the lie.
+
+KATE. That was intentional. I saw that if the truth were known you might
+have a difficulty in getting your freedom; and as I was getting mine it
+seemed fair that you should have yours also. So I wrote my good-by in
+words that would be taken to mean what you thought they meant, and I
+knew the law would back you in your opinion. For the law, like you,
+Harry, has a profound understanding of women.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Trying to straighten, himself._] I don't believe you yet.
+
+KATE. [_Looking not unkindly into the soul of this man._] Perhaps that
+is the best way to take it. It is less unflattering than the truth. But
+you were the only one. [_Summing up her life._] You sufficed.
+
+SIR HARRY. Then what mad impulse----
+
+KATE. It was no impulse, Harry. I had thought it out for a year.
+
+SIR HARRY. A year? [_Dazed._] One would think to hear you that I hadn't
+been a good husband to you.
+
+KATE. [_With a sad smile._] You were a good husband according to your
+lights.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Stoutly._] _I_ think so.
+
+KATE. And a moral man, and chatty, and quite the philanthropist.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_On sure ground._] All women envied you.
+
+KATE. How you loved me to be envied.
+
+SIR HARRY. I swaddled you in luxury.
+
+KATE. [_Making her great revelation._] That was it.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Blankly._] What?
+
+KATE. [_Who can be serene because it is all over._] How you beamed at me
+when I sat at the head of your fat dinners in my fat jewelry, surrounded
+by our fat friends.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Aggrieved._] They weren't so fat.
+
+KATE. [_A side issue._] All except those who were so thin. Have you ever
+noticed, Harry, that many jewels make women either incredibly fat or
+incredibly thin?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Shouting._] I have not. [_Is it worth while to argue with
+her any longer?_] We had all the most interesting society of the day. It
+wasn't only business men. There were politicians, painters, writers----
+
+KATE. Only the glorious, dazzling successes. Oh, the fat talk while we
+ate too much--about who had made a hit and who was slipping back, and
+what the noo house cost and the noo motor and the gold soup-plates, and
+who was to be the noo knight.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who it will be observed is unanswerable from first to
+last._] Was anybody getting on better than me, and consequently you?
+
+KATE. Consequently me! Oh, Harry, you and your sublime religion.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Honest heart._] My religion? I never was one to talk about
+religion, but----
+
+KATE. Pooh, Harry, you don't even know what your religion was and is and
+will be till the day of your expensive funeral. [_And here is the lesson
+that life has taught her._] One's religion is whatever he is most
+interested in, and yours is Success.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Quoting from his morning paper._] Ambition--it is the last
+infirmity of noble minds.
+
+KATE. Noble minds!
+
+SIR HARRY. [_At last grasping what she is talking about._] You are not
+saying that you left me because of my success?
+
+KATE. Yes, that was it. [_And now she stands revealed to him._] I
+couldn't endure it. If a failure had come now and then--but your success
+was suffocating me. [_She is rigid with emotion._] The passionate
+craving I had to be done with it, to find myself among people who had
+not got on.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With proper spirit._] There are plenty of them.
+
+KATE. There were none in our set. When they began to go down-hill they
+rolled out of our sight.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Clenching it._] I tell you I am worth a quarter of a
+million.
+
+KATE [_Unabashed._] That is what you are worth to yourself. I'll tell
+you what you are worth to me: exactly twelve pounds. For I made up my
+mind that I could launch myself on the world alone if I first proved my
+mettle by earning twelve pounds; and as soon as I had earned it I left
+you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In the scales._] Twelve pounds!
+
+KATE. That is your value to a woman. If she can't make it she has to
+stick to you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Remembering perhaps a rectory garden._] You valued me at
+more than that when you married me.
+
+KATE. [_Seeing it also._] Ah, I didn't know you then. If only you had
+been a man, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. A man? What do you mean by a man?
+
+KATE. [_Leaving the garden._] Haven't you heard of them? They are
+something fine; and every woman is loath to admit to herself that her
+husband is not one. When she marries, even though she has been a very
+trivial person, there is in her some vague stirring toward a worthy
+life, as well as a fear of her capacity for evil. She knows her chance
+lies in him. If there is something good in him, what is good in her
+finds it, and they join forces against the baser parts. So I didn't give
+you up willingly, Harry. I invented all sorts of theories to explain
+you. Your hardness--I said it was a fine want of mawkishness. Your
+coarseness--I said it goes with strength. Your contempt for the weak--I
+called it virility. Your want of ideals was clear-sightedness. Your
+ignoble views of women--I tried to think them funny. Oh, I clung to you
+to save myself. But I had to let go; you had only the one quality,
+Harry, success; you had it so strong that it swallowed all the others.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Not to be diverted from the main issue._] How did you earn
+that twelve pounds?
+
+KATE. It took me nearly six months; but I earned it fairly. [_She
+presses her hand on the typewriter as lovingly as many a woman has
+pressed a rose._] I learned this. I hired it and taught myself. I got
+some work through a friend, and with my first twelve pounds I paid for
+my machine. Then I considered that I was free to go, and I went.
+
+SIR HARRY. All this going on in my house while you were living in the
+lap of luxury! [_She nods._] By God, you were determined.
+
+KATE. [_Briefly._] By God, I was.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Staring._] How you must have hated me.
+
+KATE. [_Smiling at the childish word._] Not a bit--after I saw that
+there was a way out. From that hour you amused me, Harry; I was even
+sorry for you, for I saw that you couldn't help yourself. Success is
+just a fatal gift.
+
+SIR HARRY. Oh, thank you.
+
+KATE. [_Thinking, dear friends in front, of you and me perhaps._] Yes,
+and some of your most successful friends knew it. One or two of them
+used to look very sad at times, as if they thought they might have come
+to something if they hadn't got on.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who has a horror of sacrilege._] The battered crew you live
+among now--what are they but folk who have tried to succeed and failed?
+
+KATE. That's it; they try, but they fail.
+
+SIR HARRY. And always will fail.
+
+KATE. Always. Poor souls--I say of them. Poor soul--they say of me. It
+keeps us human. That is why I never tire of them.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Comprehensively._] Bah! Kate, I tell you I'll be worth half
+a million yet.
+
+KATE. I'm sure you will. You're getting stout, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. No, I'm not.
+
+KATE. What was the name of that fat old fellow who used to fall asleep
+at our dinner-parties?
+
+SIR HARRY. If you mean Sir William Crackley----
+
+KATE. That was the man. Sir William was to me a perfect picture of the
+grand success. He had got on so well that he was very, very stout, and
+when he sat on a chair it was thus [_her hands meeting in front of
+her_]--as if he were holding his success together. That is what you are
+working for, Harry. You will have that and the half million about the
+same time.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who has surely been very patient._] Will you please to
+leave my house?
+
+KATE. [_Putting on her gloves, soiled things._] But don't let us part in
+anger. How do you think I am looking, Harry, compared to the dull, inert
+thing that used to roll round in your padded carriages?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In masterly fashion._] I forget what you were like. I'm
+very sure you never could have held a candle to the present Lady Sims.
+
+KATE. That is a picture of her, is it not?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Seizing his chance again._] In her wedding-gown. Painted by
+an R.A.
+
+KATE. [_Wickedly._] A knight?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Deceived._] Yes.
+
+KATE. [_Who likes_ LADY SIMS--_a piece of presumption on her part_.] It
+is a very pretty face.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With the pride of possession._] Acknowledged to be a beauty
+everywhere.
+
+KATE. There is a merry look in the eyes, and character in the chin.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Like an auctioneer._] Noted for her wit.
+
+KATE. All her life before her when that was painted. It is a
+_spirituelle_ face too. [_Suddenly she turns on him with anger, for the
+first and only time in the play._] Oh, Harry, you brute!
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Staggered._] Eh? What?
+
+KATE. That dear creature, capable of becoming a noble wife and
+mother--she is the spiritless woman of no account that I saw here a few
+minutes ago. I forgive you for myself, for I escaped, but that poor lost
+soul, oh, Harry, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Waving her to the door._] I'll thank you--If ever there
+was a woman proud of her husband and happy in her married life, that
+woman is Lady Sims.
+
+KATE. I wonder.
+
+SIR HARRY. Then you needn't wonder.
+
+KATE. [_Slowly._] If I was a husband--it is my advice to all of them--I
+would often watch my wife quietly to see whether the twelve-pound look
+was not coming into her eyes. Two boys, did you say, and both like you?
+
+SIR HARRY. What is that to you?
+
+KATE. [_With glistening eyes_.] I was only thinking that somewhere there
+are two little girls who, when they grow up--the dear, pretty girls who
+are all meant for the men that don't get on! Well, good-by, Sir Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Showing a little human weakness, it is to be feared._] Say
+first that you're sorry.
+
+KATE. For what?
+
+SIR HARRY. That you left me. Say you regret it bitterly. You know you
+do. [_She smiles and shakes her head. He is pettish. He makes a terrible
+announcement._] You have spoiled the day for me.
+
+KATE. [_To hearten him._] I am sorry for that; but it is only a
+pin-prick, Harry. I suppose it is a little jarring in the moment of your
+triumph to find that there is--one old friend--who does not think you a
+success; but you will soon forget it. Who cares what a typist thinks?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Heartened._] Nobody. A typist at eighteen shillings a week!
+
+KATE. [_Proudly._] Not a bit of it, Harry. I double that.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Neatly._] Magnificent!
+
+     [_There is a timid knock at the door._]
+
+LADY SIMS. May I come in?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Rather appealingly._] It is Lady Sims.
+
+KATE. I won't tell. She is afraid to come into her husband's room
+without knocking!
+
+SIR HARRY. She is not. [_Uxoriously._] Come in, dearest.
+
+     [_Dearest enters, carrying the sword. She might have had the sense
+     not to bring it in while this annoying person is here._
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Thinking she has brought her welcome with her._] Harry, the
+sword has come.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who will dote on it presently._] Oh, all right.
+
+LADY SIMS. But I thought you were so eager to practise with it.
+
+     [_The person smiles at this. He wishes he had not looked to see if
+     she was smiling._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Sharply._] Put it down.
+
+     [LADY SIMS _flushes a little as she lays the sword aside_.
+
+KATE. [_With her confounded courtesy._] It is a beautiful sword, if I
+may say so.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Helped._] Yes.
+
+     [_The person thinks she can put him in the wrong, does she? He'll
+     show her._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With one eye on_ KATE.] Emmy, the one thing your neck needs
+is more jewels.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Faltering._] More!
+
+SIR HARRY. Some ropes of pearls. I'll see to it. It's a bagatelle to me.
+[KATE _conceals her chagrin, so she had better be shown the door. He
+rings._] I won't detain you any longer, miss.
+
+KATE. Thank you.
+
+LADY SIMS. Going already? You have been very quick.
+
+SIR HARRY. The person doesn't suit, Emmy.
+
+LADY SIMS. I'm sorry.
+
+KATE. So am I, madam, but it can't be helped. Good-by, your
+ladyship--good-by, Sir Harry.
+
+     [_There is a suspicion of an impertinent courtesy, and she is
+     escorted off the premises by_ TOMBES. _The air of the room is
+     purified by her going._ SIR HARRY _notices it at once_.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Whose tendency is to say the wrong thing._] She seemed such
+a capable woman.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_On his hearth._] I don't like her style at all.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Meekly._] Of course you know best.
+
+     [_This is the right kind of woman._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Rather anxious for corroboration._] Lord, how she winced
+when I said I was to give you those ropes of pearls.
+
+LADY SIMS. Did she? I didn't notice. I suppose so.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Frowning._] Suppose? Surely I know enough about women to
+know that.
+
+LADY SIMS. Yes, oh yes.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Odd that so confident a man should ask this._] Emmy, I know
+you well, don't I? I can read you like a book, eh?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Nervously._] Yes, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Jovially, but with an inquiring eye._] What a different
+existence yours is from that poor lonely wretch's.
+
+LADY SIMS. Yes, but she has a very contented face.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With a stamp of his foot._] All put on. What?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Timidly._] I didn't say anything.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Snapping._] One would think you envied her.
+
+LADY SIMS. Envied? Oh, no--but I thought she looked so alive. It was
+while she was working the machine.
+
+SIR HARRY. Alive! That's no life. It is you that are alive. [_Curtly._]
+I'm busy, Emmy. [_He sits at his writing-table._
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Dutifully._] I'm sorry; I'll go, Harry.
+[_Inconsequentially._] Are they very expensive?
+
+SIR HARRY. What?
+
+LADY SIMS. Those machines?
+
+     [_When she has gone the possible meaning of her question startles
+     him. The curtain hides him from us, but we may be sure that he will
+     soon be bland again. We have a comfortable feeling, you and I, that
+     there is nothing of_ HARRY SIMS _in us_.
+
+
+
+
+TRADITION
+
+BY
+
+GEORGE MIDDLETON
+
+
+_Tradition_ is reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher,
+Henry Holt & Company, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission
+to perform, address the author, in care of the publisher.
+
+The author and publisher of this play have permitted this reprinting of
+copyrighted material on the understanding that the play will be used
+only in classroom work. No other use of the play is authorized, and
+permission for any other use must be secured from the holder of the
+acting rights.
+
+
+GEORGE MIDDLETON
+
+George Middleton, one of the first to write and publish a volume of
+one-act plays in America, was born in Paterson, New Jersey, 1880. He was
+graduated from Columbia University in 1902. Since 1921 he has been
+literary editor of _La Follette's Weekly_, and, in addition, has been a
+frequent contributor to magazines and reviews on dramatic and literary
+subjects. During the last few years he has spent much of his time
+abroad.
+
+George Middleton's chiefest interest has been in the one-act play. He
+has been an ardent champion of the shorter form of drama. Among his
+three volumes of one-act plays are _Embers_ (including _The Failures_,
+_The Gargoyle_, _In His House_, _Madonna_, and _The Man Masterful_),
+_Tradition_ (including _On Bail_, _Their Wife_, _Waiting_, _The Cheat of
+Pity_, and _Mothers_), and _Possession_ (including _The Grove_, _A Good
+Woman_, _The Black Tie_, _Circles_, and _The Unborn_). Other one-act
+plays are _Criminals_ and _The Reason_. His longer plays are _Nowadays_
+and _The Road Together_. Mr. Middleton has lectured widely on the
+one-act play before colleges, in Little Theatres, and clubs. Perhaps his
+most notable article is _The Neglected One-Act Play_, which appeared in
+_The New York Dramatic Mirror_ in 1912.
+
+_Tradition_ is one of Mr. Middleton's best and most popular one-act
+plays; and it most nearly conforms to the organic technic of the one-act
+play.
+
+FIRST PERFORMANCE AT THE BERKELEY THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY, JANUARY 24,
+1913.
+
+(Produced under the personal direction of Mr. FRANK REICHER.)
+
+
+THE PEOPLE
+
+GEORGE OLLIVANT             MR. GEORGE W. WILSON
+
+EMILY, _his wife_      MISS ALICE LEIGH
+
+MARY, _his daughter, an actress_      MISS FOLA LA FOLLETTE
+
+
+
+
+TRADITION[B]
+
+
+     SCENE: _The sitting-room at the_ OLLIVANTS' _in a small town
+     up-State. It is an evening late in the spring._
+
+     _A simple room is disclosed, bearing the traces of another
+     generation. Old-fashioned window-doors at the right, overlooking
+     the garden, open on a porch; another door in back opening on the
+     hall-way. A large fire-place at the left, now concealed by an
+     embroidered screen; the horsehair furniture, several terra-cotta
+     statuettes, and a woodcut or two on the walls create the subtle
+     atmosphere of the past. There is a lamp on the table, and another
+     on a bracket by the door in back. Moonlight filters through the
+     window-doors._
+
+     _The_ OLLIVANTS _are discovered together_. MARY, _a rather plain
+     woman of about twenty-five, with a suggestion of quick
+     sensibilities, is standing, lost in thought, looking out into the
+     garden. Her mother_, EMILY, _nearing fifty, quiet and subdued in
+     manner, is seated at the table trimming a hat. Occasionally she
+     looks at_ MARY, _stops her work, glances at her husband, closes her
+     eyes as though tired, and then resumes. The silence continues for
+     some time, broken only by the rattle of the town paper which_
+     GEORGE OLLIVANT _is reading. He is well on in middle life, with a
+     strong, determined face not entirely without elements of kindness
+     and deep feeling. When he finishes, he folds the paper, puts it on
+     the table, knocks the ashes carefully from his pipe into his hand,
+     and throws them behind the screen; takes off his spectacles and
+     wipes them as he, too, looks over toward his daughter, still gazing
+     absently into the garden. Finally, after a slight hesitation, he
+     goes to her and puts his arm about her; she is startled but smiles
+     sweetly._
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Affectionately._] Glad to be home again, Mary?
+
+MARY. [_Evasively._] The garden is so pretty.
+
+OLLIVANT. Hasn't changed much, eh?
+
+MARY. It seems different; perhaps it's the night.
+
+OLLIVANT. I guess it isn't up to its usual standard. Haven't seen your
+mother there so often this spring.
+
+EMILY. [_Quietly._] This dry spell is not good for flowers.
+
+OLLIVANT. It's only the cultivated flowers that need care; can't help
+thinking that when I see the wild ones so hardy in my fields on the
+hill. [_Turning to_ EMILY _and patting her_.] Is there any of that spray
+mixture left, Emily, dear?
+
+EMILY. I haven't looked lately.
+
+OLLIVANT. I'll order some to-morrow. [_Taking up his pipe again and
+looking for the tobacco._] Think it would be a good idea, daughter, if
+you'd spray those rosebushes every couple of weeks. The bugs are a pest
+this spring. Where's my tobacco?
+
+EMILY. On the mantel.
+
+OLLIVANT. Wish you would always leave it on the table; you know how I
+hate to have things changed.
+
+     [OLLIVANT _goes to the mantel, filling his pipe, and while his back
+     is turned_, MARY _makes a quick questioning gesture to her mother,
+     who sighs helplessly_. MARY _ponders a moment_.]
+
+MARY. How's Ben been doing these two years, father?
+
+OLLIVANT. Hasn't your brother written you?
+
+MARY. Only once--when I left home; he disapproved, too.
+
+OLLIVANT. Had an older brother's feeling of wanting to take care of you,
+Mary.
+
+MARY. Yes; I know. How's he doing?
+
+OLLIVANT. He's commencing to get on his feet. Takes time and money for
+any one to get started these days.
+
+MARY. But he's still in partnership with Bert Taylor, isn't he?
+
+OLLIVANT. Yes. He'd have been somewhere if he'd worked in with me as I
+did with _my_ father. Things should be handed down. Offered him the
+chance, tried to make him take it, as your mother knows; but that
+college chum--nice enough fellow, I've heard--turned his head another
+way. [_Lighting his pipe and puffing slowly._] It's best to humor a
+young fellow's ideas if he sticks them out, but I'd like to have had us
+all here together now. The place is big enough even if he should want to
+marry. Your mother and I came here, you know, when your grandfather was
+still alive.
+
+MARY. Then Ben isn't making any money?
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Reluctantly._] Not yet--to speak of.
+
+EMILY. [_Quietly._] But he's promised to pay his father back, Mary.
+
+MARY. I see. [_Thoughtfully._] College and then more help to get
+started, because he's a man.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Complacently._] He'll have to support a family some day;
+I've had to keep that in mind.
+
+MARY. I'd like to have a real talk with him.
+
+OLLIVANT. When did his letter say he'd be coming for a visit, Emily?
+
+EMILY. The fifteenth.
+
+MARY. Not till then? That's too bad.
+
+OLLIVANT. Eh?
+
+MARY. [_After exchanging a quick glance with her mother and gaining
+courage._] Father, I hope you didn't misunderstand my coming back?
+
+OLLIVANT. Not at all. We all make mistakes--especially when we're young.
+Perhaps I was a bit hasty when you left home, but I knew you'd soon see
+I was right. I didn't think it would take you two years--but perhaps if
+I'd written you before you'd have come sooner. I told your mother I'd
+like to make it easy for you to come home.
+
+MARY. Mother suggested that you write me?
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, I suppose you might put it that way. I always felt she
+thought I was a bit hard on you, but I'm not one to back down easily.
+
+MARY. Don't blame me then, father, if I showed I was your daughter.
+
+OLLIVANT. Let's forget my feeling; but naturally I was set back.
+
+MARY. Because you didn't take my going seriously until I was actually
+leaving.
+
+OLLIVANT. I couldn't get it into my head then, and I can't now, how any
+girl would want to leave a home like this, where you have everything.
+You don't know how lucky you are--or maybe you have realized it. Look
+about you and see what other girls have. Is it like this? Trees,
+flowers, and a lake view that's the best in the county. Why, one can
+breathe here and even taste the air. Every time I come back from a
+business trip it makes a new man of me. Ask your mother. Eh, Emily? When
+I sit out there on the porch in the cool evenings it makes me feel at
+ease with the world to know that the place is _mine_ and that I've
+raised a family and can take care of them all. Ben had to go, I
+suppose--it's the way with sons; but I thought you, at least, would stay
+here, daughter, in this old house where you were born, where I was born,
+where all your early associations----
+
+MARY. [_Shuddering._] I hate associations.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Eying her._] Well, I'd like to know where you get _that_
+from. Not from your mother and me. _We_ like them, don't we, Emily? Why,
+your mother's hardly ever even left here--but you had to up and get out.
+
+MARY. Yes. That's right, father; I _had_ to.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_He stops smoking and looks at her sharply._] Had to? Who
+made you?
+
+MARY. [_Reluctantly._] It was something inside me.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_In spite of himself._] Tush--that foolishness.
+
+MARY. [_Quickly._] Don't make it hard for us again.
+
+OLLIVANT. I made it hard, Mary? Because I objected to your leaving your
+mother here alone?
+
+MARY. I remember; you said I was a foolish, "stage-struck" girl.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, you're over _that_, aren't you?
+
+MARY. That's just where you are mistaken, father. [_Slowly._] That's why
+I asked you if you hadn't misunderstood my coming back.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Suspiciously._] Then why did you come at all?
+
+MARY. I'm human; I wanted to see you and mother, so I came when you
+generously wrote me. I'm not going to stay and spray the roses.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_He eyes her tensely and controls himself with an effort._]
+So you are not going to stay with your mother and me?
+
+MARY. [_Affectionately._] I'll come see you as often as I can and----
+
+OLLIVANT.--and make a hotel of your home? [MARY _is silent_.] Don't you
+see your mother is getting older and needs somebody to be here?
+
+EMILY. [_With a quiet assurance._] I have never been so well and
+contented.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Tenderly._] I know better, Emily; can't I see you're getting
+thinner and older? [_Stopping her protests._] Now, let me manage this,
+dear. It's a girl's place to stay at home. You know my feelings about
+that. Suppose anything should happen to your mother, what would _I_ do?
+
+MARY. So it's not mother alone you are thinking of?
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Tersely._] I'm thinking of your place at home--doing a
+woman's work. I'm not proud of having my daughter off earning her own
+living as though I couldn't support her.
+
+EMILY. George!
+
+MARY. I thought it was only because I was on the stage.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, it's not the most heavenly place, is it? A lot of
+narrow-minded fools here in town thought I was crazy to _let_ you go; I
+knew how they felt; I grinned and bore it. You were my daughter and I
+loved you, and I didn't want them to think any less of you by their
+finding out you were leaving against my wish.
+
+MARY. [_Slowly, with comprehension._] That's what hurt you.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, I blamed myself a bit for taking you to plays and liking
+them myself.
+
+MARY. People here will soon forget about me and merely be sorry for you.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Persuasively._] Why, Mary. I've made it easy for you to
+stay. I told every one you were coming home for good. They'll think me a
+fool if----
+
+MARY. [_Tenderly._] You meant what was dear and good, father; but you
+had no right to say that. I'm sorry.
+
+OLLIVANT. I did it because I thought you had come to your senses.
+
+MARY. [_Firmly._] I never saw so clearly as I do now.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Bluntly._] Then you're stubborn--plain stubborn--not to
+admit failure.
+
+MARY. [_Startled._] Failure?
+
+OLLIVANT. I know what the newspapers said; Ben sent them to me.
+
+MARY. Which ones?
+
+OLLIVANT. Why, all of them, I guess.
+
+MARY. Did he send you the good ones?
+
+OLLIVANT. Were there any?
+
+MARY. Oh, I see. So Ben carefully picked out only those which would
+please you.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Sarcastically._] Please me?
+
+MARY. Yes; because you and he didn't want me to succeed; because you
+thought failure would bring me home. But don't you think I'll let some
+cub reporter settle things for me. I'll never come home through
+failure--never.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Kindly._] Ben and I only want to protect you, Mary.
+
+MARY. Why do men always want to protect women?
+
+OLLIVANT. Because we know the world.
+
+MARY. Yes; but you don't know _me_. Father, you still think I'm only a
+foolish, stage-struck girl, and want flowers and men and my name in big
+letters. It isn't that.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, what is it, then?
+
+MARY. Oh--I want to be an artist. I don't suppose you can understand it;
+I didn't, myself, at first. I was born with it, but didn't know what it
+was till that first time you took me to the theatre.
+
+OLLIVANT. So it was all my fault?
+
+MARY. It isn't anybody's fault; it's just a fact. I knew from that day
+what I wanted to do. I wanted to act--to create. I don't care whether I
+play a leading lady or a scrub-woman, if I can do it with truth and
+beauty.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, you haven't done much of either, have you? What have you
+got to show for our unhappiness? What have you got ahead of you?
+
+MARY. Nothing--definite.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Incredulously._] Yet, you're going to keep at it?
+
+MARY. Yes.
+
+OLLIVANT. What do you think of that, Emily?
+
+MARY. I am going to the city Monday.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Persistently._] But what will you do when you get there?
+
+MARY. What I've done before: hunt a job, tramp the streets, call at the
+offices, be snubbed and insulted by office-boys--keep at it till I get
+something to do.
+
+OLLIVANT. Come, come, Mary; don't make me lose patience. Put your pride
+in your pocket. You've had your fling. You've tried and failed. Give it
+all up and stay home here where you can be comfortable.
+
+MARY. [_With intense feeling._] Father, I can't give it up. It doesn't
+make any difference how they treat me, how many times I get my "notice"
+and don't even make good according to their standards. I can't give it
+up. I simply can't. It keeps gnawing inside me and driving me on. It's
+there--always there, and I know if I keep at work I will succeed. I know
+it; I know it.
+
+     [MARY _throws herself into the chair, much stirred_. EMILY'S _eyes
+     have eagerly followed her throughout this as though responding
+     sympathetically, but_ OLLIVANT _has stood in silence, watching her
+     apparently without comprehension_.]
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Not without kindness._] Something inside. Huh! Have you any
+clear idea what she's talking about, Emily?
+
+     [MARY _gives a short, hurt cry and goes quickly to the window,
+     looking out and controlling herself with an effort_.]
+
+EMILY. [_Softly, as she looks at_ MARY.] I think I understand.
+
+OLLIVANT. I don't. Something inside. I never had anything like that
+bothering me. What's it all mean?
+
+EMILY. [_Quietly._] So many people use the same words, but cannot
+understand each other.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, you seem to think it's mighty important Mary, whatever
+it is; but it's too much for me. If you had something to show for it I
+wouldn't mind. But you're just where you started and you might as well
+give up.
+
+EMILY. George!
+
+OLLIVANT. Now I don't know much about the stage, Emily, but Ben does. He
+says you're not made for an actress, Mary; you haven't got a chance.
+
+MARY. [_Turning._] Father!
+
+OLLIVANT. Can't you see your failure isn't your own fault? If you were a
+beauty like Helen Safford or some of those other "stars"--but you're
+not pretty, why, you're not even good-looking and----
+
+MARY. [_With bitter vehemence_.] Oh, don't go any further. I know all
+that. But I don't care how I look off the stage if only I can grow
+beautiful on it. I'll create with so much inner power and beauty that
+people will forget how I look and only see what I think and feel. I can
+do it; I have done it; I've made audiences feel and even got my "notice"
+because the stage-manager said I was "too natural." Helen
+Safford--what's she? A professional beauty with everything outside and
+nothing in. You think of her eyes, her mouth, and her profile; but does
+she touch you so you remember? I know her work. Wait till I get a chance
+to play a scene with her--which they may give me because I'm not
+good-looking--I'll make them forget she's on the stage the first ten
+minutes--yes, and you and Ben, too, if you'll come. Helen Safford? Huh!
+Why, people will remember me when she's only a lithograph.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, then, why haven't you had your chance?
+
+MARY. [_Quickly._] Because most managers feel the way you and Ben do.
+And not having a lovely profile and a fashion-plate figure stands
+between me and a chance even to read a part, let alone play it. That's
+what eats the heart out of me, mother; and makes me hate my face every
+time I sit down to put on the grease paint.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, don't blame me for that.
+
+MARY. [_Going to her mother, who takes her hand._] You can laugh at me,
+father; you don't understand. It's foolish to talk. But, oh, mother, why
+is such beauty given to women like Helen Safford who have no inner need
+of it, and here am I, with a real creative gift, wrapped up in a
+nondescript package which stands between me and everything I want to do?
+[_With determination._] But I will--ultimately I will make good, in
+spite of my looks; others have. And what I've suffered will make me a
+greater artist.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_In a matter-of-fact tone._] Are you sure all this isn't
+overconfidence and vanity?
+
+MARY. I don't care what you call it. It's what keeps me working.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Quickly._] Working? But how can you work without an
+engagement?
+
+MARY. That _is_ the hard part of our life; waiting, waiting for a chance
+to work. But don't think I stand still when I haven't an engagement. I
+don't dare. That's why I keep at my voice work and dancing and----
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Suddenly interrupting._] Dancing and voice work when you
+have no engagements. Would you mind telling me who is paying the bills?
+
+MARY. [_Indignantly._] Father!
+
+OLLIVANT. I think I have the right to ask that.
+
+MARY. Have you?
+
+OLLIVANT. I am your father.
+
+MARY. [_With quiet dignity._] You thought you'd force me here at home to
+do as you wished because you paid for my food and clothes; when you took
+that from me you _ceased_ to have that right. Don't forget since I left
+you've not helped me with my work or given me a penny.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Suspiciously._] Mary.... No, that's not why you went away
+from home?
+
+MARY. No.
+
+OLLIVANT. Or you met some man _there_ and....
+
+MARY. No.
+
+OLLIVANT. There is some man.
+
+MARY. Why a _man_?
+
+OLLIVANT. Damn them; I know them. [_Breaking._] Good God, Mary, dear,
+you haven't...? Answer me, daughter.
+
+MARY. [_Calmly._] No, there's been no need of that.
+
+     [_He has been violently shaken at the thought, looks at her
+     intently, believes her, and then continues in a subdued manner._
+
+OLLIVANT. Then who helped you? Ben?
+
+MARY. How could he help me? Are men the only ones who help women?
+
+EMILY. [_Quietly._] Tell him, Mary; it's best now.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Turning slowly to her in surprise._] You knew and have kept
+it from me?
+
+EMILY. [_Calmly, as she puts down the hat she has been trimming._] I
+found I hadn't lost my old skill, though it's been a good many years
+since I held a brush--since before we were married, George. I had an
+idea I thought would sell: paper dolls with little hand-painted dresses
+on separate sheets; they were so much softer than the printed kind, and
+children like anything soft. I wrote to Mr. Aylwin--you remember--he was
+so kind to me years before. He had called here once before when you were
+away and asked after my work. He used to think I had such promise. He
+found an opportunity to use the dolls as a specialty, and when I
+explained he induced some other firms to use all I can paint, too. They
+pay me very well. I made enough each month to help Mary when she went
+behind.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Incredulously._] You! After you heard me say when she left I
+wouldn't give her a cent?
+
+EMILY. [_Looking fondly at_ MARY.] You were keeping Ben, weren't you?
+
+OLLIVANT. But--that's--that's different.
+
+EMILY. I didn't see why we shouldn't help _both_ our children.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Perplexed by this he turns to_ MARY.] And you took it?
+
+MARY. Yes.
+
+OLLIVANT. You knew how she got the money?
+
+MARY. Yes.
+
+OLLIVANT. Your mother working herself sick for you, and you took it?
+
+EMILY. I told you I've never been so happy.
+
+MARY. [_Simply._] I couldn't bargain with what I felt. I had to study.
+I'd have taken anything, gotten it anywhere. I had to live. You didn't
+help me. Ben and I both went against your will, but you helped him
+because he was your son. I was only your daughter.
+
+     [OLLIVANT _eyes her and seems to be struggling with himself. He is
+     silent a long while as they both watch him. Finally, after several
+     efforts he speaks with emotion._]
+
+OLLIVANT. Mary, I--I didn't realize how much you meant to me till--till
+I thought of what might have happened to you without my help.
+Would--would you have stayed on in the city if--if your mother hadn't
+helped you?
+
+MARY. [_Firmly._] Yes, father; I would have stayed on.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_After a pause._] Then I guess what you _feel_ is stronger
+than all your mother and I tried to teach you.... Are you too proud to
+take help from me--now?
+
+MARY. [_Simply._] No, father; till I succeed. Then I'll pay you back
+like Ben promised.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Hurt._] You don't think it was the money, daughter? It would
+have cost to keep you here. It wasn't that.
+
+MARY. No; it was your father speaking and his father and his father.
+[_Looking away wistfully._] And perhaps I was speaking for those before
+me who were silent or couldn't be heard.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_With sincerity._] I don't exactly understand _that_ any more
+than the feeling you spoke of driving you from home. But I do see what
+you mean about brothers and sisters. You seem to think boys and girls
+are the same. But they're not. Men and women are different. You may not
+know it, but your mother had foolish ideas like you have when I first
+knew her. She was poor and didn't have a mother to support her, and she
+had to work for a living. She'd about given up when I met her--trying to
+work at night to feed herself in the day while studying. But she was
+sensible; when a good man came along who could support her she married
+him and settled down. Look how happy she's been here with a home of her
+own that is a home--with associations and children. Where would she be,
+struggling to-day trying to paint pictures for a living? Why, there's
+lots of men who can paint pictures, and too few good wives for
+hard-working, decent men who want a family--which is God's law. You'll
+find that out one of these days and you'll give yourself as she did.
+Some day a man will come and you'll want to marry him. How could you if
+you keep on with your work, going about the country?
+
+MARY. [_Quietly._] You leave mother at times, don't you?
+
+OLLIVANT. I've got to.
+
+MARY. So may I.
+
+OLLIVANT. And the children?
+
+MARY. They'd have a share of my life.
+
+OLLIVANT. A mighty big share if you're human, I tell you. Ask your
+mother if you think they're easy coming and bringing up.
+
+MARY. And now they've left her. Dear mother, what has she to do?
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, if you ever get a husband with those ideas of yours
+you'll see what a wife has to do. [_He goes to her._] Mary, it isn't
+easy, all this you've been saying. But your mother and I are left alone,
+and perhaps we _have_ got different views than you. But if ever you do
+see it our way, and give up or fail--- well, come back to us,
+understand?
+
+MARY. [_Going to him and kissing him._] I understand how hard it was for
+you to say that. And remember I may come back a success.
+
+OLLIVANT. Yes. I suppose they all think that; it's what keeps them
+going. But some day, when you're in love and marry, you'll see it all
+differently.
+
+MARY. Father, what if the man does not come--or the children?
+
+OLLIVANT. Why--[_He halts as though unable to answer her._] Nonsense.
+He'll come, never fear; they always do.
+
+MARY. I wonder.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_He goes affectionately to_ EMILY_, who has been staring
+before her during this_.] Emily, dear. No wonder the flowers have been
+neglected. Well, you'll have time to spray those roses yourself. I'll
+get the spray mixture to-morrow. [_Kisses her tenderly._] Painting paper
+dolls with a change of clothes! When I might have been sending her the
+money without ever feeling it. No more of that, dear; you don't have to
+now. I shan't let you get tired and sick. That's one thing I draw the
+line at. [_He pats her again, looks at his watch, and then goes slowly
+over to the window-doors._] Well, it's getting late. I'll lock up.
+[_Looking up at sky._] Paper says it will rain to-morrow.
+
+EMILY. [_Very quietly so only_ MARY _can hear_.] At the art school they
+said I had a lovely sense of color. Your father is so kind; but he
+doesn't know how much I enjoyed painting again--even those paper dolls.
+
+MARY. [_Comprehending in surprise._] Mother! You, _too_?
+
+EMILY. [_Fearing lest_ OLLIVANT _should hear_.] Sh!
+
+     [OLLIVANT _closes the doors and eyes the women thoughtfully_.]
+
+OLLIVANT. Better fasten the other windows when you come. Good-night.
+
+     [_He goes out slowly as mother and daughter sit there together._]
+
+
+THE CURTAIN FALLS
+
+
+
+
+THE EXCHANGE
+
+BY
+
+ALTHEA THURSTON
+
+_The Exchange_ is reprinted by permission of Althea Thurston. This play
+is one of the farces written in the Course in Dramatic Composition
+(English 109) in the University of Utah. For permission to perform,
+address B. Roland Lewis, Department of English, University of Utah, Salt
+Lake City, Utah.
+
+
+ALTHEA THURSTON
+
+Althea Cooms-Thurston, one of the promising writers of the younger set
+of American dramatists, was born in Iowa, but soon moved with her
+parents to Colorado, where she spent her girlhood. She was educated in
+the public schools of Colorado Springs and Denver. Her collegiate
+training was received in the University of Utah, Salt Lake City. In 1902
+she married Walter R. Thurston, a well-known engineer. At present she
+resides in Dallas, Texas.
+
+Mrs. Thurston has travelled widely and has resided for periods of time
+in Mexico City and Havana, Cuba. She is an able linguist and has made a
+special study of her native English tongue and of Spanish and French,
+all of which she uses fluently.
+
+From childhood she has shown dramatic ability. Her dramatic composition
+has been more or less directly associated with the courses in
+playwriting and the history of the drama which she completed in the
+University of Utah. Among her one-act plays are _When a Man's Hungry_,
+_And the Devil Laughs_, and _The Exchange_.
+
+Mrs. Thurston has an aptitude for delicate and satirical farce. _The
+Exchange_ is an excellent example of farce-comedy in the contemporary
+one-act play.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    JUDGE, _the exchanger of miseries_
+    IMP, _office boy to the_ JUDGE
+    A POOR MAN
+    A VAIN WOMAN
+    A RICH CITIZEN
+
+
+
+
+THE EXCHANGE[C]
+
+
+SCENE I
+
+     _The curtain rises upon an office scene. Seemingly there is nothing
+     unusual about this office: it has tables, chairs, a filing cabinet,
+     and a hat-rack. A portion of the office is railed off at the right.
+     Within this enclosed space is a commodious desk and swivel-chair;
+     and the filing cabinet stands against the wall. This railed-off
+     portion of the office belongs, exclusively, to the_ JUDGE. _Here he
+     is wont to spend many hours--sometimes to read or write, and again,
+     perhaps, he will just sit and ponder upon the vagaries of mankind.
+     The_ JUDGE _is a tall, spare man with rather long gray hair, which
+     shows beneath the skull-cap that he always wears. When we first see
+     him, he is reading a letter, and evidently he is not pleased, for
+     he is tapping with impatient fingers upon his desk._
+
+     _At the left of the stage is a heavily curtained door which leads
+     to an inner room. At centre rear is another door which evidently
+     leads to the street, as it is through this door that the_ POOR MAN,
+     _the_ VAIN WOMAN, _and the_ RICH CITIZEN _will presently enter,
+     each upon his special quest. The hat-rack stands near the street
+     door, and we glimpse a soft black hat and a long black overcoat
+     hanging upon it._
+
+     _Down stage to the left is a flat-topped desk, littered with papers
+     and letters. This desk has two large drawers, wherein a number of
+     miscellaneous articles might be kept. It is at this desk that we
+     catch our first glimpse of_ IMP. _He is busily writing in a huge
+     ledger, and he seems to be enjoying his work, for he chuckles the
+     while._ IMP _is a little rogue; he looks it and acts it, and we
+     feel that he has a Mephistophelian spirit. He wears a dark-green
+     tight-fitting uniform, trimmed with red braid. His saucy little
+     round cap is always cocked over one eye. He is ever chuckling
+     impishly, and we feel that he is slyly gleeful over the weaknesses
+     of mankind and the difficulties that beset them._
+
+IMP. [_Throws down his pen, chuckles, and half standing on the rungs of
+his chair and balancing himself against his desk, surveys the ledger._]
+Your honor, I've all the miseries listed to date and a fine lot there is
+to choose from. Everything from bunions to old wives for exchange.
+
+JUDGE. [_Scowls and impatiently taps the letter he is reading._] Here is
+another one. A woman suspects her husband of a misalliance. Wants to
+catch him, but is so crippled with rheumatism she can't get about. Wants
+us to exchange her rheumatism for something that won't interfere with
+either her walking or her eyesight.
+
+IMP. [_Referring to the ledger and running his finger along the lines._]
+We have a defective heart or a lazy liver that we could give her.
+
+JUDGE. [_Irritably tossing the letter over to_ IMP.] She would not be
+satisfied. People never are. They always want to change their miseries,
+but never their vices. Each thinks his own cross heavier than others
+have to bear, but he is very willing to make light of his own weaknesses
+and shortcomings. He thinks they are not half so bad as his neighbor's.
+I have tried for years to aid distressed humanity, but I can't satisfy
+them. I am growing tired of it all, Imp. People need a lesson and
+they're going to get it, too. I am going to----
+
+     [_Knock is heard at the street door._ JUDGE _sighs, turns to his
+     desk and begins to write_. IMP _sweeps the litter of papers on his
+     desk into a drawer, closes ledger, and goes to answer knock_.
+
+IMP. Here comes another misery.
+
+     [IMP _opens the door to admit the_ POOR MAN, _who is very shabbily
+     dressed. He hesitates, looks around the room as if he were in the
+     wrong place, and then addresses_ IMP _in a loud whisper_.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Indicating the_ JUDGE _with a motion of his head_.] Is that
+him?
+
+IMP. [_Whispering loudly his reply._] Yes, that is his honor.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Still whispering and showing signs of nervousness._] Do I
+dare speak to him?
+
+IMP. [_Enjoying the situation and still whispering._] Yes, but be
+careful what you say.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Takes off his hat, approaches slowly to the railing, and
+speaks humbly._] Your honor. I--[_Swallows hard, clears throat._] Your
+honor, I've a little favor--to ask of you.
+
+JUDGE. [_Looking coldly at the_ POOR MAN.] Well?
+
+POOR MAN. You see, your honor, I've been poor all my life. I've never
+had much fun. I don't ask for a lot of money, but--I would like enough
+so that I could have some swell clothes, and--so that I could eat,
+drink, and be merry with the boys. You know, I just want to have a good
+time. Do you think you could fix it for me, Judge?
+
+JUDGE. [_Gazes at him sternly for a moment._] So you just want to have a
+good time? Want me to take away your poverty? I suppose you have no
+moral weakness you want to change, no defects in your character that you
+want to better?
+
+POOR MAN. [_Stammering and twirling his hat._] Why, w-hy, Judge, I--I am
+not a bad man. Of--of course, I have my faults, but then--I've never
+committed any crimes. I guess I stack up pretty fair as men go. I'm just
+awful tired of being poor and never having any fun. Couldn't you help me
+out on that point, Judge?
+
+JUDGE. [_Sighs wearily and turns to_ IMP.] Bring me the ledger.
+
+     [IMP _gives him the ledger in which he has been writing_. JUDGE
+     _opens it, and then speaks sharply to the_ POOR MAN.
+
+JUDGE. You understand, do you, my good man, that if I take away your
+poverty and give you enough money for your good time, you will have to
+accept another misery?
+
+POOR MAN. [_Eagerly._] Yes, your honor, that's all right. I'm willing.
+
+JUDGE. [_Scanning ledger._] Very well. Let us see. Here is paralysis.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Hesitatingly._] Well. I--I couldn't have a--very good time,
+if--if I was paralyzed.
+
+JUDGE. [_Shortly._] No. I suppose not. How about a glass eye?
+
+POOR MAN. [_Anxiously._] Please, your honor, if I'm going to have a good
+time I need two good eyes. I don't want to miss anything.
+
+JUDGE. [_Wearily turning over the leaves of the ledger._] A man left his
+wife here for exchange, perhaps you would like her.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Shifting from one foot to the other and nervously twirling
+his hat._] Oh, Judge, oh, no, please, no. I don't want anybody's old
+cast-off wife.
+
+JUDGE. [_Becoming exasperated._] Well, choose something, and be quick
+about it. Here is lumbago, gout, fatness, old age, and----
+
+IMP. [_Interrupting, and walking quickly over to the railing._] Excuse
+me, Judge, but maybe the gentleman would like the indigestion that Mr.
+Potter left when he took old Mrs. Pratt's fallen arches.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Eagerly._] Indigestion? Sure! That will be fine! I won't
+mind a little thing like indigestion if I can get rid of my poverty.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sternly._] Very well. Raise your right hand. Repeat after me:
+"I swear to accept indigestion for better or for worse as my portion of
+the world's miseries, so help me God."
+
+POOR MAN. [_Solemnly._] "I swear to accept indigestion for better or for
+worse as my portion of the world's miseries, so help me God."
+
+JUDGE. [_To_ IMP.] Show this gentleman to the changing-room.
+
+     [POOR MAN _follows_ IMP, _who conducts him to the heavily curtained
+     door. The_ POOR MAN _throws out his chest and swaggers a bit, as a
+     man might who had suddenly come into a fortune_. IMP _swaggers
+     along with him_.
+
+IMP. Won't you have a grand time, though. I'll get you a menu card, so
+that you can be picking out your dinner.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Joyfully slapping_ IMP _on the back_.] Good idea, and I'll
+pick out a regular banquet.
+
+     [_Pausing a moment before he passes through the curtains, he smiles
+     and smacks his lips in anticipation. Exit._
+
+JUDGE. [_Speaks disgustedly to_ IMP.] There you are! He's perfectly
+satisfied with his morals. Has no defects in his character. Just wants
+to have a good time.
+
+     [_Sighs heavily and turns back to his writing._ IMP _nods his head
+     in agreement and chuckles slyly_.
+
+     [_The street door opens slowly and the_ VAIN WOMAN _stands upon the
+     threshold. She does not enter at once, but stands
+     posing--presumably she desires to attract attention, and she is
+     worthy of it. She has a superb figure, and her rich gowning
+     enhances it. Her fair face reveals a shallow prettiness, but the
+     wrinkles of age are beginning to leave telltale lines upon its
+     smoothness. As_ IMP _hurries forward to usher her in, she sweeps
+     grandly past him to the centre of the stage_. IMP _stops near the
+     door, with his hands on his hips, staring after her, then takes a
+     few steps in imitation of her. She turns around slowly and,
+     sauntering over to the railing, coughs affectedly, and as the_
+     JUDGE _rises and bows curtly, she speaks in a coaxing manner_.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. Judge, I have heard that you are very kind, and I have been
+told that you help people out of their troubles, so I have a little
+favor to ask of you.
+
+JUDGE. [_Coldly._] Yes, I supposed so; go on.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Archly._] Well, you know that I am a famous beauty; in
+fact, both my face and my form are considered very lovely. [_She turns
+around slowly that he may see for himself._] Great and celebrated men
+have worshipped at my feet. I simply cannot live without admiration. It
+is my very life. But, Judge [_plaintively_], horrid wrinkles are
+beginning to show in my face. [_Intensely._] Oh, I would give anything,
+do anything, to have a smooth, youthful face once more. Please, oh,
+please, won't you take away these wrinkles [_touching her face with her
+fingers_] and give me something in their stead.
+
+JUDGE. [_Looking directly at her and speaking coldly._] Are you
+satisfied with yourself in other ways? Is your character as beautiful as
+your face? Have you no faults or weaknesses that you want exchanged?
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Uncertainly._] Why, I--don't know what you mean. I am just
+as good as any other woman and lots better than some I know. I go to
+church, and I subscribe to the charities, and I belong to the best
+clubs. [_Anxiously._] Oh, please, Judge, it's these wrinkles that make
+me so unhappy. Won't you exchange them? You don't want me to be unhappy,
+do you? Please take them away.
+
+JUDGE. [_Wearily looking over the ledger._] Oh, very well, I'll see what
+I can do for you. [_To_ IMP.] Fetch a chair for this lady.
+
+     [IMP _gives her a chair and she sits facing front_. IMP _returns to
+     his desk, perches himself upon it and watches the_ VAIN WOMAN
+     _interestedly_. JUDGE _turns over the leaves of the ledger_.
+
+JUDGE. I have a goitre that I could exchange for your wrinkles.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Protestingly, clasping her hands to her throat._] Oh,
+heavens, no! That would ruin my beautiful throat. See. [_Throwing back
+her fur and exposing her neck in a low-cut gown._] I have a lovely neck.
+[IMP _makes an exaggerated attempt to see_.
+
+JUDGE. [_Glances coldly at her and then scans ledger again._] Well, how
+about hay-fever?
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Reproachfully._] Oh, Judge, how can you suggest such a
+thing! Watery eyes and a red nose, the worst enemy of beauty there is. I
+simply couldn't think of it. I want something that won't show.
+
+JUDGE. [_Disgustedly turns to filing cabinet and looks through a series
+of cards, withdraws one, and turns back to_ VAIN WOMAN.] Perhaps this
+will suit you. [_Refers to card._] A woman has grown very tired of her
+husband and wants to exchange him for some other burden.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Indignantly._] What! I accept a man that some other woman
+doesn't want! Certainly not! I prefer one that some other woman does
+want.
+
+JUDGE. [_Irritated, puts the card back in its place, and turns upon the_
+VAIN WOMAN _crossly_.] I fear that I cannot please you and I do not have
+time to----
+
+IMP. [_Interrupts and runs over to the railing, speaking soothingly to
+the_ JUDGE.] Excuse me, Judge, but maybe the lady would like deafness in
+exchange for her wrinkles. Deafness wouldn't show, so it couldn't spoil
+her face or her elegant figure.
+
+JUDGE. [_Wearily._] No, it won't show. Deafness ought to be a good thing
+for you.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Consideringly._] Why--yes--that might do. But--well, it
+wouldn't show. I've a notion to take it. [_Pause--she seems to consider
+and meditate. The_ JUDGE _stares at her coldly_. IMP _grins impudently.
+She rises leisurely, sighs._] All right. I'll accept it.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sharply._] Hold up your right hand. [_She raises hand._] Do you
+swear to accept deafness for better or for worse, as your portion of the
+world's miseries, so help you God?
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Sweetly._] Oh, yes. I do, Judge.
+
+JUDGE. [_To_ IMP.] Show the lady to the changing-room.
+
+IMP. [_Escorts her to the curtained door with rather mock deference._]
+No, deafness won't show at all, and you'll have 'em all crazy about you.
+[_Draws aside curtains for her to pass._] Take second booth to your
+right.
+
+     [VAIN WOMAN _stands posing a moment. She smiles radiantly and pats
+     her cheeks softly with her hands, then with a long-drawn sigh of
+     happiness, she exits._ IMP _bows low and mockingly after her
+     vanishing form, his hand on his heart_.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sarcastically._] Do her faults or shortcomings trouble her? Not
+at all! Perfectly satisfied with herself, except for a few wrinkles in
+her face. Vain women! Bah!
+
+IMP. Yes, sir; women have queer notions.
+
+     [_An imperative rap at the street-door, immediately followed by the
+     rapper's abrupt entrance. We see an important-appearing personage.
+     His arrogant bearing and commanding pose lead us to believe that he
+     is accustomed to prompt attention. It is the_ RICH CITIZEN,
+     _exceedingly well groomed. His manner is lordly, but he addresses
+     the_ JUDGE _in a bored tone. When_ IMP _scampers to meet him, the_
+     RICH CITIZEN _hands him his hat and cane and turns at once to the_
+     JUDGE. IMP _examines the hat and cane critically, hangs them on the
+     hat-rack, and returns to his desk, where he again perches to watch
+     the_ RICH CITIZEN.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Lighting a cigarette._] I am addressing the Judge, am I
+not?
+
+JUDGE. [_Shortly._] You are.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Languidly, between puffs of his cigarette._] Well,
+Judge, life has become rather boresome, so I thought I would drop in and
+ask you to do me a small favor.
+
+JUDGE. [_Wearily._] Yes? We--What is your grievance?
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Nonchalantly._] Oh, I wouldn't say grievance exactly.
+You see, my dear Judge, it is this way. I am a very rich and influential
+citizen, a prominent member of society, and I am very much sought after.
+
+JUDGE. [_Frigidly._] Oh, indeed!
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_In a very bored manner._] Yes. Women run after me day
+and night. Ambitious mothers throw their marriageable daughters at my
+head. Men seek my advice on all matters. I am compelled to head this and
+that committee. [_Smokes languidly._
+
+JUDGE. [_Sharply._] Well, go on.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. Really, Judge, my prestige has become a burden. I want to
+get away from it all. I would like to become a plain, ordinary man with
+an humble vocation, the humbler the better, so that people will cease
+bothering me.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sarcastically._] Is your prestige all that troubles you? Don't
+worry about your morals, I suppose. Satisfied with your habits and
+character?
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Coldly._] What have my habits or morals got to do with
+my request? [_Scornfully._] Certainly I am not one of your saintly men.
+I live as a man of my station should live, and I think I measure up very
+well with the best of them. I am simply bored and I would like a change.
+I would like to be a plain man with an humble calling.
+
+JUDGE. [_Ironically._] I'll see what we have in humble callings. [_He
+looks at the ledger, turning the leaves over slowly._] We have several
+bartenders' vocations.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Wearily smoking._] No. Too many people about all the
+time, and too much noise.
+
+JUDGE. Well, here's a janitor's job open to you.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Impatiently throwing away his cigarette._] No. I don't
+like that, either. Too confining. Too many people bickering at you all
+the time. I want to get out in the open, away from crowds.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sighing, and turning over the leaves of the ledger, then
+hopefully._] Here's the very thing for you, then--postman in a rural
+district.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Showing vexation._] No, no, _no_. Too many old women
+that want to gossip. I tell you, I want to get away from women. Haven't
+you something peaceful and quiet; something that would take me out in
+the quiet of the early morning, when the birds are singing?
+
+JUDGE. [_Closing ledger with a bang, and rising._] Well, you're too
+particular, and I have not time to bother with you. I bid you good
+after----
+
+IMP. [_Slides from his desk, runs to railing, and speaks suavely._]
+Excuse me, Judge, but maybe the gentleman would like the vocation of
+milkman. That is early-morning work. And, you remember, a milkman left
+his job here when he took that old, worn-out senator's position.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sharply, to_ RICH CITIZEN.] Well, how about it? Does a
+milkman's vocation suit you? It's early-morning hours, fresh air, and no
+people about.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Musingly._] Well, the very simplicity and quietness of
+it is its charm. It rather appeals to me. [_He ponders a moment._] Yes,
+by Jove, I'll take it.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sternly._] Hold up your right hand. "Do you solemnly swear to
+accept, for better or for worse, the vocation of milkman as your lot in
+life, so help you God?"
+
+RICH CITIZEN. I do.
+
+JUDGE. [_To_ IMP.] Show this gentleman to the changing-room.
+
+IMP. [_While escorting him to the curtained door._] Yes, sir, you will
+lead the simple life. Fresh air, fresh milk, no people, just cows--and
+they can't talk. [_Holding aside the curtains._] Third booth, sir.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Musingly._] The simple life--peace and quietness.
+
+     [_Exit._
+
+JUDGE. [I_n disgust._] It's no use, Imp. They all cling to their vices,
+but they are very keen to change some little cross or condition that
+vexes them--or think vexes them.
+
+IMP. It's strange that people always want something different from what
+they have.
+
+     [IMP _opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a bottle, evidently
+     filled with tablets, which he holds up, shaking it and chuckling.
+     He hunts in the drawer again, and this time brings forth a huge
+     ear-trumpet, which he chucklingly places an his table beside the
+     bottle of tablets._
+
+JUDGE. Don't let any more in, Imp. I can't stand another one to-day. I
+am going to write a letter and then go home.
+
+IMP. All right, sir.
+
+JUDGE. I am feeling very tired; what I really need is a vacation. A
+sea-trip would put me right. By the way, Imp, where is that
+transatlantic folder that I told you to get?
+
+     [IMP _picks up the folder from his desk and takes it to the_ JUDGE,
+     _who studies it attentively_. IMP _returns to his own desk, where
+     he again looks in a drawer and brings forth a menu card, which he
+     glances over, grinning mischievously_.
+
+     [_The former_ POOR MAN _re-enters from the changing-room. He is
+     well dressed, and taking a well-filled wallet from his pocket, he
+     looks at it gloatingly. However, from time to time, a shade of
+     annoyance passes over his face, and he puts his hand to the pit of
+     his stomach._ IMP _runs to meet him, and hands him the menu that he
+     has been reading_.
+
+IMP. Here's a menu from the Gargoyle. Say, you sure do look swell!
+[_Looking him over admiringly._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Grinning happily._] Some class to me now, eh!
+[_Looking at menu._] And you watch me pick out a real dinner. [_Sits
+down at left front._] First, I'll have a cocktail, then--let's see--I'll
+have--another cocktail. Next, oysters, and [_he frowns and presses his
+hand to the pit of his stomach, keeping up a massaging
+motion_]--green-turtle soup, sand dabs--chicken breasts--
+
+     [_They become absorbed over the menu._
+
+     [_The_ VAIN WOMAN _re-enters from the changing-room. She now has a
+     smooth face, and she is looking at herself in a hand-glass,
+     smiling and touching her face delightedly, She walks over to the
+     railing, and leans over it to the_ JUDGE. _He looks up
+     questioningly._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Smiling._] Oh, I am so happy again. Am I not beautiful?
+
+JUDGE. [_Pityingly._] You are a vain, foolish woman.
+
+     [_Since she is deaf, she does not hear his words, but thinks he is
+     complimenting her. She smiles at him coyly._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. Ah, Judge, you too are susceptible to my charms.
+
+     [_The_ JUDGE, _in great exasperation, puts away his papers, thrusts
+     the transatlantic folder in his pocket, hastily closes his desk,
+     and hurries to the hat-rack, puts on his overcoat, slips his
+     skull-cap into his pocket and puts on his soft black hat. Then,
+     with a shrug of his shoulders and a wave of his hand indicative of
+     disgust, he slips quietly out._
+
+     [_The_ VAIN WOMAN _saunters past the_ FORMER POOR MAN, _stops near
+     him, posing, and begins to put on her gloves. He looks at her
+     admiringly, then, getting to his feet, makes an elaborate but
+     awkward bow._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. Excuse me, lady, but I've had a big piece of luck
+to-day, and I want to celebrate, so I am having a big dinner. Won't you
+join me and help me have a good time?
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Looking at him blankly, and trying to fathom what he has
+said._] Oh--why, what did you say?
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Hesitating, and a bit surprised._] Why--er--I said
+that I had a big piece of luck to-day, and I am going to celebrate. I am
+having a fine dinner, and I just asked if--if--you wouldn't have dinner
+with me.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Still looking blank and a little confused, then smiling
+archly and acting as though she had been hearing compliments, she speaks
+affectedly._] Really, do you think so? [_Looking down and smoothing her
+dress._] But, then, every one tells me that I am.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Puzzled, turns to_ IMP _for help_.] Just what is her
+trouble, Nut?
+
+IMP. [_Secretly gleeful._] She is stone-deaf. You had better write it.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. Never! No deaf ones for me.
+
+     [_Turns away and consults menu again._ VAIN WOMAN _poses and
+     frequently looks in hand-glass to reassure herself_.
+
+     [FORMER RICH CITIZEN _re-enters from the changing-room. He is
+     dressed in shabby overalls, jumper, and an old hat. He has a pipe
+     in his mouth. He walks arrogantly over to the_ FORMER POOR MAN _and
+     addresses him_.
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. Give me a light.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Trying to live up to his fine clothes and wallet full
+of money, looks the_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _over snubbingly_.] Say, who do
+you think you are? You light out, see?
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Very much surprised, stands nonplussed a
+moment._] Well, upon my word, I--I----
+
+     [_He stops short in his speech, walks haughtily over to the
+     railing, where he stands glowering at the_ FORMER POOR MAN. _The_
+     FORMER POOR MAN _starts for the street door, but_ IMP _runs after
+     him, waving the bottle of tablets_.
+
+IMP. I'll sell you these for two bits.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. What is that?
+
+IMP. [_Grinning._] Indigestion tablets.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Puts his hand to his stomach and laughs a little
+lamely._] Keep 'em; I don't need 'em.
+
+     [VAIN WOMAN _fastens her fur and starts for the street-door, giving
+     the_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _a snubbing look as she passes him_. IMP
+     _stops her and offers the ear-trumpet_.
+
+IMP. You might need this; I'll sell it for a dollar.
+
+     [_She does not hear what he says, but she looks her scorn at the
+     ear-trumpet and walks proudly out._
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Fumbling at his pocket, as if to find a watch._]
+Boy, what time is it? I haven't my watch.
+
+IMP. [_Grinning mischievously._] Time to milk the cows.
+
+     [_The_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _starts angrily toward_ IMP, _then
+     evidently thinking better of it, shrugs his shoulders and stalks
+     majestically to the street-door. He pauses with it partly open,
+     turns as if to speak to_ IMP, _drawing himself up haughtily--a
+     ludicrous figure in his shabby outfit--then he goes abruptly out,
+     slamming the door_.
+
+     [IMP _doubles himself up in a paroxysm of glee as the curtain
+     falls_.
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+     _A fortnight has passed. The curtain rises upon the same
+     stage-setting. The_ JUDGE _is not about, but we see_ IMP _asleep in
+     a chair. All seems quiet and serene. But suddenly the street-door
+     opens noisily, and the_ FORMER POOR MAN _bursts into the room. He
+     is panting, as though he had been running. He is haggard and seems
+     in great pain, for occasionally he moans. He looks wildly about the
+     room, and seeing_ IMP _asleep in the chair, he rushes to him and
+     shakes him roughly_. IMP _wakes slowly, yawning and rubbing his
+     eyes_.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Frantically._] The Judge, where is he? I must see him
+at once.
+
+IMP. [_Yawning._] You're too early. He isn't down yet.
+
+     [_Settles himself to go to sleep again._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Walking the floor, and holding his hands to his
+stomach._] Don't go to sleep again. I'm nearly crazy. What time does the
+Judge get here? Where does he live? Can't we send for him?
+
+IMP. [_Indifferently._] Oh, he is liable to come any minute--and then he
+may not come for an hour or two.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Pacing the floor, moaning and rubbing his stomach_.]
+Oh, I can't stand it much longer. It's driving me wild, I tell you. I do
+wish the Judge would come.
+
+IMP. [_Getting up from his chair and keeping step with the_ FORMER POOR
+MAN.] What's the matter? I thought all you wanted was to eat, drink, and
+be merry.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Frantically waving his arms._] Eat, drink, and be
+merry be----! Everything I eat gives me indigestion something awful;
+everything I drink gives it to me worse. How can I be merry when I am in
+this torment all the time? I tell you this pain is driving me mad. I
+want to get rid of it quick. Oh, why doesn't the Judge come?
+
+IMP. What's the Judge got to do with it?
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Pathetically._] I am going to beg him to take back
+this indigestion and give me back my poverty. It was not so bad, after
+all; not nearly so bad as this pain in my stomach.
+
+     [_The street-door opens slowly, and a sorrowful woman enters. She
+     is weeping softly. It is the_ VAIN WOMAN. _Gone is her posing and
+     her proud manner. She walks humbly to the railing, and not seeing
+     the_ JUDGE, she turns to IMP. _The_ FORMER POOR MAN _looks at the_
+     VAIN WOMAN, _frowningly muttering: "What's she here for?" Then he
+     sits down at the left and rocks back and forth in misery._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Tearfully._] I must see the Judge right away, please.
+
+IMP. [Languidly.] He isn't down yet. You're too earl----
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Interrupting._] Tell him that it is very important, that I
+am in great distress and that he must see me at once.
+
+IMP. [_Loudly._] I said that he was not down yet.
+
+     [_Seeing that she does not understand, he takes a writing-pad from
+     his desk, scribbles a few words, and standing in front of her,
+     holds it up for her to read._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_After reading._] Oh, when will he be here? Can't you get
+him to come right away? Oh, I am so unhappy. [_She walks the floor in
+agitation._
+
+     [_The_ FORMER POOR MAN _grunts in irritation and turns his back on
+     her_.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. I cannot hear a word that is said to me. No one seems to
+want me around, and I am not invited out any more. I have the feeling
+that people are making fun of me instead of praising my beauty. Oh, it
+is dreadful to be deaf. [_Getting hysterical._] I want the Judge to take
+away this deafness. I would rather have my wrinkles.
+
+     [IMP _shakes his head in pretended sympathy, saying: "Too bad, too
+     bad."_
+
+     [_She misunderstands and cries out._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. Has the Judge given away my wrinkles? I want them back. I
+want my very own wrinkles, too. Wrinkles are distinguished-looking.
+[_Beginning to sob._] I don't want to be deaf any longer.
+
+IMP. [_Running over to the_ FORMER POOR MAN.] Say, this lady feels very
+bad. Can't you cheer her up a little?
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Who is still rocking back and forth with his own
+misery, looks up at_ IMP _in disgust_.] Cheer--her--up! Me? What's the
+joke?
+
+     [_The_ VAIN WOMAN _walks to the curtained door, looks in as if
+     seeking something, then returns to a chair, where she sits, weeping
+     softly_.
+
+     [_A peculiar thumping is heard at the street-door. The_ FORMER POOR
+     MAN _jumps to his feet in expectancy, hoping it is the_ JUDGE. IMP,
+     _also, stands waiting. The door opens as though the person that
+     opened it did so with difficulty. The_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _hobbles
+     in. He is ragged and dirty, and one foot is bandaged, which causes
+     him to use a crutch. He carries a large milk-can. He hobbles
+     painfully to the centre of the stage. The_ FORMER POOR MAN _grunts
+     with disappointment, and sits down again, rubbing away at his
+     stomach. The_ VAIN WOMAN _sits with bowed head, silently weeping.
+     The_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _looks about, then addresses_ IMP _in a
+     rather husky voice_.
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. I wish to see the Judge at once. It is most urgent.
+
+IMP. [_With an ill-concealed smile._] You can't see the Judge at once.
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Impatiently._] Why not? I told you it was most
+urgent.
+
+IMP. [_Grinning openly._] Because he isn't here. He hasn't come in yet.
+What's your trouble?
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Vehemently._] Trouble! Everything's the trouble!
+I have been abused, insulted, overworked--even the cows have kicked me.
+[_Looking down at his bandaged foot._] I can't stand it. I won't stand
+it. I want back my proper place in the world, where I am respected, and
+where I can rest and sleep and mingle with my kind. [_He hobbles to a
+chair and sits down wearily._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Getting up from his chair, walks over to the_ FORMER
+RICH CITIZEN, _waggles his finger in his face and speaks fretfully_.]
+What cause have you to squeal so? If you had indigestion like I have all
+the time, you might be entitled to raise a holler. Why, I can't eat a
+thing without having the most awful pain right here [_puts his hand to
+the pit of his stomach_], and when I take a drink, oh, heavens, it----
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Interrupting contemptuously._] You big baby,
+howling about the stomachache. If you had a man-sized trouble, there
+might be some excuse for you. Now I, who have been used to wealth and
+respect, have been subjected to the most gruelling ordeals; why, in that
+dairy there were a million cows, and they kicked me, and horned me, and
+I----
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Walks over to them, interrupting their talk, and speaks in
+a voice punctuated with sniffing sobs._] Have--[_sniff_] either of you
+gentlemen [_sniff_] ever been deaf? [_Sniff, sniff._] It is a terrible
+thing [_sniff_] for a beautiful woman like I am [_sniff_] to have such
+an affliction. [_Sniff, sniff, sniff._
+
+     [FORMER RICH CITIZEN _shrugs his shoulders indifferently and limps
+     to the other side of the stage, where he sits_.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Stalks over to the railing, where he leans limply._]
+Lord deliver me from a sniffling woman.
+
+     [IMP, _who is perched on his desk, chuckles wickedly of their
+     sufferings_. VAIN WOMAN _sinks dejectedly into the chair vacated by
+     the_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN.
+
+     [_A knock is heard at the street-door. The_ FORMER POOR MAN _and
+     the_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _start forward eagerly, expecting the_
+     JUDGE. _Even the_ VAIN WOMAN, _seeing the others rise, gets to her
+     feet hopefully_. IMP _hastily slides from his desk and, pulling
+     down his tight little jacket and cocking his round little cap a
+     little more over one eye, goes to see who knocks. A messenger hands
+     him a letter and silently departs._
+
+IMP. [_Importantly._] Letter for me from the Judge.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. A letter! Why doesn't he come himself?
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. Send for him, boy.
+
+IMP. [_Grins at_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _in an insolent manner_.] Well,
+well, I wonder what the Judge is writing to me for. It's queer he would
+send me a letter.
+
+     [_He looks the letter over carefully, both sides; holds it up to
+     the light, smells it, shakes it. The two men and the woman grow
+     more and more nervous._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Extremely irritated._] For goodness' sake, open it
+and read it.
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. Yes, yes, and don't be so long about it.
+
+     [VAIN WOMAN _simply stands pathetically and waits_. IMP _walks over
+     to his desk, hunts for a knife, finally finds one; looks letter
+     over again, then slowly slits the envelope and draws out letter,
+     which he reads silently to himself. They are breathlessly waiting._
+     IMP _whistles softly to himself_.
+
+IMP. Well, what do you think of that!
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Excitedly._] What is it--why don't you tell us?
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Pounding with his crutch on the floor._] Come,
+come, don't keep me waiting like this.
+
+IMP. [_Reads letter again, silently, chuckling._] All right. Here it is.
+[_Reads._]
+
+     "MY DEAR IMP:
+
+     "I have tried faithfully for years to aid distressed humanity, but
+     they are an ungrateful lot of fools, and I wash my hands of them.
+     When this letter reaches you I will be on the high seas, and I am
+     never coming back. So write 'Finis' in the big old ledger of
+     miseries, and shut up shop, for the Exchange is closed--forever.
+
+Yours in disgust, THE JUDGE."
+
+     [_They all stand dazed a moment. The_ VAIN WOMAN, _sensing that
+     something terrible has happened, rushes from one to the other,
+     saying: "What is it? What has happened?"_ IMP _gives her the letter
+     to read_.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_In a perfect frenzy._] My God! Indigestion all the
+rest of my days.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_After reading letter collapses in a chair, hysterically
+sobbing out._] Deaf, always deaf! Oh, what shall I do!
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Leaning heavily on his crutch and shaking his
+free hand, clenched in anger._] This is an outrage. I am rich and have
+influence, and I shall take steps to--to----
+
+     [IMP _laughs mockingly. The man looks down at his milk-spattered
+     clothes, his bandaged foot, and, letting his crutch fall to the
+     floor, sinks dejectedly into a chair, burying his face in his
+     hands._
+
+     [IMP _dangles his keys and opens the street-door, as an invitation
+     for them to go. The_ FORMER POOR MAN _is the first to start, moving
+     dazedly and breathing hard_. IMP _offers him the bottle of
+     indigestion tablets; the man grasps them, eagerly, tipping_ IMP,
+     _who chuckles as he pockets the money. The_ FORMER POOR MAN _takes
+     a tablet as he exits. The_ VAIN WOMAN, _bowed with sorrow, moves
+     slowly toward the door_. IMP _touches her arm and offers the
+     ear-trumpet. She accepts it, with a wild sob, tipping_ IMP, _who
+     again chuckles as he pockets the money. The last we see of the_
+     VAIN WOMAN, _she is trying to hold the ear-trumpet to her ear, and
+     exits, sobbing. The_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _still sits in his chair,
+     his head in his hands_. IMP _picks up the milk-can, and, tapping
+     the man not too gently on the shoulder, thrusts the milk-can at him
+     and makes a significant gesture, indicative of_--THIS WAY OUT. _The
+     man rises dejectedly, picks up his crutch, takes the milk-can, and
+     hobbles painfully toward the door._ IMP _doubles himself up in wild
+     Mephistophelian glee as the_
+
+
+CURTAIN FALLS
+
+
+
+
+SAM AVERAGE
+
+BY
+
+PERCY MACKAYE
+
+
+_Sam Average_ is reprinted by special permission of Percy Mackaye. This
+play first appeared in _Yankee Fantasies_, Duffield & Company, New York.
+
+_Special Notice_
+
+No public or private performance of this play--professional or
+amateur--and no public reading of it for money may be given without the
+written permission of the author and the payment of royalty. Persons who
+desire to obtain such permission should communicate direct with the
+author at his address, Harvard Club, 27 West 44th Street, New York
+City.
+
+
+PERCY MACKAYE
+
+Percy Mackaye, who was born in New York City in 1875, is one of the few
+Americans whose interest has been almost wholly in the theatre. As a
+lecturer, writer, and champion of real art in drama, he has had few if
+any equals. He inherited his interest in drama from his father, Steele
+Mackaye, author of _Hazel Kirke_. He was educated at Harvard, where he
+studied under Professor George Pierce Baker, and at Leipzig. He has
+travelled extensively in Europe and at various times has resided in
+Rome, Switzerland, and London. In 1914 Dartmouth conferred upon him the
+honorary Master of Arts degree. At present he holds a fellowship in
+dramatic literature in Miami University, Oxford, Ohio.
+
+Mr. Mackaye's efforts in the dramatic field have been varied. Masques,
+pageants, operas, and plays are to his credit. _The Canterbury
+Pilgrims_, _The Scarecrow_, _Jeanne D'Arc_, _Mater_, _Anti-Matrimony_,
+_Sanctuary_, _Saint Louis Masque_, and _Caliban_ are among his
+better-known works.
+
+In 1912 appeared his Yankee Fantasies, of which _Sam Average_ and
+_Gettysburg_ are the more noteworthy.
+
+In all of Mr. Mackaye's work he possesses what many dramatists lack--a
+definite ideal. He aims at an artistic and literary effect. His _Sam
+Average_ is a real contribution to American patriotic drama.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    ANDREW
+    JOEL
+    ELLEN
+    SAM AVERAGE
+
+
+SAM AVERAGE[D]
+
+     _An intrenchment in Canada, near Niagara Falls, in the year 1814.
+     Night, shortly before dawn._
+
+     _On the right, the dull glow of a smouldering wood fire ruddies the
+     earthen embankment, the low-stretched outline of which forms, with
+     darkness, the scenic background._
+
+     _Near the centre, left, against the dark, a flag with stars floats
+     from its standard._
+
+     _Beside the fire_, ANDREW, _reclined, gazes at a small frame in his
+     hand; near him is a knapsack, with contents emptied beside it_.
+
+     _On the embankment_, JOEL, _with a gun, paces back and forth, a
+     blanket thrown about his shoulders_.
+
+
+JOEL. [_With a singing call._] Four o'clock!--All's well!
+
+     [_Jumping down from the embankment, he approaches the fire._
+
+ANDREW. By God, Joel, it's bitter.
+
+JOEL. [_Rubbing his hands over the coals._] A mite sharpish.
+
+ANDREW. [_Looks up eagerly._] What?
+
+JOEL. Cuts sharp, for Thanksgivin'.
+
+ANDREW. [_Sinks back, gloomily._] Oh! [_A pause._] I wondered you should
+agree with me. You meant the weather. I meant--[_A pause again._
+
+JOEL. Well, Andy, what'd you mean?
+
+ANDREW. Life.
+
+JOEL. Shucks!
+
+ANDREW. [_To himself._] Living!
+
+JOEL. [_Sauntering over left, listens._] Hear a rooster crow?
+
+ANDREW. No. What are you doing?
+
+JOEL. Tiltin' the flag over crooked in the dirt. That's our signal.
+
+ANDREW. Nothing could be more appropriate, unless we buried it--buried
+it in the dirt!
+
+JOEL. She's to find us where the flag's turned down. I fixed that with
+the sergeant all right. The rooster crowin' 's _her_ watchword for us.
+
+ANDREW. An eagle screaming, Joel: that would have been better.
+[_Rising._] Ah! [_He laughs painfully._
+
+JOEL. Hush up, Andy! The nearest men ain't two rods away. You'll wake
+'em. Pitch it low.
+
+ANDREW. Don't be alarmed. I'm coward enough.
+
+JOEL. 'Course, though, there ain't much danger. I'm sentinel this end,
+and the sergeant has the tip at t'other. Besides, you may call it the
+reg'lar thing. There's been two thousand deserters already in this
+tuppenny-ha'penny war, and none on 'em the worse off. When a man don't
+get his pay for nine months--well, he ups and takes his vacation. Why
+not? When Nell joins us, we'll hike up the Niagara, cross over to
+Tonawanda, and take our breakfast in Buffalo. By that time the boys here
+will be marchin' away toward Lundy's Lane.
+
+ANDREW. [_Walks back and forth, shivering._] I'm afraid.
+
+JOEL. 'Fraid? Bosh!
+
+ANDREW. I'm afraid to face----
+
+JOEL. Face what? We won't get caught.
+
+ANDREW. Your sister--my wife.
+
+JOEL. Nell! Why, ain't she comin' here just a-purpose to get you? Ain't
+there reason enough, Lord knows? Ain't you made up your mind to light
+out home anyhow?
+
+ANDREW. Yes. That's just what she'll never forgive me for. In her heart
+she'll never think of me the same. For she knows as well as I what
+pledge I'll be breaking--what sacred pledge.
+
+JOEL. What you mean?
+
+ANDREW. No matter, no matter; this is gush.
+
+     [_He returns to the fire and begins to fumble over the contents of
+     his knapsack._ JOEL _watches him idly_.
+
+JOEL. One of _her_ curls?
+
+ANDREW. [_Looking at a lock of hair in the firelight._] No; the baby's,
+little Andy's. Some day they'll tell him how his father---- [_He winces,
+and puts the lock away._
+
+JOEL. [_Going toward the embankment._] Listen!
+
+ANDREW. [_Ties up the package, muttering._] Son of a traitor!
+
+JOEL. [_Tiptoeing back._] It's crowed--that's her.
+
+     [_Leaping to his feet_, ANDREW _stares toward the embankment where
+     the flag is dipped; then turns his back to it, closing his eyes and
+     gripping his hands_.
+
+     [_After a pause, silently the figure of a young woman emerges from
+     the dark and stands on the embankment. She is bareheaded and ill
+     clad._
+
+     [JOEL _touches_ ANDREW, _who turns and looks toward her. Silently
+     she steals down to him and they embrace_.
+
+ANDREW. My Nell!
+
+ELLEN. Nearly a year----
+
+ANDREW. Now, at last!
+
+ELLEN. Hold me close, Andy.
+
+ANDREW. You're better?
+
+ELLEN. Let's forget--just for now.
+
+ANDREW. Is he grown much?
+
+ELLEN. Grown? You should see him! But so ill! What could I do? You
+see----
+
+ANDREW. I know, I know.
+
+ELLEN. The money was all gone. They turned me out at the old place, and
+then----
+
+ANDREW. I know, dear.
+
+ELLEN. I got sewing, but when the smallpox----
+
+ANDREW. I have all your letters, Nell. Come, help me to pack.
+
+ELLEN. What! You're really decided----
+
+JOEL. [_Approaching._] Hello, Sis!
+
+ELLEN. [_Absently._] Ah, Joel; that you? [_Eagerly, following_ ANDREW
+_to the knapsack_.] But, my dear----
+
+ANDREW. Just these few things, and we're off.
+
+ELLEN. [_Agitated._] Wait, wait! You don't know yet why I've
+come--instead of writing.
+
+ANDREW. I can guess.
+
+ELLEN. But you can't; that's--what's so hard! I have to tell you
+something, and then---- [_Slowly._] I must know from your own eyes, from
+yourself, that you wish to do this, Andrew; that you think it is
+_right_.
+
+ANDREW. [_Gently._] I guessed that.
+
+ELLEN. This is what I must tell you. It's not just the sickness, it's
+not only the baby, not the money gone--and all that; it's--it's----
+
+ANDREW. [_Murmurs._] My God!
+
+ELLEN. It's what all that brings--the helplessness. I've been insulted.
+Andy--[_Her voice breaks._] I want a protector.
+
+ANDREW. [_Taking her in his arms, where she sobs._] There, dear!
+
+ELLEN. [_With a low moan._] You know.
+
+ANDREW. I know. Come, now; we'll go.
+
+ELLEN. [_Her face lighting up._] Oh! and you _dare_! It's _right_?
+
+ANDREW. [_Moving from her, with a hoarse laugh._] _Dare?_ Dare I be
+damned by God and all his angels? Ha! Come, we're slow.
+
+JOEL. Time enough.
+
+ELLEN. [_Sinking upon_ JOEL'S _knapsack as a seat, leans her head on her
+hands, and looks strangely at_ ANDREW.] I'd better have written, I'm
+afraid.
+
+ANDREW. [_Controlling his emotion._] Now, don't take it that way. I've
+considered it all.
+
+ELLEN. [_With deep quiet._] Blasphemously?
+
+ANDREW. Reasonably, my brave wife. When I enlisted, I did so in a dream.
+I dreamed I was called to love and serve our country. But that dream is
+shattered. This sordid war, this political murder, has not one single
+principle of humanity to excuse its bloody sacrilege. It doesn't deserve
+my loyalty--our loyalty.
+
+ELLEN. Are you saying this--for my sake? What of "God and his angels"?
+
+ANDREW. [_Not looking at her._] If we had a just cause--a cause of
+liberty like that in Seventy-six; if to serve one's country meant to
+serve God and his angels--then, yes; a man might put away wife and
+child. He might say: "I will not be a husband, a father; I will be a
+patriot." But now--like this--tangled in a web of spiders--caught in a
+grab-net of politicians--and you, you and our baby-boy, like this--hell
+let in on our home--no, Country be cursed!
+
+ELLEN. [_Slowly._] So, then, when little Andy grows up----
+
+ANDREW. [_Groaning._] I say that the only thing----
+
+ELLEN. I am to tell him----
+
+ANDREW. [_Defiantly._] Tell him his father deserted his country, and
+thanked God for the chance. [_Looking about him passionately._] Here!
+[_He tears a part of the flag from its standard, and reaches it toward
+her._] You're cold; put this round you.
+
+     [_As he is putting the strip of colored silk about her shoulders,
+     there rises, faint yet close by, a sound of fifes and flutes,
+     playing the merry march-strains of "Yankee Doodle."_
+
+     [_At the same time there enters along the embankment, dimly,
+     enveloped in a great cloak, a tall_ FIGURE, _which pauses beside
+     the standard of the torn flag, silhouetted against the first pale
+     streaks of the dawn_.
+
+
+ELLEN. [_Gazing at_ ANDREW.] What's the matter?
+
+ANDREW. [_Listening._] Who are they? Where is it?
+
+JOEL. [_Starts, alertly._] He hears something.
+
+ANDREW. Why should they play before daybreak?
+
+ELLEN. Andy----
+
+JOEL. [_Whispers._] Ssh! Look out! We're spied on!
+
+     [_He points to the embankment._ ANDREW _and_ ELLEN _draw back_.
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Straightening the flag-standard, and leaning on it._]
+Desartin'?
+
+ANDREW. [_Puts_ ELLEN _behind him_.] Who's there? The watchword!
+
+THE FIGURE. God save the smart folks!
+
+JOEL. [_To_ ANDREW.] He's on to us. Pickle him quiet, or it's court
+martial! [_Showing a long knife._] Shall I give him this?
+
+ANDREW. [_Taking it from him._] No. _I_ will.
+
+ELLEN. [_Seizing his arm._] Andrew!
+
+ANDREW. Let go.
+
+     [THE FIGURE, _descending into the intrenchment, approaches with
+     face muffled_. JOEL _draws_ ELLEN _away_. ANDREW _moves toward_ THE
+     FIGURE _slowly_. _They meet and pause._
+
+ANDREW. You're a spy!
+
+     [_With a quick flash,_ ANDREW _raises the knife to strike, but
+     pauses, staring_. THE FIGURE, _throwing up one arm to ward the
+     blow, reveals--through the parted cloak--a glint of stars in the
+     firelight_.[E]
+
+THE FIGURE. Steady, boys; I'm one of ye. The sergeant told me to drop
+round.
+
+JOEL. Oh, the sergeant! That's all right, then.
+
+ANDREW. [_Dropping the knife._] Who are you?
+
+THE FIGURE. Who be _I_? My name, ye mean? My name's Average--Sam
+Average. Univarsal Sam, some o' my prophetic friends calls me.
+
+ANDREW. What are you doing here--now?
+
+THE FIGURE. Oh, tendin' to business.
+
+JOEL. Tendin' to _other_ folks' business, eh?
+
+THE FIGURE. [_With a touch of weariness._] Ye-es; reckon that _is_ my
+business. Some other folks is me.
+
+JOEL. [_Grimacing to_ ELLEN.] Cracked!
+
+THE FIGURE. [_To_ ANDREW.] You're a mite back'ard in wages, ain't ye?
+
+ANDREW. Nine months. What of that?
+
+THE FIGURE. That's what I dropped round for. Seems like when a man's
+endoored and fit, like you have, for his country, and calc'lates he'll
+quit, he ought to be takin' a little suthin' hom' for Thanksgivin'. So I
+fetched round your pay.
+
+ANDREW. My pay! You?
+
+THE FIGURE. Yes; I'm the paymaster.
+
+ELLEN. [_Coming forward, eagerly._] Andy! The money, is it?
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Bows with a grave, old-fashioned stateliness._] Your
+sarvent, ma'am!
+
+ANDREW. [_Speaking low._] Keep back, Nell. [_To_ THE FIGURE.] You--you
+were saying----
+
+THE FIGURE. I were about to say how gold bein' scarce down to the
+Treasury, I fetched ye some s'curities instead; some national I.O.U.'s,
+as ye might say. [_He takes out an old powder-horn, and rattles it
+quietly._] That's them. [_Pouring from the horn into his palm some
+glistening, golden grains._] Here they be.
+
+ELLEN. [_Peering, with_ JOEL.] Gold, Andy!
+
+JOEL. [_With a snigger._] Gold--nothin'! That's corn--just Injun corn.
+Ha!
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Bowing gravely._] It's the quality, ma'am, what counts, as
+ye might say.
+
+JOEL. [_Behind his hand._] His top-loft leaks!
+
+THE FIGURE. These here karnels, now, were give' me down Plymouth way, in
+Massachusetts, the fust Thanksgivin' seems like I can remember. 'Twa'n't
+long after the famine we had thar. Me bein' some hungry, the red-folks
+fetched a hull-lot o' this round, with the compliments of their
+capting--what were his name now?--Massasoit. This here's the last
+handful on't left. Thought ye might like some, bein' Thanksgivin'.
+
+JOEL. [_In a low voice, to_ ELLEN.] His screws are droppin' out. Come
+and pack. We've got to mark time and skip.
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Without looking at_ JOEL.] Eight or ten minutes still to
+spare, boys. The sergeant said--wait till ye hear his jew's-harp playin'
+of that new war tune, _The Star-Spangled Banner_. Then ye'll know the
+coast's clear.
+
+JOEL. Gad, that's right, I remember now.
+
+     [_He draws_ ELLEN _away to the knapsack, which they begin to pack_.
+     ANDREW _has never removed his eyes from the tall form in the
+     cloak_.
+
+     [_Now, as_ THE FIGURE _pours back the yellow grains from his palm
+     into the powder-horn, he speaks, hesitatingly_.
+
+ANDREW. I think--I'd like some.
+
+THE FIGURE. Some o' what?
+
+ANDREW. Those--my pay.
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Cheerfully._] So. _Would_ ye? [_Handing him the horn._]
+Reckon that's enough?
+
+ANDREW. [_Not taking it._] That's what I want to make sure of--first.
+
+THE FIGURE. Oh! So ye're hesitatin'!
+
+ANDREW. Yes; but I want you to help me decide. Pardon me, sir. You're a
+stranger, yet somehow I feel I may ask your help. You've come just in
+time.
+
+THE FIGURE. Queer I should a-dropped round jest now, wa'n't it? S'posin'
+we take a turn.
+
+     [_Together they walk toward the embankment. By the knapsack_ ELLEN
+     _finds the little frame_.
+
+
+ELLEN. [_To herself._] My picture!
+
+     [_She looks toward_ ANDREW _affectionately_. JOEL, _lifting the
+     knapsack, beckons to her_.
+
+JOEL. There's more stuff over here.
+
+     [_He goes off, right_; ELLEN _follows him_.
+
+ANDREW. [_To_ THE FIGURE.] I should like the judgment of your
+experience, sir. I can't quite see your face, yet you appear to be one
+who has had a great deal of experience.
+
+THE FIGURE. Why, consid'able some.
+
+ANDREW. Did you--happen to fight in the late war for independence?
+
+THE FIGURE. Happen to? [_Laughing quietly._] N-no, not fight; ye see--I
+was paymaster.
+
+ANDREW. But you went through the war?
+
+THE FIGURE. Ye-es, oh, yes; I went through it. I took out my fust
+reg'lar papers down to Philadelphie, in '76, seems like 'twas the fourth
+day o' July. But I was paymaster afore that.
+
+ANDREW. Tell me: I've heard it said there were deserters even in those
+days, even from the roll-call of Washington. Is it true?
+
+THE FIGURE. True, boy? Have ye ever watched a prairie-fire rollin'
+toward ye, billowin' with flame and smoke, and seed all the midget
+cowerin' prairie-dogs scootin' for their holes? Wall, that's the way I
+watched Howe's army sweepin' crosst the Jarsey marshes, and seed the
+desartin' little patriots, with their chins over their shoulders,
+skedaddlin' home'ards.
+
+ANDREW. What--the Americans!
+
+THE FIGURE. All but a handful on 'em--them as weren't canines, ye might
+say, but men. _They_ set a back-fire goin' at Valley Forge. Most on 'em
+burnt their toes and fingers off, lightin' on't thar in the white frost,
+but they stuck it through and saved--wall, the prairie-dogs.
+
+ANDREW. But they--those others. What reason did they give to God and
+their own souls for deserting?
+
+THE FIGURE. To who?
+
+ANDREW. To their consciences. What was their reason? It must have been a
+noble one in '76. _Their_ reason _then_; don't you see, I must have it.
+I must know what reason real heroes gave for their acts. You were there.
+You can tell me.
+
+THE FIGURE. _Real_ heroes, eh? Look around ye, then. To-day's the heroic
+age, and the true brand o' hero is al'ays in the market. Look around ye!
+
+ANDREW. What, here--in this war of jobsters, this petty campaign of
+monstrous boodle?
+
+THE FIGURE. Thar we be!
+
+ANDREW. Why, here are only a lot of cowardly half-men, like me--lovers
+of their own folks--their wives and babies at home. They'll make
+sacrifices for them. But real men like our fathers in '76: they looked
+in the beautiful face of Liberty, and sacrificed to _her_!
+
+THE FIGURE. Our fathers, my boy, was jest as fond o' poetry as you be.
+They talked about the beautiful face o' Liberty same's you; but when the
+hom'made eyes and cheeks of their sweethearts and young uns took to
+cryin', they desarted their beautiful goddess and skun out hom'.
+
+ANDREW. But there were some----
+
+THE FIGURE. Thar was some as didn't--yes; and thar's some as don't
+to-day. Those be the folks on my pay-roll. Why, look a-here: I calc'late
+I wouldn't fetch much on the beauty counter. My talk ain't rhyme stuff,
+nor the Muse o' Grammar wa'n't my schoolma'am. Th' ain't painter nor
+clay-sculptor would pictur' me jest like I stand. For the axe has hewed
+me, and the plough has furrered; and the arnin' of gold by my own
+elbow-grease has give' me the shrewd eye at a bargain. I manure my crops
+this side o' Jordan, and as for t'other shore, I'd ruther swap jokes
+with the Lord than listen to his sarmons. And yet for the likes o' me,
+jest for to arn my wages--ha, the many, many boys and gals that's gone
+to their grave-beds, and when I a-closed their eyes, the love-light was
+shinin' thar.
+
+ANDREW. [_Who has listened with awe._] What _are_ you? What _are_ you?
+
+THE FIGURE. Me? I'm the paymaster.
+
+ANDREW. I want to serve you--like those others.
+
+THE FIGURE. Slow, slow, boy! Nobody sarves _me_.
+
+ANDREW. But they died for you--the others.
+
+THE FIGURE. No, 'twa'n't for me; 'twas for him as pays the wages; the
+one as works through me--the one higher up. I'm only the paymaster; kind
+of a needful makeshift--his obedient sarvant.
+
+ANDREW. [_With increasing curiosity, seeks to peer in_ THE FIGURE'S
+_face_.] But the one up higher--who is he?
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Turning his head away._] Would ye sarve him, think, if ye
+heerd his voice?
+
+ANDREW. [_Ardently, drawing closer._] And saw his face!
+
+     [_Drawing his cowl lower and taking_ ANDREW'S _arm_, THE FIGURE
+     _leads him up on the embankment, where they stand together_.
+
+THE FIGURE. Hark a-yonder!
+
+ANDREW. [_Listening._] Is it thunder?
+
+THE FIGURE. Have ye forgot?
+
+ANDREW. The voice! I remember now--Niagara!
+
+     [_With awe_, ANDREW _looks toward_ THE FIGURE, _who stands shrouded
+     and still, facing the dawn. From far off comes a sound as of
+     falling waters, and with that--a deep murmurous voice, which seems
+     to issue from_ THE FIGURE'S _cowl_.
+
+THE VOICE. I am the Voice that was heard of your fathers, and your
+fathers' fathers. Mightier--mightier, I shall be heard of your sons. I
+am the Million in whom the one is lost, and I am the One in whom the
+millions are saved. Their ears shall be shut to my thunders, their eyes
+to my blinding stars. In shallow streams they shall tap my life-blood
+for gold. With dregs of coal and of copper they shall pollute me. In
+the mystery of my mountains they shall assail me; in the majesty of my
+forests, strike me down; with engine and derrick and millstone, bind me
+their slave. Some for a lust, some for a love, shall desert me. One and
+one, for his own, shall fall away. Yet one and one and one shall return
+to me for life; the deserter and the destroyer shall re-create me.
+Primeval, their life-blood is mine. My pouring waters are passion, my
+lightnings are laughter of man. I am the One in whom the millions are
+saved, and I am the Million in whom the one is lost.
+
+ANDREW. [_Yearningly, to_ THE FIGURE.] Your face!
+
+     [THE FIGURE _turns majestically away_. ANDREW _clings to him_.
+
+ANDREW. Your face!
+
+     [_In the shadow of the flag_ THE FIGURE _unmuffles for an instant_.
+
+     [_Peering, dazzled_, ANDREW _staggers back, with a low cry, and,
+     covering his eyes, falls upon the embankment_.
+
+     [_From away, left, the thrumming of a jew's-harp is heard, playing
+     "The Star-Spangled Banner."_
+
+     [_From the right enter_ JOEL _and_ ELLEN.
+
+     [_Descending from the embankment_, THE FIGURE _stands apart_.
+
+JOEL. Well, Colonel Average, time's up.
+
+ELLEN. [_Seeing_ ANDREW'S _prostrate form, hastens to him_.] Andy!
+What's happened?
+
+ANDREW. [_Rising slowly._] Come here. I'll whisper it.
+
+     [_He leads her beside the embankment, beyond which the dawn is
+     beginning to redden._
+
+JOEL. Yonder's the sergeant's jew's-harp. That's our signal, Nell. So
+long, colonel.
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Nodding._] So long, sonny.
+
+ANDREW. [_Holding_ ELLEN'S _hands, passionately_.] You understand? You
+_do_?
+
+ELLEN. [_Looking in his eyes._] I understand, dear.
+
+     [_They kiss each other._
+
+JOEL. [_Calls low._] Come, you married turtles. The road's clear. Follow
+me now. Sneak.
+
+     [_Carrying his knapsack_, JOEL _climbs over the embankment and
+     disappears_.
+
+     [_The thrumming of the jew's-harp continues._
+
+     [ELLEN, _taking the strip of silk flag from her shoulders, ties it
+     to the standard_.
+
+ANDREW. [_Faintly._] God bless you!
+
+ELLEN. [_As they part hands._] Good-by!
+
+     [THE FIGURE _has remounted the embankment, where--in the distincter
+     glow of the red dawn--the gray folds of his cloak, hanging from his
+     shoulders, resemble the half-closed wings of an eagle, the beaked
+     cowl falling, as a kind of visor, before his face, concealing it_.
+
+THE FIGURE. Come, little gal.
+
+     [ELLEN _goes to him, and hides her face in the great cloak. As she
+     does so, he draws from it a paper, writes on it, and hands it to_
+     ANDREW, _with the powder-horn_.
+
+THE FIGURE. By the by, Andy, here's that s'curity. Them here's my
+initials; they're all what's needful. Jest file this in the right
+pigeonhole, and you'll draw your pay. Keep your upper lip, boy. I'll
+meet ye later, mebbe, at Lundy's Lane.
+
+ANDREW. [_Wistfully._] You'll take her home?
+
+THE FIGURE. Yes; reckon she'll housekeep for your uncle till you get
+back; won't ye, Nellie? Come, don't cry, little gal. We'll soon git
+'quainted. 'Tain't the fust time sweethearts has called me _Uncle_.
+
+     [_Flinging back his great cloak, he throws one wing of it, with his
+     arm, about her shoulders, thus with half its reverse side draping
+     her with shining stripes and stars. By the same action his own
+     figure is made partly visible--the legs clad in the tight,
+     instep-strapped trousers (blue and white) of the Napoleonic era.
+     Holding the girl gently to him--while her face turns back toward_
+     ANDREW--_he leads her, silhouetted against the sunrise, along the
+     embankment, and disappears_.
+
+     [_Meantime, the thrumming twang of the jew's-harp grows sweeter,
+     mellower, modulated with harmonies that, filling now the air with
+     elusive strains of the American war-hymn, mingle with the faint
+     dawn-twitterings of birds._
+
+     [ANDREW _stares silently after the departed forms; then, slowly
+     coming down into the intrenchment, lifts from the ground his gun
+     and ramrod, leans on the gun, and--reading the paper in his hand by
+     the growing light--mutters it aloud_:
+
+_U. S. A._
+
+     [_Smiling sternly, he crumples the paper in his fist, makes a wad
+     of it, and rams it into his gun-barrel._
+
+
+
+
+HYACINTH HALVEY
+
+BY
+
+LADY AUGUSTA GREGORY
+
+_Hyacinth Halvey_ is reprinted by special permission of G. P. Putnam's
+Sons, New York City, publishers of Lady Gregory's work in America. All
+rights reserved. For permission to perform, address the publisher.
+
+
+LADY AUGUSTA GREGORY
+
+Lady Augusta Gregory, one of the foremost figures in the Irish dramatic
+movement, was born at Roxborough, County Galway, Ireland, in 1859. "She
+was then a young woman," says one who has described her in her early
+married life, "very earnest, who divided her hair in the middle and wore
+it smooth on either side of a broad and handsome brow. Her eyes were
+always full of questions.... In her drawing-room were to be met men of
+assured reputation in literature and politics, and there was always the
+best reading of the times upon her tables." Lady Gregory has devoted her
+entire life to the cause of Irish literature. In 1911 she visited the
+United States and at a dinner given to her by _The Outlook_ in New York
+City she said:
+
+    "I will not cease from mental strife
+    Or let the sword fall from my hand
+    Till we have built Jerusalem
+    In--Ireland's--fair and lovely land."
+
+Lady Gregory, with William Butler Yeats and John Millington Synge, has
+been the very life of the Irish drama. The literary association of these
+three has been highly fruitful. She helped to found the Irish National
+Theatre Society, and for a number of years has been the managing force
+of the celebrated Abbey Theatre in Dublin.
+
+Lady Gregory's chief interest has been in peasant comedies and
+folk-plays. Her _Spreading the News_, _Hyacinth Halvey_, _The Rising of
+the Moon_, _The Workhouse Ward_, and _The Travelling Man_ are well-known
+contributions to contemporary drama.
+
+It is a noteworthy fact that most of the plays of the Irish dramatic
+movement are one-act plays. Much of Irish life lends itself admirably to
+one-act treatment. _Hyacinth Halvey_ is one of Lady Gregory's best
+productions. This play contains a universal idea: reputation is in great
+measure a matter of "a password or an emotion." Hyacinth, having a good
+reputation thrust upon him, may do as he likes--his good name clings to
+him notwithstanding.
+
+
+PERSONS
+
+     HYACINTH HALVEY
+     JAMES QUIRKE, _a butcher_
+     FARDY FARREL, _a telegraph boy_
+     SERGEANT CARDEN
+     MRS. DELANE, _postmistress at Cloon_
+     MISS JOYCE, _the priest's housekeeper_
+
+
+
+
+HYACINTH HALVEY
+
+     SCENE: _Outside the post-office at the little town of Cloon._ MRS.
+     DELANE _at post-office door_. MR. QUIRKE _sitting on a chair at
+     butcher's door. A dead sheep hanging beside it, and a thrush in a
+     cage above._ FARDY FARRELL _playing on a mouth-organ. Train-whistle
+     heard._
+
+
+MRS. DELANE. There is the four-o'clock train, Mr. Quirke.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is it now, Mrs. Delane, and I not long after rising? It
+makes a man drowsy to be doing the half of his work in the night-time.
+Going about the country, looking for little stags of sheep, striving to
+knock a few shillings together. That contract for the soldiers gives me
+a great deal to attend to.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I suppose so. It's hard enough on myself to be down ready
+for the mail-car in the morning, sorting letters in the half-dark. It's
+often I haven't time to look who are the letters from--or the cards.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It would be a pity you not to know any little news might be
+knocking about. If you did not have information of what is going on, who
+should have it? Was it you, ma'am, was telling me that the new
+sub-sanitary inspector would be arriving to-day?
+
+MRS. DELANE. To-day it is he is coming, and it's likely he was in that
+train. There was a card about him to Sergeant Carden this morning.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. A young chap from Carrow they were saying he was.
+
+MRS. DELANE. So he is, one Hyacinth Halvey; and indeed if all that is
+said of him is true, or if a quarter of it is true, he will be a credit
+to this town.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is that so?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Testimonials he has by the score. To Father Gregan they
+were sent. Registered they were coming and going. Would you believe me
+telling you that they weighed up to three pounds?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. There must be great bulk in them indeed.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is no wonder he to get the job. He must have a great
+character, so many persons to write for him as what there did.
+
+FARDY. It would be a great thing to have a character like that.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Indeed, I am thinking it will be long before you will get
+the like of it, Fardy Farrell.
+
+FARDY. If I had the like of that of a character it is not here carrying
+messages I would be. It's in Noonan's Hotel I would be, driving cars.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Here is the priest's housekeeper coming.
+
+MRS. DELANE. So she is; and there is the sergeant a little while after
+her.
+
+     [_Enter_ MISS JOYCE.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Good evening to you, Miss Joyce. What way is his reverence
+to-day? Did he get any ease from the cough?
+
+MISS JOYCE. He did not, indeed, Mrs. Delane. He has it sticking to him
+yet. Smothering he is in the night-time. The most thing he comes short
+in is the voice.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I am sorry, now, to hear that. He should mind himself well.
+
+MISS JOYCE. It's easy to say let him mind himself. What do you say to
+him going to the meeting to-night?
+
+     [SERGEANT _comes in_.
+
+MISS JOYCE. It's for his reverence's "Freeman" I am come, Mrs. Delane.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Here it is ready. I was just throwing an eye on it to see
+was there any news. Good evening, Sergeant.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Holding up a placard._] I brought this notice, Mrs. Delane,
+the announcement of the meeting to be held to-night in the court-house.
+You might put it up here convenient to the window. I hope you are coming
+to it yourself?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I will come, and welcome. I would do more than that for
+you, Sergeant.
+
+SERGEANT. And you, Mr. Quirke.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll come, to be sure. I forget what's this the meeting is
+about.
+
+SERGEANT. The Department of Agriculture is sending round a lecturer in
+furtherance of the moral development of the rural classes. [_Reads._] "A
+lecture will be given this evening in Cloon Court-House, illustrated by
+magic-lantern slides--" Those will not be in it; I am informed they were
+all broken in the first journey, the railway company taking them to be
+eggs. The subject of the lecture is "The Building of Character."
+
+MRS. DELANE. Very nice, indeed, I knew a girl lost her character, and
+she washed her feet in a blessed well after, and it dried up on the
+minute.
+
+SERGEANT. The arrangements have all been left to me, the archdeacon
+being away. He knows I have a good intellect for things of the sort. But
+the loss of those slides puts a man out. The thing people will not see
+it is not likely it is the thing they will believe. I saw what they call
+tableaux--standing pictures, you know--one time in Dundrum----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Miss Joyce was saying Father Gregan is supporting you.
+
+SERGEANT. I am accepting his assistance. No bigotry about me when there
+is a question of the welfare of any fellow creatures. Orange and green
+will stand together to-night, I, myself, and the station-master on the
+one side, your parish priest in the chair.
+
+MISS JOYCE. If his reverence would mind me he would not quit the house
+to-night. He is no more fit to go speak at a meeting than [_pointing to
+the one hanging outside_ QUIRKE'S _door_] that sheep.
+
+SERGEANT. I am willing to take the responsibility. He will have no
+speaking to do at all, unless it might be to bid them give the lecturer
+a hearing. The loss of those slides now is a great annoyance to me--and
+no time for anything. The lecturer will be coming by the next train.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Who is this coming up the street, Mrs. Delane?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I wouldn't doubt it to be the new sub-sanitary inspector.
+Was I telling you of the weight of the testimonials he got, Miss Joyce?
+
+MISS JOYCE. Sure, I heard the curate reading them to his reverence. He
+must be a wonder for principles.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Indeed, it is what I was saying to myself, he must be a
+very saintly young man.
+
+     [_Enter_ HYACINTH HALVEY. _He carries a small bag and a large
+     brown-paper parcel. He stops and nods bashfully._
+
+HYACINTH. Good evening to you. I was bid to come to the post-office----
+
+SERGEANT. I suppose you are Hyacinth Halvey? I had a letter about you
+from the resident magistrate.
+
+HYACINTH. I heard he was writing. It was my mother got a friend he deals
+with to ask him.
+
+SERGEANT. He gives you a very high character.
+
+HYACINTH. It is very kind of him, indeed, and he not knowing me at all.
+But, indeed, all the neighbors were very friendly. Anything any one
+could do to help me they did it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I'll engage it is the testimonials you have in your parcel?
+I know the wrapping-paper, but they grew in bulk since I handled them.
+
+HYACINTH. Indeed, I was getting them to the last. There was not one
+refused me. It is what my mother was saying, a good character is no
+burden.
+
+FARDY. I would believe that, indeed.
+
+SERGEANT. Let us have a look at the testimonials.
+
+     [HYACINTH HALVEY _opens a parcel, and a large number of envelopes
+     fall out_.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Opening and reading one by one._] "He possesses the fire of
+the Gael, the strength of the Norman, the vigor of the Dane, the
+stolidity of the Saxon----"
+
+HYACINTH. It was the chairman of the Poor Law Guardians wrote that.
+
+SERGEANT. "A magnificent example to old and young----"
+
+HYACINTH. That was the secretary of the De Wet Hurling Club----
+
+SERGEANT. "A shining example of the value conferred by an eminently
+careful and high-class education----"
+
+HYACINTH. That was the national schoolmaster.
+
+SERGEANT. "Devoted to the highest ideals of his motherland to such an
+extent as is compatible with a hitherto non-parliamentary career----"
+
+HYACINTH. That was the member for Carrow.
+
+SERGEANT. "A splendid exponent of the purity of the race----"
+
+HYACINTH. The editor of the "Carrow Champion."
+
+SERGEANT. "Admirably adapted for the efficient discharge of all possible
+duties that may in future be laid upon him----"
+
+HYACINTH. The new station-master.
+
+SERGEANT. "A champion of every cause that can legitimately benefit his
+fellow creatures--" Why, look here, my man, you are the very one to come
+to our assistance to-night.
+
+HYACINTH. I would be glad to do that. What way can I do it?
+
+SERGEANT. You are a newcomer--your example would carry weight--you must
+stand up as a living proof of the beneficial effect of a high character,
+moral fibre, temperance--there is something about it here I am
+sure--(_Looks._) I am sure I saw "unparalleled temperance" in some
+place----
+
+HYACINTH. It was my mother's cousin wrote that--I am no drinker, but I
+haven't the pledge taken----
+
+SERGEANT. You might take it for the purpose.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Eagerly._] Here is an antitreating button. I was made a
+present of it by one of my customers--I'll give it to you [_sticks it
+in_ HYACINTH'S _coat_] and welcome.
+
+SERGEANT. That is it. You can wear the button on the platform--or a bit
+of blue ribbon--hundreds will follow your example--I know the boys from
+the Workhouse will----
+
+HYACINTH. I am in no way wishful to be an example----
+
+SERGEANT. I will read extracts from the testimonials. "There he is," I
+will say, "an example of one in early life who by his own unaided
+efforts and his high character has obtained a profitable situation."
+[_Slaps his side._] I know what I'll do. I'll engage a few corner-boys
+from Noonan's bar, just as they are, greasy and sodden, to stand in a
+group--there will be the contrast--the sight will deter others from a
+similar fate--that's the way to do a tableau--I knew I could turn out a
+success.
+
+HYACINTH. I wouldn't like to be a contrast----
+
+SERGEANT. [_Puts testimonials in his pocket._] I will go now and engage
+those lads--sixpence each, and well worth it--nothing like an example
+for the rural classes.
+
+     [_Goes off_, HYACINTH _feebly trying to detain him_.
+
+MRS. DELANE. A very nice man, indeed. A little high up in himself,
+maybe. I'm not one that blames the police. Sure they have their own
+bread to earn like every other one. And indeed it is often they will let
+a thing pass.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Gloomily._] Sometimes they will, and more times they will
+not.
+
+MISS JOYCE. And where will you be finding a lodging, Mr. Halvey?
+
+HYACINTH. I was going to ask that myself, ma'am. I don't know the town.
+
+MISS JOYCE. I know of a good lodging, but it is only a very good man
+would be taken into it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Sure there could be no objection there to Mr. Halvey. There
+is no appearance on him but what is good, and the sergeant after taking
+him up the way he is doing.
+
+MISS JOYCE. You will be near to the sergeant in the lodging I speak of.
+The house is convenient to the barracks.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Doubtfully._] To the barracks?
+
+MISS JOYCE. Alongside of it, and the barrack-yard behind. And that's not
+all. It is opposite to the priest's house.
+
+HYACINTH. Opposite, is it?
+
+MISS JOYCE. A very respectable place, indeed, and a very clean room you
+will get. I know it well. The curate can see into it from his window.
+
+HYACINTH. Can he now?
+
+FARDY. There was a good many, I am thinking, went into that lodging and
+left it after.
+
+MISS JOYCE. [_Sharply._] It is a lodging you will never be let into or
+let stop in, Fardy. If they did go they were a good riddance.
+
+FARDY. John Hart, the plumber, left it----
+
+MISS JOYCE. If he did it was because he dared not pass the police coming
+in, as he used, with a rabbit he was after snaring in his hand.
+
+FARDY. The schoolmaster himself left it.
+
+MISS JOYCE. He needn't have left it if he hadn't taken to card-playing.
+What way could you say your prayers, and shadows shuffling and dealing
+before you on the blind?
+
+HYACINTH. I think maybe I'd best look around a bit before I'll settle in
+a lodging----
+
+MISS JOYCE. Not at all. You won't be wanting to pull down the blind.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is not likely _you_ will be snaring rabbits.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Or bringing in a bottle and taking an odd glass the way
+James Kelly did.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Or writing threatening notices, and the police taking a
+view of you from the rear.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Or going to roadside dances, or running after
+good-for-nothing young girls----
+
+HYACINTH. I give you my word I'm not so harmless as you think.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Would you be putting a lie on these, Mr. Halvey? [_Touching
+testimonials._] I know well the way you will be spending the evenings,
+writing letters to your relations----
+
+MISS JOYCE. Learning O'Growney's exercises----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Sticking post-cards in an album for the convent bazaar.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Reading the "Catholic Young Man"----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Playing the melodies on a melodeon----
+
+MISS JOYCE. Looking at the pictures in the "Lives of the Saints." I'll
+hurry on and engage the room for you.
+
+HYACINTH. Wait. Wait a minute----
+
+MISS JOYCE. No trouble at all. I told you it was just opposite. [_Goes._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose I must go up-stairs and ready myself for the
+meeting. If it wasn't for the contract I have for the soldiers' barracks
+and the sergeant's good word, I wouldn't go anear it. [_Goes into shop._
+
+MRS. DELANE. I should be making myself ready, too. I must be in good
+time to see you being made an example of, Mr. Halvey. It is I, myself,
+was the first to say it; you will be a credit to the town. [_Goes._
+
+HYACINTH. [_In a tone of agony._] I wish I had never seen Cloon.
+
+FARDY. What is on you?
+
+HYACINTH. I wish I had never left Carrow. I wish I had been drowned the
+first day I thought of it, and I'd be better off.
+
+FARDY. What is it ails you?
+
+HYACINTH. I wouldn't for the best pound ever I had be in this place
+to-day.
+
+FARDY. I don't know what you are talking about.
+
+HYACINTH. To have left Carrow, if it was a poor place, where I had my
+comrades, and an odd spree, and a game of cards--and a coursing-match
+coming on, and I promised a new greyhound from the city of Cork. I'll
+die in this place, the way I am, I'll be too much closed in.
+
+FARDY. Sure it mightn't be as bad as what you think.
+
+HYACINTH. Will you tell me, I ask you, what way can I undo it?
+
+FARDY. What is it you are wanting to undo?
+
+HYACINTH. Will you tell me what way can I get rid of my character?
+
+FARDY. To get rid of it, is it?
+
+HYACINTH. That is what I said. Aren't you after hearing the great
+character they are after putting on me?
+
+FARDY. That is a good thing to have.
+
+HYACINTH. It is not. It's the worst in the world. If I hadn't it, I
+wouldn't be like a prize marigold at a show, with every person praising
+me.
+
+FARDY. If I had it, I wouldn't be like a head in a barrel, with every
+person making hits at me.
+
+HYACINTH. If I hadn't it, I wouldn't be shoved into a room with all the
+clergy watching me and the police in the back yard.
+
+FARDY. If I had it, I wouldn't be but a message-carrier now, and a
+clapper scaring birds in the summer-time.
+
+HYACINTH. If I hadn't it, I wouldn't be wearing this button and brought
+up for an example at the meeting.
+
+FARDY. [_Whistles._] Maybe you're not so, what those papers make you out
+to be?
+
+HYACINTH. How would I be what they make me out to be? Was there ever any
+person of that sort since the world was a world, unless it might be
+Saint Antony of Padua looking down from the chapel wall? If it is like
+that I was, isn't it in Mount Melleray I would be, or with the friars at
+Esker? Why would I be living in the world at all, or doing the world's
+work?
+
+FARDY. [_Taking up parcel._] Who would think, now, there would be so
+much lies in a small place like Carrow?
+
+HYACINTH. It was my mother's cousin did it. He said I was not reared for
+laboring--he gave me a new suit and bid me never to come back again. I
+daren't go back to face him--the neighbors knew my mother had a long
+family--bad luck to them the day they gave me these. [_Tears letters and
+scatters them._] I'm done with testimonials. They won't be here to bear
+witness against me.
+
+FARDY. The sergeant thought them to be great. Sure he has the samples of
+them in his pocket. There's not one in the town but will know before
+morning that you are the next thing to an earthly saint.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Stamping._] I'll stop their mouths. I'll show them I can be
+a terror for badness. I'll do some injury. I'll commit some crime. The
+first thing I'll do I'll go and get drunk. If I never did it before I'll
+do it now. I'll get drunk--then I'll make an assault--I tell you I'd
+think as little of taking a life as of blowing out a candle.
+
+FARDY. If you get drunk you are done for. Sure that will be held up
+after as an excuse for any breaking of the law.
+
+HYACINTH. I will break the law. Drunk or sober, I'll break it. I'll do
+something that will have no excuse. What would you say is the worst
+crime that any man can do?
+
+FARDY. I don't know. I heard the sergeant saying one time it was to
+obstruct the police in the discharge of their duty----
+
+HYACINTH. That won't do. It's a patriot I would be then, worse than
+before, with my picture in the weeklies. It's a red crime I must commit
+that will make all respectable people quit minding me. What can I do?
+Search your mind now.
+
+FARDY. It's what I heard the old people saying there could be no worse
+crime than to steal a sheep----
+
+HYACINTH. I'll steal a sheep--or a cow--or a horse--if that will leave
+me the way I was before.
+
+FARDY. It's maybe in jail it will leave you.
+
+HYACINTH. I don't care--I'll confess--I'll tell why I did it--I give you
+my word I would as soon be picking oakum or breaking stones as to be
+perched in the daylight the same as that bird, and all the town
+chirruping to me or bidding me chirrup----
+
+FARDY. There is reason in that, now.
+
+HYACINTH. Help me, will you?
+
+FARDY. Well, if it is to steal a sheep you want, you haven't far to go.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Looking around wildly._] Where is it? I see no sheep.
+
+FARDY. Look around you.
+
+HYACINTH. I see no living thing but that thrush----
+
+FARDY. Did I say it was living? What is that hanging on Quirke's rack?
+
+HYACINTH. It's [_fingers it_] a sheep, sure enough----
+
+FARDY. Well, what ails you that you can't bring it away?
+
+HYACINTH. It's a dead one----
+
+FARDY. What matter if it is?
+
+HYACINTH. If it was living I could drive it before me----
+
+FARDY. You could. Is it to your own lodging you would drive it? Sure
+every one would take it to be a pet you brought from Carrow.
+
+HYACINTH. I suppose they might.
+
+FARDY. Miss Joyce sending in for news of it and it bleating behind the
+bed.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Distracted._] Stop! stop!
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_From upper window._] Fardy! Are you there, Fardy Farrell?
+
+FARDY. I am, ma'am.
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_From window._] Look and tell me is that the telegraph I
+hear ticking?
+
+FARDY. [_Looking in at door._] It is, ma'am.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Then botheration to it, and I not dressed or undressed.
+Wouldn't you say, now, it's to annoy me it is calling me down. I'm
+coming! I'm coming! [_Disappears._
+
+FARDY. Hurry on, now! Hurry! She'll be coming out on you. If you are
+going to do it, do it, and if you are not, let it alone.
+
+HYACINTH. I'll do it! I'll do it!
+
+FARDY. [_Lifting the sheep on his back._] I'll give you a hand with it.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Goes a step or two and turns round._] You told me no place
+where I could hide it.
+
+FARDY. You needn't go far. There is the church beyond at the side of the
+square. Go round to the ditch behind the wall--there's nettles in it.
+
+HYACINTH. That'll do.
+
+FARDY. She's coming out--run! run!
+
+HYACINTH. [_Runs a step or two._] It's slipping!
+
+FARDY. Hoist it up. I'll give it a hoist!
+
+[HALVEY _runs out_.
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Calling out._] What are you doing, Fardy Farrell? Is it
+idling you are?
+
+FARDY. Waiting I am, ma'am, for the message----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Never mind the message yet. Who said it was ready? [_Going
+to door._] Go ask for the loan of--no, but ask news of--Here, now go
+bring that bag of Mr. Halvey's to the lodging Miss Joyce has taken----
+
+FARDY. I will, ma'am. [_Takes bag and goes out._
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Coming out with a telegram in her hand._] Nobody here?
+[_Looks round and calls cautiously._] Mr. Quirke! Mr. Quirke! James
+Quirke!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Looking out of his upper window, with soap-suddy face._]
+What is it, Mrs. Delane?
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Beckoning._] Come down here till I tell you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I cannot do that. I'm not fully shaved.
+
+MRS. DELANE. You'd come if you knew the news I have.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Tell it to me now. I'm not so supple as I was.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Whisper now, have you an enemy in any place?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It's likely I may have. A man in business----
+
+MRS. DELANE. I was thinking you had one.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Why would you think that at this time more than any other
+time?
+
+MRS. DELANE. If you could know what is in this envelope you would know
+that, James Quirke.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is that so? And what, now, is there in it?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Who do you think now is it addressed to?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. How would I know that, and I not seeing it?
+
+MRS. DELANE. That is true. Well, it is a message from Dublin Castle to
+the sergeant of police!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. To Sergeant Carden, is it?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is. And it concerns yourself.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Myself, is it? What accusation can they be bringing against
+me? I'm a peaceable man.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Wait till you hear.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Maybe they think I was in that moonlighting case----
+
+MRS. DELANE. That is not it----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I was not in it--I was but in the neighboring field--cutting
+up a dead cow, that those never had a hand in----
+
+MRS. DELANE. You're out of it----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. They had their faces blackened. There is no man can say I
+recognized them.
+
+MRS. DELANE. That's not what they're saying----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll swear I did not hear their voices or know them if I did
+hear them.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I tell you it has nothing to do with that. It might be
+better for you if it had.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What is it, so?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is an order to the sergeant, bidding him immediately to
+seize all suspicious meat in your house. There is an officer coming
+down. There are complaints from the Shannon Fort Barracks.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll engage it was that pork.
+
+MRS. DELANE. What ailed it for them to find fault?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. People are so hard to please nowadays, and I recommended
+them to salt it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. They had a right to have minded your advice.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. There was nothing on that pig at all but that it went mad on
+poor O'Grady that owned it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. So I heard, and went killing all before it.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Sure it's only in the brain madness can be. I heard the
+doctor saying that.
+
+MRS. DELANE. He should know.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I give you my word I cut the head off it. I went to the loss
+of it, throwing it to the eels in the river. If they had salted the
+meat, as I advised them, what harm would it have done to any person on
+earth?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I hope no harm will come on poor Mrs. Quirke and the
+family.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Maybe it wasn't that but some other thing----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Here is Fardy. I must send the message to the sergeant.
+Well, Mr. Quirke, I'm glad I had the time to give you a warning.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'm obliged to you, indeed. You were always very
+neighborly, Mrs. Delane. Don't be too quick now sending the message.
+There is just one article I would like to put away out of the house
+before the sergeant will come.
+
+     [_Enter_ FARDY.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Here now, Fardy--that's not the way you're going to the
+barracks. Any one would think you were scaring birds yet. Put on your
+uniform.
+
+     [FARDY _goes into office_.
+
+MRS. DELANE. You have this message to bring to the sergeant of police.
+Get your cap now; it's under the counter.
+
+     [FARDY _reappears, and she gives him telegram_.
+
+FARDY. I'll bring it to the station. It's there he was going.
+
+MRS. DELANE. You will not, but to the barracks. It can wait for him
+there.
+
+     [FARDY _goes off_. MR. QUIRKE _has appeared at door_.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It was indeed a very neighborly act, Mrs. Delane, and I'm
+obliged to you. There is just _one_ article to put out of the way. The
+sergeant may look about him then and welcome. It's well I cleared the
+premises on yesterday. A consignment to Birmingham I sent. The Lord be
+praised, isn't England a terrible country, with all it consumes?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Indeed, you always treat the neighbors very decent, Mr.
+Quirke, not asking them to buy from you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Just one article. [_Turns to rack._] That sheep I brought in
+last night. It was for a charity, indeed, I bought it from the widow
+woman at Kiltartan Cross. Where would the poor make a profit out of
+their dead meat without me? Where now is it? Well, now, I could have
+swore that that sheep was hanging there on the rack when I went in----
+
+MRS. DELANE. You must have put it in some other place.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Going in and searching and coming out._] I did not; there
+is no other place for me to put it. Is it gone blind I am, or is it not
+in it, it is?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It's not there now, anyway.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Didn't you take notice of it there, yourself, this morning?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I have it in my mind that I did; but it's not there now.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. There was no one here could bring it away?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Is it me, myself, you suspect of taking it, James Quirke?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Where is it at all? It is certain it was not of itself it
+walked away. It was dead, and very dead, the time I bought it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I have a pleasant neighbor, indeed, that accuses me that I
+took his sheep. I wonder, indeed, you to say a thing like that! I to
+steal your sheep or your rack or anything that belongs to you or to your
+trade! Thank you, James Quirke. I am much obliged to you, indeed.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Ah, be quiet, woman; be quiet----
+
+MRS. DELANE. And let me tell you, James Quirke, that I would sooner
+starve and see every one belonging to me starve than to eat the size of
+a thimble of any joint that ever was on your rack or that ever will be
+on it, whatever the soldiers may eat that have no other thing to get, or
+the English, that devour all sorts, or the poor ravenous people that's
+down by the sea!
+
+     [_She turns to go into shop._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Stopping her._] Don't be talking foolishness, woman. Who
+said you took my meat? Give heed to me now. There must some other
+message have come. The sergeant must have got some other message.
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Sulkily._] If there is any way for a message to come that
+is quicker than to come by the wires, tell me what it is, and I'll be
+obliged to you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The sergeant was up here, making an excuse he was sticking
+up that notice. What was he doing here, I ask you?
+
+MRS. DELANE. How would I know what brought him?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It is what he did; he made as if to go away--he turned back
+again and I shaving--he brought away the sheep--he will have it for
+evidence against me----
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Interested._] That might be so.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I would sooner it to have been any other beast nearly ever I
+had upon the rack.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Is that so?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I bade the Widow Early to kill it a fortnight ago--but she
+would not, she was that covetous!
+
+MRS. DELANE. What was on it?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. How would I know what was on it? Whatever was on it, it was
+the will of God put it upon it--wasted it was, and shivering and
+refusing its share.
+
+MRS. DELANE. The poor thing.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Gone all to nothing--wore away like a flock of thread. It
+did not weigh as much as a lamb of two months.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is likely the inspector will bring it to Dublin?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The ribs of it streaky with the dint of patent medicines----
+
+MRS. DELANE. I wonder is it to the Petty Sessions you'll be brought or
+is it to the Assizes?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll speak up to them. I'll make my defense. What can the
+army expect at fippence a pound?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is likely there will be no bail allowed?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Would they be wanting me to give them good quality meat out
+of my own pocket? Is it to encourage them to fight the poor Indians and
+Africans they would have me? It's the Anti-Enlisting Societies should
+pay the fine for me.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It's not a fine will be put on you, I'm afraid. It's five
+years in jail you will be apt to be getting. Well, I'll try and be a
+good neighbor to poor Mrs. Quirke.
+
+     [MR. QUIRKE, _who has been stamping up and down, sits down and
+     weeps_. HALVEY _comes in and stands on one side_.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Hadn't I heart-scalding enough before, striving to rear five
+weak children?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I suppose they will be sent to the Industrial Schools?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. My poor wife----
+
+MRS. DELANE. I'm afraid the workhouse----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. And she out in an ass-car at this minute, helping me to
+follow my trade.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I hope they will not arrest her along with you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll give myself up to justice. I'll plead guilty! I'll be
+recommended to mercy!
+
+MRS. DELANE. It might be best for you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Who would think so great a misfortune could come upon a
+family through the bringing away of one sheep!
+
+HYACINTH. [_Coming forward._] Let you make yourself easy.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Easy! It's easy to say let you make yourself easy.
+
+HYACINTH. I can tell you where it is.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Where what is?
+
+HYACINTH. The sheep you are fretting after.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What do you know about it?
+
+HYACINTH. I know everything about it.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose the sergeant told you?
+
+HYACINTH. He told me nothing.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose the whole town knows it, so?
+
+HYACINTH. No one knows it, as yet.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. And the sergeant didn't see it?
+
+HYACINTH. No one saw it or brought it away but myself.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Where did you put it at all?
+
+HYACINTH. In the ditch behind the church wall. In among the nettles it
+is. Look at the way they have me stung. [_Holds out hands._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. In the ditch! The best hiding-place in the town.
+
+HYACINTH. I never thought it would bring such great trouble upon you.
+You can't say, anyway, I did not tell you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. You, yourself, that brought it away and that hid it! I
+suppose it was coming in the train you got information about the message
+to the police.
+
+HYACINTH. What now do you say to me?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Say! I say I am as glad to hear what you said as if it was
+the Lord telling me I'd be in heaven this minute.
+
+HYACINTH. What are you going to do to me?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Do, is it? [_Grasps his hand._] Any earthly thing you would
+wish me to do, I will do it.
+
+HYACINTH. I suppose you will tell----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Tell! It's I that will tell when all is quiet. It is I will
+give you the good name through the town!
+
+HYACINTH. I don't well understand.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Embracing him._] The man that preserved me!
+
+HYACINTH. That preserved you?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. That kept me from ruin!
+
+HYACINTH. From ruin?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. That saved me from disgrace!
+
+HYACINTH. [_To_ MRS. DELANE.] What is he saying at all?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. From the inspector!
+
+HYACINTH. What is he talking about?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. From the magistrates!
+
+HYACINTH. He is making some mistake.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. From the Winter Assizes!
+
+HYACINTH. Is he out of his wits?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Five years in jail!
+
+HYACINTH. Hasn't he the queer talk?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The loss of the contract!
+
+HYACINTH. Are my own wits gone astray?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What way can I repay you?
+
+HYACINTH. [_Shouting._] I tell you I took the sheep----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. You did, God reward you!
+
+HYACINTH. I stole away with it----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The blessing of the poor on you!
+
+HYACINTH. I put it out of sight----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The blessing of my five children----
+
+HYACINTH. I may as well say nothing----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Let you be quiet now, Quirke. Here's the sergeant coming to
+search the shop----
+
+     [SERGEANT _comes in_. QUIRKE _leaves go of_ HALVEY, _who arranges
+     his hat, etc._
+
+SERGEANT. The department to blazes!
+
+MRS. DELANE. What is it is putting you out?
+
+SERGEANT. To go to the train to meet the lecturer, and there to get a
+message through the guard that he was unavoidably detained in the South,
+holding an inquest on the remains of a drake.
+
+MRS. DELANE. The lecturer, is it?
+
+SERGEANT. To be sure. What else would I be talking of? The lecturer has
+failed me, and where am I to go looking for a person that I would think
+fitting to take his place?
+
+MRS. DELANE. And that's all? And you didn't get any message but the one?
+
+SERGEANT. Is that all? I am surprised at you, Mrs. Delane. Isn't it
+enough to upset a man, within three-quarters of an hour of the time of
+the meeting? Where, I would ask you, am I to find a man that has
+education enough and wit enough and character enough to put up speaking
+on the platform on the minute?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Jumps up._] It is I, myself, will tell you that.
+
+SERGEANT. You!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Slapping_ HALVEY _on the back_.] Look at here, Sergeant.
+There is not one word was said in all those papers about this young man
+before you but it is true. And there could be no good thing said of him
+that would be too good for him.
+
+SERGEANT. It might not be a bad idea.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Whatever the paper said about him, Sergeant, I can say more
+again. It has come to my knowledge--by chance--that since he came to
+this town that young man has saved a whole family from destruction.
+
+SERGEANT. That is much to his credit--helping the rural classes----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. A family and a long family, big and little, like sods of
+turf--and they depending on a--on one that might be on his way to dark
+trouble at this minute if it was not for his assistance. Believe me, he
+is the most sensible man, and the wittiest, and the kindest, and the
+best helper of the poor that ever stood before you in this square. Is
+not that so, Mrs. Delane?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is true, indeed. Where he gets his wisdom and his wit
+and his information from I don't know, unless it might be that he is
+gifted from above.
+
+SERGEANT.. Well, Mrs. Delane, I think we have settled that question. Mr.
+Halvey, you will be the speaker at the meeting. The lecturer sent these
+notes--you can lengthen them into a speech. You can call to the people
+of Cloon to stand out, to begin the building of their character. I saw a
+lecturer do it one time at Dundrum. "Come up here," he said; "Dare to be
+a Daniel," he said----
+
+HYACINTH. I can't--I won't----
+
+SERGEANT. [_Looking at papers and thrusting them into his hand._] You
+will find it quite easy. I will conduct you to the platform--these
+papers before you and a glass of water--that's settled. [_Turns to go._]
+Follow me on to the court-house in half an hour--I must go to the
+barracks first--I heard there was a telegram--[_Calls back as he goes._]
+Don't be late, Mrs. Delane. Mind, Quirke, you promised to come.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Well, it's time for me to make an end of settling
+myself--and, indeed, Mr. Quirke, you'd best do the same.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Rubbing his cheek._] I suppose so. I had best keep on good
+terms with him for the present. [_Turns._] Well, now, I had a great
+escape this day.
+
+     [_Both go in as_ FARDY _reappears, whistling_.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Sitting down._] I don't know in the world what has come upon
+the world that the half of the people of it should be cracked!
+
+FARDY. Weren't you found out yet?
+
+HYACINTH. Found out, is it? I don't know what you mean by being found
+out.
+
+FARDY. Didn't he miss the sheep?
+
+HYACINTH. He did, and I told him it was I took it--and what happened I
+declare to goodness I don't know--Will you look at these? [_Holds out
+notes._
+
+FARDY. Papers! Are they more testimonials?
+
+HYACINTH. They are what is worse. [_Gives a hoarse laugh._] Will you
+come and see me on the platform--these in my hand--and I
+speaking--giving out advice. [FARDY _whistles_.] Why didn't you tell me,
+the time you advised me to steal a sheep, that in this town it would
+qualify a man to go preaching, and the priest in the chair looking on?
+
+FARDY. The time I took a few apples that had fallen off a stall, they
+did not ask me to hold a meeting. They welted me well.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Looking round._] I would take apples if I could see them. I
+wish I had broke my neck before I left Carrow, and I'd be better off! I
+wish I had got six months the time I was caught setting snares--I wish I
+had robbed a church.
+
+FARDY. Would a Protestant church do?
+
+HYACINTH. I suppose it wouldn't be so great a sin.
+
+FARDY. It's likely the sergeant would think worse of it. Anyway, if you
+want to rob one, it's the Protestant church is the handiest.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Getting up._] Show me what way to do it?
+
+FARDY. [_Pointing._] I was going around it a few minutes ago, to see
+might there be e'er a dog scenting the sheep, and I noticed the window
+being out.
+
+HYACINTH. Out, out and out?
+
+FARDY. It was, where they are putting colored glass in it for the
+distiller----
+
+HYACINTH. What good does that do me?
+
+FARDY. Every good. You could go in by that window if you had some person
+to give you a hoist. Whatever riches there is to get in it then, you'll
+get them.
+
+HYACINTH. I don't want riches. I'll give you all I will find if you will
+come and hoist me.
+
+FARDY. Here is Miss Joyce coming to bring you to your lodging. Sure I
+brought your bag to it, the time you were away with the sheep----
+
+HYACINTH. Run! Run!
+
+     [_They go off._ _Enter_ MISS JOYCE.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Are you here, Mrs. Delane? Where, can you tell me, is Mr.
+Halvey?
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Coming out dressed._] It's likely he is gone on to the
+court-house. Did you hear he is to be in the chair and to make an
+address to the meeting?
+
+MISS JOYCE. He is getting on fast. His reverence says he will be a good
+help in the parish. Who would think, now, there would be such a godly
+young man in a little place like Carrow!
+
+     [_Enter_ SERGEANT _in a hurry, with telegram_.
+
+SERGEANT. What time did this telegram arrive, Mrs. Delane?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I couldn't be rightly sure, Sergeant. But sure it's marked
+on it, unless the clock I have is gone wrong.
+
+SERGEANT. It is marked on it. And I have the time I got it marked on my
+own watch.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Well, now, I wonder none of the police would have followed
+you with it from the barracks--and they with so little to do----
+
+SERGEANT. [_Looking in at_ QUIRKE'S _shop_.] Well, I am sorry to do what
+I have to do, but duty is duty.
+
+     [_He ransacks shop._ MRS. DELANE _looks on_. MR. QUIRKE _puts his
+     head out of window_.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What is that going on inside? [_No answer._] Is there any
+one inside, I ask? [_No answer._] It must be that dog of Tannian's--wait
+till I get at him.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is Sergeant Carden, Mr. Quirke. He would seem to be
+looking for something----
+
+     [MR. QUIRKE _appears in shop_. SERGEANT _comes out, makes another
+     dive, taking up sacks, etc._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'm greatly afraid I am just out of meat, Sergeant--and I'm
+sorry now to disoblige you, and you not being in the habit of dealing
+with me----
+
+SERGEANT. I should think not, indeed.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Looking for a tender little bit of lamb, I suppose you are,
+for Mrs. Carden and the youngsters?
+
+SERGEANT. I am not.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. If I had it now, I'd be proud to offer it to you, and make
+no charge. I'll be killing a good kid to-morrow. Mrs Carden might fancy
+a bit of it----
+
+SERGEANT. I have had orders to search your establishment for unwholesome
+meat, and I am come here to do it.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Sitting down with a smile._] Is that so? Well, isn't it a
+wonder the schemers does be in the world.
+
+SERGEANT. It is not the first time there have been complaints.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose not. Well, it is on their own head it will fall at
+the last!
+
+SERGEANT. I have found nothing so far.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose not, indeed. What is there you could find, and it
+not in it?
+
+SERGEANT. Have you no meat at all upon the premises?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I have, indeed, a nice barrel of bacon.
+
+SERGEANT. What way did it die?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It would be hard for me to say that. American it is. How
+would I know what way they do be killing the pigs out there? Machinery,
+I suppose, they have--steam-hammers----
+
+SERGEANT. Is there nothing else here at all?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I give you my word, there is no meat, living or dead, in
+this place, but yourself and myself and that bird above in the cage.
+
+SERGEANT. Well, I must tell the inspector I could find nothing. But mind
+yourself for the future.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Thank you, Sergeant. I will do that.
+
+     [_Enter_ FARDY. _He stops short._
+
+SERGEANT. It was you delayed that message to me, I suppose? You'd best
+mend your ways or I'll have something to say to you. [_Seizes and shakes
+him._
+
+FARDY. That's the way every one does be faulting me. [_Whimpers._
+
+     [_The_ SERGEANT _gives him another shake. A half-crown falls out of
+     his pocket._
+
+MISS JOYCE. [_Picking it up._] A half-a-crown! Where, now, did you get
+that much, Fardy?
+
+FARDY. Where did I get it, is it?
+
+MISS JOYCE. I'll engage it was in no honest way you got it.
+
+FARDY. I picked it up in the street----
+
+MISS JOYCE. If you did, why didn't you bring it to the sergeant or to
+his reverence?
+
+MRS. DELANE. And some poor person, maybe, being at the loss of it.
+
+MISS JOYCE. I'd best bring it to his reverence. Come with me, Fardy,
+till he will question you about it.
+
+FARDY. It was not altogether in the street I found it----
+
+MISS JOYCE. There, now! I knew you got it in no good way! Tell me, now.
+
+
+FARDY. It was playing pitch and toss I won it----
+
+MISS JOYCE. And who would play for half-crowns with the like of you,
+Fardy Farrell? Who was it, now?
+
+FARDY. It was--a stranger----
+
+MISS JOYCE. Do you hear that? A stranger! Did you see e'er a stranger in
+this town, Mrs. Delane, or Sergeant Carden, or Mr. Quirke?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Not a one.
+
+SERGEANT. There was no stranger here.
+
+MRS. DELANE. There could not be one here without me knowing it.
+
+FARDY. I tell you there was.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Come on, then, and tell who was he to his reverence.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Taking other arm._] Or to the bench.
+
+FARDY. I did get it, I tell you, from a stranger.
+
+SERGEANT. Where is he, so?
+
+FARDY. He's in some place--not far away.
+
+SERGEANT. Bring me to him.
+
+FARDY. He'll be coming here.
+
+SERGEANT. Tell me the truth and it will be better for you.
+
+FARDY. [_Weeping._] Let me go and I will.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Letting go._] Now--who did you get it from?
+
+FARDY. From that young chap came to-day, Mr. Halvey.
+
+ALL. Mr. Halvey!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Indignantly._] What are you saying, you young ruffian,
+you? Hyacinth Halvey to be playing pitch and toss with the like of you!
+
+FARDY. I didn't say that.
+
+MISS JOYCE. You did say it. You said it now.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Hyacinth Halvey! The best man that ever came into this town!
+
+MISS JOYCE. Well, what lies he has!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It's my belief the half-crown is a bad one. Maybe it's to
+pass it off it was given to him. There were tinkers in the town at the
+time of the fair. Give it here to me. [_Bites it._] No, indeed, it's
+sound enough. Here, Sergeant, it's best for you take it. [_Gives it to_
+SERGEANT, _who examines it_.
+
+SERGEANT. Can it be? Can it be what I think it to be?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What is it? What do you take it to be?
+
+SERGEANT. It is, it is. I know it, I know this half-crown----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. That is a queer thing, now.
+
+SERGEANT. I know it well. I have been handling it in the church for the
+last twelvemonth----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is that so?
+
+SERGEANT. It is the nest-egg half-crown we hand round in the
+collection-plate every Sunday morning. I know it by the dint on the
+Queen's temples and the crooked scratch under her nose.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Examining it._] So there is, too.
+
+SERGEANT. This is a bad business. It has been stolen from the church.
+
+ALL. Oh! Oh! Oh!
+
+SERGEANT. [_Seizing_ FARDY.] You have robbed the church!
+
+FARDY. [_Terrified._] I tell you I never did!
+
+SERGEANT. I have the proof of it.
+
+FARDY. Say what you like! I never put a foot in it!
+
+SERGEANT. How did you get this, so?
+
+MISS JOYCE. I suppose from the _stranger_?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I suppose it was Hyacinth Halvey gave it to you, now?
+
+FARDY. It was so.
+
+SERGEANT. I suppose it was he robbed the church?
+
+FARDY. [_Sobs._] You will not believe me if I say it.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Oh! the young vagabond! Let me get at him!
+
+MRS. DELANE. Here he is himself now!
+
+[HYACINTH _comes in_. FARDY _releases himself and creeps behind him_.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is time you to come, Mr. Halvey, and shut the mouth of
+this young schemer.
+
+MISS JOYCE. I would like you to hear what he says of you, Mr. Halvey.
+Pitch and toss, he says.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Robbery, he says.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Robbery of a church.
+
+SERGEANT. He has had a bad name long enough. Let him go to a reformatory
+now.
+
+FARDY. [_Clinging to_ HYACINTH.] Save me, save me! I'm a poor boy trying
+to knock out a way of living; I'll be destroyed if I go to a
+reformatory. [_Kneels and clings to_ HYACINTH'S _knees_.
+
+HYACINTH. I'll save you easy enough.
+
+FARDY. Don't let me be jailed!
+
+HYACINTH. I am going to tell them.
+
+FARDY. I'm a poor orphan----
+
+HYACINTH. Will you let me speak?
+
+FARDY. I'll get no more chance in the world----
+
+HYACINTH. Sure I'm trying to free you----
+
+FARDY. It will be tasked to me always.
+
+HYACINTH. Be quiet, can't you?
+
+FARDY. Don't you desert me!
+
+HYACINTH. Will you be silent?
+
+FARDY. Take it on yourself.
+
+HYACINTH. I will if you'll let me.
+
+FARDY. Tell them you did it.
+
+HYACINTH. I am going to do that.
+
+FARDY. Tell them it was you got in at the window.
+
+HYACINTH. I will! I will!
+
+FARDY. Say it was you robbed the box.
+
+HYACINTH. I'll say it! I'll say it!
+
+FARDY. It being open!
+
+HYACINTH. Let me tell, let me tell.
+
+FARDY. Of all that was in it.
+
+HYACINTH. I'll tell them that.
+
+FARDY. And gave it to me.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Putting hand on his mouth and dragging him up._] Will you
+stop and let me speak?
+
+SERGEANT. We can't be wasting time. Give him here to me.
+
+HYACINTH. I can't do that. He must be let alone.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Seizing him._] He'll be let alone in the lock-up.
+
+HYACINTH. He must not be brought there.
+
+SERGEANT. I'll let no man get him off.
+
+HYACINTH. I will get him off.
+
+SERGEANT. You will not!
+
+HYACINTH. I will.
+
+SERGEANT. Do you think to buy him off?
+
+HYACINTH. I will buy him off with my own confession.
+
+SERGEANT. And what will that be?
+
+HYACINTH. It was I robbed the church.
+
+SERGEANT. That is likely indeed!
+
+HYACINTH. Let him go, and take me. I tell you I did it.
+
+SERGEANT. It would take witnesses to prove that.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Pointing to_ FARDY.] He will be witness.
+
+FARDY. Oh, Mr. Halvey, I would not wish to do that. Get me off and I
+will say nothing.
+
+HYACINTH. Sure you must. You will be put on oath in the court.
+
+FARDY. I will not! I will not! All the world knows I don't understand
+the nature of an oath!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Coming forward._] Is it blind ye all are?
+
+MRS. DELANE. What are you talking about?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is it fools ye all are?
+
+MISS JOYCE. Speak for yourself.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is it idiots ye all are?
+
+SERGEANT. Mind who you're talking to.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Seizing_ HYACINTH'S _hands_.] Can't you see? Can't you
+hear? Where are your wits? Was ever such a thing seen in this town?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Say out what you have to say.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. A walking saint he is!
+
+MRS. DELANE. Maybe so.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The preserver of the poor! Talk of the holy martyrs! They
+are nothing at all to what he is! Will you look at him! To save that
+poor boy he is going! To take the blame on himself he is going! To say
+he, himself, did the robbery he is going! Before the magistrate he is
+going! To jail he is going! Taking the blame on his own head! Putting
+the sin on his own shoulders! Letting on to have done a robbery! Telling
+a lie--that it may be forgiven him--to his own injury! Doing all that, I
+tell you, to save the character of a miserable slack lad, that rose in
+poverty.
+
+     [_Murmur of admiration from all._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Now, what do you say?
+
+SERGEANT. [_Pressing his hand._] Mr. Halvey, you have given us all a
+lesson. To please you, I will make no information against the boy,
+[_Shakes him and helps him up._] I will put back the half-crown in the
+poor-box next Sunday. [_To_ FARDY.] What have you to say to your
+benefactor?
+
+FARDY. I'm obliged to you, Mr. Halvey. You behaved very decent to me,
+very decent indeed. I'll never let a word be said against you if I live
+to be a hundred years.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Wiping eyes with a blue handkerchief._] I will tell it at
+the meeting. It will be a great encouragement to them to build up their
+character. I'll tell it to the priest and he taking the chair----
+
+HYACINTH. Oh, stop, will you----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The chair. It's in the chair he, himself, should be. It's in
+a chair we will put him now. It's to chair him through the streets we
+will. Sure he'll be an example and a blessing to the whole of the town.
+[_Seizes_ HALVEY _and seats him in chair_.] Now, Sergeant, give a hand.
+Here. Fardy.
+
+     [_They all lift the chair with_ HALVEY _in it, wildly protesting_.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Come along now to the court-house. Three cheers for Hyacinth
+Halvey! Hip! hip! hoora!
+
+     [_Cheers heard in the distance as the curtain drops._
+
+
+
+
+THE GAZING GLOBE
+
+BY
+
+EUGENE PILLOT
+
+
+_The Gazing Globe_ is reprinted by special permission of Eugene Pillot.
+All rights are retained by the author. This play is protected by
+copyright and must not be used without the permission of and payment of
+royalty to Eugene Pillot, who may be reached through The 47 Workshop,
+Cambridge, Massachusetts.
+
+
+EUGENE PILLOT
+
+Eugene Pillot, one of the well-known contemporary writers of one-act
+plays, was born in Houston, Texas. He was educated in the New York
+School of Fine and Applied Arts, at the University of Texas, at Cornell
+University, and at Harvard University. While at Harvard, he participated
+in the activities of The 47 Workshop.
+
+Mr. Pillot's one-act plays are always characterized by excellent and
+well-sustained technic. Among his best-known one-act plays are _The
+Gazing Globe_, _Two Crooks and a Lady_, _Telephone Number One_ (a prize
+play), _Hunger_, and _My Lady Dreams_. Mr. Pillot's plays have been
+produced frequently in schools and Little Theatres of America.
+
+_The Gazing Globe_ originally appeared in _The Stratford Journal_, and
+was first produced by the Boston Community Players, February 26, 1920,
+with the following cast: ZAMA, Rosalie Manning; OHANO, Beulah Auerbach;
+and NIJO, Eugene Pillot. _The Gazing Globe_ has unusually sustained
+tone and dramatic suspense.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+     ZAMA
+     OHANO
+     NIJO
+
+
+
+
+THE GAZING GLOBE[F]
+
+
+     SCENE: _A soft cream-colored room, bare walled and unfurnished
+     except for dull-blue grass mats on the floor and brilliant
+     cushions. In the centre of rear wall is a great circular window
+     with a dais before it, so that it may be used as a doorway. A
+     gathered shade of soft blue silk covers the opening of the window._
+
+PLACE: _An island in a southern sea._
+
+TIME: _Not so long ago._
+
+     [_The curtain rises on an empty stage._ ZAMA, _an old servant woman
+     dressed in dull purples and grays, hurries in from the right. She
+     stops at centre stage and glances about searchingly, then calls in
+     a weazen voice._
+
+ZAMA. Ohano--Ohano! Where do you be, child?
+
+     [_Listens, looks about, sees drawn shade at the rear, and sighs as
+     she goes to it and starts to raise it._
+
+     [_As the shade rolls out of sight we see through the open window a
+     bit of quaint cliff garden that overlooks a sea of green. The rocks
+     are higher on the left, near the window, where a purple-pink vine
+     in full blossom has started to climb. At the right the rocks slope
+     down to the sea. At centre, stone steps lead up to a slender stone
+     pedestal that holds a gazing globe, now a brilliant gold in the
+     late afternoon sunlight._ OHANO, _with hands clasped round the
+     globe, is gazing at it. She is a woman of the early twenties,
+     beautiful and gowned in a flowing kimono-like robe of green with
+     embroideries of white and blue._
+
+ZAMA. [_In a chiding, motherly way._] Ohano, my child, you must not be
+so much at that evil ball! How many times be I not telling you it is an
+_enchanted_ ball?
+
+OHANO. Yes, Zama, I hope it is enchanted. I've tried every other means
+to gain the way to my heart's desire--and they've all failed me. The
+story these islanders have woven round this gazing globe may be but a
+myth--but if it shows me the way to my freedom, I shall not have looked
+at it in vain.
+
+ZAMA. Be you forgetting, child, 'tis said that evil ball shows only the
+way to destruction!
+
+OHANO. Yes, these island people will create any myth, go any length, to
+keep one thinking, living in their narrow way. You are destined for evil
+if you try to follow the urge of your own heart--oh, yes, I know.
+
+ZAMA. But _your_ heart, child, should only be wanting the love of Nijo.
+
+OHANO. Nijo--I am hoping that he will be big enough to help me--but my
+lover has been away so long----
+
+ZAMA. But to-day he be coming back--I came to tell you I think I saw his
+boat----
+
+OHANO. Nijo's boat? Where?
+
+ZAMA. It be near the edge of the island just where----
+
+OHANO. Why didn't you tell me before?
+
+ZAMA. I came to--but I be forgetting when I see you at that evil ball
+again.
+
+OHANO. [_All eagerness._] Perhaps we can see him land--from here on the
+rocks--come, Zama, I hear the sound of voices down near the sea--come!
+[_They climb to the highest rock._] Look, Zama, the boat is there!
+Already there in the green water against the shore!
+
+ZAMA. It do seem to be so. [_Peers toward right._
+
+OHANO. And _there_--is Nijo!
+
+ZAMA. Where, where, child?
+
+OHANO. There--see, he's just coming ashore--oh, Nijo! And look, Zama,
+look what the people crowding round him have done--look!
+
+ZAMA. What? My poor eyes be yet uncertain. What do they be doing to your
+lover?
+
+OHANO. They have put upon him the Robe of Flame--to greet him with the
+highest honor of the island.
+
+ZAMA. So they be. The robe they say the gods themselves did wear when
+time did first begin. Nijo must come back a great warrior now--a great
+warrior!
+
+OHANO. Oh, how wonderful to return from the wars like that! Zama, I want
+to--I _must_ go out into the world and do great things too, like Nijo.
+
+ZAMA. Nijo be coming back, child. That do be enough. Look, what is it
+that glitters so in the sun?
+
+OHANO. Why, they are giving something to my red god--something that's
+long as a serpent moon--see, he holds it out in admiration, before him.
+Just what can it be?
+
+ZAMA. In faith I do believe they have given your hero--a sword!
+
+OHANO. A marvellous sword--look, its jewels flash with the shifting
+lights, warm as the colored rifts of sunset!
+
+ZAMA. Such gems do be a tribute to his greatness, Ohano, they do.
+
+OHANO. How gladly would I have the way I seek without such tribute--how
+willingly!
+
+ZAMA. And now the crowd do be parting--he leaves the boat and he looks
+this way, Ohano--he looks!
+
+OHANO. Nijo, my red wonder of the world!
+
+ZAMA. See, he mounts his steed--he waves to you!
+
+OHANO. Nijo! Nijo!
+
+ZAMA. And now he rides off to come to you here. It is better we be
+waiting inside for him--when he brings back his love to his promised
+bride.
+
+OHANO. [_As they enter room._] Ah, Zama, he must bring me more than love
+this time--much more. Yes, your little Ohano must have more in her life
+to-day than just love--and Nijo must show her the way to that realm
+where she may stretch her soul and _live_!
+
+ZAMA. The love of so great a man do be enough for any woman, child.
+
+OHANO. Oh, no--oh, no----
+
+ZAMA. But it do be; and evil will fall, I know, if you do be asking more
+than love!
+
+OHANO. But I tell you, Nijo's love is not enough. I must have a bigger,
+greater thing!
+
+ZAMA. The gods do know of none that be more than love.
+
+OHANO. But there must be, else why would I feel the rush of its pulse
+within my veins? Why would my whole being cry out for action and the
+glory of doing big things in the lands across the sea? Why, tell me why,
+I would feel those things if they were not so?
+
+ZAMA. It be not for me to say, child; but I do be thinking you moon at
+that evil ball too much. It do make your sight grow red! It be not wise
+to know an enchanted thing so well.
+
+OHANO. If that gazing globe in the garden would only show me the way to
+my heart's desire, how gladly would I be the victim of its enchantment!
+
+ZAMA. Nijo's kiss do be your enchantment, child. One touch of his lips
+and you do be forgetting all else.
+
+OHANO. If Nijo's kiss can make me forget this fever within me, I want
+his kiss as I shall never want anything else in all of this life. I want
+it!!
+
+     [_Approaching horse's hoofs are heard from off right._
+
+ZAMA. Listen--the horse! Ohano, your lover do be coming!
+
+OHANO. [_Running to the window._] Already? He must have taken the short
+way through the cliffs.
+
+ZAMA. Ah, child, do you not be excited as a bird in a storm-wind's
+blow?
+
+OHANO. [_Superbly, as she leans against window._] Yes, I await my hero!
+
+ZAMA. He's stopped, child! He do be here! At last he comes back to my
+little Ohano!
+
+OHANO. My hope comes! [_With outstretched arms to right._] My Nijo!!
+Oh----!
+
+     [_She had impulsively started to greet_ NIJO, _but suddenly shrinks
+     back_.
+
+ZAMA. What do be wrong--what?
+
+OHANO. He's so different--so changed--oh, here he is--ssh!
+
+     [NIJO _appears at the window, where he pauses for a moment. He is a
+     tall, brunette man, scarcely thirty--a handsome, well-knit southern
+     island type, wearing a flowing robe of flame, with a flaring collar
+     of old-gold brocade. A peaked hat completes the costume. A curved
+     sword, with a hilt thickly studded with large jewels and incased in
+     gold, hangs at his belt. He seems worldly weary and sad as he
+     advances into the room._
+
+OHANO. Nijo!
+
+NIJO. [_Unimpassioned._] Ohano.
+
+OHANO. [_Eagerly._] You have come back!
+
+NIJO. Yes--and the season of the heat has been gracious to your health,
+I hope?
+
+OHANO. Yes--and yours, Nijo?
+
+NIJO. The same.
+
+OHANO. Oh, I am glad--glad as tree-blossoms for the kiss of spring. And
+Zama here shares my welcome, don't you?
+
+NIJO. [_Recognizing_ ZAMA.] Ah, Zama.
+
+ZAMA. [_Bowing before him._] The gods do be kind to bring back a hero to
+us.
+
+NIJO. Thank you.
+
+ZAMA. Now I do be going for refreshments for your weariness; great it
+must be after so long a voyage. [_Exits right._
+
+OHANO. Shall we not sit here?
+
+NIJO. As you will.
+
+     [OHANO _and_ NIJO _sit upon mats near the window, partly facing
+     each other_.
+
+OHANO. They--they gave you a sword at the boat.
+
+NIJO. [_Wearily._] Oh, yes.
+
+OHANO. Even from up here we could see its jewels flash.
+
+NIJO. [_Without interest._] Yes, it is cunningly conceived.
+
+OHANO. How wonderful it must be. Perhaps--I may see it?
+
+NIJO. [_Still wearily._] If you so desire.
+
+     [_Unbuckles sword and holds it before himself for her to examine.
+     She leans over it admiringly, touching the jewels as she speaks of
+     them._
+
+OHANO. Magnificent! Rubies and emeralds and sapphires! And here are
+moonstones and diamonds. How you must prize it.
+
+NIJO. [_Wearily._] Of course, one must.
+
+OHANO. And the very people who tried to stop you from going across the
+sea to win your glory have given it to you.
+
+NIJO. That is the way of the world.
+
+OHANO. Show me the way to glory, Nijo.
+
+NIJO. And why?
+
+OHANO. I would travel it too.
+
+NIJO. You--a simple island maiden?
+
+OHANO. I'm not simple. I've grown beyond the people here.
+
+NIJO. But there is glory in the work women must do at home.
+
+OHANO. And I have done my share of it. I want bigger work now--out in
+the world.
+
+NIJO. But the simple tasks must be done.
+
+OHANO. I am sick unto death of doing them!
+
+NIJO. But you can't go into the battles of the world. You are an island
+woman.
+
+OHANO. This last war has made all women free. If the other island women
+cling to the everlasting tradition that woman should not go beyond her
+native hearth, let them cling. I shall reach the summit of things and
+know the glory of doing big things in the world!
+
+NIJO. But you--sheltered, protected all your life--how can you do it?
+
+OHANO. That's what troubles me. But you were fettered by this island
+life and you broke through the bars of convention. How did _you_ do it?
+
+NIJO. [_Sadly._] Ohano, I would not spoil your life by telling you.
+
+OHANO. Spoil it? What do you think is happening to it now? Oh, Nijo,
+can't you understand I'm stagnating--_dying_ in this commonplace island
+life.
+
+NIJO. I thought that about myself, too, when I started my climb to
+glory; but scarcely a moon had passed before I realized the loneliness
+of great heights.
+
+OHANO. [_Tigerishly._] Are you trying to turn me from my wish--to have
+all the island's glory for yourself?
+
+NIJO. No, but only the valley people enjoy the sublimity of a mountain.
+
+OHANO. [_Scornfully._] Ha!
+
+NIJO. Those who reach the top have lost their perspective. All they see
+are the lonely tops of other mountains.
+
+OHANO. [_Sublimely._] But they've had the joy of the climb!
+
+NIJO. And worth what--no more than the mist of the sea.
+
+OHANO. Do you think that satisfies me? I want to find out for myself! I
+only want you to tell me the way to use this spirit that boils within my
+blood, thirsts for action!
+
+NIJO. That I never will.
+
+OHANO. Oh, what shall I do? I've even implored the sun and the moon!
+[_Looks toward sea._] Now I _must_ listen to my dreams--my dreams that
+cry and cry: "Look in the gazing globe! Look in the gazing globe! It
+will show you the way!" And if it ever does, I'll take that path _no
+matter where it leads_.
+
+NIJO. My journey only made me want to come back to the haven of your
+love, Ohano. The amber cup of glory left me athirst to be wrapped in the
+mantle of your boundless love and warmed with the glow of your heart.
+
+OHANO. [_Surprised._] Your journey has really led you back to me?
+
+NIJO. [_Sadly._] You're my only hope. I've been as mad for you as the
+sea for the moonlight.
+
+OHANO. [_Disturbed._] But you had fire and impulse when you went away;
+and now--well, you do still yearn for me?
+
+NIJO. [_Quietly, without passion._] The hope for your love has been the
+light of my brain, changing from life to dream, from earth to star.
+
+OHANO. My thirst for glory has been that way; but Zama tells me it is as
+nothing in the kiss of love. If love has that power, I am willing to
+forget all else. Kiss me, Nijo!
+
+NIJO. At last my lips will press yours, as the sun flames to an immortal
+moment when it meets the sky.
+
+     [_Kneeling opposite each other, their lips meet._ OHANO _instantly
+     gives a piercing scream and recoils from him_. NIJO _sinks into a
+     heap_.
+
+OHANO. [_Rising and turning toward the sea, weeping._] Oh, oh, oh!
+
+ZAMA. [_Rushing in from right._] What is it? What is it, Ohano?
+
+OHANO. [_Still weeping._] Oh--ooh.
+
+ZAMA. What do it be, my little Ohano?
+
+OHANO. [_Turning._] His kiss--Nijo's kiss!
+
+ZAMA. Yes?
+
+OHANO. Cold as white marble--_cold_!
+
+ZAMA. Cold as white marble?
+
+OHANO. Oh, Nijo, why do you kiss me like a thing of stone?
+
+NIJO. [_As he looks up, pitifully._] Into that kiss I tried to put all
+the love I've thought these many years.
+
+OHANO. The love you've _thought_?
+
+NIJO. [_Despondently._] Yes, I've only thought it--_thought_ it!
+
+OHANO. But your heart----?
+
+NIJO. [_Rising._] My heart feels no more! Only my head thinks.
+
+ZAMA. You love no more?
+
+NIJO. Only with my head, it seems. I see things, know things, understand
+things; but I no longer feel anything. And my thirst for glory has done
+it all--killed my love of life and turned my very kiss to stone. Oh,
+glory, why do men give the essence of their lives to you--you who last
+no longer than the glow of gold above the place of sunset!
+
+OHANO. [_Superbly._] Because glory gives you the world--everything!
+
+NIJO. It takes everything away--strips you--and leaves you nothing to
+believe. Oh, I could have become a common soldier here, marching
+shoulder to shoulder with the island men going out to war--but no--I
+must be a great warrior, a hero in position. Had I known then what I
+know now, how gladly would I have gone as one of the thousands who are
+known as--just soldiers. They are the ones who know the throb of life
+and love!
+
+OHANO. You bring back such a message to me? You who have climbed and
+climbed to heights till I have believed you to be as constant in your
+quest as the light that shines upon the gazing globe?
+
+NIJO. I--a light?
+
+OHANO. Why not? I've always likened your feet unto the disks of two
+luminaries, lighting the way for all the world to follow. [_Looks at
+gazing globe, which is now a ball of gold against the black sea and
+sky._] And now you tell me I was wrong. Perhaps the light upon the
+gazing globe itself is the only one to follow.
+
+NIJO. I--a light? Why, Ohano, if I'm anything, I'm a gazing globe!
+
+OHANO. What do you mean--you a gazing globe?
+
+NIJO. That without I'm all fair, all wonderful--but within I'm empty as
+a gazing globe.
+
+OHANO. [_Scornfully._] But a gazing globe shows men the way to their
+heart's desire.
+
+NIJO. It reflects to men what they see into it. So does glory.
+
+OHANO. I can't believe that--now.
+
+NIJO. Behold what it has done to me! Already as a child I gazed at that
+globe, longing to grasp the glory of which it was a symbol. It filled me
+with a red madness, surged with an unbearable music, giving me a riotous
+pain! Oh, it made me drunk for the wine of glory!
+
+OHANO. I know! I know! Now you talk as the man I thought you were.
+
+NIJO. I'm not a man. I'm dead.
+
+OHANO. But you have known the glory of life. Shall I never know the way
+to it? [_Appealingly, to the globe._] The way--the way is what I seek!
+
+ZAMA. Look not so upon the evil ball, child. It do be enchanted for one
+thousand years! [OHANO _moves nearer the globe_.] Go not so near, child!
+Evil will fall--and you will be enslaved!
+
+OHANO. What care I, if it shows me the way? [_Hands outstretched to the
+globe._
+
+ZAMA. [_Appealingly to_ NIJO.] Sir, I pray you do be stopping her. She
+do be always gazing at that golden ball; and slowly it do be drawing her
+within its enchanted grasp. And it do be an enchanted ball!
+
+NIJO. Perhaps there's more to its enchantment than I thought. It claimed
+me for a victim--and now it's freezing her life's warmth to the
+falseness of Orient pearl.
+
+OHANO. [_Murmuring to the globe._] The way--the way! I must have the
+way!
+
+NIJO. [_Swiftly drawing his sword._] I will not show you--but I'll save
+you! [_Starts toward the gazing globe._
+
+ZAMA. [_Barring his path._] Nijo, sir, what do you be doing?
+
+NIJO. [_With a flourish of his sword._] I kill the thing that freezes
+another heart!
+
+ZAMA. That do mean ruin! It be an enchanted ball!
+
+NIJO. [_Brushing past_ ZAMA.] It will enchant no longer!!
+
+OHANO. No! No, Nijo!
+
+NIJO. [_Running up pedestal steps._] Yes!!
+
+     [_With a mighty blow he strikes the gazing globe with his sword.
+     Frightened_, OHANO _shrinks to one side, facing right, as a
+     thunder-like crash follows the blow, and pieces of the globe tumble
+     to the ground--all but one piece that remains upon the pedestal.
+     Then from a moon off stage right shines a straight golden path
+     across the sea to the bit of gazing globe on the pedestal._
+
+OHANO. [_Triumphantly._] The moon--The way! At last the way! From the
+gazing globe--the golden path to the moon of glory. Now I am free!
+
+     [_Rushes wildly down the moonlight path to the sea._
+
+ZAMA. Stop her!
+
+NIJO. No, it is better to let her go.
+
+ZAMA. But the path do lead into the sea. It is death! Stop her!!
+[_Starts forward._
+
+NIJO. [_Restraining_ ZAMA.] No! In death her soul has found the only
+way!
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOR
+
+BY
+
+ANTON TCHEKOV
+
+
+_The Boor_ is reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark and of
+Samuel French, publisher, New York City. All rights reserved. For
+permission to perform, address Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street,
+New York City.
+
+
+ANTON TCHEKOV
+
+Anton Tchekov, considered the foremost of contemporary Russian
+dramatists, was born in 1860 at Taganrog, Russia. In 1880 he was
+graduated from the Medical School of the University of Moscow. Ill
+health soon compelled him to abandon his practice of medicine, and in
+1887 he sought the south. In 1904, the year of the successful appearance
+of his _Cherry Orchard_, he died in a village of the Black Forest in
+Germany.
+
+As a dramatist, Tchekov has with deliberate intent cast off much of the
+conventionalities of dramatic technic. In his longer plays especially,
+like _The Sea Gull_, _Uncle Vanya_, and _Cherry Orchard_, he somewhat
+avoids obvious struggles, time-worn commonplaces, well-prepared
+climaxes, and seeks rather to spread out a panoramic canvas for our
+contemplation. His chief aim is to show us humanity as he sees it. It is
+his interest in humanity that gives him so high rank as a dramatist.
+
+His one-act plays, a form of drama unusually apt for certain intimate
+aspects of Russian peasant life, are more regular in their technic than
+his longer plays. Among the five or six shorter plays that Tchekov
+wrote, _The Boor_ and _A Marriage Proposal_ are his best. In these plays
+he shows the lighter side of Russian country life, infusing some of the
+spirit of the great Gogol into his broad and somewhat farcical character
+portrayals. With rare good grace, in these plays he appears to be asking
+us to throw aside our restraint and laugh with him at the stupidity and
+naïveté, as well as good-heartedness, of the Russian people he knew so
+well.
+
+_The Boor_ is a remarkably well-constructed one-act play, and is
+probably the finest one-act play of the Russian school of drama.
+
+
+PERSONS IN THE PLAY
+
+     HELENA IVANOVNA POPOV, _a young widow, mistress of a country estate_
+     GRIGORI STEPANOVITCH SMIRNOV, _proprietor of a country estate_
+     LUKA, _servant of_ MRS. POPOV
+
+     _A gardener._ _A coachman._ _Several workmen._
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOR
+
+TIME: _The present._
+
+     SCENE: _A well-furnished reception-room in_ MRS. POPOV'S _home_.
+     MRS. POPOV _is discovered in deep mourning, sitting upon a sofa,
+     gazing steadfastly at a photograph_. LUKA _is also present_.
+
+
+LUKA. It isn't right, ma'am. You're wearing yourself out! The maid and
+the cook have gone looking for berries; everything that breathes is
+enjoying life; even the cat knows how to be happy--slips about the
+courtyard and catches birds--but you hide yourself here in the house as
+though you were in a cloister. Yes, truly, by actual reckoning you
+haven't left this house for a whole year.
+
+MRS. POPOV. And I shall never leave it--why should I? My life is over.
+He lies in his grave, and I have buried myself within these four walls.
+We are both dead.
+
+LUKA. There you are again! It's too awful to listen to, so it is!
+Nikolai Michailovitch is dead; it was the will of the Lord, and the Lord
+has given him eternal peace. You have grieved over it and that ought to
+be enough. Now it's time to stop. One can't weep and wear mourning
+forever! My wife died a few years ago. I grieved for her. I wept a whole
+month--and then it was over. Must one be forever singing lamentations?
+That would be more than your husband was worth! [_He sighs._] You have
+forgotten all your neighbors. You don't go out and you receive no one.
+We live--you'll pardon me--like the spiders, and the good light of day
+we never see. All the livery is eaten by the mice--as though there
+weren't any more nice people in the world! But the whole neighborhood
+is full of gentlefolk. The regiment is stationed in
+Riblov--officers--simply beautiful! One can't see enough of them! Every
+Friday a ball, and military music every day. Oh, my dear, dear ma'am,
+young and pretty as you are, if you'd only let your spirits live--!
+Beauty can't last forever. When ten short years are over, you'll be glad
+enough to go out a bit and meet the officers--and then it'll be too
+late.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Resolutely._] Please don't speak of these things again.
+You know very well that since the death of Nikolai Michailovitch my life
+is absolutely nothing to me. You think I live, but it only seems so. Do
+you understand? Oh, that his departed soul may see how I love him! I
+know, it's no secret to you; he was often unjust toward me, cruel,
+and--he wasn't faithful, but I shall be faithful to the grave and prove
+to him how _I_ can love. There, in the Beyond, he'll find me the same as
+I was until his death.
+
+LUKA. What is the use of all these words, when you'd so much rather go
+walking in the garden or order Tobby or Welikan harnessed to the trap,
+and visit the neighbors?
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Weeping._] Oh!
+
+LUKA. Madam, dear madam, what is it? In Heaven's name!
+
+MRS. POPOV. He loved Tobby so! He always drove him to the Kortschagins
+or the Vlassovs. What a wonderful horse-man he was! How fine he looked
+when he pulled at the reins with all his might! Tobby, Tobby--give him
+an extra measure of oats to-day!
+
+LUKA. Yes, ma'am.
+
+     [_A bell rings loudly._
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Shudders._] What's that? I am at home to no one.
+
+LUKA. Yes, ma'am. [_He goes out, centre._
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Gazing at the photograph._] You shall see, Nikolai, how I
+can love and forgive! My love will die only with me--when my poor heart
+stops beating. [_She smiles through her tears._] And aren't you ashamed?
+I have been a good, true wife; I have imprisoned myself and I shall
+remain true until death, and you--you--you're not ashamed of yourself,
+my dear monster! You quarrelled with me, left me alone for weeks----
+
+     [LUKA _enters in great excitement_.
+
+LUKA. Oh, ma'am, some one is asking for you, insists on seeing you----
+
+MRS. POPOV. You told him that since my husband's death I receive no one?
+
+LUKA. I said so, but he won't listen; he says it is a pressing matter.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I receive no one!
+
+LUKA. I told him that, but he's a wild man; he swore and pushed himself
+into the room; he's in the dining-room now.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Excitedly._] Good. Show him in. The impudent----!
+
+     [LUKA _goes out, centre_.
+
+MRS. POPOV. What a bore people are! What can they want with me? Why do
+they disturb my peace? [_She sighs._] Yes, it is clear I must enter a
+convent. [_Meditatively._] Yes, a convent.
+
+     [SMIRNOV _enters, followed by_ LUKA.
+
+SMIRNOV. [To LUKA.] Fool, you make too much noise! You're an ass!
+[_Discovering_ MRS. POPOV--_politely_.] Madam, I have the honor to
+introduce myself: Lieutenant in the Artillery, retired, country
+gentleman, Grigori Stepanovitch Smirnov! I'm compelled to bother you
+about an exceedingly important matter.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Without offering her hand._] What is it you wish?
+
+SMIRNOV. Your deceased husband, with whom I had the honor to be
+acquainted, left me two notes amounting to about twelve hundred
+roubles. Inasmuch as I have to pay the interest to-morrow on a loan from
+the Agrarian Bank, I should like to request, madam, that you pay me the
+money to-day.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Twelve hundred--and for what was my husband indebted to you?
+
+SMIRNOV. He bought oats from me.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_With a sigh, to_ LUKA.] Don't forget to give Tobby an
+extra measure of oats.
+
+     [LUKA _goes out_.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_To_ SMIRNOV.] If Nikolai Michailovitch is indebted to you,
+I shall, of course, pay you, but I am sorry, I haven't the money to-day.
+To-morrow my manager will return from the city and I shall notify him to
+pay you what is due you, but until then I cannot satisfy your request.
+Furthermore, to-day it is just seven months since the death of my
+husband, and I am not in a mood to discuss money matters.
+
+SMIRNOV. And I am in the mood to fly up the chimney with my feet in the
+air if I can't lay hands on that interest to-morrow. They'll seize my
+estate!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Day after to-morrow you will receive the money.
+
+SMIRNOV. I don't need the money day after to-morrow; I need it to-day.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I'm sorry I can't pay you to-day.
+
+SMIRNOV. And I can't wait until day after to-morrow.
+
+MRS. POPOV. But what can I do if I haven't it?
+
+SMIRNOV. So you can't pay?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I cannot.
+
+SMIRNOV. Hm! Is that your last word?
+
+MRS. POPOV. My last.
+
+SMIRNOV. Absolutely?
+
+MRS. POPOV. Absolutely.
+
+SMIRNOV. Thank you. [_He shrugs his shoulders._] And they expect me to
+stand for all that. The toll-gatherer just now met me in the road and
+asked me why I was always worrying. Why, in Heaven's name, shouldn't I
+worry? I need money, I feel the knife at my throat. Yesterday morning I
+left my house in the early dawn and called on all my debtors. If even
+one of them had paid his debt! I worked the skin off my fingers! The
+devil knows in what sort of Jew-inn I slept; in a room with a barrel of
+brandy! And now at last I come here, seventy versts from home, hope for
+a little money, and all you give me is moods! Why shouldn't I worry?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I thought I made it plain to you that my manager will return
+from town, and then you will get your money.
+
+SMIRNOV. I did not come to see the manager; I came to see you. What the
+devil--pardon the language--do I care for your manager?
+
+MRS. POPOV. Really, sir, I am not used to such language or such manners.
+I shan't listen to you any further. [_She goes out, left._
+
+SMIRNOV. What can one say to that? Moods! Seven months since her husband
+died! Do I have to pay the interest or not? I repeat the question, have
+I to pay the interest or not? The husband is dead and all that; the
+manager is--the devil with him!--travelling somewhere. Now, tell me,
+what am I to do? Shall I run away from my creditors in a balloon? Or
+knock my head against a stone wall? If I call on Grusdev he chooses to
+be "not at home," Iroschevitch has simply hidden himself, I have
+quarrelled with Kurzin and came near throwing him out of the window,
+Masutov is ill and this woman has--moods! Not one of them will pay up!
+And all because I've spoiled them, because I'm an old whiner, dish-rag!
+I'm too tender-hearted with them. But wait! I allow nobody to play
+tricks with me, the devil with 'em all! I'll stay here and not budge
+until she pays! Brr! How angry I am, how terribly angry I am! Every
+tendon is trembling with anger, and I can hardly breathe! I'm even
+growing ill! [_He calls out._] Servant!
+
+     [LUKA _enters_.
+
+LUKA. What is it you wish?
+
+SMIRNOV. Bring me Kvas or water! [LUKA _goes out_.] Well, what can we
+do? She hasn't it on hand? What sort of logic is that? A fellow stands
+with the knife at his throat, he needs money, he is on the point of
+hanging himself, and she won't pay because she isn't in the mood to
+discuss money matters. Woman's logic! That's why I never liked to talk
+to women, and why I dislike doing it now. I would rather sit on a powder
+barrel than talk with a woman. Brr!--I'm getting cold as ice; this
+affair has made me so angry. I need only to see such a romantic creature
+from a distance to get so angry that I have cramps in the calves! It's
+enough to make one yell for help!
+
+     [_Enter_ LUKA.
+
+LUKA. [_Hands him water._] Madam is ill and is not receiving.
+
+SMIRNOV. March! [LUKA _goes out_.] Ill and isn't receiving! All right,
+it isn't necessary. I won't receive, either! I'll sit here and stay
+until you bring that money. If you're ill a week, I'll sit here a week.
+If you're ill a year, I'll sit here a year. As Heaven is my witness,
+I'll get the money. You don't disturb me with your mourning--or with
+your dimples. We know these dimples! [_He calls out the window._] Simon,
+unharness! We aren't going to leave right away. I am going to stay here.
+Tell them in the stable to give the horses some oats. The left horse has
+twisted the bridle again. [_Imitating him._] Stop! I'll show you how.
+Stop! [_Leaves window._] It's awful. Unbearable heat, no money, didn't
+sleep last night and now--mourning-dresses with moods. My head aches;
+perhaps I ought to have a drink. Ye-s, I must have a drink. [_Calling._]
+Servant!
+
+LUKA. What do you wish?
+
+SMIRNOV. Something to drink! [LUKA _goes out_. SMIRNOV _sits down and
+looks at his clothes_.] Ugh, a fine figure! No use denying that. Dust,
+dirty boots, unwashed, uncombed, straw on my vest--the lady probably
+took me for a highwayman. [_He yawns._] It was a little impolite to
+come into a reception-room with such clothes. Oh, well, no harm done.
+I'm not here as a guest. I'm a creditor. And there is no special costume
+for creditors.
+
+LUKA. [_Entering with glass._] You take great liberty, sir.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Angrily._] What?
+
+LUKA. I--I--I just----
+
+SMIRNOV. Whom are you talking to? Keep quiet.
+
+LUKA. [_Angrily._] Nice mess! This fellow won't leave! [_He goes out._
+
+SMIRNOV. Lord, how angry I am! Angry enough to throw mud at the whole
+world! I even feel ill! Servant!
+
+     [MRS. POPOV _comes in with downcast eyes_.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Sir, in my solitude I have become unaccustomed to the human
+voice and I cannot stand the sound of loud talking. I beg you, please to
+cease disturbing my rest.
+
+SMIRNOV. Pay me my money and I'll leave.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I told you once, plainly, in your native tongue, that I
+haven't the money at hand; wait until day after to-morrow.
+
+SMIRNOV. And I also had the honor of informing you in your native tongue
+that I need the money, not day after to-morrow, but to-day. If you don't
+pay me to-day I shall have to hang myself to-morrow.
+
+MRS. POPOV. But what can I do if I haven't the money?
+
+SMIRNOV. So you are not going to pay immediately? You're not?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I cannot.
+
+SMIRNOV. Then I'll sit here until I get the money. [_He sits down._] You
+will pay day after to-morrow? Excellent! Here I stay until day after
+to-morrow. [_Jumps up._] I ask you, do I have to pay that interest
+to-morrow or not? Or do you think I'm joking?
+
+MRS. POPOV. Sir, I beg of you, don't scream! This is not a stable.
+
+SMIRNOV. I'm not talking about stables, I'm asking you whether I have to
+pay that interest to-morrow or not?
+
+MRS. POPOV. You have no idea how to treat a lady.
+
+SMIRNOV. Oh, yes, I have.
+
+MRS. POPOV. No, you have not. You are an ill-bred, vulgar person!
+Respectable people don't speak so to ladies.
+
+SMIRNOV. How remarkable! How do you want one to speak to you? In French,
+perhaps! Madame, je vous prie! Pardon me for having disturbed you. What
+beautiful weather we are having to-day! And how this mourning becomes
+you! [_He makes a low bow with mock ceremony._
+
+MRS. POPOV. Not at all funny! I think it vulgar!
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Imitating her._] Not at all funny--vulgar! I don't understand
+how to behave in the company of ladies. Madam, in the course of my life
+I have seen more women than you have sparrows. Three times have I fought
+duels for women, twelve I jilted and nine jilted me. There was a time
+when I played the fool, used honeyed language, bowed and scraped. I
+loved, suffered, sighed to the moon, melted in love's torments. I loved
+passionately, I loved to madness, loved in every key, chattered like a
+magpie on emancipation, sacrificed half my fortune in the tender
+passion, until now the devil knows I've had enough of it. Your obedient
+servant will let you lead him around by the nose no more. Enough! Black
+eyes, passionate eyes, coral lips, dimples in cheeks, moonlight
+whispers, soft, modest sighs--for all that, madam, I wouldn't pay a
+kopeck! I am not speaking of present company, but of women in general;
+from the tiniest to the greatest, they are conceited, hypocritical,
+chattering, odious, deceitful from top to toe; vain, petty, cruel with a
+maddening logic and [_he strikes his forehead_] in this respect, please
+excuse my frankness, but one sparrow is worth ten of the aforementioned
+petticoat-philosophers. When one sees one of the romantic creatures
+before him he imagines he is looking at some holy being, so wonderful
+that its one breath could dissolve him in a sea of a thousand charms and
+delights; but if one looks into the soul--it's nothing but a common
+crocodile. [_He seizes the arm-chair and breaks it in two._] But the
+worst of all is that this crocodile imagines it is a masterpiece of
+creation, and that it has a monopoly on all the tender passions. May the
+devil hang me upside down if there is anything to love about a woman!
+When she is in love, all she knows is how to complain and shed tears. If
+the man suffers and makes sacrifices she swings her train about and
+tries to lead him by the nose. You have the misfortune to be a woman,
+and naturally you know woman's nature; tell me on your honor, have you
+ever in your life seen a woman who was really true and faithful? Never!
+Only the old and the deformed are true and faithful. It's easier to find
+a cat with horns or a white woodcock, than a faithful woman.
+
+MRS. POPOV. But allow me to ask, who is true and faithful in love? The
+man, perhaps?
+
+SMIRNOV. Yes, indeed! The man!
+
+MRS. POPOV. The man! [_She laughs sarcastically._] The man true and
+faithful in love! Well, that is something _new_! [_Bitterly._] How can
+you make such a statement? Men true and faithful! So long as we have
+gone thus far, I may as well say that of all the men I have known, my
+husband was the best; I loved him passionately with all my soul, as only
+a young, sensible woman may love; I gave him my youth, my happiness, my
+fortune, my life. I worshipped him like a heathen. And what happened?
+This best of men betrayed me in every possible way. After his death I
+found his desk filled with love-letters. While he was alive he left me
+alone for months--it is horrible even to think about it--he made love to
+other women in my very presence, he wasted my money and made fun of my
+feelings--and in spite of everything I trusted him and was true to him.
+And more than that: he is dead and I am still true to him. I have buried
+myself within these four walls and I shall wear this mourning to my
+grave.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Laughing disrespectfully._] Mourning! What on earth do you
+take me for? As if I didn't know why you wore this black domino and why
+you buried yourself within these four walls. Such a secret! So romantic!
+Some knight will pass the castle, gaze up at the windows, and think to
+himself: "Here dwells the mysterious Tamara who, for love of her
+husband, has buried herself within four walls." Oh, I understand the
+art!
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Springing up._] What? What do you mean by saying such
+things to me?
+
+SMIRNOV. You have buried yourself alive, but meanwhile you have not
+forgotten to powder your nose!
+
+MRS. POPOV. How dare you speak so?
+
+SMIRNOV. Don't scream at me, please; I'm not the manager. Allow me to
+call things by their right names. I am not a woman, and I am accustomed
+to speak out what I think. So please don't scream.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I'm not screaming. It is you who are screaming. Please leave
+me, I beg of you.
+
+SMIRNOV. Pay me my money and I'll leave.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I won't give you the money.
+
+SMIRNOV. You won't? You won't give me my money?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I don't care what you do. You won't get a kopeck! Leave me!
+
+SMIRNOV. As I haven't the pleasure of being either your husband or your
+fiancé, please don't make a scene. [_He sits down._] I can't stand it.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Breathing hard._] You are going to sit down?
+
+SMIRNOV. I already have.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Kindly leave the house!
+
+SMIRNOV. Give me the money.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I don't care to speak with impudent men. Leave! [_Pause._]
+You aren't going?
+
+SMIRNOV. No.
+
+MRS. POPOV. No?
+
+SMIRNOV. No.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Very well. [_She rings the bell._
+
+     [_Enter_ LUKA.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Luka, show the gentleman out.
+
+LUKA. [_Going to_ SMIRNOV.] Sir, why don't you leave when you are
+ordered? What do you want?
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Jumping up._] Whom do you think you are talking to? I'll
+grind you to powder.
+
+LUKA. [_Puts his hand to his heart._] Good Lord! [_He drops into a
+chair._] Oh, I'm ill; I can't breathe!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Where is Dascha? [_Calling._] Dascha! Pelageja! Dascha!
+[_She rings._
+
+LUKA. They're all gone! I'm ill! Water!
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_To_ SMIRNOV.] Leave! Get out!
+
+SMIRNOV. Kindly be a little more polite!
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Striking her fists and stamping her feet._] You are
+vulgar! You're a boor! A monster!
+
+SMIRNOV. What did you say?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I said you were a boor, a monster!
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Steps toward her quickly._] Permit me to ask what right you
+have to insult me?
+
+MRS. POPOV. What of it? Do you think I am afraid of you?
+
+SMIRNOV. And you think that because you are a romantic creature you can
+insult me without being punished? I challenge you!
+
+LUKA. Merciful Heaven! Water!
+
+SMIRNOV. We'll have a duel.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Do you think because you have big fists and a steer's neck I
+am afraid of you?
+
+SMIRNOV. I allow no one to insult me, and I make no exception because
+you are a woman, one of the "weaker sex"!
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Trying to cry him down._] Boor, boor, boor!
+
+SMIRNOV. It is high time to do away with the old superstition that it is
+only the man who is forced to give satisfaction. If there is equity at
+all let there be equity in all things. There's a limit!
+
+MRS. POPOV. You wish to fight a duel? Very well.
+
+SMIRNOV. Immediately.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Immediately. My husband had pistols. I'll bring them. [_She
+hurries away, then turns._] Oh, what a pleasure it will be to put a
+bullet in your impudent head. The devil take you! [_She goes out._
+
+SMIRNOV. I'll shoot her down! I'm no fledgling, no sentimental young
+puppy. For me there is no weaker sex!
+
+LUKA. Oh, sir. [_Falls to his knees._] Have mercy on me, an old man, and
+go away. You have frightened me to death already, and now you want to
+fight a duel.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Paying no attention._] A duel. That's equity, emancipation.
+That way the sexes are made equal. I'll shoot her down as a matter of
+principle. What can a person say to such a woman? [_Imitating her._]
+"The devil take you. I'll put a bullet in your impudent head." What can
+one say to that? She was angry, her eyes blazed, she accepted the
+challenge. On my honor, it's the first time in my life that I ever saw
+such a woman.
+
+LUKA. Oh, sir. Go away. Go away!
+
+SMIRNOV. That _is_ a woman. I can understand her. A real woman. No
+shilly-shallying, but fire, powder, and noise! It would be a pity to
+shoot a woman like that.
+
+LUKA. [_Weeping._] Oh, sir, go away.
+
+     [_Enter_ MRS. POPOV.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Here are the pistols. But before we have our duel, please
+show me how to shoot. I have never had a pistol in my hand before!
+
+LUKA. God be merciful and have pity upon us! I'll go and get the
+gardener and the coachman. Why has this horror come to us? [_He goes
+out._
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Looking at the pistols._] You see, there are different kinds.
+There are special duelling pistols, with cap and ball. But these are
+revolvers, Smith & Wesson, with ejectors; fine pistols! A pair like that
+cost at least ninety roubles. This is the way to hold a revolver.
+[_Aside._] Those eyes, those eyes! A real woman!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Like this?
+
+SMIRNOV. Yes, that way. Then you pull the hammer back--so--then you
+aim--put your head back a little. Just stretch your arm out, please.
+So--then press your finger on the thing like that, and that is all. The
+chief thing is this: don't get excited, don't hurry your aim, and take
+care that your hand doesn't tremble.
+
+MRS. POPOV. It isn't well to shoot inside; let's go into the garden.
+
+SMIRNOV. Yes. I'll tell you now, I am going to shoot into the air.
+
+MRS. POPOV. That is too much! Why?
+
+SMIRNOV. Because--because. That's my business.
+
+MRS. POPOV. You are afraid. Yes. A-h-h-h, No, no, my dear sir, no
+flinching! Please follow me. I won't rest until I've made a hole in that
+head I hate so much. Are you afraid?
+
+SMIRNOV. Yes, I'm afraid.
+
+MRS. POPOV. You are lying. Why won't you fight?
+
+SMIRNOV. Because--because--I--like you.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_With an angry laugh._] You like me! He dares to say he
+likes me! [_She points to the door._] Go.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Laying the revolver silently on the table, takes his hat and
+starts. At the door he stops a moment, gazing at her silently, then he
+approaches her, hesitating._] Listen! Are you still angry? I was mad as
+the devil, but please understand me--how can I express myself? The thing
+is like this--such things are--[_He raises his voice._] Now, is it my
+fault that you owe me money? [_Grasps the back of the chair, which
+breaks._] The devil knows what breakable furniture you have! I like you!
+Do you understand? I--I'm almost in love!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Leave! I hate you.
+
+SMIRNOV. Lord! What a woman! I never in my life met one like her. I'm
+lost, ruined! I've been caught like a mouse in a trap.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Go, or I'll shoot.
+
+SMIRNOV. Shoot! You have no idea what happiness it would be to die in
+sight of those beautiful eyes, to die from the revolver in this little
+velvet hand! I'm mad! Consider it and decide immediately, for if I go
+now, we shall never see each other again. Decide--speak--- I am a noble,
+a respectable man, have an income of ten thousand, can shoot a coin
+thrown into the air. I own some fine horses. Will you be my wife?
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Swings the revolver angrily._] I'll shoot!
+
+SMIRNOV. My mind is not clear--I can't understand. Servant--water! I
+have fallen in love like any young man. [_He takes her hand and she
+cries with pain._] I love you! [_He kneels._] I love you as I have never
+loved before. Twelve women I jilted, nine jilted me, but not one of them
+all have I loved as I love you. I am conquered, lost; I lie at your feet
+like a fool and beg for your hand. Shame and disgrace! For five years I
+haven't been in love; I thanked the Lord for it, and now I am caught,
+like a carriage tongue in another carriage. I beg for your hand! Yes or
+no? Will you?--Good! [_He gets up and goes quickly to the door._
+
+MRS. POPOV. Wait a moment!
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Stopping._] Well?
+
+MRS. POPOV. Nothing. You may go. But--wait a moment. No, go on, go on. I
+hate you. Or--no; don't go. Oh, if you knew how angry I was, how angry!
+[_She throws the revolver on to the chair._] My finger is swollen from
+this thing. [_She angrily tears her handkerchief._] What are you
+standing there for? Get out!
+
+SMIRNOV. Farewell!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Yes, go. [_Cries out._] Why are you going? Wait--no, go!!
+Oh, how angry I am! Don't come too near, don't come too
+near--er--come--no nearer.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Approaching her._] How angry I am with myself! Fall in love
+like a schoolboy, throw myself on my knees. I've got a chill!
+[_Strongly._] I love you. This is fine--all I needed was to fall in
+love. To-morrow I have to pay my interest, the hay harvest has begun,
+and then you appear! [_He takes her in his arms._] I can never forgive
+myself.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Go away! Take your hands off me! I hate you--you--this
+is--[_A long kiss._
+
+     [_Enter_ LUKA _with an axe, the gardener with a rake, the coachman
+     with a pitchfork, and workmen with poles_.
+
+LUKA. [_Staring at the pair._] Merciful heavens!
+
+     [_A long pause._
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Dropping her eyes._] Tell them in the stable that Tobby
+isn't to have any oats.
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST STRAW
+
+BY
+
+BOSWORTH CROCKER
+
+
+_The Last Straw_ is reprinted by special permission of Bosworth Crocker.
+All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address the author, care
+Society of American Dramatists and Composers, 148 West 45th Street,
+New York City.
+
+
+BOSWORTH CROCKER
+
+Bosworth Crocker was born March 2, 1882, in Surrey, England. While still
+a child he was brought to the United States. He lives in New York City
+and may be reached in care of the Society of American Dramatists and
+Composers, 148 West 45th Street.
+
+In addition to _Pawns of War_ and _Stone Walls_, he has written a number
+of one-act plays, _The Dog_, _The First Time_, _The Cost of a Hat_, _The
+Hour Before_, _The Baby Carriage_, and _The Last Straw_.
+
+_The Last Straw_, produced by the Washington Square Players in New York
+City, is an excellent one-act tragedy, based upon the psychological law
+of suggestion.
+
+
+CAST
+
+
+     FRIEDRICH BAUER, _janitor of the Bryn Mawr_
+     MIENE, _his wife_
+     KARL, _elder son, aged ten_
+     FRITZI, _younger son, aged seven_
+     JIM LANE, _a grocer boy_
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST STRAW[G]
+
+     TIME: _The present day._
+
+     SCENE: _The basement of a large apartment-house in New York City._
+
+     SCENE: _The kitchen of the Bauer flat in the basement of the Bryn
+     Mawr. A window at the side gives on an area and shows the walk
+     above and the houses across the street. Opposite the windows is a
+     door to an inner room. Through the outer door, in the centre of the
+     back wall, a dumb-waiter and whistles to tenants can be seen. A
+     broken milk-bottle lies in a puddle of milk on the cement floor in
+     front of the dumb-waiter. To the right of the outer door, a
+     telephone; gas-range on which there are flat-irons heating and
+     vegetables cooking. To the left of the outer door is an old
+     sideboard; over it hangs a picture of Schiller. Near the centre of
+     the room, a little to the right, stands a kitchen table with four
+     chairs around it. Ironing-board is placed between the kitchen table
+     and the sink, a basket of dampened clothes under it. A large
+     calendar on the wall. An alarm-clock on the window-sill. Time: a
+     little before noon. The telephone rings_; MRS. BAUER _leaves her
+     ironing and goes to answer it_.
+
+
+MRS. BAUER. No, Mr. Bauer's out yet. [_She listens through the
+transmitter._] Thank you, Mrs. Mohler. [_Another pause._] I'll tell him
+just so soon he comes in--yes, ma'am.
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _goes back to her ironing. Grocer boy rushes into
+     basement, whistling; he puts down his basket, goes up to_ MRS.
+     BAUER'S _door and looks in_.
+
+
+LANE. Say--where's the boss?
+
+MRS. BAUER. He'll be home soon, I--hope--Jim. What you want?
+
+     [_He stands looking at her with growing sympathy._
+
+LANE. Nothin'. Got a rag 'round here? Dumb-waiter's all wet.... Lot of
+groceries for Sawyers.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Without lifting her eyes, mechanically hands him a mop
+which hangs beside the door._] Here.
+
+LANE. What's the matter?
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Dully._] Huh?
+
+LANE. [_Significantly._] Oh, I know.
+
+MRS. BAUER. What you know?
+
+LANE. About the boss. [MRS. BAUER _looks distressed_.] Heard your
+friends across the street talkin'.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Bitterly._] Friends!
+
+LANE. Rotten trick to play on the boss, all right, puttin' that old maid
+up to get him pinched.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Absently._] Was she an old maid?
+
+LANE. The cruelty-to-animals woman over there [_waves his
+hand_]--regular old crank. Nies[H] put her up to it all right.
+
+MRS. BAUER. I guess it was his old woman. Nies ain't so bad. She's the
+one. Because my two boys dress up a little on Sunday, she don't like it.
+
+LANE. Yes, she's sore because the boys told her the boss kicks their
+dog.
+
+MRS. BAUER. He don't do nothin' of the sort--jus' drives it 'way from
+the garbage-pails--that's all. We coulda had that dog took up long
+ago--they ain't got no license. But Fritz--he's so easy--he jus' takes
+it out chasin' the dog and hollerin'.
+
+LANE. That ain't no way. He ought to make the dog holler--good and
+hard--once; then it'd keep out of here.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Don't you go to talkin' like that 'round my man. Look at all
+this trouble we're in on account of a stray cat.
+
+LANE. I better get busy. They'll be callin' up the store in a minute.
+That woman's the limit.... Send up the groceries in that slop, she'd
+send them down again. High-toned people like her ought to keep maids.
+
+     [_He mops out the lower shelf of the dumb-waiter, then looks at the
+     broken bottle and the puddle of milk inquiringly._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Taking the mop away from him._] I'll clean that up. I
+forgot--in all this trouble.
+
+LANE. Whose milk?
+
+MRS. BAUER. The Mohlers'. That's how it all happened. Somebody upset
+their milk on the dumb-waiter and the cat was on the shelf lickin' it
+up; my man, not noticin', starts the waiter up and the cat tries to jump
+out; the bottle rolls off and breaks. The cat was hurt awful--caught in
+the shaft. I don't see how it coulda run after that, but it did--right
+into the street, right into that woman--Fritz after it. Then it fell
+over. "You did that?" she says to Fritz. "Yes," he says, "I did that."
+He didn't say no more, jus' went off, and then after a while they came
+for him and---- [_She begins to cry softly._
+
+LANE. Brace up; they ain't goin' to do anything to him.... [_Comes into
+kitchen. Hesitatingly._] Say!... He didn't kick the cat--did he?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Who said so?
+
+LANE. Mrs. Nies--says she saw him from her window.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_As though to herself._] I dunno. [_Excitedly._] Of course
+he didn't kick that cat. [_Again, as though to herself._] Fritz is so
+quick-tempered he mighta kicked it 'fore he knew what he was about. No
+one'd ever know how good Fritz is unless they lived with him. He never
+hurt no one and nothing except himself.
+
+LANE. Oh, I'm on to the boss. I never mind his hollerin'.
+
+MRS. BAUER. If you get a chance, bring me some butter for dinner--a
+pound.
+
+LANE. All right. I'll run over with it in ten or fifteen minutes, soon
+as I get rid of these orders out here in the wagon.
+
+MRS. BAUER. That'll do.
+
+     [_She moves about apathetically, lays the cloth on the kitchen
+     table and begins to set it._ LANE _goes to the dumb-waiter,
+     whistles up the tube, puts the basket of groceries on the shelf of
+     the dumb-waiter, pulls rope and sends waiter up_. MRS. BAUER
+     _continues to set the table. Boys from the street suddenly swoop
+     into the basement and yell_.
+
+CHORUS OF BOYS' VOICES. Who killed the cat! Who killed the cat!
+
+LANE. [_Letting the rope go and making a dive for the boys._] I'll show
+you, you----
+
+     [_They rush out_, MRS. BAUER _stands despairingly in the doorway
+     shaking her clasped hands_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Those are Nies's boys.
+
+LANE. Regular toughs! Call the cop and have 'em pinched if they don't
+stop it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. If my man hears them--you know--there'll be more trouble.
+
+LANE. The boss ought to make it hot for them.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Such trouble!
+
+LANE. [_Starts to go._] Well--luck to the boss.
+
+MRS. BAUER. There ain't no such thing as luck for us.
+
+LANE. Aw, come on....
+
+MRS. BAUER. Everything's against us. First Fritz's mother dies. We named
+the baby after her--Trude.... Then we lost Trude. That finished Fritz.
+After that he began this hollerin' business. And now this here
+trouble--just when things was goin' half-ways decent for the first time.
+[_She pushes past him and goes to her ironing._
+
+LANE. [_Shakes his head sympathetically and takes up his basket._] A
+pound, you said?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes.
+
+LANE. All right. [_He starts off and then rushes back._] Here's the
+boss comin', Mrs. Bauer. [_Rushes off again._
+
+LANE'S VOICE. [_Cheerfully._] Hello, there!
+
+BAUER'S VOICE. [_Dull and strained._] Hello!
+
+     [BAUER _comes in. His-naturally bright blue eyes are tired and
+     lustreless; his strung frame seems to have lost all vigor and
+     alertness; there in a look of utter despondency on his face._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Closing the door after him._] They let you off?
+
+BAUER. [_With a hard little laugh._] Yes, they let me off--they let me
+off with a fine all right.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Aghast._] They think you did it then.
+
+BAUER. [_Harshly._] The judge fined me, I tell you.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Unable to express her poignant sympathy._] Fined you!...
+Oh, Fritz! [_She lays her hand on his shoulder._
+
+BAUER. [_Roughly, to keep himself from, going to pieces._] That slop out
+there ain't cleaned up yet.
+
+MRS. BAUER. I've been so worried.
+
+BAUER. [_With sudden desperation._] I can't stand it, I tell you.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Well, it's all over now, Fritz.
+
+BAUER. Yes, it's all over.... it's all up with me.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Fritz!
+
+BAUER. That's one sure thing.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You oughtn't to give up like this.
+
+BAUER. [_Pounding on the table._] I tell you I can't hold up my head
+again.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Why, Fritz?
+
+BAUER. They've made me out guilty. The judge fined me. Fined me, Miene!
+How is that? Can a man stand for that? The woman said I told her
+myself--right out--that I did it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. The woman that had you--[_he winces as she hesitates_] took?
+
+BAUER. Damned----
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Putting her hand over his mouth._] Hush, Fritz.
+
+BAUER. Why will I hush, Miene? She said I was proud of the job.
+[_Passionately raising his voice._] The damned interferin'----
+
+MRS. BAUER. Don't holler, Fritz. It's your hollerin' that's made all
+this trouble.
+
+BAUER. [_Penetrated by her words more and more._] My hollerin'!....
+
+     [The telephone rings; she answers it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes, Mrs. Mohler, he's come in now.--Yes.--Won't after
+dinner do?--All right.--Thank you, Mrs. Mohler. [_She hangs up the
+receiver._] Mrs. Mohler wants you to fix her sink right after dinner.
+
+BAUER. I'm not goin' to do any more fixin' around here.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You hold on to yourself, Fritz; that's no way to talk; Mrs.
+Mohler's a nice woman.
+
+BAUER. I don't want to see no more nice women. [_After a pause._]
+Hollerin'!--that's what's the matter with me--hollerin', eh? Well, I've
+took it all out in hollerin'.
+
+MRS. BAUER. They hear you and they think you've got no feelings.
+
+BAUER. [_In utter amazement at the irony of the situation._] And I was
+goin' after the damned cat to take care of it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Why didn't you tell the judge all about it?
+
+BAUER. They got me rattled among them. The lady was so soft and
+pleasant--"He must be made to understand, your honor," she said to the
+judge, "that dumb animals has feelin's, too, just as well as human
+beings"--_Me_, Miene--made to understand that! I couldn't say nothin'.
+My voice just stuck in my throat.
+
+MRS. BAUER. What's the matter with you! You oughta spoke up and told the
+judge just how it all happened.
+
+BAUER. I said to myself; I'll go home and put a bullet through my
+head--that's the best thing for me now.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_With impatient unbelief._] Ach, Fritz, Fritz!
+
+     [_Clatter of feet._
+
+CHORUS OF VOICES. [_At the outer door._] Who killed the cat! Who killed
+the cat!
+
+     [BAUER _jumps up, pale and shaken with strange rage; she pushes him
+     gently back into his chair, opens the door, steps out for a moment,
+     then comes in and leaves the door open behind her_.
+
+BAUER. You see?... Even the kids ... I'm disgraced all over the place.
+
+MRS. BAUER. So long as you didn't hurt the cat----
+
+BAUER. What's the difference? Everybody believes it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. No, they don't, Fritz.
+
+BAUER. You can't fool me, Miene. I see it in their eyes. They looked
+away from me when I was comin' 'round the corner. Some of them kinder
+smiled like--[_passes his hand over his head_]. Even the cop says to me
+on the way over, yesterday: "Don't you put your foot in it any more'n
+you have to." You see? He thought I did it all right. Everybody believes
+it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Putting towels away._] Well, then _let_ them believe
+it.... The agent don't believe it.
+
+BAUER. I dunno. He'da paid my fine anyhow.
+
+MRS. BAUER. He gave you a good name.
+
+BAUER. [_With indignant derision._] He gave me a good name!... Haven't I
+always kept this place all right since we been here? Afterward he said
+to me: "I'm surprised at this business, Bauer, very much surprised."
+That shows what he thinks. I told him it ain't true, I didn't mean to
+hurt it. I saw by his eyes he didn't believe me.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Well, don't you worry any more now.
+
+BAUER. [_To himself._] Hollerin'!
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Shuts the door._] Well, now, holler a little if it does
+you good.
+
+BAUER. Nothin's goin' to do me good.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You just put it out of your mind. [_The telephone rings. She
+answers it._] Yes, but he can't come now, Mrs. McAllister. He'll be up
+this afternoon.
+
+     [_She hangs up the receiver._
+
+BAUER. And I ain't goin' this afternoon--nowhere.
+
+MRS. BAUER. It's Mrs. McAllister. Somethin's wrong with her
+refrigerator--the water won't run off, she says.
+
+BAUER. They can clean out their own drain-pipes.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You go to work and get your mind off this here business.
+
+BAUER. [_Staring straight ahead of him._] I ain't goin' 'round among the
+people in this house ... to have them lookin' at me ... disgraced like
+this.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You want to hold up your head and act as if nothin's
+happened.
+
+BAUER. Nobody spoke to me at the dumb-waiter when I took off the garbage
+and paper this morning. Mrs. Mohler always says something pleasant.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You just think that because you're all upset. [_The
+telephone rings; she goes to it and listens._] Yes, ma'am, I'll see.
+Fritz, have you any fine wire? Mrs. McAllister thinks she might try and
+fix the drain with it--till you come up.
+
+BAUER. I got no wire.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Mr. Bauer'll fix it--right after dinner, Mrs. McAllister.
+[_Impatiently._] He can't find the wire this minute--soon's he eats his
+dinner.
+
+BAUER. [_Doggedly._] You'll see....
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Soothingly._] Come now, Fritz, give me your hat. [_She
+takes his hat from him._
+
+VOICES IN THE STREET. [_Receding from the front area._] Who killed the
+cat! Who killed the cat!
+
+     [BAUER _rushes toward the window in a fury of excitement_.
+
+BAUER. [_Shouting at the top of his voice._] _Verdammte_ loafers!
+_Schweine!_
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Goes up to him._] Fritz! Fritz!
+
+BAUER. [_Collapses and drops into chair._] You hear 'em.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Don't pay no attention, then they'll get tired.
+
+BAUER. Miene, we must go away. I can't stand it here no longer.
+
+MRS. BAUER. But there's not such another good place, Fritz--and the
+movin'....
+
+BAUER. I say I can't stand it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Desperately._] It ... it would be just the same any other
+place.
+
+BAUER. Just the same?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes, something'd go wrong anyhow.
+
+BAUER. You think I'm a regular Jonah.
+
+     [_He shakes his head repeatedly in the affirmative, as though
+     wholly embracing her point of view._
+
+MRS. BAUER. Folks don't get to know you. They hear you hollerin' 'round
+and they think you beat the children and kick the dogs and cats.
+
+BAUER. Do I ever lick the children when they don't need it?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Not Fritzi.
+
+BAUER. You want to spoil Karl. I just touch him with the strap once, a
+little--like this [_illustrates with a gesture_] to scare him, and he
+howls like hell.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes, and then he don't mind you no more because he knows you
+don't mean it.
+
+BAUER. [_To himself._] That's the way it goes ... a man's own wife and
+children ...
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Attending to the dinner. Irritably._] Fritz, if you would
+clean that up out there--and Mrs. Carroll wants her waste-basket. You
+musta forgot to send it up again.
+
+BAUER. All right.
+
+     [_He goes out and leaves the door open. She stands her flat-iron on
+     the ledge of the range to cool and puts her ironing-board away,
+     watching him at the dumb-waiter while he picks up the glass and
+     cleans up the milk on the cement floor. He disappears for a moment,
+     then he comes in again, goes to a drawer and takes out rags and a
+     bottle of polish._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Pushing the clothes-basket out of the way._] This ain't
+cleanin' day, Fritz.
+
+BAUER. [_Dully, putting the polish back into the drawer._] That's so.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Comforting him._] You've got to eat a good dinner and then
+go up-stairs and fix that sink for Mrs. Mohler and the drain for Mrs.
+McAllister.
+
+BAUER. [_In a tense voice._] I tell you I can't stand it.... I tell you,
+Miene....
+
+MRS. BAUER. What now, Fritz?
+
+BAUER. People laugh in my face. [_Nods in the direction of the street._]
+Frazer's boy standin' on the stoop calls his dog away when it runs up to
+me like it always does.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Dogs know better'n men who's good to them.
+
+BAUER. He acted like he thought I'd kick it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You've got all kinds of foolishness in your head now.... You
+sent up Carroll's basket?
+
+BAUER. No.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Well---- [_She checks herself._
+
+BAUER. All right. [_He gets up._
+
+MRS. BAUER. It's settin' right beside the other dumb-waiter, [_He goes
+out._] Oh, Gott!--Oh, Gott!--Oh, Gott!
+
+     [_Enter_ KARL, _and_ FRITZI. FRITZI _is crying_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Running to them._] What's the matter?
+
+     [_She hushes them and carefully closes the door._
+
+KARL. The boys make fun of us; they mock us.
+
+FRITZI. They mock us--"Miau! Miau!" they cry, and then they go like
+this----
+
+     [FRITZI _imitates kicking and breaks out crying afresh_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Hush, Fritzi, you mustn't let your father hear.
+
+FRITZI. He'd make them shut up.
+
+KARL. I don't want to go to school this afternoon.
+
+     [_He doubles his fists._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Turning on him fiercely._] Why not? [_In an undertone._]
+You talk that way before your little brother.--Have you no sense?
+
+FRITZI. [_Beginning to whimper._] I d-d-d-on't want to go to school this
+afternoon.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You just go 'long to school and mind your own business.
+
+KARL _and_ FRITZI. [_Together._] But the boys....
+
+MRS. BAUER. They ain't a-goin' to keep it up forever. Don't you answer
+them. Just go 'long together and pay no attention.
+
+KARL. Then they get fresher and fresher.
+
+FRITZI. [_Echoing_ KARL.] Yes, then they get fresher and fresher.
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _begins to take up the dinner. The sound of footfalls
+     just outside the door is heard._
+
+MRS. BAUER. Go on now, hang up your caps and get ready for your dinners.
+
+FRITZI. I'm going to tell my papa. [_Goes to inner door._
+
+MRS. BAUER. For God's sake, Fritzi, shut up. You mustn't tell no one.
+Papa'd be disgraced all over.
+
+KARL. [_Coming up to her._] Disgraced?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Hush!
+
+KARL. Why disgraced?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Because there's liars, low-down, snoopin' liars in the
+world.
+
+KARL. Who's lied, mama?
+
+MRS. BAUER. The janitress across the street.
+
+KARL. Mrs. Nies?
+
+FRITZI. [_Calling out._] Henny Nies is a tough.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Looking toward the outer door anxiously and shaking her
+head threateningly at_ FRITZI.] I give you somethin' if you don't stop
+hollerin' out like that.
+
+KARL. Who'd she lie to?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Never mind. Go 'long now. It's time you begin to eat.
+
+KARL. What'd she lie about?
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Warningly._] S-s-sh! Papa'll be comin' in now in a minute.
+
+KARL. It was Henny Nies set the gang on to us. I coulda licked them all
+if I hadn't had to take care of Fritzi.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You'll get a lickin' all right if you don't keep away from
+Henny Nies.
+
+KARL. Well--if they call me names--and say _my_ father's been to the
+station-house for killing a cat...?
+
+FRITZI. Miau! Miau! Miau!
+
+MRS. BAUER. Hold your mouth.
+
+FRITZI. [_Swaggering._] My father never was in jail--was he, mama?
+
+KARL. Course not.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To_ FRITZI.] Go, wash your hands, Fritzi.
+
+     [_She steers him to the door of the inner room. He exits._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Distressed._] Karl ...
+
+KARL. [_Turning to his mother._] Was he, mama?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Papa don't act like he used to. Sometimes I wonder what's
+come over him. Of course it's enough to ruin any man's temper, all the
+trouble we've had.
+
+CHORUS OF VOICES. [_From the area by the window._] Who killed the cat!
+Who killed the cat!
+
+     [_Sound of feet clattering up the area steps._ FRITZI _rushes in,
+     flourishing a revolver_.
+
+FRITZI. I shoot them, mama.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Grabbing the revolver._] _Mein Gott!_ Fritzi! Papa's
+pistol! [_She examines it carefully._] You ever touch that again and
+I'll ... [_She menaces him._
+
+FRITZI. [_Sulkily._] I'll save up my money and buy me one.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Smiling a little to herself._] I see you buyin' one.
+[_Carries revolver into inner room._
+
+FRITZI. [_In a loud, voice and as though shooting at_ KARL.] Bang! Bang!
+Bang!
+
+     [KARL _strikes at_ FRITZI; FRITZI _dodges_.
+
+KARL. [_To his mother as she re-enters._] Trouble with Fritzi is he
+don't mind me any more.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You wash your dirty hands and face this minute--d'you hear
+me, Fritzi!
+
+FRITZI. [_Looking at his hands._] That's ink-stains. I got the highest
+mark in spelling to-day. Capital H-e-n-n-y, capital N-i-e-s--Henny Nies,
+a bum.
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _makes a rush at him, and he runs back into the inner
+     room_.
+
+KARL. [_Sitting down beside the table._] Do we have to go to school this
+afternoon?
+
+MRS. BAUER. You have to do what you always do.
+
+KARL. Can't we stay home?...
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Fiercely._] Why? Why?
+
+KARL. [_Sheepishly._] I ain't feelin' well.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Karlchen!... _schäm dich!_
+
+KARL. Till the boys forget....
+
+MRS. BAUER. Papa'd know somethin' was wrong right away. That'd be the
+end. You mustn't act as if anything was different from always.
+
+KARL. [_Indignantly._] Sayin' _my_ father's been to jail!
+
+MRS. BAUER. Karl....
+
+KARL. Papa'd make them stop.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Panic-stricken._] Karl, don't you tell papa nothing.
+
+KARL. Not tell papa?
+
+MRS. BAUER. No.
+
+KARL. Why not tell papa?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Because----
+
+KARL. Yes, mama?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Because he was arrested yesterday.
+
+KARL. [SHOCKED.] What for, mama? Why was he----
+
+MRS. BAUER. For nothing.... It was all a lie.
+
+KARL. Well--what was it, mama?
+
+MRS. BAUER. The cat got hurt in the dumb-waiter--papa didn't mean
+to--then they saw papa chasin' it--then it died.
+
+KARL. Why did papa chase it?
+
+MRS. BAUER. To see how it hurt itself.
+
+KARL. Whose cat?
+
+MRS. BAUER. The stray cat.
+
+KARL. The little black cat? Is Blacky dead?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes, he died on the sidewalk.
+
+KARL. Where was we?
+
+MRS. BAUER. You was at school.
+
+KARL. Papa didn't want us to keep Blacky.
+
+MRS. BAUER. So many cats and dogs around....
+
+FRITZI. [_Wailing at the door._] Blacky was my cat.
+
+MRS. BAUER. S-s-h! What do you know about Blacky?
+
+FRITZI. I was listening. Why did papa kill Blacky?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Hush!
+
+FRITZI. Why was papa took to jail?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Fritzi! If papa was to hear....
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _goes out_.
+
+FRITZI. [_Sidling up to_ KARL.] Miau! Miau!
+
+KARL. You shut up that. Didn't mama tell you?
+
+FRITZI. When I'm a man I'm going to get arrested. I'll shoot Henny Nies.
+
+KARL. [_Contemptuously._] Yes, you'll do a lot of shooting.
+
+     [FRITZI _punches_ KARL _in back_.
+
+KARL. [_Striking at_ FRITZI.] You're as big a tough as Henny Nies.
+
+FRITZI. [_Proud of this alleged likeness._] I'm going to be a man just
+like my father; I'll holler and make them stand around.
+
+KARL. [_With conviction._] What you need is a good licking.
+
+     [_Telephone rings_; KARL _goes to it_.
+
+KARL. No, ma'am, we're just going to eat now.
+
+FRITZI. [_Sits down beside the table._] Blacky was a nice cat; she
+purred just like a steam-engine.
+
+KARL. Mama told you not to bring her in.
+
+FRITZI. Papa said I could.
+
+     [_There is the sound of footfalls._ BAUER _and his wife come in and
+     close the door behind them_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Putting the dinner on the table._] Come, children. [_To_
+BAUER.] Sit down, Fritz.
+
+     [_She serves the dinner._ KARL _pulls_ FRITZI _out of his father's
+     chair and pushes him into his own; then he takes his place next to
+     his mother_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To_ BAUER, _who sits looking at his food_.] Eat somethin',
+Friedrich. [_She sits down._
+
+BAUER. I can't eat nothin'. I'm full up to here.
+
+     [_He touches his throat._
+
+MRS. BAUER. If you haven't done nothin' wrong, why do you let it worry
+you so?
+
+     [_Children are absorbed in eating._
+
+FRITZI. [_Suddenly._] Gee, didn't Blacky like liver!
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _and_ KARL _look at him warningly_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Fiercely._] You eat your dinner.
+
+BAUER. [_Affectionately, laying his hand on_ FRITZI'S _arm_.] Fritzi.
+
+FRITZI. [_Points toward the inner room._] I'm going to have a gun, too,
+when I'm a man.
+
+     [BAUER _follows_ FRITZI'S _gesture and falls to musing. There is a
+     look of brooding misery on his face._ KARL _nudges_ FRITZI
+     _warningly and watches his father furtively_. BAUER _sits
+     motionless, staring straight ahead of him_.
+
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To_ BAUER.] Now drink your coffee.
+
+BAUER. Don't you see, Miene, don't you see?... Nothing makes it right
+now; no one believes me--no one believes--no one.
+
+MRS. BAUER. What do you care, if you didn't do it?
+
+BAUER. I care like hell.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_With a searching took at her husband._] Fritzi, when you
+go on like this, people won't believe you didn't do it. You ought to act
+like you don't care.... [_She fixes him with a beseeching glance._] If
+you _didn't_ do it.
+
+     [BAUER _looks at his wife as though a hidden meaning to her words
+     had suddenly bitten into his mind_.
+
+BAUER. [_As though to himself._] A man can't stand that. I've gone
+hungry ... I've been in the hospital ... I've worked when I couldn't
+stand up hardly....
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Coaxingly._] Drink your coffee, drink it now, Fritz, while
+it's hot.
+
+     [_He tries to swallow a little coffee and then puts down the cup._
+
+BAUER. I've never asked favors of no man.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Well, an' if you did ...
+
+BAUER. I've always kept my good name ...
+
+MRS. BAUER. If a man hasn't done nothin' wrong it don't matter. Just go
+ahead like always--if----
+
+BAUER. [_Muttering._] If--if----
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To the boys._] Get your caps now, it's time to go to
+school.
+
+     [KARL _gets up, passes behind his father and beckons to_ FRITZI _to
+     follow him_.
+
+FRITZI. [_Keeping his seat._] Do we have to go to school?
+
+BAUER. [_Suddenly alert._] Why, what's the matter?
+
+FRITZI. The boys----
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Breaking in._] Fritzi!
+
+     [_The boys go into the inner room._ BAUER _collapses again_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Looking at him strangely._] Fritzi--if you didn't----
+
+BAUER. I can't prove nothing--and no one believes me. [_A pause. She is
+silent under his gaze._] No one! [_He waits for her to speak. She sits
+with averted face. He sinks into a dull misery. The expression in his
+eyes changes from beseeching to despair as her silence continues, and he
+cries out hoarsely._] No one! Even if you kill a cat--what's a cat
+against a man's life!
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Tensely, her eyes fastened on his._] But you _didn't_ kill
+it?
+
+     [_A pause._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_In a low, appealing voice._] Did you? Fritz? Did you?
+
+     [BAUER _gets up slowly. He stands very still and stares at his
+     wife._
+
+KARL'S VOICE. Mama, Fritzi's fooling with papa's gun.
+
+     [_Both children rush into the room._
+
+KARL. You oughta lock it up.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To_ FRITZI.] Bad boy! [_To_ KARL.] Fritzi wants to kill
+himself--that's what. Go on to school.
+
+     [_Boys run past area._
+
+VOICES. Who killed the cat! Who killed the cat!
+
+     [_At the sound of the voices the boys start back. Instinctively_
+     MRS. BAUER _lays a protecting hand on each. She looks around at her
+     husband with a sudden anxiety which she tries to conceal from the
+     children, who whisper together._ BAUER _rises heavily to his feet
+     and walks staggeringly toward the inner room_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_In a worried tone, as the pushes the children out._] Go on
+to school.
+
+     [_At the threshold of the inner room_ BAUER _stops, half turns back
+     with distorted features, and then hurries in. The door slams behind
+     him._ MRS. BAUER _closes the outer door, turns, takes a step as
+     though to follow_ BAUER, _hesitates, then crosses to the kitchen
+     table and starts to clear up the dishes. The report of a revolver
+     sounds from the inner room. Terror-stricken_, MRS. BAUER _rushes
+     in_.
+
+MRS. BAUER'S VOICE. Fritz! Fritz! Speak to me! Look at me, Fritz! You
+didn't do it, Fritz! I know you didn't do it!
+
+     [_Sound of low sobbing.... After a few seconds the telephone
+     bell.... It rings continuously while the Curtain slowly falls._
+
+
+
+
+MANIKIN AND MINIKIN
+
+(A BISQUE-PLAY)
+
+BY
+
+ALFRED KREYMBORG
+
+
+_Manikin and Minikin_ is reprinted by special permission of Alfred
+Kreymborg. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address
+Norman Lee Swartout, Summit, New Jersey.
+
+
+ALFRED KREYMBORG
+
+Alfred Kreymborg, one of the foremost advocates of free-verse rhythmical
+drama, was born in New York City, 1883. He founded and edited _The
+Globe_ while it was in existence; and under its auspices issued the
+first anthology of imagist verse (Ezra Pound's Collection, 1914). In
+July, 1915, he founded _Others, a Magazine of the New Verse_, and _The
+Other Players_ in March, 1918, an organization devoted exclusively to
+American plays in poetic form. At present Mr. Kreymborg is in Italy,
+launching a new international magazine, _The Broom_.
+
+Mr. Kreymborg has been active in both poetry and drama. He has edited
+several anthologies of free verse, and has published his own free verse
+as _Mushrooms_ and _The Blood of Things_. His volume of plays, all in
+free rhythmical verse, is _Plays for Poem--Mimes_. The most popular
+plays in this volume are _Lima Beans_, and _Manikin and Minikin_.
+
+_Manikin and Minikin_ aptly exemplifies Mr. Kreymborg's idea of
+rhythmical, pantomimic drama. It is a semi-puppet play in which there
+are dancing automatons to an accompaniment of rhythmic lines in place of
+music. Mr. Kreymborg is a skilled musician and he composes his lines
+with musical rhythm in mind. His lines should be read accordingly.
+
+
+
+
+MANIKIN AND MINIKIN
+
+(A BISQUE-PLAY)
+
+
+     _Seen through an oval frame, one of the walls of a parlor. The
+     wall-paper is a conventionalized pattern. Only the shelf of the
+     mantelpiece shows. At each end, seated on pedestals turned slightly
+     away from one another, two aristocratic bisque figures, a boy in
+     delicate cerise and a girl in cornflower blue. Their shadows join
+     in a grotesque silhouette. In the centre, an ancient clock whose
+     tick acts as the metronome for the sound of their high voices.
+     Presently the mouths of the figures open and shut, after the mode
+     of ordinary conversation._
+
+SHE. Manikin!
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. That fool of a servant has done it again.
+
+HE. I should say, she's more than a fool.
+
+SHE. A meddlesome busybody----
+
+HE. A brittle-fingered noddy!
+
+SHE. Which way are you looking? What do you see?
+
+HE. The everlasting armchair,
+the everlasting tiger-skin,
+the everlasting yellow, green, and purple books,
+the everlasting portrait of milord----
+
+SHE. Oh, these Yankees!--And I see
+the everlasting rattan rocker,
+the everlasting samovar,
+the everlasting noisy piano,
+the everlasting portrait of milady----
+
+
+HE. Simpering spectacle!
+
+SHE. What does she want, always dusting?
+
+HE. I should say--that is, I'd consider the thought----
+
+SHE. You'd consider a lie--oh, Manikin--you're trying to defend her!
+
+HE. I'm not defending her----
+
+SHE. You're trying to----
+
+HE. I'm not trying to----
+
+SHE. Then, what are you trying to----
+
+HE. Well, I'd venture to say, if she'd only stay away some morning----
+
+SHE. That's what I say in my dreams!
+
+HE. She and her broom----
+
+SHE. Her everlasting broom----
+
+HE. She wouldn't be sweeping----
+
+SHE. Every corner, every cranny, every crevice----
+
+HE. And the dust wouldn't move----
+
+SHE. Wouldn't crawl, wouldn't rise, wouldn't fly----
+
+HE. And cover us all over----
+
+SHE. Like a spider-web--ugh!
+
+HE. Everlasting dust has been most of our life----
+
+SHE. Everlasting years and years of dust!
+
+HE. You on your lovely blue gown----
+
+SHE. And you on your manly pink cloak.
+
+HE. If she didn't sweep, we wouldn't need dusting----
+
+SHE. Nor need taking down, I should say----
+
+HE. With her stupid, clumsy hands----
+
+SHE. Her crooked, monkey paws----
+
+HE. And we wouldn't need putting back----
+
+SHE. I with my back to you----
+
+HE. I with my back to you.
+
+SHE. It's been hours, days, weeks----
+by the sound of that everlasting clock----
+and the coming of day and the going of day----
+since I saw you last!
+
+HE. What's the use of the sun
+with its butterfly wings of light--
+what's the use of a sun made to see by--
+if I can't see you!
+
+SHE. Manikin!
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Say that again!
+
+HE. Why should I say it again--don't you know?
+
+SHE. I know, but sometimes I doubt----
+
+HE. Why do you, what do you doubt?
+
+SHE. Please say it again!
+
+HE. What's the use of a sun----
+
+SHE. What's the use of a sun?
+
+HE. That was made to see by----
+
+SHE. That was made to see by?
+
+HE. If I can't see you!
+
+SHE. Oh, Manikin!
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. If you hadn't said that again, my doubt would have filled a
+balloon.
+
+HE. Your doubt--which doubt, what doubt?
+
+SHE. And although I can't move, although I can't move unless somebody
+shoves me, one of these days when the sun isn't here, I would have
+slipped over the edge of this everlasting shelf----
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. And fallen to that everlasting floor into so many fragments, they'd
+never paste Minikin together again!
+
+HE. Minikin, Minikin!
+
+SHE. They'd have to set another here--some Minikin, I'm assured!
+
+HE. Why do you chatter so, prattle so?
+
+SHE. Because of my doubt--because I'm as positive as I am that I sit
+here with my knees in a knot--that that human creature--loves you.
+
+HE. Loves me?
+
+SHE. And you her!
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. When she takes us down she holds you much longer.
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. I'm sufficiently feminine--and certainly old enough--I and my
+hundred and seventy years--I can see, I can feel by her manner of
+touching me and her flicking me with her mop--the creature hates
+me--she'd like to drop me, that's what she would!
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. Don't you venture defending her! Booby--you don't know live women!
+When I'm in the right position I can note how she fondles you, pets you
+like a parrot with her finger-tip, blows a pinch of dust from your eye
+with her softest breath, holds you off at arm's length and fixes you
+with her spider look, actually holds you against her cheek--her
+rose-tinted cheek--before she releases you! If she didn't turn us apart
+so often, I wouldn't charge her with insinuation; but now I know she
+loves you--she's as jealous as I am--and poor dead me in her live power!
+Manikin? */
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. If you could see me--the way you see her----
+
+HE. But I see you--see you always--see only you!
+
+SHE. If you could see me the way you see her, you'd still love me, you'd
+love me the way you do her! Who made me what I am? Who dreamed me in
+motionless clay?
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. No!
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. No.
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. Yes.
+
+HE. I love you----
+
+SHE. No!
+
+HE. I've always loved you----
+
+SHE. No.
+
+HE. You doubt that?
+
+SHE. Yes!
+
+HE. You doubt that?
+
+SHE. Yes.
+
+HE. You doubt that?
+
+SHE. No. You've always loved me--yes--but you don't love me now--no--not
+since that rose-face encountered your glance--no.
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. If I could move about the way she can--
+if I had feet--
+dainty white feet which could twinkle and twirl--
+I'd dance you so prettily
+you'd think me a sun butterfly--
+if I could let down my hair
+and prove you it's longer than larch hair--
+if I could raise my black brows
+or shrug my narrow shoulders,
+like a queen or a countess--
+if I could turn my head, tilt my head,
+this way and that, like a swan--
+ogle my eyes, like a peacock,
+till you'd marvel,
+they're green, nay, violet, nay, yellow, nay, gold--
+if I could move, only move
+just the moment of an inch--
+you would see what I could be!
+It's a change, it's a change,
+you men ask of women!
+
+HE. A change?
+
+SHE. You're eye-sick, heart-sick
+of seeing the same foolish porcelain thing,
+a hundred years old,
+a hundred and fifty,
+and sixty, and seventy--
+I don't know how old I am!
+
+HE. Not an exhalation older than I--not an inhalation younger! Minikin?
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. No!
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. No!
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. Yes.
+
+HE. I don't love that creature----
+
+SHE. You do.
+
+HE. I can't love that creature----
+
+SHE. You can.
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. Yes--
+if you'll tell me--
+if you'll prove me--
+so my last particle of dust--
+the tiniest speck of a molecule--
+the merest electron----
+
+HE. Are you listening?
+
+SHE. Yes!
+
+HE. To begin with--
+I dislike, suspect, deplore--
+I had best say, feel compassion
+for what is called humanity--
+or the animate, as opposed to the inanimate----
+
+SHE. You say that so wisely--
+you're such a philosopher--
+say it again!
+
+HE. That which is able to move
+can never be steadfast, you understand?
+Let us consider the creature at hand
+to whom you have referred
+with an undue excess of admiration
+adulterated with an undue excess of envy----
+
+SHE. Say that again!
+
+HE. To begin with--
+I can only see part of her at once.
+She moves into my vision;
+she moves out of my vision;
+she is doomed to be wayward.
+
+SHE. Yes, but that which you see of her----
+
+HE. Is ugly, commonplace, unsightly.
+Her face a rose-face?
+It's veined with blood and the skin of it wrinkles--
+her eyes are ever so near to a hen's--
+her movements,
+if one would pay such a gait with regard--
+her gait is unspeakably ungainly--
+her hair----
+
+SHE. Her hair?
+
+HE. Luckily I've never seen it down--
+I dare say it comes down in the dark,
+when it looks, most assuredly, like tangled weeds.
+
+SHE. Again, Manikin, that dulcet phrase!
+
+HE. Even were she beautiful,
+she were never so beautiful as thou!
+
+SHE. Now you're a poet, Manikin!
+
+HE. Even were she so beautiful as thou--lending her your eyes, and the
+exquisite head which holds them--like a cup two last beads of wine, like
+a stone two last drops of rain, green, nay, violet, nay, yellow, nay,
+gold----
+
+SHE. Faster, Manikin!
+
+HE. I can't, Minikin!
+Words were never given to man
+to phrase such a one as you are--
+inanimate symbols
+can never embrace, embody, hold
+the animate dream that you are--
+I must cease.
+
+SHE. Manikin!
+
+HE. And even were she so beautiful as thou,
+she couldn't stay beautiful.
+
+SHE. Stay beautiful?
+
+HE. Humans change with each going moment.
+That is a gray-haired platitude.
+Just as I can see that creature
+only when she touches my vision,
+so I could only see her once, were she beautiful--
+at best, twice or thrice--
+you're more precious than when you came!
+
+SHE. And you!
+
+HE. Human pathos penetrates still deeper
+when one determines their inner life,
+as we've pondered their outer.
+Their inner changes far more desperately.
+
+SHE. How so, wise Manikin?
+
+HE. They have what philosophy terms moods,
+and moods are more pervious to modulation
+than pools to idle breezes.
+These people may say, to begin with--
+I love you.
+This may be true, I'm assured--
+as true as when _we_ say, I love you.
+But they can only say,
+I love you,
+so long as the mood breathes,
+so long as the breezes blow,
+so long as water remains wet.
+They are honest--
+they mean what they say--
+passionately, tenaciously, tragically--
+but when the mood languishes,
+they have to say,
+if it be they are honest--
+I do not love you.
+Or they have to say,
+I love you,
+to somebody else.
+
+SHE. To somebody else?
+
+HE. Now, you and I--
+we've said that to each other--
+we've had to say it
+for a hundred and seventy years--
+and we'll have to say it always.
+
+SHE. Say always again!
+
+HE. The life of an animate--
+
+SHE. Say always again!
+
+HE. Always!
+The life of an animate
+is a procession of deaths
+with but a secret sorrowing candle,
+guttering lower and lower,
+on the path to the grave--
+the life of an inanimate
+is as serenely enduring--
+as all still things are.
+
+SHE. Still things?
+
+HE. Recall our childhood in the English museum--
+ere we were moved,
+from place to place,
+to this dreadful Yankee salon--
+do you remember
+that little old Greek tanagra
+of the girl with a head like a bud--
+that little old Roman medallion
+of the girl with a head like a----
+
+SHE. Manikin, Manikin--
+were they so beautiful as I--
+did you love them, too--
+why do you bring them back?
+
+HE. They were not so beautiful as thou--
+I spoke of them--
+recalled, designated them--
+well, because they were ages old--
+and--and----
+
+SHE. And--and?
+
+HE. And we might live as long as they--
+as they did and do!
+I hinted their existence
+because they're not so beautiful as thou,
+so that by contrast and deduction----
+
+SHE. And deduction?
+
+HE. You know what I'd say----
+
+SHE. But say it again!
+
+HE. I love you.
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Then even though that creature has turned us
+apart,
+can you see me?
+
+HE. I can see you.
+
+SHE. Even though you haven't seen me
+for hours, days, weeks--
+with your dear blue eyes--
+you can see me--
+with your hidden ones?
+
+HE. I can see you.
+
+SHE. Even though you are still,
+and calm, and smooth,
+and lovely outside--
+you aren't still and calm
+and smooth and lovely inside?
+
+HE. Lovely, yes--but not still and calm and smooth!
+
+SHE. Which way are you looking? What do you see?
+
+HE. I look at you. I see you.
+
+SHE. And if that fool of a servant--oh, Manikin--suppose she should
+break the future--our great, happy centuries ahead--by dropping me,
+throwing me down?
+
+HE. I should take an immediate step off this everlasting shelf--
+
+SHE. But you cannot move!
+
+HE. The good wind would give me a blow!
+
+SHE. Now you're a punster! And what would your fragments do?
+
+HE. They would do what Manikin did.
+
+SHE. Say that again!
+
+HE. They'd do what Manikin did....
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Shall I tell you something?
+
+HE. Tell me something.
+
+SHE. Are you listening?
+
+HE. With my inner ears.
+
+SHE. I wasn't jealous of that woman----
+
+HE. You weren't jealous?
+
+SHE. I wanted to hear you talk----
+
+HE. You wanted to hear me talk?
+
+SHE. You talk so wonderfully!
+
+HE. Do I, indeed? What a booby I am!
+
+SHE. And I wanted to hear you say----
+
+HE. You cheat, you idler, you----
+
+SHE. Woman----
+
+HE. Dissembler!
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Everlastingly?
+
+HE. Everlastingly.
+
+SHE. Say it again!
+
+HE. I refuse----
+
+SHE. You refuse?
+
+HE. Well----
+
+SHE. Well?
+
+HE. You have ears outside your head--I'll say that for you--but they'll
+never hear--what your other ears hear!
+
+SHE. Say it--down one of the ears--outside my head?
+
+HE. I refuse.
+
+SHE. You refuse?
+
+HE. Leave me alone.
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. I can't say it!
+
+SHE. Manikin! */
+
+     [_The clock goes on ticking for a moment. Its mellow chimes strike
+     the hour._
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+WHITE DRESSES
+
+(A TRAGEDY OF NEGRO LIFE)
+
+BY
+
+PAUL GREENE
+
+
+_White Dresses_ is reprinted by special permission of Professor
+Frederick H. Koch. Copyrighted by the Carolina Playmakers, Inc., Chapel
+Hill, North Carolina. For permission to produce, address Frederick H.
+Koch, director.
+
+
+PAUL GREENE
+
+Paul Greene, one of the most promising of the University of North
+Carolina Playmakers, was born in 1894 on a farm near Lillington, North
+Carolina. He has received his education at Buies Creek Academy and at
+the University of North Carolina, from which he received his bachelor's
+degree in 1921. He saw service with the A. E. F. in France, with the
+105th United States Engineers.
+
+In addition to _White Dresses_, Mr. Greene has written a number of
+one-act plays: _The Last of the Lowries_ (to be included in a
+forthcoming volume of Carolina Folk-Plays, published by Henry Holt &
+Company), _The Miser_, _The Old Man of Edenton_, _The Lord's Will_,
+_Wreck P'int_, _Granny Boling_ (in _The Drama_ for August-September,
+1921). The first three plays named above were produced originally by the
+Carolina Playmakers at Chapel Hill.
+
+_White Dresses_ is an excellent example of folk-play of North Carolina.
+This play was written in English 31, the course in dramatic composition
+at the University of North Carolina conducted by Professor Frederick H.
+Koch. "The Aim of the Carolina Playmakers," says Professor Koch, "is to
+build up a genuinely native drama, a fresh expression of the folk-life
+in North Carolina, drawn from the rich background of local tradition and
+from the vigorous new life of the present day. In these simple plays we
+hope to contribute something of lasting value in the making of a new
+folk-theatre and a new folk-literature."
+
+Out of the many conflicts of American life, past and present, Mr. Greene
+sees possibilities for a great native drama. _White Dresses_ presents a
+fundamental aspect of the race problem in America.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    CANDACE MCLEAN, _an old negro woman_, MARY'S _aunt_
+    MARY MCLEAN, _a quadroon girl, niece of_ CANDACE
+    JIM MATTHEWS, _Mary's lover_
+    HENRY MORGAN, _the landlord, a white man_
+
+
+
+
+WHITE DRESSES
+
+     TIME: _The evening before Christmas, 1900_.
+
+     SCENE: _The scene is laid in a negro cabin, the home of_ CANDACE
+     _and_ MARY MCLEAN, _in eastern North Carolina_.
+
+     _In the right corner of the room is a rough bed covered with a
+     ragged counterpane. In the centre at the rear is an old bureau with
+     a cracked mirror, to the left of it a door opening to the outside.
+     In the left wall is a window with red curtains. A large chest
+     stands near the front on this side, and above it hang the family
+     clothes, several ragged dresses, an old bonnet, and a cape. At the
+     right, toward the front, is a fireplace, in which a small fire is
+     burning. Above and at the sides of the fireplace hang several pots
+     and pans, neatly arranged. Above these is a mantel, covered with a
+     lambrequin of dingy red crape paper. On the mantel are bottles and
+     a clock. A picture of "Daniel in the Lion's Den" hangs above the
+     mantel. The walls are covered with newspapers, to which are pinned
+     several illustrations clipped from popular magazines. A rough table
+     is in the centre of the room. A lamp without a chimney is on it.
+     Several chairs are about the room. A rocking-chair with a rag
+     pillow in it stands near the fire. There is an air of cleanliness
+     and poverty about the whole room._
+
+     _The rising of the curtain discloses the empty room. The fire is
+     burning dimly._ AUNT CANDACE _enters at the rear, carrying several
+     sticks of firewood under one arm. She walks with a stick, and is
+     bent with rheumatism. She is dressed in a slat bonnet, which hides
+     her face in its shadow, brogan shoes, a man's ragged coat, a
+     checkered apron, a dark-colored dress. She mumbles to herself and
+     shakes her head as she comes in. With great difficulty she puts the
+     wood on the fire, and then takes the poker and examines some
+     potatoes that are cooking in the ashes. She takes out her snuff-box
+     and puts snuff in her lip. As she does this her bonnet is pushed
+     back, and in the firelight her features are discernible--sunken
+     eyes, high cheek-bones, and big, flat nose. Upon her forehead she
+     wears a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles._
+
+     _She sits down in a rocking-chair, now and then putting her hand to
+     her head, and groaning as if in pain. She turns and looks
+     expectantly toward the door. After a moment she hobbles to the
+     chest on the right and takes out an old red crocheted fascinator.
+     Shivering she wraps it around her neck and stands looking down in
+     the chest. She lifts out a little black box and starts to unfasten
+     it, when the door suddenly opens and_ MARY MCLEAN _comes in_. AUNT
+     CANDACE _puts the box hastily back into the chest, and hurries to
+     the fire_.
+
+     MARY MCLEAN _has a "turn" of collards in one arm and a paper bundle
+     in the other. She lays the collards on the floor near the window
+     and puts her shawl on the bed. She is a quadroon girl about
+     eighteen years old, with an oval face and a mass of fine dark hair,
+     neatly done up. There is something in her bearing that suggests a
+     sort of refinement. Her dress is pitifully shabby, her shoes
+     ragged. But even this cannot hide the lines of an almost perfect
+     figure. For a negro she is pretty. As she comes up to the fire her
+     pinched lips and the tired expression on her face are plainly
+     visible. Only her eyes betray any signs of excitement._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Honey, I's been a-waitin' foh you de las' two hours. My
+haid's been bad off. Chile, whah you been? Miss Mawgin must a had a
+pow'ful washin' up at de big house.
+
+     [MARY _opens her hand and shows her a five-dollar bill_.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. De Lawd help my life, chile!
+
+MARY. An' look here what Mr. Henry sent you, too. [_She undoes the
+bundle, revealing several cooked sweet potatoes, sausages, spareribs,
+and some boiled ham._] He said as 'twas Christmas time he sent you this
+with the collards there.
+
+     [_She points toward the collards at the window._ AUNT CANDACE _pays
+     little attention to the food as_ MARY _places it in her lap, but
+     continues to look straight into_ MARY'S _face. The girl starts to
+     give her the money, but she pushes her away._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Excitedly._] Whah'd you git dat, honey? Whah'd you git
+it? Mr. Henry ain't never been dat kind befo'. Dey ain't no past
+Christmas times he was so free wid 'is money. He ain't de kind o' man
+foh dat. An' he a-havin' 'is washin' done on Christmas Eve. [_Her look
+is direct and troubled._] Chile, Mr. Hugh didn't give you dat money, did
+he?
+
+MARY. [_Still looking in the fire._] Aunty, I ain't said Mr. Henry sent
+you this money. Yes'm, Mr. Hugh sent it to you. I done some washin' for
+him. I washed his socks and some shirts--pure silk they was. [_She
+smiles at the remembrance._] An' he give me the money an' tole me to
+give it to you--said he wished he could give you somethin' more.
+
+     [_She hands the money to_ AUNT CANDACE, _who takes it quickly_.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Help my soul an' body! De boy said dat! Bless 'is soul! He
+ain't fo'got 'is ol' aunty, even if he ain't been to see 'er since he
+come back from school way out yander. De Lawd bless 'im! Allus was a
+good boy, an' he ain't changed since he growed up nuther. When I useter
+nuss 'im he'd never whimper, no suh. Bring me de tin box, honey. An'
+don't notice what I's been sayin'. I spects I's too perticler 'bout you.
+I dunno.
+
+     [MARY _goes to the bureau and gets a tin box. She puts the money
+     in it, returns it, and lights the lamp._ AUNT CANDACE _takes off
+     her bonnet and hangs it behind her on the rocking-chair. Then she
+     begins to eat greedily, now and then licking the grease off her
+     fingers. Suddenly she utters a low scream, putting her hands to her
+     head and rocking to and fro. She grasps her stick and begins
+     beating about her as if striking at something, crying out in a loud
+     voice._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ah-hah, I'll git you! I'll git you!
+
+     [MARY _goes to her and pats her on the cheek_.
+
+MARY. It's your poor head, ain't it, aunty? You rest easy, I'll take
+care of you. [_She continues to rub her cheek and forehead until the
+spell passes._] Set still till I git in a turn of light-wood. It's goin'
+to be a terrible cold night an' looks like snow.
+
+     [_After a moment_ AUNT CANDACE _quiets down and begins eating
+     again_. MARY _goes out and brings in an armful of wood which she
+     throws into the box. She takes a bottle and spoon from the mantel,
+     and starts to pour out some medicine._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. I's better now, honey. Put it back up. I ain't gwine take
+none now. D'ain't no use ... d'ain't no use in dat. I ain't long foh dis
+world, ain't long. I's done my las' washin' an' choppin' an' weighed up
+my las' cotton. Medicine ain't no mo' good.
+
+MARY. You're allus talkin' like that, aunty. You're goin' to live to be
+a hundred. An' this medicine----
+
+AUNT CANDACE. I ain't gwine take it, I say. No, suh, ain't gwine be
+long. I's done deef. I's ol' an' hipshot now. No, suh, I don't want no
+medicine. [_Childishly._] I's got a taste o' dese heah spareribs an'
+sausages, an' I ain't gwine take no medicine. [MARY _puts the bottle and
+spoon back on the mantel and sits down_. AUNT CANDACE _stops eating and
+looks at_ MARY'S _dreaming face_.] Honey, what makes you look like dat?
+[_Excitedly._] Mr. Henry ain't said ... he ain't said no mo' 'bout us
+havin' to leave, has he?
+
+MARY. [_Looking up confusedly._] No'm, he ... no'm, he said ... he said
+to-day that he'd 'bout decided to let us stay right on as long as we
+please.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Huh, what's dat?
+
+MARY. He said it might be so we could stay right on as long as we
+please.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Joyously._] Thank de Lawd! Thank de Lawd! I knowed he's
+gwine do it. I knowed. But I's been pow'ful feared, chile, he's gwine
+run us off. An' he ain't never liked Mr. Hugh's takin' up foh us. But
+now I c'n rest in peace. Thank de Lawd, I's gwine rest my bones rat whah
+I loves to stay till dey calls foh me up yander. [_Stopping._] Has you
+et?
+
+MARY. Yes'm, I et up at Mr. Henry's. Mr. Hugh ... [_hesitating_] he said
+'twas a shame for me to come off without eatin' nothin' an' so I et.
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _becomes absorbed in her eating_. MARY _goes to the
+     chest, opens it, and takes out a faded cloak and puts it on. Then
+     she goes to the bureau, takes out a piece of white ribbon, and ties
+     it on her hair. For a moment she looks at her reflection in the
+     mirror. She goes to the chest and stands looking down in it. She
+     makes a movement to close it. The lid falls with a bang._ AUNT
+     CANDACE _turns quickly around_.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What you want, gal? You ain't botherin' de li'l box, is
+you?
+
+MARY. [_Coming back to the fire._] Botherin' that box! Lord, no, I don't
+worry about it no more ... I'm just dressin' up a little.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ah-hah, but you better not be messin' 'round de chist too
+much. You quit puttin' you' clothes in dere. I done tol' you. What you
+dressin' up foh? Is Jim comin' round to-night?
+
+     [_She wraps up the remainder of her supper and puts it in the
+     chimney corner._
+
+MARY. [_Not noticing the question._] Aunty, don't I look a little bit
+like a white person?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Taking out her snuff-box._] Huh, what's dat?
+
+MARY. I don't look like a common nigger, do I?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Lawd bless you, chile, you's purty, you is. You's jes' as
+purty as any white folks. You's lak yo' mammy what's dead an' gone.
+Yessuh, you's her very spit an' image, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [_Lowering
+her voice._] Yes, suh, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [_They both look in the
+fire._] 'Bout time foh Jim to be comin', ain't it?
+
+MARY. Yes'm, he'll be comin', I reckon. They ain't no gittin' away from
+him an' his guitar.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. _What_ you got agin Jim? Dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim.
+He's gwine treat you white, an' it's time you's gittin' married. I's
+done nussin' my fust chile at yo' age, my li'l Tom 'twas. Useter sing to
+'im. [_Pausing._] Useter sing to 'im de sweetest kin' o' chunes, jes'
+lak you, honey, jes' lak you. He's done daid an' gone do'. All my babies
+is. De Marster he call an' tuck 'em. An' 'druther'n let 'em labor an'
+sweat below, he gi'n 'em a harp an' crown up dere. Tuck my ol' man from
+'is toil an' trouble, too, an' I's left heah alone now. Ain't gwine be
+long do', ain't gwine be long. [_Her voice trails off into silence. All
+is quiet save for the ticking of the clock._ AUNT CANDACE _brushes her
+hand across her face, as if breaking the spell of her revery_.] Yessuh,
+I wants you to git married, honey. I told you, an' told you. We's lived
+long enough by ourselves. I's lak to nuss yo' li'l uns an' sing to 'em
+fo' I go. Mind me o' de ol' times.
+
+MARY. [_Lost in abstraction, apparently has not been listening._] Aunty,
+you ought to see him now. He's better to me than he ever was. He's as
+kind as he can be. An' he wears the finest clothes! [_She stares in the
+fire._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Dat he do. Dey ain't no 'sputin' of it. I allus said he's
+de best-lookin' nigger in de country. An' dey ain't nobody kinder'n Jim.
+No, suh.
+
+MARY. An' to-day he said 'twas a pity I had to work an' wash like a
+slave for a livin'. He don' treat me like I was a nigger. He acts like
+I'm white folks. Aunty, you reckon ...
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Gazing at her with a troubled look of astonishment._] I
+knows it, honey, I knows it. Course dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim an'
+I wants you to marry Jim. He's awaitin' an' ...
+
+MARY. [_Vehemently._] I ain't talkin' 'bout Jim. What's Jim? He ain't
+nothin'.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Guessing at the truth, half rises from her seat._] What
+you mean? Huh! What you talkin' 'bout?
+
+MARY. [_Wearily sitting down._] Nothin', aunty, jes' talkin'.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Jes' talkin'? Chile ... chile ...
+
+MARY. Aunty, did you ever wish you was white?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Troubled._] Laws a mercy! Huh! White! Wish I's white?
+Lawdy, no! What I want to be white foh? I's born a nigger, an' I's gwine
+die a nigger. I ain't one to tear up de work o' de Lawd. He made me an'
+I ain't gwine try to change it. What's in yo' haid, chile? [_Sadly._]
+Po' thing, don't do dat. Yo' po' mammy useter talk lak dat ... one
+reason she ain't livin' to-day. An' I ain't done prayin' foh 'er nuther.
+Chile, you git such notions ra't out'n yo' haid. [_She shakes her head,
+groaning._] Oh, Lawdy! Lawdy! [_Then, screaming, she puts her hands to
+her head. She grasps her stick and begins striking about her,
+shrieking._] Dey's after me! Dey's after me! [_She continues beating
+around her._] Open de do'! Open de do'!
+
+     [MARY _puts her arms around her and tries to soothe her, but she
+     breaks away from her, fighting with her stick. Then_ MARY _runs and
+     opens the door, and_ AUNT CANDACE _drives the imaginary devils
+     out_.
+
+
+MARY. They're gone now, they're gone.
+
+     [_She closes the door and leads her back to her seat._ AUNT CANDACE
+     _sits down, mumbling and groaning. The spell passes and the wild
+     look dies from her face._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Looking up._] I's had another spell, ain't I, honey?
+
+MARY. Yes'm, but you're all right now.
+
+     [_She pours out some medicine and gives it to her._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Some dese days I's gwine be carried off by 'em, chile; I's
+ol' an' po'ly, ol' an' po'ly now. Dem debbils gwine git me yit. [_She
+mumbles._
+
+MARY. No, they ain't, aunty. I ain't goin' to let 'em.
+
+     [_There is a knock at the door, and stamping of feet._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What's dat?
+
+MARY. Nothin'. Somebody at the door. [_The low strumming of guitar is
+heard._] That's Jim. Come in!
+
+     [JIM MATTHEWS _enters. He is a young negro about twenty-two years
+     old, and as black as his African ancestors. He carries a guitar
+     slung over his shoulders, wears an old derby hat, tan shirt with a
+     dark tie, well-worn blue suit, the coat of which comes to his
+     knees, and tan shoes, slashed along the sides to make room for his
+     feet. As he comes in he pulls off his hat and smiles genially,
+     showing his white teeth. With better clothes he might call himself
+     a spo't._
+
+JIM. Good even', ladies. [_He lays his derby an the bed._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Turning around in her chair._] What does he say?
+
+MARY. He says good evenin'.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. _Ah_-hah! Good even', Jim. Take a seat. I's sho glad you
+come. Mary's been talkin' 'bout you. [_He smiles complacently._] We's
+sho glad you come.
+
+     [_He takes a seat between_ AUNT CANDACE _and_ MARY.
+
+JIM. Yes'm. An' I's sho glad to be wid you all. I's allus glad to be wid
+de ladies.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What's he say?
+
+JIM. [_Louder._] I's glad to be wid you all.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ah-hah! [JIM _pulls out a large checkered handkerchief
+from his breast-pocket, wipes his forehead, and then flips the dust from
+his shoes. He folds it carefully and puts it back in his pocket._] Any
+news, Jim?
+
+JIM. No'm, none 'tall. Any wid you?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Hah? No, nothin' 'tall, 'ceptin' Mr. Henry done said ...
+said ...
+
+     [_Here she groans sharply and puts her hand to her head._
+
+JIM. What's that she's sayin'? [_As_ AUNT CANDACE _continues groaning_.]
+Still havin' them spells, is she, Miss Mary?
+
+MARY. Yes, she has 'em about every night.
+
+[_Making a movement as if to go to_ AUNT CANDACE. _She stops and stares
+in the fire._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ne' min' me. I's all right now. An' you chillun go on wid
+yo' cou'tin'. I's gwine peel my 'taters.
+
+     [_Raking the potatoes from the ashes, she begins peeling them. Then
+     she takes a piece of sausage from the package in the corner._ JIM
+     _smiles sheepishly and strums his guitar once or twice. He moves
+     his chair nearer to_ MARY. _She moves mechanically from him, still
+     gazing in the fire._
+
+JIM. Er ... Miss Mary, you's lookin' 'ceedin' snatchin' wid dat white
+ribbon an' new cloak. I's glad to see you thought I's comin' 'round.
+Yes'm, I tells all de gals you got 'em beat a mile. [_He stops._ MARY
+_pays no attention to him_.] From here slam to France an' back, I ain't
+seed no gals lak you. Yes'm, dat's what I tells 'em all, an' I oughta
+know, kaze I's an ol' road nigger. I's seen de world, I has. But I's
+tired of 'tall, an' I wants to settle down ... an' ... you knows me....
+[_He stops and fidgets in his chair, strums his guitar, feels of his
+necktie, takes out his handkerchief and wipes his forehead._] Miss Mary,
+I's ...
+
+MARY. Jim, I done tol' you, you needn't come messin' 'round here. I
+ain't lovin' you. I ain't goin' to marry--nobody, never!
+
+JIM. [_Taken aback._] Now, Miss Mary ... er ... honey. I knows jas' how
+you feels. It's kaze I been a rounder, but you'll hadder forgive me. An'
+I's gwine 'form, I is. I's quit all dem tother gals, near 'bout broke
+dey hearts, but I hadder do it. Dey's only one foh me, you know. To-day
+I's talkin' to dat young feller, Hugh Mawgin, an' ...
+
+MARY. Hugh what! What you sayin', Jim Matthews! Mr. Hugh, you mean.
+
+JIM. [_Hurriedly._] Yes'm, I said "Mr. Hugh." Didn't you hear me, Miss
+Mary?
+
+MARY. What'd you say to him?
+
+JIM. I told 'im I's callin' 'round here 'casionally, an' he said ... he
+...
+
+MARY. [_Looking straight at_ JIM.] He said what?
+
+JIM. He axed me if I's a-courtin', an' I told 'im I mought ... er ... be
+...
+
+MARY. Go on; tell me. Did he say I ought to marry you?
+
+JIM. [_Eagerly._] Yes'm.... [MARY _gasps_.] No'm, not ezzactly.... He
+said as how it was a pity you had nobody to take care o' you, an' had to
+work so hard lak a slave every day. An' he said you's most too purty an'
+good to do it. An' I tuck from 'is talk dat he meant he thought you's
+good enough foh me, an' wanted me to take care o' you, so's you wouldn't
+hadder work.
+
+MARY. _Oh!..._ Yes, I reckon so. [_She is silent._
+
+JIM. He's a eddicated boy, an' he knows. Dey teaches 'im how to know
+everything out yander at dat college place. He sees my worf', he does.
+Co'se I ain't braggin', but de gals all do say ... oh, you know what dey
+says.
+
+MARY. [_Jumping up from her chair._] Jim Matthews, you think I'd marry a
+... oh, I'd ...
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Turning around._] What's you sayin', gal?
+
+MARY. [_Sittin' down._] Oh, aunty! I ... I ... was just askin' Jim to
+play a piece. [_To_ JIM _in a lower voice_.] For the Lord's sake play
+somethin'....
+
+     [_She hides her face in her apron._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ah-hah.... Play us a piece on yo' box, Jim.
+
+     [JIM, _at a loss as to the meaning of_ MARY'S _tears, but feeling
+     that they are somehow a further proof of his power with the ladies,
+     smiles knowingly, tunes his guitar, and begins strumming a chord.
+     After playing a few bars, he starts singing in a clear voice, with
+     "Ohs" and "Ahs" thrown in._
+
+JIM. Oh, whah you gwine, my lover?
+Gwine on down de road.
+Oh, whah you gwine, my lover?
+Gwine on down de road.
+(_Bass_) Gwine ... on ... gwine on down de road.
+
+She th'owed her arms aroun' me
+An' cast me silver an' gold.
+Said, "Whah you gwine, my lover?"
+Gwine on down de road.
+(_Bass_) Oh, Lawd! ... Oh, Lawd!
+              Gwine ... on ... down ... de ... road.
+
+     [MARY _still leans forward, with her face in her hands_. JIM _stops
+     playing and speaks softly_.
+
+JIM. Miss Mary, I's sho' sorry I made you cry. Honey, I don't want you
+to cry 'bout me lak dat ...
+
+     [_She remains silent. He smiles in self-gratulation, but utters a
+     mournful sigh for her benefit. Pulling his guitar further up on his
+     lap, he takes out his pocket-knife, fits it between his fingers in
+     imitation of the Hawaiians, clears his throat and strikes another
+     chord._
+
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Noticing the silence, looks at_ MARY.] What's de trouble
+wid you, gal? What's de trouble, chile? Oh, Lawdy me! [_Passing her hand
+across her forehead._
+
+MARY. [_Raising her head._] Nothin', nothin'. I'm tickled at Jim. [_To_
+JIM.] Go on, play her piece about the hearse. Play it!
+
+JIM. [_Strums his guitar, tunes it, and begins._]
+
+    Hearse done carried somebody to de graveyard.
+      Lawd, I know my time ain't long.
+    Hearse done carried somebody to de graveyard.
+      Lawd, I know my time ain't long.
+
+     [_He sings louder, syncopating with his feet._]
+
+    Preacher keeps a-preachin' an' people keep a-dyin'.
+      Lawd, I know my time ain't long.
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _begins swaying rhythmically with the music, clapping
+     her hands, and now and then exclaiming_.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Jesus! Lawdy, my Lawd!
+
+     [_She and_ JIM _begin to sing alternately, she the first verse and_
+     JIM _the refrain. While this is going on_ MARY, _unobserved, goes
+     to the window, pulls open the curtain and looks out, stretching her
+     clenched hands above her head. She turns to the mirror, smooths
+     back her heavy hair, shakes her head, snatches off the ribbon and
+     throws it on the floor. Then she pulls off her cloak and lays it on
+     the bed. She picks up the ribbon and puts it in the bureau.
+     Meanwhile the music has continued._
+
+Hammer keep ringin' on somebody's coffin.
+
+JIM. _Lawd_, I know my time ain't long.
+
+     [_They repeat these lines._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. _Gwine_ roll 'em up lak leaves in de judgment.
+
+JIM. Lawd, I know my time ain't long.
+
+     [_After these lines have been repeated_, JIM, _noticing_ MARY'S
+     _absence from his side, stops and looks around_. AUNT CANDACE
+     _keeps on singing a verse or two. She stops and looks around, seas_
+     MARY _standing in an attitude of despair_. JIM _speaks_.
+
+JIM. Miss Mary!
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What is it, honey?
+
+     [_There is a stamping of feet outside._ MARY _raises her head with
+     an expectant look an her face. She runs to the door and opens it.
+     Her expression changes to one of disappointment and fear as_ HENRY
+     MORGAN _enters. He is a man of powerful build, about fifty years
+     old, rough and overbearing. A week's growth of grizzled beard
+     darkens his face. He wears a felt hat, long black overcoat, ripped
+     at the pockets and buttoned up to his chin, big laced boots, and
+     yarn mittens. In his hand he carries a package, which he throws
+     contemptuously on the bed. He keeps his hat on._ MARY _closes the
+     door and stands with her back to it, clasping the latch-string_.
+     AUNT CANDACE _and_ JIM _offer their seats_. JIM'S _look is one of
+     servile respect, that of Aunt Candace one of troubled expectancy_.
+
+MORGAN. [_In a booming voice._] Dad burn you, Jim. Still a-courtin', eh?
+Set down, Candace. I ain't goin't to stay long.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Querulously._] What's he say?
+
+MARY. [_Coming to the centre of the room._] He says for you to set down.
+He ain't goin' to stay long.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Sitting down._] Ah-hah ... Oh, Lawdy! Lawdy!
+
+MORGAN. [_Coming closer to_ AUNT CANDACE.] How you gettin' 'long now,
+Candace?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Po'ly, po'ly, Mr. Mawgin. Ain't got much longer down here,
+ain't much longer.
+
+MORGAN. [_Laughing._] Aw come on, Candace, cut out your foolin'. You
+ain't half as bad off as you make out. [JIM _moves his chair to the
+corner and sits down_.] I understand you. If you'd git up from there an'
+go to work you'd be well in a week.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Oh, Lawd, Mr. Mawgin, I sho' is po'ly! I hopes you'll
+never have to suffer lak me.
+
+     [_Mumbling, she shakes her head, rocks to and fro without taking
+     her feet from the floor, punctuating her movements by tapping with
+     her stick._ MORGAN _sees_ MARY _looking at the package_.
+
+MORGAN. That's for Mary. I was comin' down this way an' caught up with
+John. He said he was comin' here to bring it. An' so I took an' brought
+it, though he acted sort of queer about it, like he didn't want me even
+to save him a long walk. Wonder what that nigger can be givin' you.
+[MARY _starts toward the bed_.] No, you ain't goin' to see it now, gal.
+We got a little business to 'tend to first. Did you tell Candace what I
+said?
+
+MARY. Mr. Morgan, how could I?... I couldn't do it, not to-night.
+
+MORGAN. Uh-huh ... I knowed it. Knowed I'd better come down here an'
+make sure of it. Durn me, you been cryin', ain't you? [_His voice
+softens._] What's the trouble, gal?
+
+MARY. Nothin', nothin'. I ... I been tickled at Jim.
+
+JIM. Tickled at Jim?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What does he say?
+
+MORGAN. [_Turning to her._] Keep quiet, can't you, Candace; I got a
+little business with Mary. [AUNT CANDACE _becomes silent and begins
+watching the package. She half starts from her chair, then settles back,
+staring hard at the bundle._ MORGAN _speaks to_ MARY.] You ain't been
+cryin' about what I told you this evenin', have you?
+
+MARY. No, sir. I was tickled at Jim. It wan't nothin', honest it wan't.
+
+MORGAN. Well, go on lyin' if you want to.
+
+MARY. Mr. Morgan, I was jes' ...
+
+MORGAN. No matter. [_Brusquely._] Well, what you goin' to do about what
+I said? [_He looks at her squarely._ JIM _watches them both with open
+mouth_. AUNT CANDACE _keeps staring at the bundle on the bed, and now
+and then glancing around to see if any one is watching her. She is
+oblivious of the conversation._ MARY _stands with bowed head_.] Well,
+what about it? I've done told you you got to get out at the first o' the
+year if you ain't a mind to marry Jim. [JIM _straightens up_.] At least
+you've got to marry somebody that can come here and work. I told you to
+tell Candace to look out for it. Why didn't you tell her like I said?
+
+MARY. I couldn't do it. It'd kill her to leave here. You know it. She's
+been good to me all my life. Oh, I can't do it.
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _stealthily slips across the room and picks up the
+     package from the bed, unseen by any one but_ JIM.
+
+MORGAN. Can't do it? Well, what you want me to do? Lose money on you
+till the end of time! You ain't earned enough to keep you in clothes for
+the last three years since Candace got down, an' ...
+
+     [_A terrible cry rings out._ AUNT CANDACE _stands by the bed,
+     holding a white dress up before her_. MORGAN _looks perplexed.
+     Suddenly he starts back in astonishment._
+
+MARY. [_Starting forward._] It's for me! [_Joyously._] It's mine!
+
+MORGAN. [_Catching_ MARY _by the arm_.] What--what is it?... Heigh!
+Don't you move, gal! Wait a minute!
+
+     [_He pulls her back._ AUNT CANDACE _looks at_ MORGAN. _Gradually he
+     lowers his head._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. I's a-feared on it. I knowed it ... I knowed it. [_She
+throws the dress back on the bed and hobbles to the fire, groaning._]
+Oh, Lawdy! Oh, Lawdy! My po' li'l gal! My po' li'l gal!
+
+     [_She rocks to and fro._ MORGAN'S _hand falls from_ MARY'S
+     _shoulder, and she runs to the bed_.
+
+MARY. He sent it to me! He sent it to me! I knowed he wouldn't forget.
+[_She hugs the dress to her._
+
+MORGAN. [_Turning to her._] Well, and what nigger's sending you presents
+now? [_With suspicion fully aroused._] Who give you that, Mary!
+
+MARY. He did!
+
+MORGAN. [_Sternly._] Who?
+
+MARY. [_Impetuously._] It was him! An' I don't care if you do know it!
+
+MORGAN. Who? You don't mean ...
+
+MARY. I do too--an' ...
+
+MORGAN. God a'mighty, my ... it can't be so.
+
+     [MARY _goes to the window and holds the dress in front of her_.
+
+MARY. It is, too. Mr. Hugh sent it to me. [MORGAN _groans_.] He told me
+to-day he's sorry for me. I knowed he'd remember me; I knowed it. An',
+after all, I ain't been workin' the whole year for nothin'. He's got a
+heart if nobody else ain't.
+
+MORGAN. What in the devil! I wonder ... Lord!
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _still looks in the fire. For a moment_ MORGAN
+     _stands lost in abstraction, then he speaks fiercely_.
+
+MORGAN. Mary, put them damned things up. Put 'em up, I say. [_He goes
+toward her. She shrinks back; holding the dress to her. He snatches it
+from her and throws it on the bed, then he pushes her out in the middle
+of the floor. She wipes the tears from her eyes with her apron._] You
+listen here, gal. We're goin' to settle it right here and now, once and
+for all. You're goin' to marry Jim?
+
+MARY. Mr. Morgan ... oh ... I can't marry him. I can't! I won't! Let me
+stay. Don't drive her out; she'll die. I'll work, I'll hoe an' wash, day
+an' night. I'll do anything, I'll ...
+
+MORGAN. [_Fiercely._] You've tole me that a thousand times, an' you've
+got to say one or the other right now. Right now! Do you hear! Marry
+Jim, I tell you, and it'll be all right. He's smart and he'll take care
+of you ...
+
+MARY. I can't do it, I tell you. I can't! I'd rather die. Look at me.
+Ain't I almost white? Look at him. He's black and I hate him. I can't
+marry no nigger. Oh, don't make me do it.
+
+MORGAN. White! What's that got to do with your marryin'? Ain't you a...?
+You don't think you can marry a white man, do you? I tell you you've got
+to decide to-night. I've been after you now for two years and, gal,
+you've got to do it!
+
+MARY. Don't make me do it! I hate him. I ain't black. Oh, Lord!...
+
+MORGAN. [_Desperately._] Candace!
+
+MARY. [_Clutching at his arm._] Don't tell her. I ain't goin' to see her
+drove out in the cold from her home. Don't tell her.
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _still looks in the fire_. JIM _sits lost in
+     amazement, idly strumming his guitar_.
+
+MORGAN. Well?
+
+MARY. [_Looking wildly around, as if seeking help._] Oh!...
+
+MORGAN. [_Wiping his face._] Gal, I don't want to be too hard on you.
+But use common sense. I've been good to you. They ain't another man in
+the county that would have kept you for the last three years, an' losin'
+money on you every year. I'm done of it, gal, I'm done. Marry Jim.
+
+MARY. He wouldn't let you do it if he was here. He wouldn't.
+
+MORGAN. Who? Who you talkin' about?
+
+MARY. Mr. Hugh, your boy. He's got feelin's, he has. If he was here ...
+
+MORGAN. [_Hoarsely._] I know it. I know it. Don't you see? He's all I
+got. I can't run the risk of his ... Oh, Mary, I can't tell you. For
+God's sake, marry Jim. Can't you see? You've got to marry him! Hugh's
+gone off for a week, an' I'm goin' to settle it before he ever gets
+back. And when he gets back, you and Candace will be clean out of this
+country, if you don't marry Jim. They ain't nobody else 'round here
+will take you in, and keep you like I have.
+
+MARY. Where ... where's he gone?
+
+MORGAN. He's gone to see his gal. The one he's going to marry. And by
+God, you've got to marry Jim.
+
+MARY. [_Half sobbing._] They ain't no use tryin' to change it. I've
+tried and tried, but they ain't no use. I jus' as well do it. Yes, yes,
+I'll marry him. I'll marry him. They ain't no way to be white. I got to
+be a nigger. I'll marry him, yes. I'll marry him, an' work an' hoe an'
+wash an' raise more children to go through it all like me, maybe other
+children that'll want to be white an' can't. They ain't nobody can help
+me. But look at him. [_Pointing to_ JIM.] He's a nigger an' ... yes ...
+I'm a nigger too.
+
+     [_She throws her arms out, letting them fall at her side._
+
+MORGAN. [_Almost gently._] All right, Mary ... I'll send for the
+preacher and the license in the morning and have him marry you and Jim
+right here. You needn't think about leavin' any more. And you and Jim
+can live here as long as you please. Is that all right, Jim?
+
+JIM. [_Uncertainly._] Yes-suh, yes-suh, Mr. Mawgin! An' I thanks you
+'specially.
+
+MORGAN. [_Going up to_ AUNT CANDACE.] Mary and Jim are going to be
+married to-morrow, Candace. It'll be a lucky day for you. [_She makes no
+answer, but continues her trancelike stare in the fire._ MORGAN _comes
+to_ MARY _and offers his hand. She fails to see it._] Child, what I've
+had to do to-night has hurt me a whole lot worse'n you.... Good-night,
+Mary.
+
+     [_He stands a moment looking at the floor, then goes out quietly._
+
+JIM. [_Coming up to_ MARY.] Miss Mary, don't look lak dat. I's gwine do
+better, I's.... [MARY _keeps her head muffled in her apron_.] Honey, I's
+sho' gwine make you a good man.
+
+     [MARY _pays no attention to him. In his embarrassment he strums his
+     guitar, clears his throat, props his foot up on a chair rung, and
+     begins singing in a low voice._]
+
+    JIM. Lyin' in the jail house,
+    A-peepin' th'ough de bars....
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Waking from her reverie._] Bring me de li'l black box,
+gal. Bring me de box! [MARY _drops her apron and stares dully at the
+floor_.] Bring me de box! [_Half-screaming._] Bring me de box, I say!
+[_Trembling and groaning, she stands up._ MARY _goes to the chest and
+brings her the black box_. AUNT CANDACE _drops her stick and clutches
+it_.] I's gwine tell you de secret o' dis li'l box. Yo' mammy told me to
+tell you if de time ever come, an' it's come. She seed trouble an' our
+mammy befo' us. [_She takes a key, tied by a string around her neck, and
+unlocks the box, pulling out a wrinkled white dress, yellowed with age,
+of the style of the last generation._ JIM _sits down, overcome with
+astonishment, staring at the old woman with open mouth_.] Look heah,
+chile. I's gwine tell you now. Nineteen yeahs ago come dis Christmas
+dey's a white man gi'n your mammy dis heah, an' dat white man is kin to
+you, an' he don't live fur off nuther. Gimme dat dress dere on de bed.
+[MARY _gets it and holds it tightly to her breast_. AUNT CANDACE
+_snatches at it, but_ MARY _clings to it_.] Gimme dat dress!
+
+MARY. It's mine!
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Gimme! [_She jerks the dress from_ MARY. _Hobbling to the
+fireplace, she lays both of them carefully on the flames._ JIM _makes a
+movement as if to save them, but she waves him back with her stick_.]
+Git back, nigger! Git back! Dis night I's gwine wipe out some o' de
+traces o' sin. [MARY _sits in her chair, sobbing. As the dresses burn_
+AUNT CANDACE _comes to her and lays her hand upon her head_.] I knows
+yo' feelin's, chile. But yo's got to smother 'em in. Yo's got to smother
+'em in.
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+MOONSHINE
+
+BY
+
+ARTHUR HOPKINS
+
+
+_Moonshine_ is reprinted by special permission of Arthur Hopkins,
+Plymouth Theatre, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission
+to perform, address the author.
+
+
+ARTHUR HOPKINS
+
+Arthur Hopkins, one of the well-known men of the practical theatre of
+to-day, was born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1878. He completed his academic
+training at Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio. At present he
+is the manager of Plymouth Theatre, New York City.
+
+Mr. Hopkins's entire life has been given to the theatre, which is his
+hobby. In the midst of his various activities as a manager he has found
+time to do some dramatic writing. Among his one-act plays are _Thunder
+God_, _Broadway Love_, and _Moonshine_, which appeared in the _Theatre
+Acts Magazine_ for January, 1919.
+
+_Moonshine_ is an excellent play of situation that has grown out of the
+reaction of character on character.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    LUKE HAZY, _Moonshiner_
+    A REVENUE OFFICER
+
+
+
+
+MOONSHINE
+
+
+     SCENE: _Hut of a moonshiner in the mountain wilds of North
+     Carolina. Door back left. Window back right centre. Old deal table
+     right centre. Kitchen chair at either side of table, not close to
+     it. Old cupboard in left corner. Rude stone fireplace left side. On
+     back wall near door is a rough pencil sketch of a man hanging from
+     a tree._
+
+     _At rise of curtain a commotion is heard outside of hut._
+
+LUKE. [_Off stage._] It's all right, boys.... Jist leave him to me....
+Git in there, Mister Revenue.
+
+     [REVENUE, _a Northerner in city attire, without hat, clothes dusty,
+     is pushed through doorway_. LUKE, _a lanky, ill-dressed Southerner,
+     following, closes door_. REVENUE'S _hands are tied behind him_.
+
+LUKE. You must excuse the boys for makin' a demonstration over you,
+Mister Revenue, but you see they don't come across you fellers very
+frequent, and they allus gits excited.
+
+REVENUE. I appreciate that I'm welcome.
+
+LUKE. 'Deed you is, and I'm just agoin' to untie your hands long nuff
+fer you to take a sociable drink. [_Goes to stranger, feels in
+all-pockets for weapons._] Reckon yer travellin' peaceable. [_Unties
+hands._] Won't yer sit down?
+
+REVENUE. [_Drawing over chair and sitting._] Thank you. [_Rubs wrists to
+get back circulation._]
+
+LUKE. [_Going over to cupboard and taking out jug._] Yessa, Mister, the
+boys ain't seen one o' you fellers fer near two years. Began to think
+you wus goin' to neglect us. I wus hopin' you might be Jim Dunn. Have a
+drink?
+
+REVENUE. [_Starts slightly at mention of_ JIM DUNN.] No, thank you, your
+make is too strong for me.
+
+LUKE. It hain't no luck to drink alone when you git company. Better have
+some.
+
+REVENUE. Very well, my friend, I suffer willingly.
+
+     [_Drinks a little and chokes._
+
+LUKE. [_Draining cup._] I reckon ye all don't like the flavor of liquor
+that hain't been stamped.
+
+REVENUE. It's not so bad.
+
+LUKE. The last Revenue that sit in that chair got drunk on my make.
+
+REVENUE. That wouldn't be difficult.
+
+LUKE. No, but it wuz awkward.
+
+REVENUE. Why?
+
+LUKE. I had to wait till he sobered up before I give him his ticker. I
+didn't feel like sendin' him to heaven drunk. He'd a found it awkward
+climbin' that golden ladder.
+
+REVENUE. Thoughtful executioner.
+
+LUKE. So you see mebbe you kin delay things a little by dallyin' with
+the licker.
+
+REVENUE. [_Picking up cup, getting it as far as his lips, slowly puts it
+down._] The price is too great.
+
+LUKE. I'm mighty sorry you ain't Jim Dunn. But I reckon you ain't. You
+don't answer his likeness.
+
+REVENUE. Who's Jim Dunn?
+
+LUKE. You ought to know who Jim Dunn is. He's just about the worst one
+of your revenue critters that ever hit these parts. He's got four of the
+boys in jail. We got a little reception all ready for him. See that?
+
+     [_Pointing to sketch on back wall._
+
+REVENUE. [_Looking at sketch._] Yes.
+
+LUKE. That's Jim Dunn.
+
+REVENUE. [_Rising, examining picture._] Doesn't look much like any one.
+
+
+LUKE. Well, that's what Jim Dunn'll look like when we git 'im. I'm
+mighty sorry you hain't Jim Dunn.
+
+REVENUE. I'm sorry to disappoint you.
+
+LUKE. [_Turning to cupboard and filling pipe._] Oh, it's all right. I
+reckon one Revenue's about as good as another, after all.
+
+REVENUE. Are you sure I'm a revenue officer?
+
+LUKE. [_Rising._] Well, since we ketched ye climin' trees an' snoopin'
+round the stills, I reckon we won't take no chances that you hain't.
+
+REVENUE. Oh.
+
+LUKE. Say, mebbe you'd like a seggar. Here's one I been savin' fer quite
+a spell back, thinkin' mebbe I'd have company some day. [_Brings out
+dried-up cigar, hands it to him._
+
+REVENUE. No, thank you.
+
+LUKE. It hain't no luck to smoke alone when ye got company. [_Striking
+match and holding it to_ REVENUE.] Ye better smoke. [REVENUE _bites off
+end and mouth is filled with dust, spits out dust_. LUKE _holds match to
+cigar. With difficulty_ REVENUE _lights it_.] That's as good a five-cent
+cigar as ye can git in Henderson.
+
+REVENUE. [_After two puffs, makes wry face, throws cigar on table._] You
+make death very easy, Mister.
+
+LUKE. Luke's my name. Yer kin call me Luke. Make you feel as though you
+had a friend near you at the end--Luke Hazy.
+
+REVENUE. [_Starting as though interested, rising._] Not the Luke Hazy
+that cleaned out the Crosby family?
+
+LUKE. [_Startled._] How'd you hear about it?
+
+REVENUE. Hear about it? Why, your name's been in every newspaper in the
+United States. Every time you killed another Crosby the whole feud was
+told all over again. Why, I've seen your picture in the papers twenty
+times.
+
+LUKE. Hain't never had one took.
+
+REVENUE. That don't stop them from printing it. Don't you ever read the
+newspapers?
+
+LUKE. Me read? I hain't read nothin' fer thirty years. Reckon I couldn't
+read two lines in a hour.
+
+REVENUE. You've missed a lot of information about yourself.
+
+LUKE. How many Crosbys did they say I killed?
+
+REVENUE. I think the last report said you had just removed the twelfth.
+
+LUKE. It's a lie! I only killed six ... that's all they wuz--growed up.
+I'm a-waitin' fer one now that's only thirteen.
+
+REVENUE. When'll he be ripe?
+
+LUKE. Jes as soon as he comes a-lookin' fer me.
+
+REVENUE. Will he come?
+
+LUKE. He'll come if he's a Crosby.
+
+REVENUE. A brave family?
+
+LUKE. They don't make 'em any braver--they'd be first-rate folks if they
+wuzn't Crosbys.
+
+REVENUE. If you feel that way why did you start fighting them?
+
+LUKE. I never started no fight. My granddad had some misunderstandin'
+with their granddad. I don't know jes what it wuz about, but I reckon my
+granddad wuz right, and I'll see it through.
+
+REVENUE. You must think a lot of your grandfather.
+
+LUKE. Never seen 'im, but it ain't no luck goin' agin yer own kin. Won't
+ye have a drink?
+
+REVENUE. No--no--thank you.
+
+LUKE. Well, Mr. Revenue, I reckon we might as well have this over.
+
+REVENUE. What?
+
+LUKE. Well, you won't get drunk, and I can't be put to the trouble o'
+havin' somebody guard you.
+
+REVENUE. That'll not be necessary.
+
+LUKE. Oh, I know yer like this yer place now, but this evenin' you
+might take it into yer head to walk out.
+
+REVENUE. I'll not walk out unless you make me.
+
+LUKE. Tain't like I'll let yer, but I wouldn't blame yer none if yu
+tried.
+
+REVENUE. But I'll not.
+
+LUKE. [_Rising._] Say, Mistah Revenue, I wonder if you know what you're
+up against?
+
+REVENUE. What do you mean?
+
+LUKE. I mean I gotta kill you.
+
+REVENUE. [_Rising, pauses._] Well, that lets me out.
+
+LUKE. What do yu mean?
+
+REVENUE. I mean that I've been trying to commit suicide for the last two
+months, but I haven't had the nerve.
+
+LUKE. [_Startled._] Suicide?
+
+REVENUE. Yes. Now that you're willing to kill me, the problem is solved.
+
+LUKE. Why, what d'ye want to commit suicide fer?
+
+REVENUE. I just want to stop living, that's all.
+
+LUKE. Well, yu must have a reason.
+
+REVENUE. No special reason--I find life dull and I'd like to get out of
+it.
+
+LUKE. Dull?
+
+REVENUE. Yes--I hate to go to bed--I hate to get up--I don't care for
+food--I can't drink liquor--I find people either malicious or dull--I
+see by the fate of my acquaintances, both men and women, that love is a
+farce. I have seen fame and preference come to those who least deserved
+them, while the whole world kicked and cuffed the worthy ones. The
+craftier schemer gets the most money and glory, while the fair-minded
+dealer is humiliated in the bankruptcy court. In the name of the law
+every crime is committed; in the name of religion every vice is
+indulged; in the name of education greatest ignorance is rampant.
+
+LUKE. I don't git all of that, but I reckon you're some put out.
+
+REVENUE. I am. The world's a failure ... what's more, it's a farce. I
+don't like it but I can't change it, so I'm just aching for a chance to
+get out of it.... [_Approaching_ LUKE.] And you, my dear friend, are
+going to present me the opportunity.
+
+LUKE. Yes, I reckon you'll get your wish now.
+
+REVENUE. Good ... if you only knew how I've tried to get killed.
+
+LUKE. Well, why didn't you kill yerself?
+
+REVENUE. I was afraid.
+
+LUKE. Afreed o' what--hurtin' yourself?
+
+REVENUE. No, afraid of the consequences.
+
+LUKE. Whad d'ye mean?
+
+REVENUE. Do you believe in another life after this one?
+
+LUKE. I kan't say ez I ever give it much thought.
+
+REVENUE. Well, don't--because if you do you'll never kill another Crosby
+... not even a revenue officer.
+
+LUKE. 'Tain't that bad, is it?
+
+REVENUE. Worse. Twenty times I've had a revolver to my head--crazy to
+die--and then as my finger pressed the trigger I'd get a terrible
+dread--a dread that I was plunging into worse terrors than this world
+ever knew. If killing were the end it would be easy, but what if it's
+only the beginning of something worse?
+
+LUKE. Well, you gotta take some chances.
+
+REVENUE. I'll not take that one. You know, Mr. Luke, life was given to
+us by some one who probably never intended that we should take it, and
+that some one has something ready for people who destroy his property.
+That's what frightens me.
+
+LUKE. You do too much worryin' to be a regular suicide.
+
+REVENUE. Yes, I do. That's why I changed my plan.
+
+LUKE. What plan?
+
+REVENUE. My plan for dying.
+
+LUKE. Oh, then you didn't give up the idea?
+
+REVENUE. No, indeed--I'm still determined to die, but I'm going to make
+some one else responsible.
+
+LUKE. Oh--so you hain't willing to pay fer yer own funeral music?
+
+REVENUE. No, sir. I'll furnish the passenger, but some one else must buy
+the ticket. You see, when I finally decided I'd be killed, I immediately
+exposed myself to every danger I knew.
+
+LUKE. How?
+
+REVENUE. In a thousand ways.... [_Pause._] Did you ever see an
+automobile?
+
+LUKE. No.
+
+REVENUE. They go faster than steam engines, and they don't _stay_ on
+tracks. Did you ever hear of Fifth Avenue, New York?
+
+LUKE. No.
+
+REVENUE. Fifth Avenue is jammed with automobiles, eight deep all day
+long. People being killed every day. I crossed Fifth Avenue a thousand
+times a day, every day for weeks, never once trying to get out of the
+way, and always praying I'd be hit.
+
+LUKE. And couldn't yu git hit?
+
+REVENUE. [_In disgust._] No. Automobiles only hit people who try to get
+out of the way. [_Pause._] When that failed, I frequented the lowest
+dives on the Bowery, flashing a roll of money and wearing diamonds,
+hoping they'd kill me for them. They stole the money and diamonds, but
+never touched me.
+
+LUKE. Couldn't you pick a fight?
+
+REVENUE. I'm coming to that. You know up North they believe that a man
+can be killed in the South for calling another man a liar.
+
+LUKE. That's right.
+
+REVENUE. It is, is it? Well, I've called men liars from Washington to
+Atlanta, and I'm here to tell you about it.
+
+LUKE. They must a took pity on ye.
+
+REVENUE. Do you know Two Gun Jake that keeps the dive down in Henderson?
+
+LUKE. I should think I do.... Jake's killed enough of 'em.
+
+REVENUE. He's a bad man, ain't he?
+
+LUKE. He's no trifler.
+
+REVENUE. I wound up in Jake's place two nights ago, pretending to be
+drunk. Jake was cursing niggers.
+
+LUKE. He's allus doin' that.
+
+REVENUE. So I elbowed my way up to the bar and announced that I was an
+expert in the discovery of nigger blood ... could tell a nigger who was
+63-64ths white.
+
+LUKE. Ye kin?
+
+REVENUE. No, I can't, but I made them believe it. I then offered to look
+them over and tell them if they had any nigger blood in them. A few of
+them sneaked away, but the rest stood for it. I passed them all until I
+got to Two Gun Jake. I examined his eyeballs, looked at his
+finger-nails, and said, "You're a nigger."
+
+LUKE. An' what did Jake do?
+
+REVENUE. He turned pale, took me into the back room. He said: "Honest to
+God, mister, can ye see nigger blood in me?" I said: "Yes." "There's no
+mistake about it?" "Not a bit," I answered. "Good God," he said, "I
+always suspected it." Then he pulled out his gun--
+
+LUKE. Eh ... eh?
+
+REVENUE. And shot _himself_.
+
+LUKE. Jake shot hisself!... Is he dead?
+
+REVENUE. I don't know--I was too disgusted to wait. I wandered around
+until I thought of you moonshiners ... scrambled around in the mountains
+until I found your still. I _sat_ on it and waited until you boys showed
+up, and here I am, and you're going to kill me.
+
+LUKE. [_Pause._] Ah, so ye want us to do yer killin' fer ye, do ye?
+
+REVENUE. You're my last hope. If I fail this time I may as well give it
+up.
+
+LUKE. [_Takes out revolver, turns sidewise and secretly removes
+cartridges from chamber. Rises._] What wuz that noise?
+
+     [_Lays revolver on table and steps outside of door._ REVENUE _looks
+     at revolver, apparently without interest_.
+
+     [LUKE _cautiously enters doorway and expresses surprise at seeing_
+     REVENUE _making no attempt to secure revolver. Feigning excitement,
+     goes to table, picks up gun._
+
+LUKE. I reckon I'm gettin' careless, leavin' a gun layin' around here
+that-a-way. Didn't you see it?
+
+REVENUE. Yes.
+
+LUKE. Well, why didn't ye grab it?
+
+REVENUE. What for?
+
+LUKE. To git the drop on me.
+
+REVENUE. Can't you understand what I've been telling you, mister? I
+don't _want_ the drop on you.
+
+LUKE. Well, doggone if I don't believe yer tellin' me the truth. Thought
+I'd just see what ye'd do. Ye see, I emptied it first.
+
+     [_Opens up gun._
+
+REVENUE. That wasn't necessary.
+
+LUKE. Well, I reckon ye better git along out o' here, mister.
+
+REVENUE. You don't mean you're weakening?
+
+LUKE. I ain't got no call to do your killin' fer you. If ye hain't sport
+enough to do it yerself, I reckon ye kin go on sufferin'.
+
+REVENUE. But I told you why I don't want to do it. One murder more or
+less means nothing to you. You don't care anything about the hereafter.
+
+LUKE. Mebbe I don't, but there ain't no use my takin' any more chances
+than I have to. And what's more, mister, from what you been tellin' me I
+reckon there's a charm on you, and I ain't goin' to take no chances
+goin' agin charms.
+
+REVENUE. So _you're_ going to go back on me?
+
+LUKE. Yes, siree.
+
+REVENUE. Well, maybe some of the other boys will be willing. I'll wait
+till they come.
+
+LUKE. The other boys ain't goin' to see you. You're a leavin' this yer
+place right now--now! It won't do no good. You may as well go peaceable;
+ye ain't got no right to expect us to bear yer burdens.
+
+REVENUE. Damn it all! I've spoiled it again.
+
+LUKE. I reckon you better make up yer mind to go on livin'.
+
+REVENUE. That looks like the only way out.
+
+LUKE. Come on, I'll let you ride my horse to town. It's the only one we
+got, so yu can leave it at Two Gun Jake's, and one o' the boys'll go git
+it, or I reckon I'll go over myself and see if Jake made a job of it.
+
+REVENUE. I suppose it's no use arguing with you.
+
+LUKE. Not a bit. Come on, you.
+
+REVENUE. Well, I'd like to leave my address so if you ever come to New
+York you can look me up.
+
+LUKE. 'Tain't likely I'll ever come to New York.
+
+REVENUE. Well, I'll leave it, anyhow. Have you a piece of paper?
+
+LUKE. Paper what you write on? Never had none, mister.
+
+REVENUE. [_Looking about room, sees_ JIM DUNN's _picture on wall, goes
+to it, takes it down_.] If you don't mind, I'll put it on the back of
+Jim Dunn's picture. [_Placing picture on table, begins to print._] I'll
+print it for you, so it'll be easy to read. My address is here, so if
+you change your mind you can send for me.
+
+LUKE. 'Tain't likely--come on. [_Both go to doorway_--LUKE _extends
+hand_, REVENUE _takes it_.] Good-by, mister--cheer up ... there's the
+horse.
+
+REVENUE. Good-by. [_Shaking_ LUKE'S _hand_.
+
+LUKE. Don't be so glum, mister. Lemme hear you laff jist onct before yu
+go. [REVENUE _begins to laugh weakly_.] Aw, come on, laff out with it
+hearty. [REVENUE _laughs louder_.] Heartier yit.
+
+     [REVENUE _is now shouting his laughter, and is heard laughing until
+     hoof-beats of his horse die down in the distance_.
+
+     [LUKE _watches for a moment, then returns to table--takes a
+     drink--picks up picture--turns it around several times before
+     getting it right--then begins to study. In attempting to make out
+     the name he slowly traces in the air with his index finger a
+     capital "J"--then mutters "J-J-J," then describes a letter
+     "I"--mutters "I-I-I," then a letter "M"--muttering "M-M-M,
+     J-I-M--J-I-M--JIM." In the same way describes and mutters D-U-N-N._
+
+LUKE. Jim Dunn! By God! [_He rushes to corner, grabs shot-gun, runs to
+doorway, raises gun in direction stranger has gone--looks intently--then
+slowly lets gun fall to his side, and scans the distance with his hand
+shadowing his eyes--steps inside--slowly puts gun in corner--seats
+himself at table._] Jim Dunn!--and he begged me to kill 'im!!
+
+
+
+
+MODESTY
+
+BY
+
+PAUL HERVIEU
+
+
+_Modesty_ is reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark, the
+translator of the play from the French, and of Samuel French, publisher,
+New York City. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address
+Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City.
+
+
+PAUL HERVIEU
+
+Paul Hervieu, one of the foremost of contemporary French dramatists, was
+born in 1857 at Neuilly, near Paris. Although he prepared for the bar,
+having passed the examination at twenty, and practised his profession
+for a few years, he soon set to writing short stories and novels which
+appeared in the early eighties. _The Nippers_, in 1890, established his
+reputation as a dramatist. The remainder of his life was given to
+writing for the stage. In 1900 he was elected to the French Academy. He
+died October 15, 1915.
+
+In addition to _The Nippers_, Hervieu's best-known long plays are _The
+Passing of the Torch_, _The Labyrinth_, and _Know Thyself_.
+
+_Modesty_ is his well-known one-act play. In subtlety of technic and in
+delicacy of touch it is one of the finest examples of French one-act
+plays. Its humor and light, graceful satire are noteworthy.
+
+
+PERSONS IN THE PLAY
+
+    HENRIETTE
+    JACQUES
+    ALBERT
+
+
+
+
+MODESTY
+
+
+     TIME: _The present._
+
+     SCENE: _A drawing-room. Entrance_, C; _sofa, chairs, writing-desk._
+     JACQUES _and_ HENRIETTE _enter_ C, _from dinner_. HENRIETTE _in
+     ball costume_, JACQUES _in evening dress. They come down_ C.
+
+HENRIETTE. What is it? Is it so terribly embarrassing?
+
+JACQUES. You can easily guess.
+
+HENRIETTE. You're so long-winded. You make me weary--come to the point.
+
+JACQUES. I'll risk all at a stroke--My dear Henriette, we are cousins. I
+am unmarried, you--a widow. Will you--will you be my wife?
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh, my dear Jacques, what _are_ you thinking of? We were such
+good friends! And now you're going to be angry.
+
+JACQUES. Why?
+
+HENRIETTE. Because I'm not going to give you the sort of answer you'd
+like.
+
+JACQUES. You don't--you don't think I'd make a good husband?
+
+HENRIETTE. Frankly, no.
+
+JACQUES. I don't please you?
+
+HENRIETTE. As a cousin you are charming; as a husband you would be quite
+impossible.
+
+JACQUES. What have you against me?
+
+HENRIETTE. Nothing that you're to blame for. It is merely the fault of
+my character; _that_ forces me to refuse you.
+
+JACQUES. But I can't see why you----?
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With an air of great importance._] A great change is taking
+place in the hearts of us women. We have resolved henceforward not to be
+treated as dolls, but as creatures of reason. As for me, I am most
+unfortunate, for nobody ever did anything but flatter me. I have always
+been too self-satisfied, too----
+
+JACQUES. You have always been the most charming of women, the most----
+
+HENRIETTE. Stop! It's exactly that sort of exaggeration that's begun to
+make me so unsure of myself. I want you to understand once for all,
+Jacques, I have a conscience, and, furthermore, it is beginning to
+develop. I have taken some important resolutions.
+
+JACQUES. What _do_ you mean?
+
+HENRIETTE. I have resolved to better myself, to raise my moral and
+intellectual standards, and to do that I must be guided, criticised----
+
+JACQUES. But you already possess every imaginable quality! You are
+charitable, cultured, refined----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Annoyed._] Please!
+
+     [_Turns away and sits on settee._ JACQUES _addresses her from
+     behind chair_.
+
+JACQUES. You are discreet, witty----
+
+HENRIETTE. The same old compliments! Everybody tells me that. I want to
+be preached to, contradicted, scolded----
+
+JACQUES. You could never stand _that_.
+
+HENRIETTE. Yes, I could. I should be happy to profit by the criticism.
+It would inspire me.
+
+JACQUES. I'd like to see the man who has the audacity to criticise you
+to your face----
+
+HENRIETTE. That is enough! I trust you are aware that you are not the
+person fit to exercise this influence over me?
+
+JACQUES. How could I? Everything about you pleases me. It can never be
+otherwise.
+
+HENRIETTE. How interesting! That's the very reason I rejected your
+proposal. I sha'n't marry until I am certain that I shall not be
+continually pestered with compliments and flattery and submission. The
+man who marries me shall make it his business to remind me of my
+shortcomings, to correct all my mistakes. He must give me the assurance
+that I am continually bettering myself.
+
+JACQUES. And this--husband--have you found him already?
+
+HENRIETTE. What--? Oh, who knows?
+
+JACQUES. Perhaps it's--Albert?
+
+HENRIETTE. Perhaps it is--what of it?
+
+JACQUES. Really!
+
+HENRIETTE. You want me to speak frankly?
+
+JACQUES. Of course.
+
+HENRIETTE. Then--you wouldn't be annoyed if I said something nice about
+Albert?
+
+     [JACQUES _brings down_ C. _chair which is by desk, facing_
+     HENRIETTE.
+
+JACQUES. Why, he's your friend!
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh! So you, too, have a good opinion of him?
+
+JACQUES. Certainly.
+
+HENRIETTE. Well, what would you say of him?
+
+JACQUES. [_Trying to be fair._] I'd trust him with money--I've never
+heard he was a thief.
+
+HENRIETTE. But in other ways?
+
+JACQUES. [_Still conscientious._] I believe him to be
+somewhat--somewhat----
+
+HENRIETTE. Wilful? Headstrong?
+
+JACQUES. Um--uncultured, let us say.
+
+HENRIETTE. As you like--but for my part, I find that that air of his
+inspires absolute confidence. He knows how to be severe at times----
+
+JACQUES. You're mistaken about that; that's only simple brute force. Go
+to the Zoo: the ostrich, the boa constrictor, the rhinoceros, all
+produce the same effect on you as your Albert----
+
+HENRIETTE. My Albert? My Albert? Oh, I don't appropriate him so quickly
+as all that. His qualifications as censor are not yet entirely
+demonstrated.
+
+     [JACQUES _rises and approaches_ HENRIETTE, _who maintains an air of
+     cold dignity_.
+
+JACQUES. For heaven's sake, Henriette, stop this nonsense!
+
+HENRIETTE. What nonsense?
+
+JACQUES. Tell me you are only playing with me. That you only wanted to
+put my love to the test! To make me jealous! To torture me! You have
+succeeded. Stop it, for heaven's sake----
+
+HENRIETTE. My dear friend, I'm very sorry for you. I wish I could help
+you, but I cannot. I have given you a perfect description of the husband
+I want, and I am heart-broken that you bear so remote a resemblance to
+him.
+
+JACQUES. Only promise you will think over your decision.
+
+HENRIETTE. It is better to stop right now.
+
+JACQUES. Don't send me away like this. Don't----
+
+HENRIETTE. I might give you false hopes. I have only to tell you that I
+shall never consent to be the wife of a man who cannot be the severest
+of censors.
+
+JACQUES. [_Kneeling._] I beg you!
+
+HENRIETTE. No, no, no, Jacques! Spare me that. [_A telephone rings in
+the next room._] There's the 'phone----
+
+JACQUES. Don't go!
+
+     [HENRIETTE _rises hastily and goes to door_. JACQUES _tries for a
+     moment to stop her_.
+
+HENRIETTE. I must go. Go away, I tell you. I'll be furious if I find you
+here when I come back.
+
+JACQUES. Henriette!
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Coming down_ L. _to table_.] Not now! Please, Jacques.
+[_Exit._]
+
+JACQUES. I can't leave it that way. I am the husband who will make her
+happy. But how? That is the question. [_Pause._] Ah, Albert!
+
+     [_Enter_ ALBERT. _He shakes hands with_ JACQUES.
+
+ALBERT. How are you, rival?
+
+JACQUES. [_Gravely._] My friend, we are no longer rivals.
+
+ALBERT. How's that?
+
+JACQUES. I have just had a talk with Henriette; she refuses to marry
+either one of us.
+
+ALBERT. Did she mention me?
+
+JACQUES. Casually.
+
+     [_Both sit down_, ALBERT _on sofa_, JACQUES _on chair near it_.
+
+ALBERT. What did she say?
+
+JACQUES. Oh, I wouldn't repeat it; it wouldn't be friendly.
+
+ALBERT. I _must_ know.
+
+JACQUES. Very well, then--she said that you had not succeeded--nor had
+I--to find the way to her heart. Between you and me, we've got a
+high-minded woman to deal with, a philosopher who detests flattery. It
+seems you have been in the habit of paying her compliments----
+
+ALBERT. I never pay compliments.
+
+JACQUES. Whatever you did, she didn't like it. Moreover--since you want
+the whole truth--you seem to her a bit--ridiculous.
+
+ALBERT. Pardon?
+
+JACQUES. The very word: ridiculous. She wants a husband who will act as
+a sort of conscience pilot. Evidently, you haven't appealed to her in
+that capacity.
+
+ALBERT. Sometimes I used to be rather sharp with her----
+
+JACQUES. You did it too daintily, perhaps; you lacked severity. I'll
+wager you smiled, instead of scowled--that would have been fatal!
+
+ALBERT. I don't understand.
+
+JACQUES. Henriette is a singular woman; to get her, you have to tell her
+that you don't like her--her pride demands it. Tell her all her bad
+qualities, straight from the shoulder.
+
+ALBERT. [_Feeling himself equal to the task._] Don't worry about that!
+[_Rises and walks about._] I know women love to be told things straight
+out.
+
+JACQUES. I'm not the man for that; nor are you, I suppose?
+
+ALBERT. No? Jacques, I'm awfully obliged to you; you've done me a good
+turn----
+
+JACQUES, Don't mention it----
+
+ALBERT. You want to do me one more favor?
+
+JACQUES. [_Devotedly._] Anything you like!
+
+ALBERT. Promise me you'll never let Henrietta know that you told me
+this?
+
+JACQUES. I promise; but why?
+
+ALBERT. You know she has to understand that my behavior toward her is in
+character. Natural, you see.
+
+JACQUES. Oh, you're going at it strenuously.
+
+ALBERT. I am.
+
+JACQUES. Your decision honors you.
+
+ALBERT. Let's not have Henriette find us together. Would you mind
+disappearing?
+
+JACQUES. With pleasure. I'll look in later and get the news.
+
+     [JACQUES _rises_.
+
+ALBERT. Thanks, Jacques.
+
+JACQUES. Good-by, Albert.
+
+     [_Exits after shaking hands cordially with_ ALBERT.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Re-entering as_ ALBERT _assumes a rather severe attitude_.]
+How are you? [_Pause._] Have you seen Jacques?
+
+ALBERT. [_With a determined air._] No, Henriette. Thank God!
+
+HENRIETTE. Why?
+
+ALBERT. Because it pains me to see men in your presence whom you care
+nothing for.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Delighted._] You don't like that?
+
+     [_Sitting down on sofa._
+
+ALBERT. No, I don't. And I'd like to tell you----
+
+HENRIETTE. About my relations with Jacques?
+
+ALBERT. Oh, he's not the only one.
+
+HENRIETTE. Heaps of others, I suppose?
+
+ALBERT. [_Sits on chair near sofa._] You suppose correctly; heaps.
+
+HENRIETTE. Really?
+
+ALBERT. You are a coquette.
+
+HENRIETTE. You think so?
+
+ALBERT. I am positive.
+
+HENRIETTE. I suppose I displease you in other ways, too?
+
+ALBERT. In a great many other ways.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Really delighted._] How confidently you say that!
+
+ALBERT. So much the worse if you don't like it!
+
+HENRIETTE. Quite the contrary, my dear Albert; you can't imagine how you
+please me when you talk like that. It's perfectly adorable.
+
+ALBERT. It makes very little difference to me whether I please you or
+not. I speak according to my temperament. Perhaps it is a bit
+authoritative, but I can't help _that_.
+
+HENRIETTE. You are superb.
+
+ALBERT. Oh, no. I'm just myself.
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh, if you were only the----
+
+ALBERT. I haven't the slightest idea what you were about to say, but
+I'll guarantee that there's not a more inflexible temper than mine in
+Paris.
+
+HENRIETTE. I can easily believe it. [_Pause._] Now tell me in what way
+you think I'm coquettish.
+
+     [_Sitting on edge of sofa in an interested attitude._ ALBERT _takes
+     out cigarette, lights and smokes it_.
+
+ALBERT. That's easy; for instance, when you go to the theatre, to a
+reception, to the races. As soon as you arrive the men flock about in
+dozens; those who don't know you come to be introduced. You're the
+talking-stock of society. Now I should be greatly obliged if you would
+tell me to what you attribute this notoriety?
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Modestly._] Well, I should attribute it to the fact that I
+am--agreeable, and pleasant----
+
+ALBERT. There are many women no less so.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Summoning up all her modesty to reply._] You force me to
+recognize the fact----
+
+ALBERT. And I know many women fully as pleasant as you who don't flaunt
+their favors in the face of everybody; _they_ preserve some semblance of
+dignity, a certain air of aloof distinction that it would do you no harm
+to acquire.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With a gratitude that is conscious of its bounds._] Thanks,
+thanks so much. [_Drawing back to a corner of the sofa._] I am deeply
+obliged to you----
+
+ALBERT. Not at all.
+
+HENRIETTE. In the future I shall try to behave more decorously.
+
+ALBERT. Another thing----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_The first signs of impatience begin to appear._] What?
+Another thing to criticise?
+
+ALBERT. A thousand! [_Settling himself comfortably._
+
+HENRIETTE. Well, hurry up.
+
+ALBERT. You must rid yourself of your excessive and ridiculous
+school-girl sentimentality.
+
+HENRIETTE. I wonder just on what you base your statement. Would you
+oblige me so far as to explain that?
+
+ALBERT. With pleasure. I remember one day in the country you were in
+tears because a _poor_ little mouse had fallen into the claws of a
+_wretched_ cat; two minutes later you were sobbing because the _poor_
+cat choked in swallowing the _wretched_ little mouse.
+
+HENRIETTE. That was only my kindness to dumb animals. Is it wrong to be
+kind to dumb animals?
+
+     [_She is about to rise when_ ALBERT _stops her with a gesture_.
+
+ALBERT. That would be of no consequence, if it weren't that you were of
+so contradictory a nature that you engage in the emptiest, most
+frivolous conversations, the most----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Slightly disdainful._] Ah, you are going too far! You make
+me doubt your power of analysis. I am interested only in noble and high
+things----
+
+ALBERT. And yet as soon as the conversation takes a serious turn, it's
+appalling to see you; you yawn and look bored to extinction.
+
+HENRIETTE. There you are right--partly.
+
+ALBERT. You see!
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Sharp and even antagonistic._] Yes, I have that unfortunate
+gift of understanding things before people have finished explaining
+them. While the others are waiting for the explanation, I can't wait,
+and I fly on miles ahead----
+
+ALBERT. Hm--that sounds probable; I sha'n't say anything more about that
+just now. But while I'm on the subject, I have more than once noticed
+that you are guilty of the worst vice woman ever possessed----
+
+HENRIETTE. And what, if you please?
+
+ALBERT. Vanity.
+
+HENRIETTE. I vain? Oh, you're going too far!
+
+ALBERT. [_Unruffled._] Not a word! Every time I tell you a fault, you
+twist it round to your own advantage. Whereas you are really worse----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Rising and gathering her skirts about her with virtuous
+indignation._] You are rude! I suppose you would find fault with me if I
+considered myself more polite than the person whom I have the honor to
+address?
+
+ALBERT. I hope you don't intend that remark as personal.
+
+HENRIETTE. I certainly do.
+
+     [_She crosses to the other side of the stage and sits down._ ALBERT
+     _rises and goes up to her_.
+
+ALBERT. Henriette! No! [_Laughing._] I see your trick.
+
+HENRIETTE. What do you mean?
+
+ALBERT. You can't deceive me by pretending to be angry. You wanted to
+see whether I could withstand your temper. Let us now proceed to the
+next chapter: your manner of dressing.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Now really outraged._] My manner of dressing? You dare!
+
+     [HENRIETTE _crosses_ L. _Front_, ALBERT _following her_.
+
+ALBERT. Yes, that will be enough for to-day----
+
+HENRIETTE. And then you'll begin again to-morrow!
+
+ALBERT. Yes.
+
+HENRIETTE. And do you think for one minute that I'll listen to you while
+you insult me to my face? _You_ are the vain one, to think you can come
+to that! _You_ are the frivolous one, _you_ are the----
+
+ALBERT. [_Slightly perturbed._] Be careful what you say!
+
+HENRIETTE. I'll take care of that. Let me tell you that you are a
+detestable cynic. You are disgustingly personal; always dwelling on
+details, on the least----
+
+ALBERT. Which is as much as calling me a fool?
+
+HENRIETTE. Just about. You would be if you didn't read your morning
+paper regularly; so regularly that I know in advance exactly what you
+are going to say to me during the day.
+
+ALBERT. Why not call me a parrot?
+
+HENRIETTE. That would flatter you, for you don't speak as well as a
+parrot; a parrot's memory never gets clouded, a parrot has at least the
+common politeness to----
+
+ALBERT. [_Between his teeth._] I won't stand for this. I wonder how you
+could have endured me so long if you thought me such a fool.
+
+HENRIETTE. I believed you harmless.
+
+ALBERT. Are you aware that you have wounded me cruelly?
+
+HENRIETTE. _You_ have wounded _me_. Thank heaven, though, we had this
+discussion! Now I'll know how to conduct myself toward you in the
+future.
+
+ALBERT. Thank heaven for the same thing! It was high time! I grieve to
+think that only last night I had fully made up my mind to ask you to be
+my wife!
+
+HENRIETTE. My dear friend, if you ever do so, I shall show you the door
+immediately.
+
+     [_Enter_ JACQUES _hurriedly_. HENRIETTE _runs to him as for
+     protection_.
+
+JACQUES. What's all this noise? What's the matter?
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh, Jacques--I'm so glad you've come.
+
+ALBERT. Just in time! You put an end to our pleasant little tête-à-tête.
+
+JACQUES. But what's happened?
+
+HENRIETTE. Well, monsieur here----
+
+ALBERT. No, it was mademoiselle who----
+
+     [HENRIETTE _and_ ALBERT _each take an arm of_ JACQUES _and bring
+     him down-stage_ C. _His attention is constantly shifting from one
+     to the other, as they address him in turn._
+
+HENRIETTE. Just think, Jacques----
+
+ALBERT. Jacques, she had the audacity to----
+
+HENRIETTE. Stop! I'm going to tell him first----
+
+JACQUES. You're both too excited to explain anything. Albert, you take a
+little stroll and cool off.
+
+ALBERT. [_Retreating toward the door._] Charmed.
+
+HENRIETTE. Then I can draw a free breath.
+
+JACQUES. [_To_ ALBERT.] I'll fix up things while you're away.
+
+ALBERT. [_To both._] I won't give in.
+
+HENRIETTE. Neither will I.
+
+JACQUES. Tut, tut!
+
+ALBERT. Good-day, mademoiselle.
+
+HENRIETTE. Good-day.
+
+JACQUES. Good-day, Albert.
+
+     [_Exit_ ALBERT.
+
+HENRIETTE. Thank goodness, we're rid of him!
+
+JACQUES. [_Sympathetically._] Tell me all about it.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Sits down on sofa, inviting_ JACQUES _by a gesture to do
+the same. He sits beside her._] That man invented the most abominable
+things about me; criticised me to my face!
+
+JACQUES. He did!
+
+HENRIETTE. It was so ridiculous--makes me sick to think about it.
+
+JACQUES. My dear Henriette, don't think about it. Albert must have
+behaved like a brute to make you so angry.
+
+HENRIETTE. Yes, don't you think so? _You_ think I'm right?
+
+JACQUES. [_Loyally._] Of course I do.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_At her ease once more._] You encourage me, Jacques.
+
+JACQUES. When I saw you were angry I said to myself at once: "Henriette
+is right."
+
+HENRIETTE. Really?
+
+JACQUES. I said it because I knew you were by nature peace-loving and
+considerate----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With profound conviction._] Well, I think that's the least
+that could be said of me.
+
+JACQUES. In any event, you are always tactful, you always----
+
+HENRIETTE. _You_ know me, Jacques!
+
+JACQUES. I flatter myself. I felt instinctively you couldn't be wrong.
+You have always been so admirably poised, so unfailingly considerate.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With perfect simplicity._] Frankly now, do I ever lose my
+temper with you?
+
+JACQUES. [_In good faith._] Never. With me you are always patient,
+gracious, modest----
+
+HENRIETTE. But I remember, a little while ago, I made you suffer----
+
+JACQUES. Yes, I was unhappy. But "if after every storm comes such a
+calm"----
+
+HENRIETTE. It was all my fault. You understand me; you are truly a
+friend.
+
+JACQUES. Nothing more?
+
+     [_Rising, but standing near her._ HENRIETTE _blushingly looks down
+     at her shoe_.
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh----
+
+JACQUES. Prove that you mean that sincerely.
+
+HENRIETTE. What have I to do? [_Same business._
+
+JACQUES. Place your future in my hands; marry me.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With downcast eyes._] I was just thinking about it. [_Same
+business, but with repressed joy._
+
+JACQUES. [_About to embrace her._] Ah!
+
+HENRIETTE. Wait!
+
+     [_Complete metamorphosis. Her joy is still present, but it has
+     taken on a playful, serio-comic aspect. Rising and putting her hand
+     in his._
+
+JACQUES. Why do you hesitate?
+
+HENRIETTE. Jacques, do you remember what I told you not long ago?
+
+JACQUES. Yes.
+
+HENRIETTE. In spite of that, are you quite sure that I am not vain or
+coquettish?
+
+JACQUES. I am certain.
+
+HENRIETTE. You are also firmly resolved to be my moral guide, critic,
+helper?
+
+JACQUES. [_Stolid as ever._] I am.
+
+HENRIETTE. I make one condition.
+
+JACQUES. Name it.
+
+HENRIETTE. On your word of honor?
+
+JACQUES. On my word of honor. Tell me.
+
+HENRIETTE. Will you swear to tell me, without pity, every time you find
+me at fault? Swear.
+
+JACQUES. I swear.
+
+HENRIETTE. Then you have my promise.
+
+JACQUES. [_As they embrace._] Dearest!
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE DEACON'S HAT
+
+BY
+
+JEANNETTE MARKS
+
+
+_The Deacon's Hat_ is reprinted by special arrangement with Miss
+Jeannette Marks and with Little, Brown and Company, Boston, the
+publisher of _Three Welsh Plays_, from which this play is taken. All
+rights reserved. For permission to perform address the author in care
+of the publisher.
+
+
+JEANNETTE MARKS
+
+Jeannette Marks, well-known essayist, poet, and playwright, was born in
+1875 at Chattanooga, Tennessee, but spent her early life in
+Philadelphia, where her father, the late William Dennis Marks, was
+professor of dynamics in the University of Pennsylvania and president of
+the Edison Electric Light Company. She attended school in Dresden, and
+in 1900 was graduated from Wellesley College. She obtained her master's
+degree from Wellesley in 1903. Her graduate studies were continued at
+the Bodleian Library and at the British Museum. Since 1901 she has been
+on the staff of the English Department at Mount Holyoke College, South
+Hadley, Massachusetts. Her chief courses are Nineteenth Century Poetry
+and Play-writing.
+
+Miss Marks's interest in Welsh life is the result of her hiking several
+summers among the Welsh hills and valleys. She became intimately
+acquainted with Welsh peasant life. It is said that Edward Knobloch,
+well-known dramatist, on one of her homeward voyages from one of her
+summer outings in Wales, pointed out to Miss Marks the dramatic
+possibilities of the material she had thus acquired. _Three Welsh Plays_
+was the result. Two of these plays, without the author's knowledge, were
+entered in 1911 for the Welsh National Theatre prize contest. To her
+credit, the plays won the prize. The complete volume appeared in 1917.
+
+_The Deacon's Hat_ is a fine study of the life of the common folk of
+Wales.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+
+    DEACON ROBERTS, _a stout, oldish Welshman_
+    HUGH WILLIAMS, _an earnest, visionary young man who owns Y Gegin_
+    NELI WILLIAMS, _his capable wife_
+    MRS. JONES, _the Wash, a stout, kindly woman who wishes to buy soap_
+    MRS. JENKINS, _the Midwife, after pins for her latest baby_
+    TOM MORRIS, _the Sheep, who comes to buy tobacco and remains to pray_
+
+
+
+
+THE DEACON'S HAT[I]
+
+
+     SCENE: _A little shop called Y Gegin (The Kitchen), in Bala, North
+     Wales._
+
+     TIME: _Monday morning at half-past eleven._
+
+     _To the right is the counter of Y Gegin, set out with a bountiful
+     supply of groceries; behind the counter are grocery-stocked
+     shelves. Upon the counter is a good-sized enamel-ware bowl filled
+     with herring pickled in brine and leek, also a basket of fresh
+     eggs, a jar of pickles, some packages of codfish, a half dozen
+     loaves of bread, a big round cheese, several pounds of butter
+     wrapped in print paper, etc., etc._
+
+     _To the left are a cheerful glowing fire and ingle._
+
+     _At the back center is a door; between the door and the fire stands
+     a grandfather's clock with a shining brass face. Between the clock
+     and the door, back centre, is a small tridarn [Welsh dresser] and a
+     chair. From the rafters hang flitches of bacon, hams, bunches of
+     onions, herbs, etc. On either side of the fireplace are latticed
+     windows, showing a glimpse of the street. Before the fire is a
+     small, round, three-legged table; beside it a tall, straight-backed
+     chair._
+
+     _Between the table and left is a door which is the entrance to Y
+     Gegin and from which, on a metal elbow, dangles a large bell._
+
+     _At rise of curtain Hugh Williams enters at back centre, absorbed
+     in reading a volume of Welsh theological essays. He is dressed in a
+     brightly striped vest, a short, heavy cloth coat, cut away in
+     front and with lapels trimmed with brass buttons, swallowtails
+     behind, also trimmed with brass buttons, stock wound around his
+     neck, and tight trousers down to his boot-tops._
+
+     _Neli Williams, his wife, a comely, capable young woman, busy with
+     her knitting every instant she talks, is clad in her market
+     costume, a scarlet cloak, and a tall black Welsh beaver. Over her
+     arm is an immense basket._
+
+NELI. [_Commandingly._] Hughie, put down that book!
+
+HUGH. [_Still going on reading._] Haven't I just said a man is his own
+master, whatever!
+
+NELI. Hughie, ye're to mind the shop while I'm gone!
+
+HUGH. [_Patiently._] Yiss, yiss.
+
+NELI. I don't think ye hear a word I am sayin' whatever.
+
+HUGH. Yiss, I hear every word ye're sayin'.
+
+NELI. What is it, then?
+
+HUGH. [_Weakly._] 'Tis all about--about--the--the weather whatever!
+
+NELI. Ye've not heard a word, an' ye're plannin' to read that book from
+cover to cover, I can see.
+
+HUGH. [_A little too quickly._] Nay, I have no plans....
+
+     [_He tucks book away in back coat pocket over-hastily._
+
+NELI. Hugh!
+
+HUGH. [_Weakly._] Nay, I _have_ no plans whatever!
+
+NELI. [_Reproachfully._] Hugh--_ie_! 'Twould be the end of sellin'
+anythin' to anybody if I leave ye with a book whatever! Give me that
+book!
+
+HUGH. [_Obstinately._] Nay, I'll no read the book.
+
+NELI. Give me that book!
+
+HUGH. [_Rising a little._] Nay. I say a man is his own master whatever!
+
+NELI. [_Finding the book hidden in his coat-tail pocket._] Is he? Well,
+I'll no leave ye with any masterful temptations to be readin'.
+
+HUGH. Ye've no cause to take this book away from me.
+
+NELI. [_Opens book and starts with delight._] 'Tis Deacon Roberts's new
+book on "The Flamin' Wickedness of Babylon." Where did ye get it?
+
+HUGH. [_Reassured by her interest._] He lent it to me this morning.
+
+NELI. [_Resolutely._] Well, I will take it away from ye this noon till I
+am home again whatever!
+
+HUGH. [_Sulkily._] Sellin' groceries is not salvation. They sold
+groceries in Babylon; Deacon Roberts says so.
+
+NELI. [_Looking at book with ill-disguised eagerness._] I dunno as
+anybody ever found salvation by givin' away all he had for nothin'! 'Tis
+certain Deacon Roberts has not followed that way.
+
+HUGH. [_Still sulkily._] A man is his own master, I say.
+
+NELI. [_Absent-mindedly, her nose in the book._] Is he? Well, indeed!
+
+HUGH. [_Crossly._] Aye, he is. [_Pointedly._] An' I was not plannin' to
+give away the book whatever.
+
+NELI. [_Closing volume with a little sigh, as for stolen delights, and
+speaking hastily._] An' I am not talkin' about acceptin' books, but
+about butter an' eggs an' cheese an' all the other groceries!
+
+HUGH. Aye, ye'll get no blessin' from such worldliness.
+
+NELI. [_Absent-mindedly._] Maybe not, but ye will get a dinner from that
+unblessed worldliness an' find no fault, I'm thinkin'. [_Her hand
+lingering on the book, which she opens._] But such wonderful theology!
+An' such eloquence! Such an understandin' of sin! Such glowin' pictures
+of Babylon!
+
+HUGH. Aye, hot! I tell ye, Neli, there's no man in the parish has such a
+gift of eloquence as Deacon Roberts or such theology. In all Wales ye'll
+not find stronger theology than his.
+
+NELI. Ye have no need to tell me that! [_Looking for a place in which to
+hide the book until she returns._] Have I not a deep an' proper
+admiration for theology? Have I not had one minister an' five deacons
+an' a revivalist in my family, to say nothin' at all of one composer of
+hymns?
+
+HUGH. Yiss, yiss. Aye, 'tis a celebrated family. I am no sayin' anythin'
+against your family.
+
+NELI. Then what?
+
+HUGH. [_Pleadingly._] Deacon Roberts has great fire with which to save
+souls. We're needin' that book on Babylon's wickedness. Give it back to
+me, Neli!
+
+NELI. Oh, aye! [_Looks at husband._] I'm not sayin' but that ye are
+wicked, Hugh, an' needin' these essays, for ye have no ministers and
+deacons and hymn composers among your kin.
+
+HUGH. [_Triumphantly._] Aye, aye, that's it! That's it! An' the more
+need have I to read till my nostrils are full of the smoke of--of
+Babylon.
+
+NELI. [_Absent-mindedly tucking book away on shelf as she talks._] Aye,
+but there has been some smoke about Deacon Roberts's reputation which
+has come from some fire less far away than Babylon.
+
+HUGH. What smoke?
+
+NELI. [_Evasively._] Well, I am thinkin' about my eggs which vanished
+one week ago to-day. There was no one in that mornin' but Deacon
+Roberts. Mrs. Jones the Wash had come for her soap an' gone before I
+filled that basket with eggs.
+
+HUGH. [_Watching her covertly, standing on tiptoe and craning his neck
+as she stows away book._] Yiss, yiss!
+
+NELI. [_Slyly._] Ask Deacon Roberts if cats steal eggs whatever?
+
+HUGH. [_Repeating._] If cats steal eggs, if cats steal eggs.
+
+NELI. Aye, not if eggs steal cats.
+
+HUGH. [_Craning neck._] Yiss, yiss, if eggs steal cats!
+
+NELI. Hugh--_ie_! Now ye'll never get it correct again! 'Tis if cats
+steal eggs.
+
+HUGH. [_Sulkily._] Well, I'm no carin' about cats with heaven starin'
+me in the face.
+
+     [NELI _turns about swiftly with the quick, sudden motions
+     characteristic of her, and_ HUGH _shrinks into himself. She shakes
+     her finger at him and goes over to kiss him._
+
+NELI. Hughie, lad, ye're not to touch the book while I am gone to
+market.
+
+HUGH. Nay, nay, certainly not!
+
+NELI. And ye're to be on the lookout for Mrs. Jones the Wash, for Mrs.
+Jenkins the Midwife--Jane Elin has a new baby, an' it'll be needin'
+somethin'. [_Pointing to counter._] Here is everythin' plainly marked.
+Ye're no to undersell or give away anythin.' D'ye hear?
+
+HUGH. Aye, I hear!
+
+NELI. An' remember where the tobacco is, for this is the day Tom Morris
+the Sheep comes in.
+
+HUGH. Aye, in the glass jar.
+
+NELI. Good-by. I will return soon.
+
+HUGH. [_Indifferently._] Good-by.
+
+     [NELI _leaves by door at back centre. Immediately_ HUGH _steals
+     toward the shelves where she hid the book_.
+
+NELI. [_Thrusting head back in._] Mind, Hughie lad, no readin'--nay, not
+even any theology!
+
+HUGH. [_Stepping quickly away from shelves and repeating parrotlike._]
+Nay, nay, no readin', no sermons, not even any theology!
+
+NELI. An' no salvation till I come back!
+
+     [_She smiles, withdraws head, and is gone._ HUGH _starts forward,
+     collides clumsily with the counter in his eagerness, knocks the
+     basket of eggs with his elbow, upsetting it. Several eggs break. He
+     shakes his head ruefully at the mess and as ruefully at the
+     counter. He finds book and hugs it greedily to him._
+
+HUGH. [_Mournfully._] Look at this! What did I say but that there was no
+salvation sellin' groceries! If Neli could but see those eggs! [_He
+goes behind counter and gets out a box of eggs, from which he refills
+the basket. The broken eggs he leaves untouched upon the floor. He opens
+his volume of sermons and seats himself by a little three-legged table
+near the fire. He sighs in happy anticipation. Hearing a slight noise,
+he looks suspiciously at door, gets up, tiptoes across floor to street
+door, and locks it quietly. An expression of triumph overspreads his
+face._] Da, if customers come, they will think no one is at home
+whatever, an' I can read on! [_He seats himself at little three-legged
+table, opens volume, smooths over its pages lovingly, and begins to read
+slowly and halting over syllables._] The smoke of Ba-by-lon was
+hot--scorchin' hot. An' 'twas filled with Ba-ba-ba-baal stones, slimy
+an' scorchin' hot also----
+
+     [_There is the sound of feet coming up the shop steps, followed by
+     a hand trying the door-knob._ HUGH _looks up from his sermons, an
+     expression of innocent triumph on his face. The door-knob is tried
+     again, the door rattled._
+
+     [_Then some one rings the shop door-bell._
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Calling._] Mrs. Williams, mum, have ye any soap?
+[_No answer. Calling._] Mrs. Williams! Mrs. Williams!
+
+     [HUGH _nods approvingly and lifts his volume to read_.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Where are they all whatever? I will just look in at
+the window, [_A large, kindly face is anxiously flattened against the
+window. At that_ HUGH _drops in consternation under the three-legged
+table_.] Uch, what's that shadow skippin' under the table? No doubt a
+rat after the groceries. Mrs. Williams, mum, Mrs. Williams! Well,
+indeed, they're out.
+
+     [_She pounds once more on the door with a heavy fist, rings, and
+     then goes. Suddenly the door back centre opens, and_ NELI WILLIAMS
+     _appears_.
+
+NELI. [_She does not see_ HUGH _and peers around for him_.] What is all
+that bell-ringing about?
+
+     [HUGH _crawls out from under the table_.
+
+
+HUGH. Hush, she's gone!
+
+NELI. [_Amazed, and whispering to herself._] Under the table!
+
+HUGH. [_Rising and putting up his hand as a sign for her to keep
+silent._] Nay, 'twas Mrs. Jones the Wash come to buy her soap whatever!
+
+NELI. Aye, well, why didn't she come in whatever?
+
+HUGH. [_Whispering._] I locked the door, Neli, so I could finish readin'
+those essays whatever! An' then she looked in at the window, an' I had
+to get under the table.
+
+NELI. [_Indignantly._] Locked the door against a customer, an' after all
+I said! An' crawled under a table! Hugh Williams, your wits are goin'
+quite on the downfall!
+
+HUGH. [_In a whisper._] Aye, but Neli, those essays--an' I thought ye
+had gone to market.
+
+NELI. I had started, but I came back for my purse. Put down that book!
+
+HUGH. Aye, but, Neli----
+
+NELI. [_Angrily._] Much less of heaven an' much more of earth is what I
+need in a husband! Ye have sent away a customer; very like Mrs. Jones
+the Wash after soap will go elsewhere.
+
+HUGH. Aye, but Neli....
+
+     [_Steps are heard approaching._
+
+NELI. Get up! Some one is coming.
+
+     [HUGH _gets up very unwillingly_.
+
+HUGH. [_Whispering still._] Aye, but Neli....
+
+NELI. [_Angrily._] Put down that book, I say! [_She crunches over some
+eggshells._] Eggs? Broken?
+
+HUGH. [_Putting down book._] Aye, Neli, my elbow an' the eggs in
+Babylon....
+
+NELI. [_Sarcastically._] Aye, I see beasts in Babylon here
+together--doleful creatures smearin' one an' sixpence worth of eggs all
+over the floor. An' a half-dozen eggs gone last week. [_Wiping up
+eggs._] An' I'm to suppose Babylon had something to do with that
+half-dozen eggs, too? They were put in the basket after Mrs. Jones the
+Wash had left whatever, an' before Deacon Roberts came.
+
+HUGH. Neli, I did not say----
+
+NELI. [_Still angrily._] Well, indeed, unlock that door!
+
+HUGH. [_Going to unlock door._] But, Neli....
+
+NELI. [_Disappearing through door back centre._] Not a word! Your mind
+has gone quite on the downfall--lockin' doors against your own bread and
+butter an' soap.
+
+HUGH. [_Unlocking door sullenly._] But, Neli, salvation an' soap....
+
+NELI. [_Snappily._] Salvation an' soap are as thick as thieves.
+
+HUGH. But, Neli, a man is his own master.
+
+NELI. Yiss, I see he is!
+
+     [NELI _goes out, slamming door noisily_.
+
+HUGH. Dear anwyl, she seems angry!
+
+     [HUGH _opens street door left just as_ NELI _goes out through
+     kitchen, by door back centre_. DEACON ROBERTS _enters the door_
+     HUGH _has unlocked. He looks at_ HUGH, _smiles, and goes over to
+     counter in a businesslike way. He is a stout man, dressed in a
+     black broadcloth cutaway coat, tight trousers, a drab vest, high
+     collar and stock, woollen gloves, a muffler wound about his neck
+     and face, and a tall Welsh beaver hat. Under his arm he carries a
+     book._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Speaking affectionately, pulling off his gloves,
+putting down book on counter, and beginning eagerly to touch the various
+groceries._] Essays on Babylon to-day, Hughie lad?
+
+HUGH. [_Looking about for_ NELI _and speaking fretfully_.] Nay.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Unwinding his muffler._] Ye look as if ye had been in
+spiritual struggle.
+
+HUGH. [_Drearily._] I have.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Well, indeed, Hughie, 'tis neither the angel nor the
+archfiend here now, nor for me any struggle except the struggle to both
+live an' eat well--ho! ho! _an'_ eat well, I say--in Bala. [_Laughs
+jovially._] Ho! ho! not bad, Hughie lad--live _an'_ eat in Bala!
+
+HUGH. [_Patiently._] With that muffler around your head, deacon, ye are
+enough to frighten the devil out of Babylon.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Unwinding last lap of muffler._] Yiss, yiss, Hughie
+lad. But I dunno but ye will understand better if I call myself, let us
+say the angel with the sickle--ho! ho!--not the angel of fire, Hughie,
+but the angel with the sharp sickle gatherin' the clusters of the vines
+of the earth. [_Sudden change of subject._] Where is Neli?
+
+HUGH. [_Vacantly._] I dunno--yiss, yiss, at market.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Chuckling._] Dear, dear, at market--a fine day for
+marketing! An' my essays on the Flamin' Wickedness of Babylon, Hughie
+lad, how are they? Have ye finished them?
+
+HUGH. Nay, not yet.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Looking over counter, touching one article after
+another as he mentions it._] Pickled herrin'--grand but wet!
+Pickles--dear me, yiss, Neli's--an' good! Butter from
+Hafod-y-Porth--sweet as honey! [_He picks up a pat of butter and sniffs
+it, drawing in his breath loudly. He smiles with delight and lays down
+the butter. He takes off his hat and dusts it out inside. He puts his
+hat back on his head, smiles, chuckles, picks up butter, taps it
+thoughtfully with two fingers, smells it and puts down the pat
+lingeringly. He lifts up a loaf of_ NELI WILLIAMS'S _bread, glancing
+from it to the butter_.] Bread! Dear me! [_His eyes glance on to
+codfish._] American codfish [_picks up package and smacks his lips
+loudly_], dear _anwyl_, with potatoes--[_reads_] "Gloucester." [_Reaches
+out and touches eggs affectionately._] Eggs--are they fresh, Hugh?
+
+HUGH. [_Dreamily._] I dunno. But I broke some of them. They might be!
+[_Looks at floor._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. _Were_ they fresh?
+
+HUGH. I dunno.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Sharply._] Dunno? About _eggs_?
+
+     [_Picks up egg._
+
+HUGH. [_Troubled._] Neli's hens laid them.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. I see, Neli's hens laid 'em, an' you broke 'em!
+Admirable arrangement! [_Putting down the egg and turning toward the
+cheese, speaks on impatiently._] Well, indeed then, were the hens fresh?
+
+HUGH. [_More cheerful._] Yiss, I think. Last week the basket was grand
+an' full of fresh eggs, but they disappeared, aye, they did indeed.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Starts._] Where did they go to?
+
+HUGH. [_Injured._] How can I say? I was here, an' I would have told her
+if I had seen, but I did not whatever. Neli reproves me for too great
+attention to visions an' too little to the groceries.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Chuckling._] Aye, Hughie lad, such is married life!
+Let a man marry his thoughts or a wife, for he cannot have both. I have
+chosen my thoughts.
+
+HUGH. But the cat----
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Briskly._] Aye, a man can keep a cat without risk.
+
+HUGH. Nay, nay, I mean the cat took 'em. I dunno. That's
+it--{SPACE}[HUGH _clutches his head, trying to recall something_.] Uch,
+that's it! Neli told me to remember to ask ye if ye thought eggs could
+steal a cat whatever.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Puzzled._] Eggs steal a cat?
+
+HUGH. [_Troubled._] Nay, nay, cats steal an egg?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Startled and looking suspiciously at_ HUGH.] Cats?
+What cats?
+
+HUGH. [_With solemnity._] Aye, but I told Neli I'm no carin' about cats
+with heaven starin' me in the face. Deacon Roberts, those essays are
+grand an' wonderful.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Relieved._] Yiss, yiss! Hughie lad, theology is a
+means to salvation an' sometimes to other ends, too. But there's no
+money in theology. [_Sighs._] And a man must live! [_Points to corroded
+dish of pickled herring, sniffing greedily._] Dear people, what
+beautiful herrin'! [_Wipes moisture away from corners of his mouth and
+picks up a fish from dish, holding it, dripping, by tail._] Pickled?
+
+HUGH. [_Looking at corroded dish._] Tuppence.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Shortly._] Dear to-day.
+
+HUGH. [_Eyeing dish dreamily._] I dunno. Neli----
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Eyes glittering, cutting straight through sentence and
+pointing to cheese._] Cheese?
+
+HUGH. A shillin', I'm thinkin'.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. A shillin', Hugh? [DEACON ROBERTS _lifts knife and drops
+it lightly on edge of cheese. The leaf it pares off he picks up and
+thrusts into his mouth, greedily pushing in the crumbs. Then he pauses
+and looks slyly at_ HUGH.] Was it sixpence ye said, Hugh?
+
+HUGH. [_Gazing toward the fire and the volume of essays._] Yiss,
+sixpence, I think.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Sarcastically._] Still too dear, Hugh!
+
+HUGH. [_Sighing._] I dunno, it might be dear. [_With more animation._]
+Deacon, when Babylon fell----
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Wipes his mouth and, interrupting_ HUGH, _speaks
+decisively_.] No cheese. [_He removes his tall Welsh beaver hat, mops
+off his bald white head, and, pointing up to the shelves, begins to dust
+out inside of hatband again, but with a deliberate air of preparation._]
+What is that up there, Hughie lad?
+
+HUGH. [_Trying to follow the direction of the big red wavering
+forefinger._] Ye mean that? A B C In-fants' Food, I think.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Giving his hat a final wipe._] Nay, nay, not for me,
+Hughie lad! Come, come, brush the smoke of burnin' Babylon from your
+eyes! In a minute I must be goin' back to my study, whatever. An' I have
+need of food!
+
+     [HUGH _takes a chair and mounts it. The_ DEACON _looks at_ HUGH'S
+     _back, puts his hand down on the counter, and picks up an egg from
+     the basket. He holds it to the light and squints through it to see
+     whether it is fresh. Then he turns it lovingly over in his fat
+     palm, makes a dexterous backward motion and slides it into his
+     coat-tail pocket. This he follows with two more eggs for same
+     coat-tail and three for other--in all half a dozen._
+
+HUGH. [_Dreamily pointing to tin._] Is it Yankee corn?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_To Hugh's back, and slipping in second egg._] Nay,
+nay, not that, Hughie lad, that tin above!
+
+HUGH. [_Absent-mindedly touching tin._] Is it ox tongue?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slipping in third egg and not even looking up._] Ox
+tongue, lad? Nay, nuthin' so large as that.
+
+HUGH. [_Dreamily reaching up higher._] American condensed m-m-milk?
+Yiss, that's what it is.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slipping in fourth egg._] Condensed milk, Hughie? Back
+to infants' food again.
+
+HUGH. [_Stretching up almost to his full length and holding down tin
+with tips of long white finger._] Kippert herrin'? Is it that?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slipping in fifth egg._] Nay, nay, a little further
+up, if you please.
+
+HUGH. [_Gasping, but still reaching up and reading._] Uto--U-to-pi-an
+Tinned Sausage. Is it that?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slipping in sixth egg with an air of finality and
+triumph, and lifting his hat from the counter._] Nay, nay, not that,
+Hughie lad. Why do ye not begin by askin' me what I want? Ye've no gift
+for sellin' groceries whatever.
+
+HUGH. [_Surprised._] Did I not ask ye?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Nay.
+
+HUGH. What would Neli say whatever? She would never forgive me.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Amiably._] Well, I forgive ye, Hughie lad. 'Tis a
+relish I'm needin'!
+
+HUGH. [_Relieved._] Well, indeed, a relish! We have relishes on that
+shelf above, I think. [_Reaches up but pauses helplessly._] I must tell
+Neli that these shelves are not straight.
+
+     [_Dizzy and clinging to the shelves, his back to the_ DEACON.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Picking up a pound of butter wrapped in print paper._]
+Is it up there?
+
+HUGH. No, I think, an' the shelves are not fast whatever. I must tell
+Neli. They go up like wings. [_Trying to reach to a bottle just above
+him._] Was it English or American?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Putting the pound of butter in his hat and his hat on
+his head._] American, Hughie lad.
+
+     [_At that instant there is a noise from the inner kitchen, and_
+     NELI WILLIAMS _opens the door. The_ DEACON _turns, and their
+     glances meet and cross. Each understands perfectly what the other
+     has seen._ NELI WILLIAMS _has thrown off her red cloak and taken
+     off her Welsh beaver hat. She is dressed in a short full skirt,
+     white stockings, clogs on her feet, a striped apron, tight bodice,
+     fichu, short sleeves, and white cap on dark hair._
+
+NELI. [_Slowly._] Uch! The deacon has what he came for whatever!
+
+HUGH. [_Turning to contradict his wife._] Nay, Neli--{SPACE}[_Losing his
+balance on chair, tumbles off, and, with arm flung out to save himself,
+strikes dish of pickled herring. The herring and brine fly in every
+direction, spraying the_ DEACON _and_ HUGHIE; _the bowl spins madly,
+dipping and revolving on the floor. For a few seconds nothing is audible
+except the bowl revolving on the flagstones and_ HUGHIE _picking himself
+up and sneezing behind the counter_.] Achoo! Achoo! Dear me,
+Neli--Achoo!
+
+NELI. [_Going quickly to husband and beginning to wipe brine from
+husband's forehead and cheeks; at the same time has her back to the_
+DEACON _and forming soundless letters with her lips, she jerks her head
+toward the_ DEACON.] B-U-T-T-E-R!
+
+HUGH. [_Drearily._] Better? Aye, I'm better. It did not hurt me
+whatever.
+
+NELI. [_Jerking head backwards toward_ DEACON ROBERTS _and again forming
+letters with lips_.] B-U-T-T-E-R!
+
+HUGH. What, water? Nay, I don't want any water.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Coughing, ill at ease and glancing suspiciously at
+bowl that has come to rest near his leg._] Ahem! 'Tis cold here, Mrs.
+Williams, mum, an' I must be movin' on.
+
+NELI. [_Savagely to_ DEACON.] Stay where ye are whatever!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Unaccustomed to being spoken to this way by a woman._]
+Well, indeed, mum, I could stay, but I'm thinkin' 'tis cold an'--I'd
+better go.
+
+NELI. [_Again savagely._] Nay, stay! Stay for--for what ye came for
+whatever!
+
+     [NELI _looks challengingly at the_ DEACON. _Then she goes on wiping
+     brine carefully from husband's hair and from behind his ears. The_
+     DEACON _coughs and pushes bowl away with the toe of his boot_.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Smiling._] 'Tis unnecessary to remain then, mum.
+
+NELI. [_To_ HUGH.] What did he get?
+
+HUGH. [_Sneezing._] N--n--Achoo!--nothin'!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_With sudden interest, looking at the floor._] Well,
+indeed!
+
+NELI. [_Suspiciously._] What is it?
+
+     [_He reaches down with difficulty to a small thick puddle on the
+     floor just beneath his left coat-tail. He aims a red forefinger at
+     it, lifts himself, and sucks fingertip._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Smiling._] Ahem, Mrs. Williams, mum, 'tis excellent
+herrin' brine! [_From the basket on the counter he picks up an egg,
+which he tosses lightly and replaces in basket._] A beautiful fresh egg,
+Mrs. Williams, mum. I must be steppin' homewards.
+
+HUGH. [_Struggling to speak just as_ NELI _reaches his nose, wringing it
+vigorously at she wipes it_.] Aye, but Neli, I was just tellin' ye when
+I fell that I could not find the deacon's relish--uch, achoo! achoo!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_With finality, tossing the egg in air, catching it and
+putting it back in basket._] Well, indeed, mum, I must be steppin'
+homewards now.
+
+     [NELI'S _glance rests on fire burning on other side of room_. _She
+     puts down wet cloth. She turns squarely on the_ DEACON.
+
+NELI. What is your haste, Mr. Roberts? Please to go to the fire an'
+wait! I can find the relish.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Hastily._] Nay, nay, mum. I have no need any
+more--[_Coughs._] Excellent herrin' brine.
+
+     [_Goes toward door._
+
+NELI. [_To_ HUGH.] Take him to the fire, Hugh. 'Tis a cold day whatever!
+[_Insinuatingly to_ DEACON.] Have ye a reason for wantin' to go, Mr.
+Roberts?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Going._] Nay, nay, mum, none at all! But, I must not
+trouble ye. 'Tis too much to ask, an' I have no time to spare an'----
+
+NELI. [_Interrupting and not without acerbity._] Indeed, Mr. Roberts,
+sellin' what we _can_ is our profit. [_To_ HUGH, _who obediently takes_
+DEACON _by arm and pulls him toward fire_.] Take him to the fire, lad.
+[_To_ DEACON.] What kind of a relish was it, did ye say, Mr. Roberts?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Having a tug of war with_ HUGH.] 'Tis an Indian
+relish, mum, but I cannot wait.
+
+HUGH. [_Pulling harder._] American, ye said.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Hastily._] Yiss, yiss, American Indian relish, that
+is.
+
+NELI. Tut, 'tis our specialty, these American Indian relishes! We have
+several. Sit down by the fire while I look them up. [_Wickedly._] As ye
+said. Mr. Roberts, 'tis cold here this morning.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. There, Hughie lad, I must not trouble ye. [_Looks at
+clock._] 'Tis ten minutes before twelve, an' my dinner will be ready at
+twelve. [_Pulls harder._
+
+NELI. [_To_ HUGH.] Keep him by the fire, lad.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. There, Hughie lad, let me go!
+
+     [_But_ HUGH _holds on, and the_ DEACON'S _coat begins to come off_.
+
+NELI. [_Sarcastically._] The relish--American Indian, ye said, I
+think--will make your dinner taste fine and grand!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Finding that without leaving his coat behind he is
+unable to go, he glowers at_ HUGH _and speaks sweetly to_ NELI.] 'Tis a
+beautiful clock, Mrs. Williams, mum. But I haven't five minutes to
+spare.
+
+NELI. [_Keeping a sharp lookout on the rim of the_ DEACON'S _hat_.]
+Well, indeed, I can find the relish in just one minute. An' ye'll have
+abundance of time left.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Trapped, and gazing at clock with fine air of
+indifference._] 'Tis a clever, shinin' lookin' clock whatever, Mrs.
+Williams, mum.
+
+NELI. Have ye any recollection of the name of the maker of the relish,
+Mr. Roberts?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Putting his hands behind him anxiously and parting his
+freighted coat-tails with care; then, revolving, presenting his back and
+one large, well-set, bright-colored patch to the fire._] Nay, I have
+forgotten it, Mrs. Williams, mum.
+
+NELI. Too bad, but I'm sure to find it. [_She mounts upon chair. At this
+moment the shop door-bell rings violently, and there enters_ MRS. JONES
+THE WASH, _very fat and very jolly. She is dressed in short skirt, very
+full, clogs on her feet, a bodice made of striped Welsh flannel, a
+shabby kerchief, a cap on her head, and over this a shawl._ NELI _turns
+her head a little_.] Aye, Mrs. Jones the Wash, in a minute, if you
+please. Sit down until I find Deacon Roberts's relish whatever.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Sits down on chair by door back centre and folds
+her hands over her stomach._] Yiss, yiss, mum, thank you. I've come for
+soap. I came once before, but no one was in.
+
+NELI. Too bad!
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. An' I looked in at the window an' saw nothin' but a
+skippin' shadow looked like a rat. Have ye any rats, Mrs. Williams, mum,
+do ye think?
+
+NELI. Have I any rats? Well, indeed, 'tis that I'm wantin' to know, Mrs.
+Jones the Wash!
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Well, I came back, for the water is eatin' the soap
+to-day as if 'twere sweets--aye, 'tis a very meltin' day for soap!
+[_Laughs._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. 'Tis sweet to be clean, Mrs. Jones the Wash.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Laughing._] Yiss, yiss, Deacon Roberts, there has
+many a chapel been built out of a washtub, an' many a prayer risen up
+from the suds!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Solemnly._] Aye, Mrs. Jones the Wash, 'tis holy work,
+washin' is very holy work.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Touched._] Yiss, yiss, I thank ye, Deacon
+Roberts.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Well, I must be steppin' homeward now.
+
+NELI. [_Firmly._] Nay, Mr. Roberts. I am searchin' on the shelf where I
+think that American Indian relish is. Ye act as if ye had some cause to
+hurry, Mr. Roberts. Wait a moment, if you please.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Well, indeed, but I am keepin' Mrs. Jones the Wash
+waitin'!
+
+NELI. [_To_ MRS. JONES.] Ye are in no haste?
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Thoroughly comfortable and happy._] Nay, mum, no
+haste at all. I am havin' a rest, an' 'tis grand an' warm here whatever.
+
+NELI. [_Maliciously to_ DEACON.] Does it feel hot by the fire?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Experiencing novel sensations on the crown of his bald
+head._] Mrs. Williams, mum, 'tis hot in Y Gegin, but as with Llanycil
+Churchyard, Y Gegin is only the portal to a hotter an' a bigger place
+where scorchin' flames burn forever an' forever. Proverbs saith, "Hell
+an' destruction are never full." What, then, shall be the fate of women
+who have no wisdom, Mrs. Williams, mum?
+
+NELI. [_Searching for relish._] Aye, what? Well, indeed, the men must
+know.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Nodding her head appreciatively at_ HUGH.] Such
+eloquence, Mr. Williams! Aye, who in chapel has such grand theology as
+Deacon Roberts!
+
+     [_She sighs. The bell rings violently again, and_ TOM MORRIS THE
+     SHEEP _enters. He is dressed in gaiters, a shepherd's cloak, etc.,
+     etc. He carries a crook in his hand. He is a grizzle-haired,
+     rosy-faced old man, raw-boned, strong, and awkward, with a
+     half-earnest, half-foolish look._
+
+NELI. [_Looking around._] Aye, Tom Morris the Sheep, come in an' sit
+down. I am lookin' out an American Indian relish for the deacon.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Yiss, mum. I am wantin' to buy a little tobacco,
+mum. 'Tis lonely upon the hillsides with the sheep, whatever.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Hastily._] I must go now, Mrs. Williams, mum, an' ye
+can wait on Tom Morris.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Nay, nay, Mr. Roberts, sir, there is no haste.
+
+NELI. [_To_ TOM MORRIS.] Sit down there by the door, if you please.
+
+     [TOM MORRIS _seats himself on other side of door by back centre_.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Yiss, mum. [_Touches his forelock to_ MRS. JONES
+THE WASH.] A grand day for the clothes, Mrs. Jones, mum.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss, yiss, an' as I was just sayin' 'tis a meltin'
+day for the soap!
+
+NELI. [_Significantly._] An' perhaps 'tis a meltin' day for somethin'
+besides soap! [_She looks at_ DEACON.
+
+HUGH. [_Earnestly._] Yiss, yiss, for souls, meltin' for souls, I am
+hopin'. [_Picking up the book from the little three-legged table, and
+speaking to the_ DEACON.] They are enlargin' the burial ground in
+Llanycil Churchyard--achoo! achoo!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slyly moving a step away from fire._] They're only
+enlargin' hell, Hughie lad, an' in that place they always make room for
+all. [_He casts a stabbing look at_ NELI.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Nodding head._] True, true, room for all!
+[_Chuckling._] But 'twould be a grand place to dry the clothes in!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Severely._] Mrs. Jones, mum, hell is paved with words
+of lightness.
+
+HUGH. [_Looking up from book, his face expressing delight._] Deacon
+Roberts, I have searched for the place of hell, but one book sayeth one
+thing, an' another another. Where is hell?
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, where is hell?
+
+     [_The bell rings violently. All start except_ NELI. MRS. JENKINS
+     THE MIDWIFE _enters. She is an old woman, white-haired, and with a
+     commanding, somewhat disagreeable expression on her face. She wears
+     a cloak and black Welsh beaver and walks with a stick._
+
+NELI. Yiss, yiss, Mrs. Jenkins the Midwife, I am just lookin' out a
+relish for the Deacon. Sit down by the fire, please.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Seating herself on other side of fire._]
+Aye, mum, I've come for pins; I'm in no haste.
+
+NELI. is it Jane Elin's baby?
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Aye, Jane Elin's, an' 'tis my sixth hundredth
+birth.
+
+HUGH. We're discussing the place of hell, Mrs. Jenkins, mum.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Well, indeed, I have seen the place of hell
+six hundred times then. [_Coughs and nods her head up and down over
+stick._] Heaven an' hell I'm thinkin' we have with us here.
+
+HUGH. Nay, nay, how could that be? Tell us where is the place of hell,
+Deacon Roberts.
+
+     [_All listen with the most intense interest._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Nodding._] Aye, the place of hell-- [_stopping
+suddenly, a terrified look on his face, as the butter slides against the
+forward rim of his hat, almost knocking it off, then going on with neck
+rigid and head straight up_] to me is known where is that place--their
+way is dark an' slippery; they go down into the depths, an' their soul
+is melted because of trouble.
+
+NELI. [_Pausing sceptically._] Aye, 'tis my idea of hell whatever with
+souls meltin', Mr. Roberts!
+
+HUGH. [_Tense with expectation._] Tell us where is that place!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Neck rigid, head unmoved, and voice querulous._] Yiss,
+yiss. [_Putting his hand up and letting it down quickly._] Ahem! Ye
+believe that it rains in Bala?
+
+HUGH. [_Eyes on_ DEACON, _in childlike faith_.] I do.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Yiss, yiss, before an' after every birth
+whatever!
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss, yiss, who would know better than I that it
+rains in Bala?
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, amen, it rains in Bala upon the hills an' in
+the valleys.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Ye believe that it can rain in Bala both when the moon
+is full an' when 'tis new?
+
+HUGH. [_Earnestly._] I do.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Wearily._] Yiss, any time.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, all the time.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE.. Yiss, yiss, it rains ever an' forever!
+
+NELI. [_Forgetting the relish search._] Well, indeed, 'tis true it can
+rain in Bala at any time an' at all times.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Paying no attention to Neli._] Ye believe that
+Tomen-y-Bala is Ararat?
+
+HUGH. [_Clutching his book more tightly and speaking in a whisper._]
+Yiss.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Aye, 'tis true.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE.. Yiss, the Hill of Bala is Ararat.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Yiss, I have driven the sheep over it whatever
+more than a hundred times.
+
+NELI. [_Both hands on counter, leaning forward, listening to_ DEACON'S
+_words_.] Aye, Charles-y-Bala said so.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Still ignoring_ NELI _and lowering his coat-tails
+carefully_.] Ye believe, good people, that the Druids called Noah
+"Tegid," an' that those who were saved were cast up on Tomen-y-Bala?
+
+HUGH. Amen, I do!
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Nodding her old head._] Aye, 'tis true.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss, yiss.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Amen, 'tis so.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Moving a few steps away from the fire, standing
+sidewise, and lifting hand to head, checking it in midair._] An' ye know
+that Bala has been a lake, an' Bala will become a lake?
+
+HUGH. Amen, I do!
+
+NELI. [_Assenting for the first time._] Yiss, 'tis true--that is.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Dear anwyl, yiss!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_With warning gesture toward window._] Hell is out
+there--movin' beneath Bala Lake to meet all at their comin'. [_Raises
+his voice suddenly._] Red-hot Baal stones will fall upon your
+heads--Baal stones. Howl ye! [_Shouting loudly._] Meltin' stones
+smellin' of the bullocks. Howl, ye sinners! [_Clasping his hands
+together desperately._] Scorchin' hot--Oo--o--o--Howl ye!--howl ye!
+[_The_ DEACON'S _hat sways, and he jams it down more tightly on his
+head. Unclasping his hands and as if stirring up the contents of a
+pudding-dish._] 'Round an' round like this! Howl, ye sinners, howl!
+
+     [_All moan and sway to and fro except_ NELI.
+
+NELI. [_Sceptically._] What is there to fear?
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Groaning._] Nay, but what is there not to
+fear?
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Aye, outermost darkness. Och! Och!
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Have mercy!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Shouting again._] Get ready! Lift up your eyes!
+[_Welsh beaver almost falls off and is set straight in a twinkling._]
+Beg for mercy before the stones of darkness burn thee, an' there is no
+water to cool thy tongue, an' a great gulf is fixed between thee an'
+those who might help thee!
+
+NELI. [_Spellbound by the_ DEACON'S _eloquence and now oblivious to hat,
+etc._] Yiss, yiss, 'tis true, 'tis very true!
+
+     [_She steps down from chair and places hands on counter._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_His face convulsed, shouting directly at her._]
+Sister, hast thou two eyes to be cast into hell fire?
+
+NELI. [_Terrified and swept along by his eloquence._] Two eyes to be
+burned?
+
+     [_All lower their heads, groaning and rocking to and fro._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_The butter trickling down his face, yelling with
+sudden violence._] Hell is here an' now. Here in Bala, here in Y Gegin,
+here with us! Howl ye! Howl, ye sinners!
+
+     [_All moan together._
+
+HUGH. [_Whispering._] Uch, here!
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Yiss, here!
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. [_Terrified._] Aye. Amen! Yiss!
+
+NELI. [_Whispering._] Here in Y Gegin!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Clapping his hands to his face._] Stones of Baal,
+stones of darkness, slimy with ooze, red-hot ooze, thick vapors! Howl
+ye, howl, ye sinners! [_All moan and groan. Takes a glance at clock,
+passes hand over face and runs on madly, neck rigid, eyes staring, fat
+red cheeks turning to purple._] Midday, not midnight, is the hour of
+hell; its sun never sets! But who knows when comes that hour of hell?
+
+NELI. [_Taking hands from counter and crossing them as she whispers._]
+Who knows?
+
+ALL. [_Groaning._] Who knows?
+
+HUGH. [_Voice quavering and lifting his Welsh essays._] Who knows?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Big yellow drops pouring down his face, his voice full
+of anguish._] I will tell ye when is the hour of hell. [_He points to
+the clock._] Is one the hour of hell? Nay. Two? Nay. Three? No, not
+three. Four? Four might be the hour of hell, but 'tis not. Five? Nor
+five, indeed. Six? Nay. Seven? Is seven the hour, the awful hour? Nay,
+not yet. Eight? Is eight the hour--an hour bright as this bright hour?
+Nay, eight is not. [_The_ DEACON _shouts in a mighty voice and points
+with a red finger at the clock_.] 'Tis comin'! 'Tis comin', I say! Howl
+ye, howl! Only one minute more! Sinners, sinners, lift up your eyes! Cry
+for mercy! [_All groan._] Cry for mercy! When the clock strikes twelve,
+'twill be the hour of hell! Fix your eyes upon the clock! Watch! Count!
+Listen! 'Tis strikin'. The stroke! The hour is here!
+
+     [_All dropped on their knees and turned toward the clock, their
+     backs to the street door, are awaiting the awful stroke. The book
+     has fallen from_ HUGH'S _hands_. NELI'S _hands are clenched_. MRS.
+     JENKINS THE MIDWIFE _is nodding her old head_. MRS. JONES THE WASH
+     _on her knees, her face upturned to the clock, is rubbing up and
+     down her thighs, as if at the business of washing_. TOM MORRIS THE
+     SHEEP _is prostrate and making a strange buzzing sound between his
+     lips. The wheels of the clever old timepiece whir and turn. Then in
+     the silent noonday the harsh striking begins: One, Two, Three,
+     Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Yelling suddenly in a loud and terrible voice._] Hell
+let loose! Howl ye! Howl, ye sinners! [_All cover their eyes. All groan
+or moan. The clock ticks, the flame in the grate flutters_, NELI'S
+_bosom rises and falls heavily_.] Lest worse happen to ye, sin no more!
+
+     [_The_ DEACON _looks at them all quietly. Then he lifts his hands
+     in sign of blessing, smiles and vanishes silently through street
+     door. All remain stationary in their terror. Nothing happens. But
+     at last_ NELI _fearfully, still spellbound by the_ DEACON'S
+     _eloquence, lifts her eyes to the clock. Then cautiously she turns
+     a little toward the fire and the place of_ DEACON ROBERTS.
+
+NELI. Uch! [_She stands on her feet and cries out._] The Deacon is gone!
+
+HUGH. [_Raising his eyes._] Uch, what is it? Babylon----
+
+NELI. Babylon nothing! [_She wrings her hands._
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Groaning._] Is he dead? Is he dead?
+
+NELI. [_With sudden plunge toward the door._] Uch, ye old hypocrite, ye
+villain! Uch, my butter an' my eggs, my butter an' my eggs!
+
+     [NELI _throws open the door and slams it to after her as she
+     pursues the_ DEACON _out into the bright midday sunshine_.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Well, indeed, what is it? Has she been taken?
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Getting up heavily._] Such movin' eloquence! A
+saintly man is Deacon Roberts!
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, a saintly man is Deacon Roberts!
+
+HUGH. [_Picking up his book and speaking slowly._] Aye, eloquence that
+knoweth the place of hell even better than it knoweth Bala whatever!
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Very businesslike._] Aye, 'twas a treat--a
+rare treat! But where's my pins now?
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Very businesslike._] Yiss, yiss, 'twas a grand
+an' fine treat. But I'm wantin' my soap now.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Have ye any tobacco, Hughie lad?
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+WHERE BUT IN AMERICA
+
+BY
+
+OSCAR M. WOLFF
+
+
+_Where But In America_ is reprinted by special permission of the author
+and of the _Smart Set Magazine_, in which this play was first printed.
+For permission to perform address the author at Room 1211, 105 Monroe
+Street, Chicago, Illinois.
+
+
+OSCAR M. WOLFF
+
+Oscar M. Wolff was born July 13, 1876. After graduation from Cornell
+University he completed his law course in the University of Chicago. In
+addition to his interest in law, which he has practised and taught, he
+has done considerable writing and editing. He has published a legal
+text-book, and his articles on legal subjects have appeared both in law
+journals and in magazines of general interest. During the war he was
+connected with the United States Food Administration at Washington. At
+present he lives in Chicago, Illinois.
+
+In addition to some stories, he has written several one-act plays:
+_Where But in America_, _The Claim for Exemption_, and _The
+Money-Lenders_.
+
+_Where But in America_ is an excellent play of situation, as well as a
+delicate satire on a certain aspect of American social life.
+
+
+CAST
+
+    MRS. ESPENHAYNE
+    MR. ESPENHAYNE
+    HILDA
+
+
+
+
+WHERE BUT IN AMERICA[J]
+
+
+     SCENE: _The Espenhayne dining-room._
+
+     _The curtain rises on the Espenhayne dining-room. It is furnished
+     with modest taste and refinement. There is a door, centre, leading
+     to the living-room, and a swinging door, left, leading to the
+     kitchen._
+
+     _The table is set, and_ ROBERT _and_ MOLLIE ESPENHAYNE _are
+     discovered at their evening meal. They are educated, well-bred
+     young Americans._ ROBERT _is a pleasing, energetic business man of
+     thirty_; MOLLIE _an attractive woman of twenty-five. The bouillon
+     cups are before them as the curtain rises._
+
+BOB. Mollie, I heard from the man who owns that house in Kenilworth. He
+wants to sell the house. He won't rent.
+
+MOLLIE. I really don't care, Bob. That house was too far from the
+station, and it had only one sleeping-porch, and you know I want
+white-enamelled woodwork in the bedrooms. But, Bob, I've been terribly
+stupid!
+
+BOB. How so, Mollie?
+
+MOLLIE. You remember the Russells moved to Highland Park last spring?
+
+BOB. Yes; Ed Russell rented a house that had just been built.
+
+MOLLIE. A perfectly darling little house! And Fanny Russell once told me
+that the man who built it will put up a house for any one who will take
+a five-year lease. And she says that the man is very competent and they
+are simply delighted with their place.
+
+BOB. Why don't we get in touch with the man?
+
+MOLLIE. Wasn't it stupid of me not to think about it? It just flashed
+into my mind this morning, and I sat down at once and sent a
+special-delivery letter to Fanny Russell. I asked her to tell me his
+name at once, and where we can find him.
+
+BOB. Good! You ought to have an answer by to-morrow or Thursday and
+we'll go up north and have a talk with him on Saturday.
+
+MOLLIE. [_With enthusiasm._] Wouldn't it be wonderful if he'd build just
+what we want! Fanny Russell says every detail of their house is perfect.
+Even the garage; they use it----
+
+BOB. [_Interrupting._] Mollie, that's the one thing I'm afraid of about
+the North Shore plan. I've said repeatedly that I don't want to buy a
+car for another year or two. But here you are, talking about a garage
+already.
+
+MOLLIE. But you didn't let me finish what I was saying. The Russells
+have fitted up their garage as a playroom for the children. If we had a
+garage we could do the same thing.
+
+BOB. Well, let's keep temptation behind us and not even talk to the man
+about a garage. If we move up north it must be on an economy basis for a
+few years; just a half-way step between the apartment and the house we
+used to plan. You mustn't get your heart set on a car.
+
+MOLLIE. I haven't even thought of one, dear. [BOB _and_ MOLLIE _have now
+both finished the bouillon course and lay down their spoons. Reaching
+out her hand to touch the table button, and at the same time leaning
+across the table and speaking very impressively._] Bob, I'm about to
+ring for Hilda!
+
+BOB. What of it?
+
+MOLLIE. [_Decidedly and with a touch of impatience._] You know very
+well, what of it. I don't want Hilda to hear us say one word about
+moving away from the South Side!
+
+BOB. [_Protesting._] But Mollie----
+
+MOLLIE. [_Interrupting hurriedly and holding her finger to her lips in
+warning._] Psst!
+
+     [_The next instant_ HILDA _enters, left. She is a tall, blonde
+     Swedish girl, about twenty-five years old. She is very pretty and
+     carries herself well and looks particularly charming in a maid's
+     dress, with white collars and cuffs and a dainty waitress's apron.
+     Every detail of her dress is immaculate._
+
+MOLLIE. [_Speaking the instant that_ HILDA _appears and talking very
+rapidly all the time that_ HILDA _remains in the room. While she speaks_
+MOLLIE _watches_ HILDA _rather than_ ROBERT, _whom she pretends to be
+addressing_.] In the last game Gert Jones was my partner. It was frame
+apiece and I dealt and I bid one no trump. I had a very weak no trump.
+I'll admit that, but I didn't want them to win the rubber. Mrs. Stone
+bid two spades and Gert Jones doubled her. Mrs. Green passed and I
+simply couldn't go to three of anything. Mrs. Stone played two spades,
+doubled, and she made them. Of course, that put them out and gave them
+the rubber. I think that was a very foolish double of Gert Jones, and
+then she said it was my fault, because I bid one no trump.
+
+     [_As_ MOLLIE _begins her flow of words_ BOB _first looks at her in
+     open-mouthed astonishment. Then as he gradually comprehends that_
+     MOLLIE _is merely talking against time he too turns his eyes to_
+     HILDA _and watches her closely in her movements around the table.
+     Meanwhile_ HILDA _moves quietly and quickly and pays no attention
+     to anything except the work she has in hand. She carries a small
+     serving-tray, and, as_ MOLLIE _speaks_, HILDA _first takes the
+     bouillon cups from the table, then brings the carving-knife and
+     fork from the sideboard and places them before_ ROBERT, _and then,
+     with the empty bouillon cups, exits left_. BOB _and_ MOLLIE _are
+     both watching_ HILDA _as she goes out. The instant the door swings
+     shut behind her_, MOLLIE _relaxes with a sigh, and_ ROBERT _leans
+     across the table to speak_.
+
+BOB. Mollie, why not be sensible about this thing! Have a talk with
+Hilda and find out if she will move north with us.
+
+MOLLIE. That's just like a man! Then we might not find a house to please
+us and Hilda would be dissatisfied and suspicious. She might even leave.
+[_Thoughtfully._] Of course, I must speak to her before we sign a lease,
+because I really don't know what I'd do if Hilda refused to leave the
+South side. [_More cheerfully._] But there, we won't think about the
+disagreeable things until everything is settled.
+
+BOB. That's good American doctrine.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Warningly and again touching her finger to her lips._] Psst!
+
+     [HILDA _enters, left, carrying the meat plates, with a heavy napkin
+     under them_.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Immediately resuming her monologue._] I think my last year's
+hat will do very nicely. You know it rained all last summer and I really
+only wore the hat a half a dozen times. Perhaps not that often. I can
+make a few changes on it; put on some new ribbons, you know, and it will
+do very nicely for another year. You remember that hat, don't you dear?
+
+     [BOB _starts to answer, but_ MOLLIE _rushes right on_.
+
+Of course you do, you remember you said it was so becoming. That's
+another reason why I want to wear it this summer.
+
+     [HILDA, _meanwhile, puts the plates on the table in front of_ BOB,
+     _and goes out, left_. MOLLIE _at once stops speaking_.
+
+BOB. [_Holding his hands over the plates as over a fire and rubbing them
+together in genial warmth._] Ah, the good hot plates! She never forgets
+them. She _is_ a gem, Mollie.
+
+MOLLIE. [_In great self-satisfaction._] If you are finally convinced of
+that, after three years, I wish you would be a little bit more careful
+what you say the next time Hilda comes in the room.
+
+BOB. [_In open-mouthed astonishment._] What!
+
+MOLLIE. Well, I don't want Hilda to think we are making plans behind her
+back.
+
+BOB. [_Reflectively._] "A man's home is his castle." [_Pauses._] It's
+very evident that the Englishman who first said that didn't keep any
+servants.
+
+     [_Telephone bell rings off stage._
+
+MOLLIE. Answer that, Bob.
+
+BOB. Won't Hilda answer it?
+
+MOLLIE. [_Standing up quickly and speaking impatiently._] Very well, I
+shall answer it myself. I can't ask Hilda to run to the telephone while
+she is serving the meal.
+
+BOB. [_Sullenly, as he gets up._] All right! All right!
+
+     [BOB _exits, centre. As he does so_ HILDA _appears at the door,
+     left, hurrying to answer the telephone_.
+
+MOLLIE. Mr. Espenhayne will answer it, Hilda.
+
+     [HILDA _makes the slightest possible bow of acquiescence, withdraws
+     left, and in a moment reappears with vegetable dishes and small
+     side dishes, which she puts before_ MRS. ESPENHAYNE. _She is
+     arranging these when_ BOB _re-enters, centre_.
+
+BOB. Somebody for you, Hilda.
+
+HILDA. [_Surprised._] For me? Oh! But I cannot answer eet now. Please
+ask the party to call later.
+
+     [HILDA _speaks excellent English, but with some Swedish accent. The
+     noticeable feature of her speech is the precision and great care
+     with which she enunciates every syllable._
+
+MOLLIE. Just take the number yourself, Hilda, and tell the party you
+will call back after dinner.
+
+HILDA. Thank you, Messes Aispenhayne.
+
+     [HILDA _exits, centre_. BOB _stands watching_ HILDA, _as she leaves
+     the room, and then turns and looks at_ MOLLIE _with a bewildered
+     expression_.
+
+BOB. [_Standing at his chair._] But I thought Hilda couldn't be running
+to the telephone while she serves the dinner?
+
+MOLLIE. But this call is for Hilda, herself. That's quite different, you
+see.
+
+BOB. [_Slowly and thoughtfully._] Oh, yes! Of course; I see! [_Sits down
+in his chair._] That is--I don't quite see!
+
+MOLLIE. [_Immediately leaning across the table and speaking in a
+cautious whisper._] Do you know who it is?
+
+     [BOB _closes his lips very tightly and nods yes in a very important
+     manner_.
+
+MOLLIE. [_In the same whisper and very impatiently._] Who?
+
+BOB. [_Looking around the room as if to see if any one is in hiding, and
+then putting his hand to his mouth and exaggerating the whisper._] The
+Terrible Swede.
+
+MOLLIE. [_In her ordinary tone and very much exasperated._] Robert, I've
+told you a hundred times that you shouldn't refer to--to--the man in
+that way.
+
+BOB. And I've told you a hundred times to ask Hilda his name. If I knew
+his name I'd announce him with as much ceremony as if he were the
+Swedish Ambassador.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Disgusted._] Oh, don't try to be funny! Suppose some day Hilda
+hears you speak of him in that manner?
+
+BOB. You know that's mild compared to what you think of him. Suppose
+some day Hilda learns what you think of him?
+
+MOLLIE. I think very well of him and you know it. Of course, I dread the
+time when she marries him, but I wouldn't for the world have her think
+that we speak disrespectfully of her or her friends.
+
+BOB. "A man's home is his castle."
+
+     [MOLLIE'S _only answer is a gesture of impatience_. MOLLIE _and_
+     BOB _sit back in their chairs to await_ HILDA'S _return. Both sit
+     with fingers interlaced, hands resting on the edge of the table in
+     the attitude of school children at attention. A long pause._ MOLLIE
+     _unclasps her hands and shifts uneasily_. ROBERT _does the same_.
+     MOLLIE, _seeing this, hastily resumes her former attitude of quiet
+     waiting_. ROBERT, _however, grows increasingly restless. His
+     restlessness makes_ MOLLIE _nervous and she watches_ ROBERT, _and
+     when he is not observing her she darts quick, anxious glances at
+     the door, centre_. BOB _drains and refills his glass_.
+
+MOLLIE. [_She has been watching_ ROBERT _and every time he shifts or
+moves she unconsciously does the same, and finally she breaks out
+nervously_.] I don't understand this at all! Isn't to-day Tuesday?
+
+BOB. What of it?
+
+MOLLIE. He usually calls up on Wednesdays and comes to see her on
+Saturdays.
+
+BOB. And takes her to the theatre on Thursdays and to dances on Sundays.
+He's merely extending his line of attack.
+
+     [_Another long pause--then Bob begins to experiment to learn
+     whether the plates are still hot. He gingerly touches the edges of
+     the upper plate in two or three places. It seems safe to handle. He
+     takes hold of upper and lower plates boldly, muttering, as he does
+     so, "Cold as--" Drops the plates with a clatter and a smothered
+     oath. Shakes his fingers and blows on them. Meanwhile_ MOLLIE _is
+     sitting very rigid, regarding_ BOB _with a fixed stare and beating
+     a vigorous tattoo on the tablecloth with her fingers. Bob catches
+     her eye and cringes under her gaze. He drains and refills his
+     glass. He studies the walls and the ceiling of the room, meanwhile
+     still nursing his fingers._ BOB _steals a sidelong glance at_
+     MOLLIE. _She is still staring at him. He turns to his water goblet.
+     Picks it up and holds it to the light. He rolls the stem between
+     his fingers, squinting at the light through the water. Reciting
+     slowly as he continues to gaze at the light._
+
+BOB. Starlight! Starbright! Will Hilda talk to him all night!
+
+MOLLIE. [_In utter disgust._] Oh, stop that singing.
+
+     [BOB _puts down his glass, then drinks the water and refills the
+     glass. He then turns his attention to the silverware and cutlery
+     before him. He examines it critically, then lays a teaspoon
+     carefully on the cloth before him, and attempts the trick of
+     picking it up with the first finger in the bowl and the thumb at
+     the point of the handle. After one or two attempts the spoon shoots
+     on the floor, far behind him._ MOLLIE _jumps at the noise_. BOB
+     _turns slowly and looks at the spoon with an injured air, then
+     turns back to_ MOLLIE _with a silly, vacuous smile. He now lays all
+     the remaining cutlery in a straight row before him._
+
+BOB. [_Slowly counting the cutlery and silver, back and forth._] Eeny,
+meeny, miney, mo. Catch a--[_Stops suddenly as an idea comes to him.
+Gazes thoughtfully at_ MOLLIE _for a moment, then begins to count over
+again_.] Eeny, meeny, miney, mo; Hilda's talking to her beau. If we
+holler, she may go. Eeny, mee----
+
+MOLLIE. [_Interrupting and exasperated to the verge of tears._] Bob, if
+you don't stop all that nonsense, I shall scream! [_In a very tense
+tone._] I believe I'm going to have one of my sick headaches! [_Puts her
+hand to her forehead._] I know it; I can feel it coming on!
+
+BOB. [_In a soothing tone._] Hunger, my dear, hunger! When you have a
+good warm meal you'll feel better.
+
+MOLLIE. [_In despair._] What do you suppose I ought to do?
+
+BOB. Go out in the kitchen and fry a couple of eggs.
+
+MOLLIE. Oh! be serious! I'm at my wits' end! Hilda never did anything
+like this before.
+
+BOB. [_Suddenly quite serious._] What does that fellow do for a living,
+anyhow?
+
+MOLLIE. How should I know?
+
+BOB. Didn't you ever ask Hilda?
+
+MOLLIE. Certainly not. Hilda doesn't ask me about your business; why
+should I pry into her affairs?
+
+BOB. [_Taking out his cigarette case and lighting a cigarette._] Mollie,
+I see you're strong for the Constitution of the United States.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Suspiciously._] What do you mean by that?
+
+BOB. The Constitution says: "Whereas it is a self-evident truth that all
+men are born equal"--[_With a wave of the hand._] Hilda and you, and the
+Terrible Swede and I and----
+
+MOLLIE. [_Interrupting._] Bob, you're such a _heathen_! _That's not in
+the Constitution._ That's in the Bible!
+
+BOB. Well, wherever it is, until this evening I never realized what a
+personage Hilda is.
+
+MOLLIE. You can make fun of me all you please, but I know what's right!
+Your remarks don't influence me in the least--not in the least!
+
+BOB. [_Murmurs thoughtfully and feelingly._] How true! [_Abruptly._] Why
+don't they get married? Do you know that?
+
+MOLLIE. All I know is that they are waiting until his business is
+entirely successful, so that Hilda won't have to work.
+
+BOB. Well, the Swedes are pretty careful of their money. The chances are
+Hilda has a neat little nest-egg laid by.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Hesitating and doubtfully._] That's one thing that worries me
+a little. I think Hilda puts money--into--into--into the young man's
+business.
+
+BOB. [_Indignantly._] Do you mean to tell me that this girl gives her
+money to that fellow and you don't try to find out a thing about him?
+Who he is or what he does? I suppose she supports the loafer.
+
+MOLLIE. [_With dignity._] He's not a loafer. I've seen him and I've
+talked with him, and I know he's a gentleman.
+
+BOB. Mollie, I'm getting tired of all that kind of drivel. I believe
+nowadays women give a good deal more thought to pleasing their maids
+than they do to pleasing their husbands.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Demurely._] Well, you know, Bob, your maid can leave you much
+easier than your husband can--[_pauses thoughtfully_] and I'm sure she's
+much harder to replace.
+
+BOB. [_Very angry, looking at his watch, throwing his napkin on the
+table and standing up._] Mollie, our dinner has been interrupted for
+fifteen minutes while Hilda entertains her [_with sarcasm_] gentleman
+friend. If you won't stop it, I will.
+
+     [_Steps toward the door, centre._
+
+MOLLIE. [_Sternly, pointing to_ BOB'S _chair_.] Robert, sit down!
+
+     [BOB _pauses, momentarily, and at the instant_ HILDA _enters,
+     centre, meeting_ BOB, _face to face. Both are startled._ BOB, _in a
+     surly manner, walks back to his place at the table_. HILDA
+     _follows, excited and eager_. BOB _sits down and_ HILDA _stands for
+     a moment at the table, smiling from one to the other and evidently
+     anxious to say something_. BOB _and_ MOLLIE _are severe and
+     unfriendly. They gaze at_ HILDA _coldly. Slowly_ HILDA'S
+     _enthusiasm cools, and she becomes again the impassive servant_.
+
+HILDA. Aixcuse me, Meeses Aispenhayne, I am very sorry. I bring the
+dinner right in. [_Hilda exits left._
+
+BOB. It's all nonsense. [_Touches the plates again, but this time even
+more cautiously than before. This time he finds they are entirely safe
+to handle._] These plates are stone cold now.
+
+     [HILDA _enters, left, with meat platter. Places it before_ BOB. _He
+     serves the meat and_ MOLLIE _starts to serve the vegetables_. HILDA
+     _hands_ MOLLIE _her meat plate_.
+
+MOLLIE. Vegetables? [BOB _is chewing on his meat and does not answer_.
+MOLLIE _looks at him inquiringly. But his eyes are on his plate.
+Repeating._] Vegetables? [_Still no answer from_ BOB. _Very softly,
+under her breath._] H'mm.
+
+     [MOLLIE _helps herself to vegetables and then dishes out a portion
+     which she hands to_ HILDA, _who in turn places the dish beside_
+     BOB. _When both are served_ HILDA _stands for a moment back of the
+     table. She clasps and unclasps her hands in a nervous manner, seems
+     about to speak, but as_ BOB _and_ MOLLIE _pay no attention to her
+     she slowly and reluctantly turns, and exits left_. MOLLIE _takes
+     one or two bites of the meat and then gives a quick glance at_ BOB.
+     _He is busy chewing at his meat, and_ MOLLIE _quietly lays down her
+     knife and fork and turns to the vegetables_.
+
+BOB. [_Chewing desperately on his meat._] Tenderloin, I believe?
+
+MOLLIE. [_Sweetly._] Yes, dear.
+
+BOB. [_Imitating_ MOLLIE _a moment back_.] H'mm! [_He takes one or two
+more hard bites._] Mollie, I have an idea.
+
+MOLLIE. I'm relieved.
+
+BOB. [_Savagely._] Yes, you will be when you hear it. When we get that
+builder's name from Fanny Russell, we'll tell him that instead of a
+garage, which we don't need, he can build a special telephone booth off
+the kitchen. Then while Hilda serves the dinner----
+
+     [BOB _stops short, as_ HILDA _bursts in abruptly, left, and comes
+     to the table_.
+
+HILDA. Aixcuse me, Meeses Aispenhayne, I am so excited.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Anxiously._] Is anything wrong, Hilda?
+
+HILDA. [_Explosively._] Meeses Aispenhayne, Meester Leendquist he say
+you want to move to Highland Park.
+
+     [BOB _and_ MOLLIE _simultaneously drop their knives and forks and
+     look at_ HILDA _in astonishment and wonder_.
+
+MOLLIE. What?
+
+BOB. Who?
+
+HILDA. [_Repeats very rapidly._] Meester Leendquist, he say you look for
+house on North Shore!
+
+MOLLIE. [_Utterly overcome at_ HILDA'S _knowledge and at a loss for
+words of denial_.] We move to the North Shore? How ridiculous! Hilda,
+where did you get such an idea? [_Turns to_ ROBERT.] Robert, did you
+ever hear anything so laughable? [_She forces a strained laugh._] Ha!
+Ha! Ha! [ROBERT _has been looking at_ HILDA _in dumb wonder. At_
+MOLLIE'S _question he turns to her in startled surprise. He starts to
+answer, gulps, swallows hard, and then coughs violently. Very sharply,
+after waiting a moment for_ BOB _to answer_.] Robert Espenhayne, will
+you stop that coughing and answer me!
+
+BOB. [_Between coughs, and drinking a glass of water._] Egh! Egh! Excuse
+me! Something, eh! egh! stuck in my throat.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Turning to_ HILDA.] Some day we might want to move north,
+Hilda, but not now! Oh, no, not now!
+
+BOB. Who told you that, Hilda?
+
+HILDA. Meester Leendquist.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Puzzled._] Who is Mr. Lindquist?
+
+HILDA. [_Surprised._] Meester Leendquist--[_Pauses, a trifle
+embarrassed._] Meester Leendquist ees young man who just speak to me on
+telephone. He come to see me every Saturday.
+
+BOB. Oh, Mr. Lindquist, the--the--Ter----
+
+MOLLIE. [_Interrupting frantically, and waving her hands at_ BOB.] Yes,
+yes, of course. You know--Mr. Lindquist! [BOB _catches himself just in
+time and_ MOLLIE _settles back with a sigh of relief, then turns to_
+HILDA _with a puzzled air_.] But where did Mr. Lindquist get such an
+idea?
+
+HILDA. Mrs. Russell tell heem so.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Now entirely bewildered._] What Mrs. Russell?
+
+HILDA. Meeses Russell--your friend.
+
+MOLLIE. [_More and more at sea._] Mrs. Edwin Russell, who comes to see
+me--every now and then?
+
+HILDA. Yes.
+
+MOLLIE. But how does Mrs. Russell know Mr. Lindquist and why should she
+tell Mr. Lindquist that we expected to move to the North Shore?
+
+HILDA. Meester Leendquist, he build Meeses Russell's house. That ees
+hees business. He build houses on North Shore and he sell them and rent
+them.
+
+     [BOB _and_ MOLLIE _look at each other and at_ HILDA, _in wonder and
+     astonishment as the situation slowly filters into their brains. A
+     long pause._]
+
+BOB. [_In awe and astonishment._] You mean that Mr. Lindquist, the young
+man who comes to see you every--every--every now and then--is the same
+man who put up the Russell house?
+
+HILDA. Yes, Meester Aispenhayne.
+
+BOB. [_Slowly._] And when Mrs. Espenhayne [_points to_ MOLLIE] wrote to
+Mrs. Russell [_jerks his thumb to indicate the north_], Mrs. Russell
+told Mr. Lindquist [_jerks his thumb in opposite direction_] and Mr.
+Lindquist telephoned to you?
+
+     [_Points to_ HILDA.
+
+HILDA. Yes, Meester Aispenhayne. [_Nodding._
+
+BOB. [_Very thoughtfully and slowly._] H'mm! [_Then slowly resuming his
+meal and speaking in mock seriousness, in subtle jest at_ MOLLIE, _and
+imitating her tone of a moment or two back_.] But of course, you
+understand, Hilda, we don't want to move to the North Shore now! Oh, no,
+not now!
+
+HILDA. [_Somewhat crestfallen._] Yes, Meester Aispenhayne.
+
+BOB. [_Reflectively._] But, of course, if Mr. Lindquist builds houses,
+we might look. Yes, we might look.
+
+HILDA. [_In growing confidence and enthusiasm._] Yes, Meester
+Aispenhayne, and he build such beautiful houses and so cheap. He do so
+much heemself. Hees father was carpenter and he work hees way through
+Uneeversity of Mennesota and study architecture and then he go to
+Uneeversity of Eelenois and study landscape gardening and now he been in
+business for heemself sex years. And oh, Meeses Aispenhayne, you must
+see hees own home! You will love eet, eet ees so beautiful. A little
+house, far back from the road. You can hardly see eet for the trees and
+the shrubs, and een the summer the roses grow all around eet. Eet is
+just like the picture book!
+
+MOLLIE. [_In the most perfunctory tone, utterly without interest or
+enthusiasm._] How charming! [_Pauses thoughtfully, then turns to_ HILDA,
+_anxiously_.] Then I suppose, Hilda, if we should decide to move up to
+the North Shore you would go with us?
+
+HILDA. [_Hesitatingly._] Yes, Meeses Aispenhayne. [_Pauses._] But I
+theenk I must tell you thees spring Meester Leendquist and I aixpect to
+get married. Meester Leendquist's business ees very good. [_With a quick
+smile and a glance from one to the other._] You know, I am partner with
+heem. I put all my money een Meester Leendquist's business too.
+
+     [MOLLIE _and_ BOB _gaze at each other in complete resignation and
+     surrender_.
+
+BOB. [_Quite seriously after a long pause._] Hilda, I don't know whether
+we will move north or not, but the next time Mr. Lindquist comes here I
+want you to introduce me to him. I'd like to know him. You ought to be
+very proud of a man like that.
+
+HILDA. [_Radiant with pleasure._] Thank you, Meester Aispenhayne.
+
+MOLLIE. Yes, indeed, Hilda, Mr. Espenhayne has often said what a fine
+young man Mr. Lindquist seems to be. We want to meet him, and Mr.
+Espenhayne and I will talk about the house, and then we will speak to
+Mr. Lindquist. [_Then weakly._] Of course, we didn't expect to move
+north for a long time, but, of course, if you expect to get married, and
+Mr. Lindquist builds houses---- [_Her voice dies out. Long pause._
+
+HILDA. Thank you, Meeses Aispenhayne, I tell Mr. Leendquist.
+
+     [HILDA _stands at the table a moment longer, then slowly turns and
+     moves toward door, left_. BOB _and_ MOLLIE _watch her and as she
+     moves away from the table_ BOB _turns to_ MOLLIE. _At this moment_
+     HILDA _stops, turns suddenly and returns to the table_.
+
+HILDA. Oh, Meeses Aispenhayne, I forget one theeng!
+
+MOLLIE. What now, Hilda?
+
+HILDA. Meester Leendquist say eef you and Meester Aispenhayne want to
+look at property on North Shore, I shall let heem know and he meet you
+at station weeth hees automobile.
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+A DOLLAR
+
+BY
+
+DAVID PINSKI
+
+
+_A Dollar_ is reprinted by special permission of David Pinski and of
+B. W. Huebach, New York City, the publisher of David Pinski's _Ten
+Plays_, from which this play is taken. All rights reserved. For
+permission to perform address the publisher.
+
+
+DAVID PINSKI
+
+David Pinski, perhaps the most notable dramatist of the Yiddish Theatre,
+was born of Jewish parentage April 5, 1872, in Mohilev, on the Dnieper,
+White Russia. Because his parents had rabbinical aspirations for him he
+was well educated in Hebrew studies (Bible and Talmud) by his fourteenth
+year, when he moved to Moscow, where he was further trained in classical
+and secular studies. In 1891 he planned to study medicine in Vienna, but
+soon returned to Warsaw, where he began his literary work as a
+short-story writer. In 1896 he took up the study of philosophy and
+literature, and in 1899 wrote his first plays. In 1899 he came to New
+York City, where he is now editor of the Jewish daily, _Die Zeit_. In
+1911 he revisited Germany to see a production of his well-known comedy,
+_The Treasure_, by Max Reinhart.
+
+Mr. Pinski is zealous in his interests in literature, drama, socialism,
+and Zionism. Drama is to him an interpretation of life, and a guide and
+leader, as were the words of the old poets and prophets. "The dramatic
+technique," says he, "changes with each plot, as each plot brings with
+it its own technique. One thing, however, must be common to all the
+different forms of the dramatic technique--avoidance of tediousness."
+
+Mr. Pinski has written a goodly number of plays, most of which are on
+Yiddish themes. _Forgotten Souls_, _The Stranger_, _Sufferings_, _The
+Treasure_, _The Phonograph_, and _A Dollar_ may be mentioned. Most of
+his plays have been produced many times; _The Stranger_ played the third
+season in Moscow.
+
+"I wrote _A Dollar_," says he, "in the summer of 1913, when I was hard
+pressed financially. I relieved myself of my feelings by a hearty laugh
+at the almighty dollar and the race for it. Just as I did many summers
+before, in 1906, when I entertained myself by ridiculing the mad money
+joy in the bigger comedy, _The Treasure_."
+
+
+PERSONS
+
+The Characters are given in the order of their appearance.
+
+    THE COMEDIAN
+    THE VILLAIN
+    THE TRAGEDIAN
+    ACTOR _who plays_ "OLD MAN" _rôle_
+    THE HEROINE
+    THE INGENUE
+    ACTRESS _who plays_ "OLD WOMAN" _rôle_
+    THE STRANGER
+
+
+
+
+A DOLLAR
+
+
+     _A cross-roads at the edge of a forest. One road extends from left
+     to right; the other crosses the first diagonally, disappearing into
+     the forest. The roadside is bordered with grass. On the right, at
+     the crossing, stands a sign-post, to which are nailed two boards,
+     giving directions and distances._
+
+     _The afternoon of a summer day. A troupe of stranded strolling
+     players enters from the left. They are ragged and weary. The_
+     COMEDIAN _walks first, holding a valise in each hand, followed by
+     the_ VILLAIN _carrying over his arms two huge bundles wrapped in
+     bed-sheets. Immediately behind these the_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD
+     MAN" _carrying together a large, heavy trunk_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Stepping toward the sign-post, reading the directions on the
+boards, and explaining to the approaching fellow-actors._] That way
+[_pointing to right and swinging the valise to indicate the direction_]
+is thirty miles. This way [_pointing to left_] is forty-five--and that
+way it is thirty-six. Now choose for yourself the town that you'll never
+reach to-day. The nearest way for us is back to where we came from,
+whence we were escorted with the most splendid catcalls that ever
+crowned our histrionic successes.
+
+VILLAIN. [_Exhausted._] Who will lend me a hand to wipe off my
+perspiration? It has a nasty way of streaming into my mouth.
+
+COMEDIAN. Stand on your head, then, and let your perspiration water a
+more fruitful soil.
+
+VILLAIN. Oh!
+
+     [_He drops his arms, the bundles fall down. He then sinks down onto
+     one of them and wipes off the perspiration, moving his hand wearily
+     over his face. The_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD MAN" _approach the
+     post and read the signs_.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_In a deep, dramatic voice._] It's hopeless! It's hopeless!
+[_He lets go his end of the trunk._
+
+"OLD MAN." [_Lets go his end of the trunk._] Mm. Another stop.
+
+     [TRAGEDIAN _sits himself down on the trunk in a tragico-heroic
+     pose, knees wide apart, right elbow on right knee, left hand on
+     left leg, head slightly bent toward the right_. COMEDIAN _puts down
+     the valises and rolls a cigarette_. The "OLD MAN" _also sits down
+     upon the trunk, head sunk upon his breast_.
+
+VILLAIN. Thirty miles to the nearest town! Thirty miles!
+
+COMEDIAN. It's an outrage how far people move their towns away from us.
+
+VILLAIN. We won't strike a town until the day after to-morrow.
+
+COMEDIAN. Hurrah! That's luck for you! There's yet a day-after-to-morrow
+for us.
+
+VILLAIN. And the old women are still far behind us. Crawling!
+
+"OLD MAN." They want the vote and they can't even walk.
+
+COMEDIAN. We won't give them votes, that's settled. Down with votes for
+women!
+
+VILLAIN. It seems the devil himself can't take you! Neither your tongue
+nor your feet ever get tired. You get on my nerves. Sit down and shut up
+for a moment.
+
+COMEDIAN. _Me?_ Ha--ha! I'm going back there to the lady of my heart.
+I'll meet her and fetch her hither in my arms.
+
+     [_He spits on his hands, turns up his sleeves, and strides rapidly
+     off toward the left._
+
+VILLAIN. Clown!
+
+"OLD MAN." How can he laugh and play his pranks even now? We haven't a
+cent to our souls, our supply of food is running low and our shoes are
+dilapidated.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_With an outburst._] Stop it! No reckoning! The number of
+our sins is great and the tale of our misfortunes is even greater. Holy
+Father! Our flasks are empty; I'd give what is left of our soles
+[_displaying his ragged shoes_] for just a smell of whiskey.
+
+     [_From the left is heard the laughter of a woman. Enter the_
+     COMEDIAN _carrying in his arms the_ HEROINE, _who has her hands
+     around his neck and holds a satchel in both hands behind his back_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Letting his burden down upon the grass._] Sit down, my love,
+and rest up. We go no further to-day. Your feet, your tender little feet
+must ache you. How unhappy that makes me! At the first opportunity I
+shall buy you an automobile.
+
+HEROINE. And in the meantime you may carry me oftener.
+
+COMEDIAN. The beast of burden hears and obeys.
+
+     [_Enter the_ INGENUE _and the_ "OLD WOMAN," _each carrying a small
+     satchel_.
+
+INGENUE. [_Weary and pouting._] Ah! No one carried _me_.
+
+     [_She sits on the grass to the right of the_ HEROINE.
+
+VILLAIN. We have only one ass with us.
+
+     [COMEDIAN _stretches himself out at the feet of the_ HEROINE _and
+     emits the bray of a donkey_. "OLD WOMAN" _sits down on the grass to
+     the left of the_ HEROINE.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." And are we to pass the night here?
+
+"OLD MAN." No, we shall stop at "Hotel Neverwas."
+
+COMEDIAN. Don't you like our night's lodgings? [_Turning over toward
+the_ "OLD WOMAN."] See, the bed is broad and wide, and certainly
+without vermin. Just feel the high grass. Such a soft bed you never
+slept in. And you shall have a cover embroidered with the moon and
+stars, a cover such as no royal bride ever possessed.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." You're laughing, and I feel like crying.
+
+COMEDIAN. Crying? You should be ashamed of the sun which favors you with
+its setting splendor. Look, and be inspired!
+
+VILLAIN. Yes, look and expire.
+
+COMEDIAN. Look, and shout with ecstasy!
+
+"OLD MAN." Look, and burst!
+
+     [INGENUE _starts sobbing_. TRAGEDIAN _laughs heavily_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Turning over to the_ INGENUE.] What! You are crying? Aren't
+you ashamed of yourself?
+
+INGENUE. I'm sad.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." [_Sniffling._] I can't stand it any longer.
+
+HEROINE. Stop it! Or I'll start bawling, too.
+
+     [COMEDIAN _springs to his knees and looks quickly from one woman to
+     the other_.
+
+VILLAIN. Ha--ha! Cheer them up, clown!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Jumps up abruptly without the aid of his hands._] Ladies and
+gentlemen, I have it! [_In a measured and singing voice._] Ladies and
+gentlemen, I have it!
+
+HEROINE. What have you?
+
+COMEDIAN. Cheerfulness.
+
+VILLAIN. Go bury yourself, clown.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_As before._] Ho-ho-ho!
+
+"OLD MAN." P-o-o-h!
+
+     [_The women weep all the louder._
+
+COMEDIAN. I have--a bottle of whiskey!
+
+     [_General commotion. The women stop crying and look up to the_
+     COMEDIAN _in amazement; the_ TRAGEDIAN _straightens himself out and
+     casts a surprised look at the_ COMEDIAN; the "OLD MAN," _rubbing
+     his hands, jumps to his feet; the_ VILLAIN _looks suspiciously at
+     the_ COMEDIAN.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. A bottle of whiskey?
+
+"OLD MAN." He-he-he--A bottle of whiskey.
+
+VILLAIN. Hum--whiskey.
+
+COMEDIAN. You bet! A bottle of whiskey, hidden and preserved for such
+moments as this, a moment of masculine depression and feminine tears.
+
+     [_Taking the flask from his hip pocket. The expression on the faces
+     of all changes from hope to disappointment._
+
+VILLAIN. You call that a bottle. I call it a flask.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Explosively._] A thimble!
+
+"OLD MAN." A dropper!
+
+"OLD WOMAN." For seven of us! Oh!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Letting the flash sparkle in the sun._] But it's whiskey, my
+children. [_Opening the flask and smelling it._] U--u--u--m! That's
+whiskey for you. The saloonkeeper from whom I hooked it will become a
+teetotaler from sheer despair.
+
+     [TRAGEDIAN _rising heavily and slowly proceeding toward the flask_.
+     VILLAIN _still skeptical and rising as if unwilling. The_ "OLD MAN"
+     _chuckling and rubbing his hands. The_ "OLD WOMAN" _getting up
+     indifferently and moving apathetically toward the flask. The_
+     HEROINE _and_ INGENUE _hold each other by the hand and take ballet
+     steps in waltz time. All approach the_ COMEDIAN _with necks eagerly
+     stretched out and smell the flask, which the_ COMEDIAN _holds
+     firmly in both hands_.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. Ho--ho--ho--Fine!
+
+"OLD MAN." He--he--Small quantity, but excellent quality!
+
+VILLAIN. Seems to be good whiskey.
+
+HEROINE. [_Dancing and singing._] My comedian, my comedian. His head is
+in the right place. But why didn't you nab a larger bottle?
+
+COMEDIAN. My beloved one, I had to take in consideration both the
+quality of the whiskey and the size of my pocket.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." If only there's enough of it to go round.
+
+INGENUE. Oh, I'm feeling sad again.
+
+COMEDIAN. Cheer up, there will be enough for us all. Cheer up. Here,
+smell it again.
+
+     [_They smell again and cheerfulness reappears. They join hands and
+     dance and sing, forming a circle, the_ COMEDIAN _applauding_.
+
+COMEDIAN. Good! If you are so cheered after a mere smell of it, what
+won't you feel like after a drink. Wait, I'll join you. [_He hides the
+whiskey flask in his pocket._] I'll show you a new roundel which we will
+perform in our next presentation of Hamlet, to the great edification of
+our esteemed audience. [_Kicking the_ VILLAIN'S _bundles out of the
+way_.] The place is clear, now for dance and play. Join hands and form a
+circle, but you, Villain, stay on the outside of it. You are to try to
+get in and we dance and are not to let you in, without getting out of
+step. Understand? Now then!
+
+     [_The circle is formed in the following order_--COMEDIAN, HEROINE,
+     TRAGEDIAN, "OLD WOMAN," "OLD MAN," INGENUE.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Singing._]
+
+    To be or not to be, that is the question.
+      That is the question, that is the question.
+    He who would enter in,
+      Climb he must over us,
+    If over he cannot,
+      He must get under us.
+
+REFRAIN
+
+    Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
+      Over us, under us.
+    Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
+      Under us, over us.
+    Now we are jolly, jolly are we.
+
+     [_The_ COMEDIAN _sings the refrain alone at first and the others
+     repeat it together with him_.
+
+COMEDIAN.
+
+    To be or not to be, that is the question,
+      That is the question, that is the question.
+    In life to win success,
+      Elbow your way through,
+    Jostle the next one,
+      Else _you_ will be jostled.
+
+REFRAIN
+
+[_Same as before._]
+
+     [_On the last word of the refrain they flop as if dumbfounded, and
+     stand transfixed, with eyes directed on one spot inside of the
+     ring. The_ VILLAIN _leans over the arms of the_ COMEDIAN _and the_
+     HEROINE; _gradually the circle draws closer till their heads almost
+     touch. They attempt to free their handy but each holds on to the
+     other and all seven whisper in great astonishment._
+
+ALL. A dollar!
+
+     [_The circle opens up again, they look each at the other and shout
+     in wonder._
+
+ALL. A dollar!
+
+     [_Once more they close in and the struggle to free their hands
+     grows wilder; the_ VILLAIN _tries to climb over and then under the
+     hands into the circle and stretches out his hand toward the dollar,
+     but instinctively he is stopped by the couple he tries to pass
+     between, even when he is not seen but only felt. Again all lean
+     their heads over the dollar, quite lost in the contemplation of it,
+     and whispering, enraptured._
+
+ALL. A dollar!
+
+     [_Separating once again they look at each other with exultation and
+     at the same time try to free their hands, once more exclaiming in
+     ecstasy._
+
+ALL. A dollar!
+
+     [_Then the struggle to get free grows wilder and wilder. The hand
+     that is perchance freed is quickly grasped again by the one who
+     held it._
+
+INGENUE. [_In pain._] Oh, my hands, my hands! You'll break them. Let go
+of my hands!
+
+"OLD WOMAN." If you don't let go of my hands I'll bite.
+
+     [_Attempting to bite the hands of the_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD
+     MAN," _while they try to prevent it_.
+
+"OLD MAN." [_Trying to free his hands from the hold of the_ HEROINE _and
+the_ "OLD WOMAN."] Let go of me. [_Pulling at both his hands._] These
+women's hands that--seem so frail, just look at them now.
+
+HEROINE. [_To_ COMEDIAN.] But you let go my hands.
+
+COMEDIAN. I think it's you who are holding fast to mine.
+
+HEROINE. Why should I be holding you? If you pick up the dollar, what is
+yours is mine, you know.
+
+COMEDIAN. Then let go of my hand and I'll pick it up.
+
+HEROINE. No, I'd rather pick it up myself.
+
+COMEDIAN. I expected something like that from you.
+
+HEROINE. [_Angrily._] Let go of my hands, that's all.
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha--It's a huge joke. [_In a tone of command._] Be
+quiet. [_They become still._] We must contemplate the dollar with
+religious reverence. [_Commotion._] Keep quiet, I say! A dollar is
+spread out before us. A real dollar in the midst of our circle, and
+everything within us draws us toward it, draws us on irresistibly. Be
+quiet! Remember you are before the Ruler, before the Almighty. On your
+knees before him and pray. On your knees.
+
+     [_Sinks down on his knees and drags with him the_ HEROINE _and_
+     INGENUE. "OLD MAN" _dropping on his knees and dragging the_ "OLD
+     WOMAN" _with him_.
+
+"OLD MAN." He-he-he!
+
+TRAGEDIAN. Ho-ho-ho, clown!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_To_ TRAGEDIAN.] You are not worthy of the serious mask you
+wear. You don't appreciate true Divine Majesty. On your knees, or you'll
+get no whiskey. [TRAGEDIAN _sinks heavily on his knees_.] O holy dollar,
+O almighty ruler of the universe, before thee we kneel in the dust and
+send toward thee our most tearful and heartfelt prayers. Our hands are
+bound, but our hearts strive toward thee and our souls yearn for thee. O
+great king of kings, thou who bringest together those who are separated,
+and separatest those who are near, thou who----
+
+     [_The_ VILLAIN, _who is standing aside, takes a full jump, clears
+     the_ INGENUE _and grasps the dollar. All let go of one another and
+     fall upon him, shouting, screaming, pushing, and fighting. Finally
+     the_ VILLAIN _manages to free himself, holding the dollar in his
+     right fist. The others follow him with clenched fists, glaring
+     eyes, and foaming mouths, wildly shouting._
+
+ALL. The dollar! The dollar! The dollar! Return the dollar!
+
+VILLAIN. [_Retreating._] You can't take it away from me; it's mine. It
+was lying under my bundle.
+
+ALL. Give up the dollar! Give up the dollar!
+
+VILLAIN. [_In great rage._] No, no. [_A moment during which the opposing
+sides look at each other in hatred. Quietly but with malice._] Moreover,
+whom should I give it to? To you--you--you--you?
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha-ha! He is right, the dollar is his. He has it,
+therefore it is his. Ha-ha-ha-ha, and I wanted to crawl on my knees
+toward the dollar and pick it up with my teeth. Ha-ha-ha-ha, but he got
+ahead of me. Ha-ha-ha-ha.
+
+HEROINE. [_Whispering in rage._] That's because you would not let go of
+me.
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha-ha!
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Shaking his fist in the face of the_ VILLAIN.] Heaven and
+hell, I feel like crushing you!
+
+     [_He steps aside toward the trunk and sits down in his former
+     pose._ INGENUE, _lying down on the grass, starts to cry_.
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha! Now we will drink, and the first drink is the
+Villain's.
+
+     [_His proposition is accepted in gloom; the_ INGENUE, _however,
+     stops crying; the_ "OLD MAN" _and the_ "OLD WOMAN" _have been
+     standing by the_ VILLAIN _looking at the dollar in his hand as if
+     waiting for the proper moment to snatch it from, him. Finally the_
+     "OLD WOMAN" _makes a contemptuous gesture and both turn aside from
+     the_ VILLAIN. _The latter, left in peace, smooths out the dollar,
+     with a serious expression on his face. The_ COMEDIAN _hands him a
+     small glass of whiskey_.
+
+COMEDIAN. Drink, lucky one.
+
+     [_The_ VILLAIN, _shutting the dollar in his fist, takes the whiskey
+     glass gravely and quickly drinks the contents, returning the glass.
+     He then starts to smooth and caress the dollar again. The_
+     COMEDIAN, _still laughing, passes the whiskey glass from one to the
+     other of the company, who drink sullenly. The whiskey fails to
+     cheer them. After drinking, the_ INGENUE _begins to sob again. The_
+     HEROINE, _who is served last, throws the empty whiskey glass toward
+     the_ COMEDIAN.
+
+COMEDIAN. Good shot. Now I'll drink up all that's left in the bottle.
+
+     [_He puts the flask to his lips and drinks. The_ HEROINE _tries to
+     knock it away from him, but he skilfully evades her. The_ VILLAIN
+     _continues to smooth and caress the dollar_.
+
+VILLAIN. Ha-ha-ha!... [_Singing and dancing._
+
+    He who would enter in,
+      _Jump_ he must over us.
+
+Ho-ho-ho! O Holy Dollar! O Almighty Ruler of the World!... O King of
+Kings! Ha-ha-ha!... Don't you all think if I have the dollar and you
+have it not that I partake a bit of its majesty? That means that I am
+now a part of its majesty. That means that I am the Almighty Dollar's
+plenipotentiary, and therefore I am the Almighty Ruler himself. On your
+knees before me!... He-he-he!...
+
+COMEDIAN. [_After throwing away the empty flask, lies down on the
+grass._] Well roared, lion, but you forgot to hide your jack-ass's ears.
+
+VILLAIN. It is one's consciousness of power. He-he-he. I know and you
+know that if I have the money I have the say. Remember, none of you has
+a cent to his name. The whiskey is gone. [_Picking up the flask and
+examining it._
+
+COMEDIAN. I did my job well. Drank it to the last drop.
+
+VILLAIN. Yes, to the last drop. This evening you shall have bread and
+sausage. Very small portions, too, for to-morrow is another day.
+[INGENUE _sobbing more frequently_.] Not till the day after to-morrow
+shall we reach town, and that doesn't mean that you get anything to eat
+there, either, but I--I--I--he-he-he. O Holy Dollar, Almighty Dollar!
+[_Gravely._] He who does my bidding shall not be without food.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_With wide-open eyes._] What? Ha-ha-ha!
+
+     [INGENUE _gets up and throws herself on the_ VILLAIN'S _bosom_.
+
+INGENUE. Oh, my dear beloved one.
+
+VILLAIN. Ha-ha, my power already makes itself felt.
+
+HEROINE. [_Pushing the_ INGENUE _away_.] Let go of him, you. He sought
+my love for a long time and now he shall have it.
+
+COMEDIAN. What? You!
+
+HEROINE. [_To_ COMEDIAN.] I hate you, traitor. [_To the_ VILLAIN.] I
+have always loved--genius. You are now the wisest of the wise. I adore
+you.
+
+VILLAIN. [_Holding_ INGENUE _in one arm_.] Come into my other arm.
+
+     [HEROINE, _throwing herself into his arms, kissing and embracing
+     him_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Half rising on his knees._] Stop, I protest. [_Throwing
+himself on the grass._] "O frailty, thy name is woman."
+
+"OLD WOMAN." [_Approaching the_ VILLAIN _from behind and embracing
+him_.] Find a little spot on your bosom for me. I play the "Old Woman,"
+but you know I'm not really old.
+
+VILLAIN. Now I have all of power and all of love.
+
+COMEDIAN. Don't call it love. Call it servility.
+
+VILLAIN. [_Freeing himself from the women._] But now I have something
+more important to carry out. My vassals--I mean you all--I have decided
+we will not stay here over night. We will proceed further.
+
+WOMEN. How so?
+
+VILLAIN. We go forward to-night.
+
+COMEDIAN. You have so decided?
+
+VILLAIN. I have so decided, and that in itself should be enough for you;
+but due to an old habit I shall explain to you why I have so decided.
+
+COMEDIAN. Keep your explanation to yourself and better not disturb my
+contemplation of the sunset.
+
+VILLAIN. I'll put you down on the blacklist. It will go ill with you for
+your speeches against me. Now, then, _without_ an explanation, we will
+go--and at once. [_Nobody stirs._] Very well, then, I go alone.
+
+WOMEN. No, no.
+
+VILLAIN. What do you mean?
+
+INGENUE. I go with you.
+
+HEROINE. And I.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." And I.
+
+VILLAIN. Your loyalty gratifies me very much.
+
+"OLD MAN." [_Who is sitting apathetically upon the trunk._] What the
+deuce is urging you to go?
+
+VILLAIN. I wanted to explain to you, but now no more. I owe you no
+explanations. I have decided--I wish to go, and that is sufficient.
+
+COMEDIAN. He plays his comedy wonderfully. Would you ever have suspected
+that there was so much wit in his cabbage head?
+
+WOMEN. [_Making love to the_ VILLAIN.] Oh, you darling.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Majestically._] I wouldn't give him even a single glance.
+
+VILLAIN. Still another on the blacklist. I'll tell you this much--I have
+decided----
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha! How long will you keep this up?
+
+VILLAIN. We start at once, but if I am to pay for your food I will not
+carry any baggage. You shall divide my bundles among you and of course
+those who are on the blacklist will get the heaviest share. You heard
+me. Now move on. I'm going now. We will proceed to the nearest town,
+which is thirty miles away. Now, then, I am off.
+
+COMEDIAN. Bon voyage.
+
+VILLAIN. And with me fares His Majesty the Dollar and your meals for
+to-morrow.
+
+WOMEN. We are coming, we are coming.
+
+"OLD MAN." I'll go along.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_To the_ VILLAIN.] You're a scoundrel and a mean fellow.
+
+VILLAIN. I am no fellow of yours. I am master and bread-giver.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. I'll crush you in a moment.
+
+VILLAIN. What? You threaten me! Let's go.
+
+     [_Turns to right. The women take their satchels and follow him._
+
+"OLD MAN." [_To the_ TRAGEDIAN.] Get up and take the trunk. We will
+settle the score with him some other time. It is he who has the dollar
+now.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Rising and shaking his fist._] I'll get him yet.
+
+     [_He takes his side of the trunk._
+
+VILLAIN. [_To_ TRAGEDIAN.] First put one of my bundles on your back.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_In rage._] One of your bundles on my back?
+
+VILLAIN. Oh, for all I care you can put it on your head, or between your
+teeth.
+
+"OLD MAN." We will put the bundle on the trunk.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Sitting up._] Look here, are you joking or are you in
+earnest?
+
+VILLAIN. [_Contemptuously._] I never joke.
+
+COMEDIAN. Then you are in earnest?
+
+VILLAIN. I'll make no explanations.
+
+COMEDIAN. Do you really think that because you have the dollar----
+
+VILLAIN. The holy dollar, the almighty dollar, the king of kings.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Continuing._] That therefore you are the master----
+
+VILLAIN. Bread-giver and provider.
+
+COMEDIAN. And that we must----
+
+VILLAIN. Do what I bid you to.
+
+COMEDIAN. So you are in earnest?
+
+VILLAIN. You must get up, take the baggage and follow me.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Rising._] Then I declare a revolution.
+
+VILLAIN. What? A revolution!
+
+COMEDIAN. A bloody one, if need be.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Dropping his end of the trunk and advancing with a
+bellicose attitude toward the_ VILLAIN.] And I shall be the first to let
+your blood, you scoundrel.
+
+VILLAIN. If that's the case I have nothing to say to you. Those who
+wish, come along.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Getting in his way._] No, you shall not go until you give up
+the dollar.
+
+VILLAIN. Ha-ha. It is to laugh!
+
+COMEDIAN. The dollar, please, or----
+
+VILLAIN. He-he-he!
+
+COMEDIAN. Then let there be blood. [_Turns up his sleeves._
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Taking off his coat._] Ah! Blood, blood!
+
+"OLD MAN." [_Dropping his end of the trunk._] I'm not going to keep out
+of a fight.
+
+WOMEN. [_Dropping his satchels._] Nor we. Nor we.
+
+VILLAIN. [_Shouting._] To whom shall I give up the dollar?
+You--you--you--you?
+
+COMEDIAN. This argument will not work any more. You are to give the
+dollar up to all of us. At the first opportunity we'll get change and
+divide it into equal parts.
+
+WOMEN. Hurrah, hurrah! Divide it, divide it!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_To_ VILLAIN.] And I will even be so good as to give you a
+share.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. I'd rather give him a sound thrashing.
+
+COMEDIAN. It shall be as I say. Give up the dollar.
+
+HEROINE. [_Throwing herself on the_ COMEDIAN'S _breast_.] My comedian!
+My comedian!
+
+INGENUE. [_To the_ VILLAIN.] I'm sick of you. Give up the dollar.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Pushing the_ HEROINE _aside_.] You better step aside or else
+you may get the punch I aim at the master and bread-giver. [_To the_
+VILLAIN.] Come up with the dollar!
+
+TRAGEDIAN. Give up the dollar to him, do you hear?
+
+ALL. The dollar, the dollar!
+
+VILLAIN. I'll tear it to pieces.
+
+COMEDIAN. Then we shall tear out what little hair you have left on your
+head. The dollar, quick!
+
+     [_They surround the_ VILLAIN; _the women pull his hair; the_
+     TRAGEDIAN _grabs him by the collar and shakes him; the_ "OLD MAN"
+     _strikes him on his bald pate; the_ COMEDIAN _struggles with him
+     and finally grasps the dollar_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Holding up the dollar._] I have it!
+
+     [_The women dance and sing._
+
+VILLAIN. Bandits! Thieves!
+
+TRAGEDIAN. Silence, or I'll shut your mouth.
+
+     [_Goes back to the trunk and assumes his heroic pose._
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Putting the dollar into his pocket._] That's what I call a
+successful and a bloodless revolution, except for a little fright and
+heart palpitation on the part of the late master and bread-giver.
+Listen, some one is coming. Perhaps he'll be able to change the dollar
+and then we can divide it at once.
+
+"OLD MAN." I am puzzled how we can change it into equal parts.
+
+     [_Starts to calculate with the_ INGENUE _and the_ "OLD WOMAN."
+
+HEROINE. [_Tenderly attentive to the_ COMEDIAN.] You are angry with me,
+but I was only playing with him so as to wheedle the dollar out of him.
+
+COMEDIAN. And now you want to trick me out of my share of it.
+
+"OLD MAN." It is impossible to divide it into equal parts. It is
+absolutely impossible. If it were ninety-eight cents or one hundred and
+five cents or----
+
+     [_The_ STRANGER _enters from the right, perceives the company,
+     greets it, and continues his way to left_. COMEDIAN _stops him_.
+
+COMEDIAN. I beg your pardon, sir; perhaps you have change of a dollar in
+dimes, nickels, and pennies.
+
+     [_Showing the dollar. The_ "OLD MAN" _and women step forward_.
+
+STRANGER. [_Getting slightly nervous, starts somewhat, makes a quick
+movement for his pistol-pocket, looks at the_ COMEDIAN _and the others
+and says slowly_.] Change of a dollar? [_Moving from the circle to
+left._] I believe I have.
+
+WOMEN. Hurrah!
+
+STRANGER. [_Turns so that no one is behind him and pulls his revolver._]
+Hands up!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_In a gentle tone of voice._] My dear sir, we are altogether
+peaceful folk.
+
+STRANGER. [_Takes the dollar from the_ COMEDIAN'S _hand and walks
+backwards to left with the pistol pointed at the group_.] Good-night,
+everybody.
+
+     [_He disappears, the actors remain dumb with fear, with their hands
+     up, mouths wide open, and staring into space._
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Finally breaks out into thunderous laughter._]
+Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE DIABOLICAL CIRCLE
+
+BY
+
+BEULAH BORNSTEAD
+
+
+
+_The Diabolical Circle_ is reprinted by special permission of Professor
+Franz Rickaby, in whose course in dramatic composition (English 36) in
+the University of North Dakota this play was written. For permission to
+perform, address Professor Franz Rickaby, University of North Dakota,
+University, North Dakota.
+
+
+BEULAH BORNSTEAD
+
+Beulah Bornstead, one of the promising young playwrights of the
+Northwest, was born in Grand Forks, North Dakota, May 5, 1896. She has
+had her academic training at the University of North Dakota, from which
+she received her B.A. in 1921. At present Miss Bornstead is principal of
+the Cavalier High School, North Dakota. Before attempting drama she
+tried her hand at journalism and at short-story writing.
+
+Miss Bornstead was introduced into playwriting by Professor Franz
+Rickaby, in whose course in dramatic composition at the University of
+North Dakota _The Diabolical Circle_ was written. In speaking of this
+play Miss Bornstead writes: "_The Diabolical Circle_ is the first play I
+have ever written. I never enjoyed doing anything so much in my life.
+The characters were so real to me that if I had bumped into one going
+round the corner I should not have been surprised in the least. BETTY
+and CHARLES and ADONIJAH and even COTTON MATHER himself worked that play
+out. All the humble author did was to set it down on paper." _The
+Diabolical Circle_ was produced May 5, 1921, by the Dakota Playmakers in
+their Little Theatre at the University of North Dakota.
+
+_The Diabolical Circle_ is one of the best contemporary plays dealing
+with American historical material. Its characterization is one of its
+noteworthy elements.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    COTTON MATHER
+    BETTY, _his daughter_
+    ADONIJAH WIGGLESWORTH, _a suitor, and_ COTTON'S _choice_
+    CHARLES MANNING, _likewise a suitor, but_ BETTY'S _choice_
+    THE CLOCK
+
+
+
+
+THE DIABOLICAL CIRCLE
+
+
+     SCENE: _The living-room in the Mather home in Boston._
+
+     TIME: _About 1700, an evening in early autumn._
+
+     _The stage represents the living-room of the Mather home. A large
+     colonial fireplace is seen down-stage left, within which stand huge
+     brass andirons. To one side hangs the bellows, with the tongs near
+     by, while above, underneath the mantelpiece, is suspended an old
+     flint-lock rifle. On both ends of the mantel are brass
+     candlesticks, and hanging directly above is an old-fashioned
+     portrait of Betty's mother. There are two doors, one leading into
+     the hall at centre left, the other, communicating with the rest of
+     the house, up-stage right. A straight high-backed settee is
+     down-stage right, while in the centre back towers an old
+     grandfather's clock.[K] To the left of the clock is the window,
+     cross-barred and draped with flowered chintz. An old-fashioned
+     table occupies the corner between the window and the hall door.
+     Here and there are various straight-backed chairs of Dutch origin.
+     Rag rugs cover the floor._
+
+     _As the curtain rises_ COTTON MATHER _is seated in a large armchair
+     by the fire, with_ BETTY _on a stool at his feet, with her
+     knitting_.
+
+     COTTON, _his hair already touched with the whitening frost of many
+     a severe New England winter, is grave and sedate. Very much
+     exercised with the perils of this life, and serenely contemplative
+     of the life to come, he takes himself and the world about him very
+     seriously._
+
+     _Not so with_ MISTRESS BETTY. _Outwardly demure, yet inwardly
+     rebellious against the straitened conventions of the times, she
+     dimples over with roguish merriment upon the slightest
+     provocation._
+
+     _As we first see them_ COTTON _is giving_ BETTY _some timely
+     advice_.
+
+COTTON. But you must understand that marriage, my daughter, is a most
+reverend and serious matter which should be approached in a manner
+fittingly considerate of its grave responsibility.
+
+BETTY. [_Thoughtfully._] Truly reverend and most serious, father
+[_looking up roguishly_], but I like not so much of the grave about it.
+
+COTTON. [_Continuing._] I fear thou lookest upon the matter too lightly.
+It is not seemly to treat such a momentous occasion thus flippantly.
+
+BETTY. [_Protesting._] Nay, father, why consider it at all? Marriage is
+yet a great way off. Mayhap I shall never leave thee.
+
+COTTON. Thou little thinkest that I may be suddenly called on to leave
+_thee_. The Good Word cautions us to boast not ourselves of the morrow,
+for we know not what a day may bring forth.
+
+BETTY. [_Dropping her knitting._] Father, thou art not feeling well.
+Perhaps----
+
+COTTON. Nay, child, be not alarmed. 'Tis but a most necessary lesson to
+be learned and laid up in the heart. I will not always be with thee and
+I would like to be comfortably assured of thy future welfare before I
+go.
+
+BETTY. [_Picking her knitting up._] Be comfortably assured, then, I
+prithee; I have no fears.
+
+COTTON. [_Bringing his arm down forcibly on the arm of the chair._] Aye!
+There it is. Thou hast no fears. Would that thou had'st some! [_Looks up
+at the portrait._] Had thy prudent and virtuous mother only lived to
+point the way, I might be spared this anxiety; but, beset by diverse
+difficulties in establishing the kingdom of God in this country, and
+sorely harassed by many hardships and by evil men, I fear me I have not
+propounded to thee much that I ought.
+
+BETTY. In what then is mine education lacking? Have I not all that is
+fitting and proper for a maiden to know?
+
+COTTON. [_Perplexed._] I know not. I have done my best, but thou hast
+not the proper attitude of mind befitting a maiden about to enter the
+married estate.
+
+BETTY. [_Protesting._] Nay, but I am not about to enter the married
+estate.
+
+COTTON. It is time.
+
+BETTY. [_Mockingly pleading._] Entreat me not to leave thee, father, nor
+forsake thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and whither----
+
+COTTON. [_Interrupting sternly._] Betty! It ill befitteth a daughter of
+mine to quote the Scriptures with such seeming irreverence.--I would not
+be parted from thee, yet I would that thou wert promised to some godly
+and upright soul that would guide thee yet more surely in the paths of
+righteousness. There be many such.
+
+BETTY. Yea, too many.
+
+COTTON. What meanest thou?
+
+BETTY. One were one too many when I would have none.
+
+COTTON. [_Shaking his head._] Ah. Betty, Betty! When wilt thou be
+serious? There is a goodly youth among the friends surrounding thee whom
+I have often marked, both on account of his godly demeanor and simple
+wisdom.
+
+BETTY. [_Nodding._] Yea, simple.
+
+COTTON. I speak of Adonijah Wigglesworth, a most estimable young
+gentleman, an acquaintance whom thou would'st do well to cultivate.
+
+BETTY. Yea, cultivate.
+
+COTTON. What thinkest thou?
+
+BETTY. A sod too dense for any ploughshare. My wit would break in the
+turning.
+
+COTTON. His is a strong nature, born to drive and not be driven. There
+is not such another, nay, not in the whole of Boston.
+
+BETTY. Nay. I have lately heard there be many such!
+
+COTTON. [_Testily._] Mayhap thou wouldst name a few.
+
+BETTY. [_Musingly, holds up her left hand with fingers outspread._] Aye,
+that I can. [_Checks off one on the little finger._] There be Marcus
+Ainslee----
+
+COTTON. A goodly youth that hath an eye for books.
+
+BETTY. One eye, sayest thou? Nay, four; and since I am neither morocco
+bound nor edged with gilt, let us consign him to the shelf wherein he
+findeth fullest compensation.
+
+COTTON. How now? A man of action, then, should appeal to thy brash
+tastes. What sayest thou to Jeremiah Wadsworth?
+
+BETTY. Too brash and rash for me [_checking off that candidate on the
+next finger_], and I'll have none of him. There's Percy Wayne.
+
+COTTON. Of the bluest blood in Boston.
+
+BETTY. Yet that be not everything [_checks off another finger_]--and
+Jonas Appleby----
+
+COTTON. He hath an eye to worldly goods----
+
+BETTY. [_Quickly._] Especially the larder. To marry him would be an
+everlasting round between the tankard and the kettle. [_Checks him
+off._] Nay, let me look yet farther--James Endicott. [_Checking._]
+
+COTTON. Aye, there might be a lad for thee; birth, breeding, a
+well-favored countenance, and most agreeable.
+
+BETTY. Yea, most agreeable--unto himself. 'Twere a pity to disturb such
+unanimity. Therefore, let us pass on. Take Charles Manning, an you
+please----
+
+COTTON. It pleaseth me not! I know the ilk; his father before him a
+devoted servant of the devil and King Charles. With others of his kind
+he hath brought dissension among the young men of Harvard, many of whom
+are dedicated to the service of the Lord, with his wicked apparel and
+ungodly fashion of wearing long hair after the manner of Russians and
+barbarous Indians. Many there be with him brought up in such pride as
+doth in no ways become the service of the Lord. The devil himself hath
+laid hold on our young men, so that they do evaporate senseless,
+useless, noisy impertinency wherever they may be; and now it has e'en
+got out in the pulpits of the land, to the great grief and fear of many
+godly hearts.
+
+     [_He starts to his feet and paces the floor._
+
+BETTY. [_Standing upright._] But Charles----
+
+COTTON. [_Interrupting._] Mention not that scapegrace in my hearing.
+
+BETTY. [_Still persisting._] But, father, truly thou knowest not----
+
+COTTON. [_Almost savagely, while_ BETTY _retreats to a safe distance_.]
+Name him not. I will not have it. Compared with Adonijah he is a reed
+shaken in the winds, whereas Adonijah resembleth a tree planted by the
+river of waters.
+
+BETTY. [_Who has been looking out of the window._] Converse of the devil
+and thou wilt behold his horns. Even now he approacheth the knocker.
+
+     [_The knocker sounds._
+
+COTTON. [_Sternly._] Betake thyself to thine own chamber with thine
+unseemly tongue, which so ill befitteth a maid.
+
+     [BETTY _is very demure, with head slightly bent and downcast eyes;
+     but the moment_ COTTON _turns she glances roguishly after his
+     retreating form; then while her glance revolves about the room, she
+     starts slightly as her gaze falls upon the clock. A smile of
+     mischievous delight flits over her countenance as she tiptoes in_
+     COTTON'S _wake until the clock is reached_. COTTON, _unsuspecting,
+     meanwhile, proceeds to do his duty as host, with never a backward
+     glance. While he is out in the hall_ BETTY, _with a lingering smile
+     of triumph, climbs into the clock and cautiously peeks forth as her
+     father opens the door and ushers in_ ADONIJAH, _whereupon the door
+     softly closes_.
+
+ADONIJAH. Good-morrow, reverend sir.
+
+COTTON. Enter, and doubly welcome.
+
+ADONIJAH. I would inquire whether thy daughter Betty is within.
+
+COTTON. We were but speaking of thee as thy knock sounded. Betty will be
+here presently; she hath but retired for the moment. Remove thy wraps
+and make thyself in comfort.
+
+     [ADONIJAH _is a lean, lank, lantern-jawed individual, clad in the
+     conventional sober gray of the Puritan, with high-crowned hat, and
+     a fur tippet wound about his neck up to his ears. He removes the
+     hat and tippet and hands them to_ COTTON, _who carefully places
+     them upon the table; meanwhile_ ADONIJAH _looks appraisingly about
+     him and judiciously selects the armchair by the fire. He pauses a
+     moment to rub his hands before the blaze, and then gingerly relaxes
+     into the depths of the armchair, as though fearful his comfort
+     would give way ere fully attained._ COTTON _places a chair on the
+     other side of_ ADONIJAH _and is seated_.
+
+COTTON. And how is it with thee since I have seen thee last?
+
+ADONIJAH. My business prospereth [_mournfully_], but not so finely as it
+might well do.
+
+     [_The clock strikes four, but is unnoticed by the two men._
+
+COTTON. Thou hast suffered some great loss?
+
+ADONIJAH. But yes--and no--this matter of lending money hath many and
+grievous complications, not the least of which is the duplicity of the
+borrower. I but insist on the thirty pounds to the hundred as my due
+recompense, and when I demand it they respond not, but let my kindness
+lie under the clods of ingratitude. [_Straightening up, and speaking
+with conviction._] They shall come before the council. I will have what
+is mine own.
+
+COTTON. [_Righteously._] And it is not unbecoming of thee to demand it.
+I wist not what the present generation is coming to.
+
+ADONIJAH. They have no sense of the value of money. They know not how to
+demean themselves properly in due proportion to their worldly goods, as
+the Lord hath prospered them. There be many that have nothing and do
+hold their heads above us that be worthy of our possessions.
+
+COTTON. The wicked stand in slippery places. It will not always be thus.
+Judgment shall come upon them.
+
+ADONIJAH. Aye, let them fall. I for one have upheld them too far. They
+squander their means in riotous living, and walk not in the ways of
+their fathers.
+
+COTTON. There be many such--many such--but thou, my lad, thou art not
+one of the multitude. As I have often observed to my Betty, thou
+standest out as a most upright and God-fearing young man.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Brimming over with self-satisfaction._] That have I ever
+sought to be.
+
+COTTON. An example that others would do well to imitate.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_All puffed up._] Nay, others value it not. They be envious
+of my good fortune.
+
+COTTON. A most prudent young man! Nay, be not so over-blushingly timid.
+Thou'rt too modest.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_His face falling._] But Betty--doth she regard me thus?
+
+COTTON. The ways of a maid are past finding out; but despair not. I
+think she hath thee much to heart, but, as the perverse heart of woman
+dictateth, behaveth much to the contrary.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Brightening up as one with new hopes._] Thou thinkest----
+
+COTTON. [_Interrupting._] Nay, lad, I am sure of it. Betty was ever a
+dutiful daughter.
+
+     [_All unseen_, BETTY _peeks out mischievously_.
+
+ADONIJAH. But I mistrust me her heart is elsewhere.
+
+COTTON. Thou referr'st to young Manning without doubt. It can never be.
+'Tis but a passing fancy.
+
+ADONIJAH. Nay, but I fear Charles thinketh not so. I have been told in
+secret [_leaning forward confidentially_] by one that hath every
+opportunity to know, that he hath enjoined Goodman Shrewsbury to send
+for--[_impressively_] a ring!
+
+COTTON. [_Angered._] A ring, sayest thou?
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Nodding._] Aye, even so.
+
+COTTON. But he hath not signified such intention here to me.
+
+ADONIJAH. Then there are no grounds for his rash presumption?
+
+COTTON. Humph! Grounds! For a ring! Aye, there'll be no diabolical
+circle here for the devil to daunce in. I will question Betty thereon.
+[_Rises._] Do thou remain here and I will send her to thee. Oh, that he
+should offer daughter of mine a ring!
+
+     [COTTON _leaves the room_. ADONIJAH _leans back in his chair in
+     supreme contentment at the turn affairs have taken. The clamorous
+     knocker arouses him from his reverie. He gazes stupidly around. The
+     continued imperious tattoo on the knocker finally brings him to his
+     feet. He goes into the hall and opens the door. His voice is
+     heard._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Frostily._] Good-afternoon, Sir Charles, mine host is
+absent.
+
+CHARLES. [_Stepping in._] My mission has rather to do with Mistress
+Betty. Is she in?
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Closing the hall door, and turning to_ CHARLES, _replies in
+grandiose hauteur_.] Mistress Betty is otherwise engaged, I would have
+thee know.
+
+CHARLES. Engaged? [_Bowing._] Your humble servant, I trust, hath the
+supreme pleasure of that engagement.
+
+     [_He glances inquiringly about the room, and places the hat on the
+     table beside that of_ ADONIJAH. _The two hats are as different as
+     the two men_: ADONIJAH'S _prim, Puritanic, severe_; CHARLES'S
+     _three-cornered, with a flowing plume_.
+
+     [CHARLES _is a handsome chap of goodly proportions, with a
+     straightforward air and a pleasant smile. He is dressed more after
+     the fashion of the cavaliers of Virginia, and wears a long wig with
+     flowing curls. The two men size each other up._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Meaningly._] Her father will shortly arrive.
+
+CHARLES. [_Impatiently striding forth._] Devil take her father. 'Tis
+Mistress Betty I would see. Where is she?
+
+     [CHARLES _continues pacing the floor_. ADONIJAH, _shocked beyond
+     measure, turns his back on the offending_ CHARLES, _and with folded
+     arms and bowed head stands aside in profound meditation. The clock
+     door slowly opens and_ BETTY _cautiously peeks out_. CHARLES _stops
+     short and is about to begin a decided demonstration, when_ BETTY,
+     _with a warning glance toward_ ADONIJAH, _checks him with upraised
+     hand. The clock door closes and_ CHARLES _subsides into the
+     armchair with a comprehending grin of delight_. ADONIJAH _slowly
+     turns and faces_ CHARLES _with a melancholy air_.
+
+CHARLES. Prithee, why so sad?
+
+     [_The grin becomes a chuckle._
+
+
+ADONIJAH. I do discern no cause for such unrighteous merriment.
+
+CHARLES. 'Tis none the less for all of that. I take life as I find it,
+and for that matter so do they all, even thou. The difference be in the
+finding. [_Whistles._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Uneasily._] It is time her father did arrive.
+
+CHARLES. Where then hath he been?
+
+ADONIJAH. He but went in search of Betty.
+
+CHARLES. Ah, then we'll wait.
+
+     [_He whistles, while_ ADONIJAH _moves uneasily about the room,
+     glancing every now and then at this disturbing element of his
+     peace, as if he would send him to kingdom come, if he only could_.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_After considerable toleration._] Waiting may avail thee
+naught.
+
+CHARLES. And thee? Nevertheless we'll wait. [_Whistles._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Takes another turn or two and fetches up a counterfeit
+sigh._] Methinks, her father's quest be fruitless.
+
+CHARLES. [_Starting up._] Ah, then, let us go.
+
+     [ADONIJAH., _visibly relieved, sits down in the chair opposite_.
+
+CHARLES. [_Amused._] Nay? [_Sits down and relaxes._] Ah, then, we'll
+wait. [_Whistles._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Troubled._] 'Tis certain Mistress Betty be not here.
+
+CHARLES. Nay, if she be not here, then I am neither here nor there. I
+would wager ten pounds to a farthing she be revealed in time if she but
+will it. Wilt take me up?
+
+ADONIJAH. It be not seemly so to stake thy fortune on a woman's whim.
+
+CHARLES. [_Laughs._] Thou'rt right on it. If she will, say I, for if she
+will she won't, and if she won't she will.
+
+ADONIJAH. False jargon! A woman has no will but e'en her father's as a
+maid, her husband's later still.
+
+     [_Enter_ COTTON, _who stops short on seeing_ CHARLES, _rallies
+     quickly, and proceeds_.
+
+COTTON. [_Stiffly._] Good-day to you, sir.
+
+CHARLES. [_Bowing; he has risen._] And to you, sire.
+
+COTTON. [_To_ ADONIJAH.] I am deeply grieved to report that Mistress
+Betty is not to be found.
+
+     [ADONIJAH. _steals a sly look of triumph at_ CHARLES.
+
+CHARLES. [_In mock solemnity._] I prithee present my deep regrets to
+Mistress Betty. I will call again.
+
+COTTON. God speed thee! [_And as_ CHARLES _takes his leave_ COTTON
+_places his hand affectionately upon_ ADONIJAH'S _shoulder, saying
+reassuringly_.] Come again, my son; Betty may not be afar off. I fain
+would have her soon persuaded of thy worth. Improve thy time.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Beaming._] Good morrow, sir; I will.
+
+     [_As the door closes behind them_ COTTON _slowly walks toward the
+     fire, where he stands in complete revery. Still absorbed in thought
+     he walks slowly out the door at the right._ BETTY _peeks cautiously
+     out, but hearing footsteps quickly withdraws_. COTTON _re-enters
+     with hat on. He is talking to himself, reflectively._
+
+COTTON. Where can she be? Mayhap at Neighbor Ainslee's.
+
+     [_He goes hurriedly out through the hall door. The banging of the
+     outside door is heard. The clock door once more slowly opens and_
+     BETTY _peers forth, listening. The sound of a door opening causes
+     her to draw back. As the noise is further emphasized by approaching
+     footsteps, she pulls the clock door quickly to._ CHARLES _enters.
+     He looks inquiringly about, tosses his hat on the table, and goes
+     for the clock. He opens it with a gay laugh._ BETTY _steps forth
+     out of the clock, very much assisted by_ CHARLES.
+
+CHARLES. Blessed relief! Thou art in very truth, then, flesh and blood?
+
+BETTY. And what else should I be, forsooth?
+
+CHARLES. [_Laughing._] I marked thee for a mummy there entombed.
+
+BETTY. [_Disengaging her hand._] What? Darest thou?
+
+CHARLES. A lively mummy now thou art come to, whilst I [_sighs_]--I
+waited through the ages!
+
+BETTY. [_Laughingly._] A veritable monument of patient grief.
+
+CHARLES. And Adonijah----
+
+BETTY. Yea, verily, old Father Time but come to life. [_Mimics._] Thy
+waiting may avail thee naught.
+
+CHARLES. In truth, it may avail me naught; thy father may be back at any
+time, while I have much to say, sweet Betty----
+
+BETTY. [_Interrupting._] Nay, sweet Betty call me not.
+
+CHARLES. Dear Betty, then, the dearest----
+
+BETTY. [_Quickly._] Yea, call me dearest mummy, Hottentot, or what you
+will, just so it be not _sweet_, like Adonijah. It sickens me beyond
+expressing.
+
+CHARLES. Then, _sweet_ Betty thou art _not_, say rather sour Betty,
+cross Betty, mean Betty, bad Betty, mad Betty, sad Betty.
+
+BETTY. [_Suddenly dimpling._] Nay, glad Betty!
+
+CHARLES. Art then so glad? Wilt tell me why? In sooth, I know not
+whither to be glad, or sad, or mad. Sometimes I am but one, sometimes I
+am all three.
+
+BETTY. Wilt tell me why?
+
+CHARLES. [_Stepping closer and imprisoning her left hand._] Thou wilt
+not now escape it, for I will tell thee why, and mayhap this will aid
+me. [_Slips ring, which he has had concealed in his pocket, on her
+finger._] Hath this no meaning for thee?
+
+BETTY. [_Her eyes sparkling with mischief._] Aye, 'tis a diabolical
+circle for the devil to daunce in!
+
+CHARLES. [_In astonishment._] A what?
+
+BETTY. [_Slowly._] A diabolical circle for the devil to daunce in--so
+father saith. Likewise Adonijah.
+
+CHARLES. [_Weakly endeavoring to comprehend._] A diabolical circle--but
+what!--say it again, Betty.
+
+BETTY. [_Repeats slowly, emphasizing it with pointed finger._] A
+diabolical circle for the devil to daunce in.
+
+CHARLES. [_Throws back his head and laughs._] May I be the devil!
+
+BETTY. [_Shaking her finger at him._] Then daunce!
+
+     [_They take position, as though for a minuet. The knocker sounds._
+     BETTY _runs to the window_.
+
+BETTY. Aye, there's ADONIJAH at the knocker. Into the clock--hie
+thee--quick, quick!
+
+CHARLES. [_Reproachfully._] And would'st thou incarcerate me through the
+ages? [_Turns to the clock._] O timely sarcophagus!
+
+     [CHARLES _is smuggled into the clock, and_ BETTY _has barely enough
+     time to make a dash for the hat and conceal it behind her before
+     the door opens and in stalks_ ADONIJAH. _He looks about
+     suspiciously._ BETTY _faces him with the hat held behind her. He
+     removes his hat and tippet and lays them on the table._
+
+ADONIJAH. Methought I heard a sound of many feet.
+
+BETTY. [_Looking down._] Two feet have I; no more, no less.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Dryly._] Aye, two be quite sufficient.
+
+BETTY. An thou sayest the word, they yet can beat as loud a retreat as
+an whole regiment.
+
+ADONIJAH. Thou dost my meaning misconstrue.
+
+BETTY. Construe it then, I prithee.
+
+ADONIJAH. I came not here to vex----
+
+BETTY. Then get thee hence. [_He steps forward._ BETTY _steps back_.]
+But not behind me, Satan.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Coming closer._] And yet thou driv'st me to it.
+
+BETTY. [_Backing off._] Indeed, thou hast a nature born to _drive_ and
+not be driven.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Highly complimented._] So be it, yet I scarce had hoped that
+thou would'st notice. [_Advancing._] Born to drive, thou sayest, not be
+driven.
+
+BETTY. [_Retreating._] Thou hast said it, born to _drive_. But what to
+drive I have not said. That knowledge hath my father yet concealed.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Eagerly._] Thy father, then, hath told thee----
+
+BETTY. [_Who is retreating steadily across the room._] Thou wert born to
+_drive_!
+
+     [_Strikes settee and goes down on the hat._ ADONIJAH _seats himself
+     beside_ BETTY. BETTY _is of necessity forced to remain--on the
+     hat_. ADONIJAH _slides arm along the back of the settee. The clock
+     door strikes erratically. He jerks his arm back and gazes in the
+     direction of the clock. The clock hands wigwag._ ADONIJAH _stares
+     abstractedly and passes his hand over his forehead in a dazed
+     manner_.
+
+BETTY. [_Solicitously._] What aileth thee?
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Still staring._] The time!
+
+BETTY. [_Stifles a yawn._] It doth grow late.
+
+ADONIJAH. But not consistently; it changeth.
+
+BETTY. 'Twas ever so with time.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Reminiscently._] Of a certainty they moved.
+
+BETTY. Yea, verily, 'tis not uncommon.
+
+ADONIJAH. But backwards!
+
+BETTY. [_Joyfully._] Why, then, my prayers are answered. How often I
+have prayed them thus to move! Yet hath it never come to pass.
+
+ADONIJAH. Nay, had'st thou seen----
+
+BETTY. Prithee calm thyself. Thou'rt ill.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Steals his arm along the back of the settee and moves over
+closer._] Sweet Betty! [BETTY _looks away with a wry face_.] Thy
+indifference in no wise blinds me to thy conception of my true value.
+[BETTY _sits up, round-eyed_.] There was a time when I despaired--[_The
+clock again strikes wildly. The hands drop and rise as before._ ADONIJAH
+_excitedly points at the clock_.] Again! Did'st mark it? Something doth
+ail the clock!
+
+BETTY. Yea, truly thou art ill. The clock behaveth much more to the
+point than thou.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Tearing his gaze from the clock._] As I was on the point of
+saying--[_glances at the clock_] thy father hath given--[_another
+glance_] me to understand--[_with eye on the clock he hitches up
+closer_] that thou art not averse to mine affections----
+
+     [_As he attempts to put his arm around_ BETTY _the clock strikes a
+     tattoo and startles him excitedly to his feet, as the hands travel
+     all the way round_.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Pointing._] Now look! Mark the time!
+
+     [COTTON _enters_.
+
+COTTON. Tarry yet awhile, my son, the time doth not prevent thee.
+
+ADONIJAH. Tarry? Time doth not prevent? Little knowest thou! [_Gazes
+abstractedly about. Sights the ring on_ BETTY'S _finger, who in
+excitement has forgotten to keep her hands behind her back_.] Aye, there
+it is, the diabolical circle. It is a charm. It harms her not, while all
+about me is askew. Whence came she here? [_Points at_ BETTY.] She
+neither came nor went, and yet she was not there and now she is. A manly
+form did enter. Yet hath vanished into thin air. Yea, verily, it was
+none other than the devil himself in one of his divers forms, of which
+he hath aplenty. The very clock indulgeth in unseemly pranks. A strange
+influence hangs over me. I cannot now abide. I must depart from hence.
+My conscience bids me go.
+
+COTTON. [_Striving to detain him._] Hold! Thou'rt mad!
+
+BETTY. Nay, father, he is ill.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Wildly._] Aye, if I be mad, thy daughter be to blame. The
+spell did come upon me. I have seen strange things.
+
+COTTON. What meanest thou?
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Pointing at_ BETTY, _who regards him wonderingly_.] Thy
+daughter is a witch!
+
+BETTY. [_Runs to_ COTTON.] Oh, father!
+
+COTTON. [_Consoles_ BETTY; _thunders at_ ADONIJAH.] What? Darest thou to
+being forth such an accusation?
+
+ADONIJAH. Aye, while I yet have strength to order mine own will. We
+shall see what we shall see when the fires leap round the stake. All the
+diabolical circles the devil may invent or his helpmeets acquire will be
+of small avail when the leaping tongues of flame curl round you, false
+servant of the devil. I can delay no longer. I will repair to the
+council at once, and report what I have seen.
+
+     [BETTY _faints away_. COTTON _is at once all paternal solicitude_.
+     ADONIJAH _gazes in stupefaction. All unobserved_ CHARLES _slips out
+     of the clock. Finally_ ADONIJAH, _as_ BETTY _shows signs of
+     reviving, turns himself away, only to find himself face to face
+     with_ CHARLES. ADONIJAH _stops dead in his tracks, absolutely
+     nonplussed_.
+
+CHARLES. Thou goest to the council? Thou lackest evidence. Behold the
+devil an' thou wilt.
+
+     [ADONIJAH'S _jaw drops. He stares unbelievingly._ COTTON _looks up
+     in surprise as_ CHARLES _continues_.
+
+CHARLES. An' thou goest to the council with such a message, the devil
+will dog thy very footsteps. And match word of thine with word of truth
+in such a light that thine own words shall imprison thee in the stocks
+over Sunday.
+
+     [ADONIJAH _recovers from his temporary abstraction, and seizing his
+     hat and tippet, tears out the door as if a whole legion of imps
+     were in full pursuit_. CHARLES _contemptuously turns on his heel
+     and goes over to_ BETTY, _who is now clinging to her father's arm_.
+
+BETTY. [_Faintly._] They will not burn me for a witch?
+
+CHARLES. [_Savagely._] Aye, let them try it an they will.
+
+COTTON. [_Hotly._] Aye--let them! [_Then starting suddenly with a new
+thought._] But how cam'st thou here? Yea, verily, it seemeth to me thou
+did'st materialize out of thin air.
+
+     [_Surveys_ CHARLES _with piercing scrutiny_.
+
+CHARLES. Nay, see through me an thou can'st. Thou wilt find me a most
+material shadow, the like of which no eye hath ever pierced. 'Twas not
+out of the air, but out of yonder clock that I materialized.
+
+BETTY. Yea, father, I put him there.
+
+COTTON. [_Going to the clock and opening it._] Of a truth, the evidence,
+all told, is here. Thou wert of a certainty in the clock. [_Takes out
+the detached pendulum. Steps back and surveys the timepiece, whose hands
+clearly indicate a time long passed or not yet come._] And as far as
+pendulums are concerned [_looking ruefully at the one in his hand_],
+thou certainly wert no improve----
+
+CHARLES. Aye, that I'll warrant. And may I never more be called to
+fulfil such position; the requirements be far too exacting for one of my
+build and constitution.
+
+COTTON. But what extremity hath induced thee to take up thine abode in
+such a place?
+
+     [_Lays the pendulum aside and gives_ CHARLES _his entire
+     attention_.
+
+CHARLES. Why, that came all in the course of events as I take it. When I
+returned a short time ago, hard upon mine heels came Adonijah; and,
+being loath either to leave the field or share it, I hid within the
+clock. Once there, the temptation to help time in covering its course
+grew strong upon me in the hope that Adonijah, misled by the lateness of
+the hour, would soon depart. Only I looked not for such a departure.
+Judge me not too harshly, sire, for I love thy daughter, and if thou
+wilt give thy consent to our marriage I will do all that becometh a man
+to deserve such treasure.
+
+COTTON. I like not thy frivolous manner of wearing hair that is not
+thine own; it becomes thee not. And I strongly mistrust thine attitude
+toward the more serious things of life.
+
+CHARLES. If my wig standeth between me and my heart's desire, why, I'll
+have no wig at all. [_He pulls the wig off and tosses it aside._ BETTY,
+_with a little cry, picks it up and smooths its disarranged curls_.] And
+as for mine outlook on life, I promise thee that hath but matched the
+outer trappings, and can be doffed as quickly. I am as serious beneath
+all outward levity as any sober-minded judge, and can act accordingly.
+
+COTTON. See to it that thou suit the action to those words. My heart is
+strangely moved toward thee, yet I would ponder the matter more deeply.
+[_Turns to_ BETTY, _who has been absent-mindedly twirling the curls on
+the wig_.] And where is thy voice, my daughter? Thou art strangely
+silent--[_as an afterthought_] for the once. But it is of small wonder,
+since thou hast had enough excitement for one evening. Methinks that
+scoundrel, Adonijah, needeth following up. Do thou remain with Betty,
+Charles, and I will hasten after him.
+
+CHARLES. Nay, thou need'st not trouble thyself regarding Adonijah. He
+hath much too wholesome a regard for the ducking-stool to cause further
+mischief.
+
+COTTON. Nevertheless, I will away to the council and make sure. [_He
+plants his hat on his head and departs._
+
+CHARLES. [_Turning to_ BETTY, _who has dropped the wig on the settee,
+and who is now gazing demurely at the floor_.] And now to finish up
+where we left off. The devil hath led us a merrier dance than we
+suspected. Thou hast not truly given answer to the question I have asked
+of thee.
+
+BETTY. What more of an answer would'st thou yet require?
+
+CHARLES. Why, I have yet had none at all.
+
+BETTY. Must tell thee further?
+
+CHARLES. [_Gravely._] Thou must.
+
+BETTY. [_Mischievously._] Then--put the question once again.
+
+CHARLES. Thou knowest the question, an thou wilt.
+
+BETTY. An' thou knowest the answer.
+
+     [CHARLES _takes her in his arms_.
+
+
+BETTY. [_Holding up her hand so that the ring sparkles._] Look,
+Charles--the diabolical circle!
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE FAR-AWAY PRINCESS
+
+BY
+
+HERMANN SUDERMANN
+
+
+_The Far-Away Princess_ is reprinted by special arrangement with Charles
+Scribner's Sons, the publishers of _Roses_, from which this play is
+taken. For permission to perform address the publishers.
+
+
+HERMANN SUDERMANN
+
+Hermann Sudermann, one of the foremost of the Continental European
+dramatists, was born at Matziken, in East Prussia, Germany, September
+30, 1857. He attended school at Elbing and Tilsit, and then at fourteen
+became a druggist's apprentice. He received his university training at
+Königsberg and Berlin. Soon he devoted his energies to literary work.
+
+His greatest literary work is in the field of the drama, in which he
+became successful almost instantly. His strength is not in poetic beauty
+and in deep insight into human character, as in the instance of a number
+of other German dramatists. He is essentially a man of the theatre, a
+dramatist, and a technician by instinct. He is a dramatic craftsman of
+the first order.
+
+His chief one-act plays are in two volumes: _Morituri_, which contains
+_Teja_, _Fritchen_, and _The Eternal Masculine_; and _Roses_, which
+contains _Streaks of Light_, _Margot_, _The Last Visit_, and _The
+Far-Away Princess_.
+
+_The Far-Away Princess_ is one of the most subtle and most delicate of
+Sudermann's plays. Its technic is exemplary.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    THE PRINCESS VON GELDERN
+    BARONESS VON BROOK, _her maid of honor_
+    FRAU VON HALLDORF
+    LIDDY } _her daughters_
+    MILLY }
+    FRITZ STRÜBEL, _a student_
+    FRAU LINDEMANN
+    ROSA, _a waitress_
+    A LACKEY
+
+
+
+
+THE FAR-AWAY PRINCESS[L]
+
+
+     THE PRESENT DAY: _The scene is laid at an inn situated above a
+     watering-place in central Germany._
+
+     _The veranda of an inn. The right side of the stage and half of the
+     background represent a framework of glass enclosing the veranda.
+     The left side and the other half of the background represent the
+     stone walls of the house. To the left, in the foreground, a door;
+     another door in the background, at the left. On the left, back, a
+     buffet and serving-table. Neat little tables and small iron chairs
+     for visitors are placed about the veranda. On the right, in the
+     centre, a large telescope, standing on a tripod, is directed
+     through an open window._ ROSA, _dressed in the costume of the
+     country, is arranging flowers on the small tables_. FRAU LINDEMANN,
+     _a handsome, stoutish woman in the thirties, hurries in excitedly
+     from the left_.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. There! Now she can come--curtains, bedding--everything
+fresh and clean as new! No, this honor, this unexpected honor--! Barons
+and counts have been here often enough. Even the Russian princes
+sometimes come up from the Springs. I don't bother my head about
+them--they're just like--that!--But a princess--a real princess!
+
+ROSA. Perhaps it isn't a real princess after all.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Indignantly._] What? What do you mean by that!
+
+ROSA. I was only thinking that a real princess wouldn't be coming to an
+inn like this. Real princesses won't lie on anything but silks and
+velvets. You just wait and see; it's a trick!
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. Are you going to pretend that the letter isn't genuine;
+that the letter is a forgery?
+
+ROSA. Maybe one of the regular customers is playing a joke. That
+student, Herr Strübel, he's always joking. [_Giggles._
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. When Herr Strübel makes a joke he makes a decent joke, a
+real, genuine joke. Oh, of course one has to pretend to be angry
+sometimes--but as for writing a forged letter--My land!--a letter with a
+gold crown on it--there! [_She takes a letter from her waist and
+reads._] "This afternoon Her Highness, the Princess von Geldern, will
+stop at the Fairview Inn, to rest an hour or so before making the
+descent to the Springs. You are requested to have ready a quiet and
+comfortable room, to guard Her Highness from any annoying advances, and,
+above all, to maintain the strictest secrecy regarding this event, as
+otherwise the royal visit will not be repeated. Baroness von Brook, maid
+of honor to Her Highness." Now, what have you got to say?
+
+ROSA. Herr Strübel lent me a book once. A maid of honor came into that,
+too. I'm sure it's a trick!
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Looking out toward the back._] Dear, dear, isn't that
+Herr Strübel now, coming up the hill? To-day of all days! What on earth
+does he always want up here?
+
+ROSA. [_Pointedly._] He's in such favor at the Inn. He won't be leaving
+here all day.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. That won't do at all. He's got to be sent off. If I only
+knew how I could--Oh, ho! I'll be disagreeable to him--that's the only
+way to manage it!
+
+     [STRÜBEL _enters. He is a handsome young fellow without much
+     polish, but cheerful, unaffected, entirely at his ease, and
+     invariably good-natured._
+
+STRÜBEL. Good day, everybody.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Sarcastically._] Charming day.
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Surprised at her coolness._] I say! What's up? Who's been
+rubbing you the wrong way? May I have a glass of beer, anyway? Glass of
+beer, if you please! Several glasses of beer, if you please. [_Sits
+down._] Pestiferously hot this afternoon.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_After a pause._] H'm, H'm.
+
+STRÜBEL. Landlady Linda, dear, why so quiet to-day?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. In the first place, Herr Strübel, I would have you know
+that my name is Frau Lindemann.
+
+STRÜBEL. Just so.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. And, secondly, if you don't stop your familiarity----
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Singing, as_ ROSA _brings him a glass of beer_.]
+"Beer--beer!"--Heavens and earth, how hot it is! [_Drinks._
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. If you find it so hot, why don't you stay quietly down
+there at the Springs?
+
+STRÜBEL. Ah, my soul thirsts for the heights--my soul thirsts for the
+heights every afternoon. Just as soon as ever my sallow-faced pupil has
+thrown himself down on the couch to give his red corpuscles a chance to
+grow, "I gayly grasp my Alpine staff and mount to my beloved."
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Scornfully._] Bah!
+
+STRÜBEL. Oh, you're thinking that _you_ are my beloved? No, dearest; my
+beloved stays down there. But to get nearer to her, I have to come up
+here--up to your telescope. With the aid of your telescope I can look
+right into her window--see?
+
+ROSA. [_Laughing._] Oh, so that's why----
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. Perhaps you think I'm interested in all that? Besides,
+I've no more time for you. Moreover, I'm going to have this place
+cleaned right away. Good-by, Herr Strübel. [_Goes out._
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Laughing._] I certainly caught it that time! See here, Rosa,
+what's got into her head?
+
+ROSA. [_Mysteriously._] Ahem, there are crowned heads and other
+heads--and--ahem--there are letters _with_ crowns and letters _without_
+crowns.
+
+STRÜBEL. Letters--? Are you----?
+
+ROSA. There are maids of honor--and other maids! [_Giggles._
+
+STRÜBEL. Permit me. [_Tapping her forehead lightly with his finger._]
+Ow! Ow!
+
+ROSA. What's the matter?
+
+STRÜBEL. Why, your head's on fire. Blow! Blow! And while you are getting
+some salve for my burns, I'll just----
+
+     [_Goes to the telescope._
+
+     [_Enter_ FRAU VON HALLDORF, LIDDY, _and_ MILLY. FRAU VON HALLDORF
+     _is an aristocratic woman, somewhat supercilious and affected_.
+
+LIDDY. Here's the telescope, mother. Now you can see for yourself.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. What a pity that it's in use just now.
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Stepping back._] Oh, I beg of you, ladies--I have plenty of
+time. I can wait.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_Condescendingly._] Ah, thanks so much. [_She goes up
+to the telescope, while_ STRÜBEL _returns to his former place_.]
+Waitress! Bring us three glasses of milk.
+
+LIDDY. [_As_ MILLY _languidly drops into a chair_.] Beyond to the right
+is the road, mother.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Oh, I have found the road, but I see no
+carriage--neither a royal carriage nor any other sort.
+
+LIDDY. Let me look.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Please do.
+
+LIDDY. It has disappeared now.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Are you quite sure that it was a royal carriage?
+
+LIDDY. Oh, one has an instinct for that sort of thing, mother. It comes
+to one in the cradle.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_As_ MILLY _yawns and sighs aloud_.] Are you sleepy,
+dear?
+
+MILLY. No, only tired. I'm always tired.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Well, that's just why we are at the Springs. Do as the
+princess does: take the waters religiously.
+
+MILLY. The princess oughtn't to be climbing up such a steep hill either
+on a hot day like this.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_More softly._] Well, you know why we are taking all
+this trouble. If, by good luck, we should happen to meet the
+princess----
+
+LIDDY. [_Who has been looking through the telescope._] Oh, there it is
+again!
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_Eagerly._] Where? Where?
+
+     [_Takes_ LIDDY'S _place_.
+
+LIDDY. It's just coming around the turn at the top.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Oh, now I see it! Why, there's no one inside!
+
+LIDDY. Well, then she's coming up on foot.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_To_ MILLY.] See, the princess is coming up on foot,
+too. And she is just as anæmic as you are.
+
+MILLY. If I were going to marry a grand-duke, and if I could have my own
+carriage driven along beside me, I wouldn't complain of having to walk
+either.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. I can't see a thing now.
+
+LIDDY. You have to turn the screw, mother.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. I have been turning it right along, but the telescope
+won't move.
+
+LIDDY. Let me try.
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Who has been throwing little wads of paper at_ ROSA _during
+the preceding conversation_.] What are they up to?
+
+LIDDY. It seems to me that you've turned the screw too far, mother.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Well, what shall we do about it?
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Rising._] Permit me to come to your aid, ladies. I've had
+some experience with these old screws.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Very kind--indeed.
+
+     [STRÜBEL _busies himself with the instrument_.
+
+LIDDY. Listen, mother. If the carriage has almost reached the top the
+princess can't be far off. Wouldn't it be best, then, to watch for them
+on the road?
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Certainly, if you think that would be best, dear
+Liddy.
+
+STRÜBEL. This is not only an old screw, but it's a regular perverted old
+screw.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Ah, really? [_Aside to her daughters._] And if she
+should actually speak to us at this accidental meeting--and if we could
+present ourselves as the subjects of her noble fiancé, and tell her that
+we live at her future home--just imagine what an advantage that would
+give us over the other women of the court!
+
+STRÜBEL. There, ladies! We have now rescued the useful instrument to
+which the far-sightedness of mankind is indebted.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Thanks, so much. Pardon me, sir, but have you heard
+anything about the report that the princess is going to make the journey
+up here to-day?
+
+STRÜBEL. The princess? The princess of the Springs? The princess of the
+lonely villa? The princess who is expected at the iron spring every
+morning, but who has never been seen by a living soul? Why, I am
+enormously interested. You wouldn't believe how much interested I am!
+
+LIDDY. [_Who has looked out, back._] There--there--there--it is!
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. The carriage?
+
+LIDDY. It's reached the top already. It is stopping over there at the
+edge of the woods.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. She will surely enter it there, then. Come quickly, my
+dear children, so that it will look quite accidental. Here is your
+money. [_She throws a coin to_ ROSA _and unwraps a small package done up
+in tissue-paper, which she has brought with her_.] Here is a bouquet for
+you--and here's one for you. You are to present these to the princess.
+
+MILLY. So that it will look quite accidental--oh, yes!
+
+     [_All three go out._
+
+STRÜBEL. Good heavens! Could I--? I don't believe it! Surely she
+sits--well, I'll make sure right away--[_Goes up to the telescope and
+stops._] Oh, I'll go along with them, anyhow.
+
+     [_Exit after them._
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Entering._] Have they all gone--all of them?
+
+ROSA. All of them.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Looking toward the right._] There--there--two ladies
+and a lackey are coming up the footpath. Mercy me! How my heart is
+beating!--If I had only had the sofa recovered last spring!--What am I
+going to say to them?--Rosa, don't you know a poem by heart which you
+could speak to the princess? [ROSA _shrugs her shoulders_.] They're
+coming through the court now!--Stop putting your arms under your apron
+that way, you stupid thing!--oh dear, oh dear----
+
+     [_The door opens._ A LACKEY _in plain black livery enters, and
+     remains standing at the door. He precedes_ THE PRINCESS _and_ FRAU
+     V. BROOK. THE PRINCESS _is a pale, sickly, unassuming young girl,
+     wearing a very simple walking costume and a medium-sized leghorn
+     hat trimmed with roses_. FRAU V. BROOK _is a handsome, stately,
+     stern-looking woman, in the thirties. She is well-dressed, but in
+     accordance with the simple tastes of the North German nobility._
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Who is the proprietor of this place?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. At your command, your Highness.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. [_Reprovingly._] I am the maid of honor. Where is the
+room that has been ordered?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Opens the door, left._] Here--at the head of the
+stairs--my lady.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Would your Highness care to remain here for a few
+moments?
+
+THE PRINCESS Very much, dear Frau von Brook.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Edward, order what is needed for Her Highness, and see
+that a room next to Her Highness is prepared for me. I may assume that
+these are Your Highness's wishes?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Why certainly, dear Frau von Brook.
+
+[THE LACKEY, _who is carrying shawls and pillows, goes out with_ ROSA,
+_left_.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Mais puisque je te dis, Eugénie, que je n'ai pas sommeil.
+M'envoyer coucher comme une enfant, c'est abominable.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Mais je t'implore, chérie, sois sage! Tu sais, que c'est
+le médecin, qui----
+
+THE PRINCESS. Ah, ton médecin! Toujours cette corvée. Et si je te
+dis----
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Chut! My dear woman, wouldn't it be best for you to
+superintend the preparations?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. I am entirely at your service.
+
+     [_About to go out, left._
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. One thing more. This veranda, leading from the house to
+the grounds--would it be possible to close it to the public?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. Oh, certainly. The guests as often as not sit out under
+the trees.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Very well, then do so, please. [FRAU LINDEMANN _locks the
+door_.] We may be assured that no one will enter this place?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. If it is desired, none of us belonging to the house will
+come in here either.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. We should like that.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. Very well. [_Exit._
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Really, you must be more careful, darling. If that woman
+had understood French--{SPACE}You must be careful!
+
+THE PRINCESS. What would have been so dreadful about it?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Oh, my dear child! This mood of yours, which is due to
+nothing but your illness--that reminds me, you haven't taken your
+peptonized milk yet--this is a secret which we must keep from every one,
+above all from your fiancé. If the Grand Duke should discover----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Shrugging her shoulders._] Well, what of it?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. A bride's duty is to be a happy bride. Otherwise----
+
+THE PRINCESS. Otherwise?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. She will be a lonely and an unloved woman.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_With a little smile of resignation._] Ah!
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. What is it, dear? [THE PRINCESS _shakes her head_.] And
+then think of the strain of those formal presentations awaiting you in
+the autumn! You must grow strong. Remember that you must be equal to the
+most exacting demands of life.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Of life? Whose life?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. What do you mean by that?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Ah, what good does it do to talk about it?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Yes, you are right. In my soul, too, there are unhappy
+and unholy thoughts that I would rather not utter. From my own
+experience I know that it is best to keep strictly within the narrow
+path of duty.
+
+THE PRINCESS. And to go to sleep.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Ah, it isn't only that.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Look out there! See the woods! Ah, to lie down on the
+moss, to cover oneself with leaves, to watch the clouds pass by high
+above----
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. [_Softening._] We can do that, too, some-time.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Laughing aloud._] Sometime!
+
+[THE LACKEY _appears at the door_.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Is everything ready?
+
+     [THE LACKEY _bows_.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Aside to_ FRAU V. BROOK.] But I simply cannot sleep.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Try to, for my sake. [_Aloud._] Does Your Highness
+command----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling and sighing._] Yes, I command.
+
+     [_They go out, left._
+
+     [_The stage remains empty for several moments. Then_ STRÜBEL _is
+     heard trying the latch of the back door_.
+
+STRÜBEL'S VOICE. Hullo! What's up! Why is this locked all of a sudden?
+Rosa! Open up! I've got to look through the telescope! Rosa! Won't you?
+Oh, well, I know how to help myself. [_He is seen walking outside of the
+glass-covered veranda. Then he puts his head through the open window at
+the right._] Not a soul inside? [_Climbs over._] Well, here we are. What
+on earth has happened to these people? [_Unlocks the back door and looks
+out._] Everything deserted. Well, it's all the same to me. [_Locks the
+door again._] But let's find out right away what the carriage has to do
+with the case.
+
+     [_Prepares to look through the telescope._ THE PRINCESS _enters
+     cautiously through the door at the left, her hat in her hand.
+     Without noticing_ STRÜBEL, _who is standing motionless before the
+     telescope, she goes hurriedly to the door at the back and unlocks
+     it_.
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Startled at the sound of the key, turns around._] Why, how do
+you do? [THE PRINCESS, _not venturing to move, glances back at the door
+through which she has entered_.] Wouldn't you like to look through the
+telescope a while? Please do. [THE PRINCESS, _undecided as to whether or
+not she should answer him, takes a few steps back toward the door at the
+left_.] Why are you going away? I won't do anything to you.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Reassured._] Oh, I'm not going away.
+
+STRÜBEL. That's right. But--where have you come from? The door was
+locked. Surely you didn't climb through the window as I did?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Frightened._] What? You came--through the window?----
+
+STRÜBEL. Of course I did.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Frightened anew._] Then I had rather----
+
+     [_About to go back._
+
+STRÜBEL. Oh, my dear young lady, you just stay right here. Why, before
+I'd drive you away I'd pitch myself headlong over a precipice!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling, reassured._] I only wanted to go out into the
+woods for half an hour.
+
+STRÜBEL. Oh, then you're a regular guest here at the Inn?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Quickly._] Yes--yes, of course.
+
+STRÜBEL. And of course you drink the waters down below?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_In a friendly way._] Oh, yes, I drink the waters. And
+I'm taking the baths, too.
+
+STRÜBEL. Two hundred metres up and down every time! Isn't that very hard
+on you? Heavens! And you look so pale! See here, my dear young lady,
+don't you do it. It would be better for you to go down there--that
+is--{SPACE}Oh, forgive me! I've been talking without thinking. Of
+course, you have your own reasons--{SPACE}It's decidedly cheaper up
+here. _I_ know how to value a thing of that sort. I've never had any
+money in all my life!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Trying to seem practical._] But when one comes to a
+watering-place, one must have money.
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Slapping himself on the chest._] Do I look to you as if I
+drank iron? Thank Heaven, I can't afford such luxuries! No; I'm only a
+poor fellow who earns his miserable pittance during vacation by acting
+as a private tutor--that's to say, "miserable" is only a figure of
+speech, for in the morning I lie abed until nine, at noon I eat five and
+at night seven courses; and as for work, I really haven't a thing to do!
+My pupil is so anæmic--why, compared to him, _you're_ fit for a circus
+rider!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Laughing unrestrainedly._] Oh, well, I'm rather glad I'm
+not one.
+
+STRÜBEL. Dear me, it's a business like any other.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Like any other? Really, I didn't think that.
+
+STRÜBEL. And pray, what did you think then?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, I thought that they were--an entirely different sort
+of people.
+
+STRÜBEL. My dear young lady, all people are "an entirely different
+sort." Of course _we_ two aren't. We get along real well together, don't
+we? As poor as church mice, both of us!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling reflectively._] Who knows? Perhaps that's true.
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Kindly._] Do you know what? If you want to stay down
+there--I'll tell you how one can live cheaply. I have a friend, a
+student like myself. He's here to mend up as you are. I feed him up at
+the house where I'm staying. [_Frightened at a peculiar look of_ THE
+PRINCESS'S.] Oh, but you mustn't be--No, I shouldn't have said it. It
+wasn't decent of me. Only, let me tell you, I'm so glad to be able to
+help the poor fellow out of my unexpected earnings, that I'd like to be
+shouting it from the housetops all the time! Of course, you understand
+that, don't you?
+
+THE PRINCESS. You like to help people, then?
+
+STRÜBEL. Surely--don't you?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Reflecting._] No. There's always so much talk about it,
+and the whole thing immediately appears in the newspapers.
+
+STRÜBEL. What? If you help some one, that appears----?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Quietly correcting herself._] I only mean if one takes
+part in entertainments for charity----
+
+STRÜBEL. Oh, yes, naturally. In those things they always get some woman
+of rank to act as patroness, if they can, and she sees to it, you may be
+sure, that the newspapers make a fuss over it.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Demurely._] Oh, not every----
+
+STRÜBEL. Just try to teach me something I don't know about these titled
+women! Besides, my dear young lady, where is your home--in one of the
+large cities, or----?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, no. In quite a small town--really more like the
+country.
+
+STRÜBEL. Then I'm going to show you something that you probably never
+saw before in all your life.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh do! What is it?
+
+STRÜBEL. A princess! H'm--not a make-believe, but a real, true-blue
+princess!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, really?
+
+STRÜBEL. Yes. Our Princess of the Springs.
+
+THE PRINCESS. And who may that be?
+
+STRÜBEL. Why, Princess Marie Louise.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Of Geldern?
+
+STRÜBEL. Of course.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Do you know her?
+
+STRÜBEL. Why, certainly.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Really? I thought that she lived in great retirement.
+
+STRÜBEL. Well, that doesn't do her any good. Not a bit of it. And
+because you are such a jolly good fellow I'm going to tell you my
+secret. I'm in love with this princess!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh!
+
+STRÜBEL. You can't imagine what a comfort it is. The fact is, every
+young poet has got to have a princess to love.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Are you a poet?
+
+STRÜBEL. Can't you tell that by looking at me?
+
+THE PRINCESS. I never saw a poet before.
+
+STRÜBEL. Never saw a poet--never saw a princess! Why, you're learning a
+heap of things to-day!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Assenting._] H'm--and have you written poems to her?
+
+STRÜBEL. Why, that goes without saying! Quantities of 'em!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, please recite some little thing--won't you?
+
+STRÜBEL. No, not yet. Everything at the proper time.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Ah, yes, first I should like to see the princess.
+
+STRÜBEL. No, first I am going to tell you the whole story.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, yes, yes. Please do. [_Sits down._
+
+STRÜBEL. Well, then--I had hardly heard that she was here before I was
+dead in love with her. It was just as quick as a shot, I tell you. Just
+as if I had waited all my life long to fall in love with her. Besides, I
+also heard about her beauty--and her sorrow. You see, she had an early
+love affair.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Disconcerted._] What? Are they saying that?
+
+STRÜBEL. Yes. It was a young officer who went to Africa because of
+her--and died there.
+
+THE PRINCESS. And they know that, too?
+
+STRÜBEL. What don't they know? But that's a mere detail--it doesn't
+concern me. Even the fact that in six months she will become the bride
+of a grand-duke--even that can make no difference to me. For the present
+she is _my_ princess. But you're not listening to me!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, yes, I am!
+
+STRÜBEL. Do you know what that means--_my_ princess! I'll not give up
+_my_ princess--not for anything in all the world!
+
+THE PRINCESS. But--if you don't even know her----?
+
+STRÜBEL. I don't know her? Why, I know her as well as I know myself!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Have you ever met her, then?
+
+STRÜBEL. I don't know of any one who has ever met her. And there's not a
+soul that can tell what she looks like. It is said that there were
+pictures of her in the shop-windows when she first came, but they were
+removed immediately. In the morning a great many people are always
+lurking around the Springs trying to catch a glimpse of her. I, myself,
+have gotten up at six o'clock a couple of times--on the same errand--and
+if you knew me better, you'd realize what that meant. But not a sign of
+her! Either she has the stuff brought to her house or she has the power
+of making herself invisible. [THE PRINCESS _turns aside to conceal a
+smile_.] After that, I used to hang around her garden--every day, for
+hours at a time. Until one day the policeman, whom the managers of the
+Springs have stationed at the gates, came up to me and asked me what on
+earth I was doing there. Well, that was the end of those methods of
+approach! Suddenly, however, a happy thought struck me. Now I can see
+her and have her near to me as often as I wish.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Why, that's very interesting. How?
+
+STRÜBEL. Yes, that's just the point. H'm, should I risk it? Should I
+take you into my confidence?
+
+THE PRINCESS. You promised me some time ago that you would show her to
+me.
+
+STRÜBEL. Wait a second. [_Looks through the telescope._] There she is.
+Please look for yourself.
+
+THE PRINCESS. But I am--[_She, too, looks through the telescope._]
+Actually, there is the garden as plain as if one were in it.
+
+STRÜBEL. And at the corner window on the left--with the
+embroidery-frame--that's she.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Are you absolutely certain that that is the princess?
+
+STRÜBEL. Why, who else could it be?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, 'round about a princess like that--there are such a
+lot of people. For instance, there is her waiting-woman, there's the
+seamstress and her assistants, there's----
+
+STRÜBEL. But, my dear young lady, if you only understood anything about
+these matters, you would have been certain at the very first glance that
+it was she--and no one else. Observe the nobility in every motion--the
+queenly grace with which she bends over the embroidery-frame----
+
+THE PRINCESS. How do you know that it's an embroidery-frame?
+
+STRÜBEL. Why, what should a princess be bending over if not an
+embroidery-frame? Do you expect her to be darning stockings?
+
+THE PRINCESS. It wouldn't hurt her at all!
+
+STRÜBEL. Now, that's just one of those petty, bourgeois notions which we
+ought to suppress. It's not enough that _we_ have to stick in this
+misery, but we'd like to drag her down, too--that being far above all
+earthly care----
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, dear me!
+
+STRÜBEL. What are you sighing about so terribly?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Tell me, wouldn't you like to have a closer acquaintance
+with your princess, some time?
+
+STRÜBEL. Closer? Why should I? Isn't she close enough to me, my far-away
+princess?--for that's what I call her when I talk to myself about her.
+And to have her _still_ closer?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Why, so that you could talk to her and know what she
+really was like?
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Terrified._] Talk to her! Heaven forbid! Goodness gracious,
+no! Just see here--how am I to face a princess? I'm an ordinary fellow,
+the son of poor folks. I haven't polished manners--I haven't even a
+decent tailor. A lady like that--why, she'd measure me from top to toe
+in one glance. I've had my lessons in the fine houses where I've applied
+as tutor. A glance from boots to cravat--and you're dismissed!
+
+THE PRINCESS. And you think that I--[_correcting herself_] that this
+girl is as superficial as that?
+
+STRÜBEL. "This girl"! Dear me, how that sounds! But, how should I ever
+succeed in showing her my real self? And even if I should, what would
+she care? Oh, yes, if she were like you--so nice and simple--and with
+such a kindhearted, roguish little twinkle in her eye----!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Roguish--I? Why so?
+
+STRÜBEL. Because you are laughing at me in your sleeve. And really I
+deserve nothing better.
+
+THE PRINCESS. But your princess deserves something better than your
+opinion of her.
+
+STRÜBEL. How do you know that?
+
+THE PRINCESS. You really ought to try to become acquainted with her some
+time.
+
+STRÜBEL. No, no, no--and again no! As long as she remains my far-away
+princess she is everything that I want her to be--modest, gracious,
+loving. She smiles upon me dreamily. Yes, she even listens when I recite
+my poems to her--and that can't be said of many people! And as soon as I
+have finished she sighs, takes a rose from her breast, and casts it down
+to the poet. I wrote a few verses yesterday about that rose, that flower
+which represents the pinnacle of my desires, as it were.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Eagerly._] Oh, yes. Oh, please, please!
+
+STRÜBEL. Well, then, here goes. H'm----
+
+    "Twenty roses nestling close----"
+
+THE PRINCESS. What? Are there twenty now?
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Severely._] My princess would not have interrupted me.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, please--forgive me.
+
+STRÜBEL. I shall begin again.
+
+    "Twenty roses nestling close
+      Gleam upon thy breast,
+    Twenty years of rose-red love
+      Upon thy fair cheeks rest.
+
+    "Twenty years would I gladly give
+      Out of life's brief reign,
+    Could I but ask a rose of thee
+      And ask it not in vain.
+
+    "Twenty roses thou dost not need--
+      Why, pearls and rubies are thine!
+    With nineteen thou'dst be just as fair,
+      And _one_ would then be _mine_!
+
+    "And twenty years of rose-wreathed joy
+      Would spring to life for me--
+    Yet twenty years could ne'er suffice
+      To worship it--and thee!"
+
+THE PRINCESS. How nice that is! I've never had any verses written to me
+b----
+
+STRÜBEL. Ah, my dear young lady, ordinary folks like us have to do their
+own verse-making!
+
+THE PRINCESS. And all for one rose! Dear me, how soon it fades! And then
+what is left you?
+
+STRÜBEL. No, my dear friend, a rose like that never fades--even as my
+love for the gracious giver can never die.
+
+THE PRINCESS. But you haven't even got it yet!
+
+STRÜBEL. That makes no difference in the end. I'm entirely independent
+of such externals. When some day I shall be explaining Ovid to the
+beginners, or perhaps even reading Horace with the more advanced
+classes--no, it's better for the present not to think of reaching any
+such dizzy heights of greatness--well, then I shall always be saying to
+myself with a smile of satisfaction: "You, too, were one of those
+confounded artist fellows--why, you once went so far as to love a
+princess!"
+
+THE PRINCESS. And that will make you happy?
+
+STRÜBEL. Enormously! For what makes us happy, after all? A bit of
+happiness? Great heavens, no! Happiness wears out like an old glove.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Well, then, what does?
+
+STRÜBEL. Ah, how should I know! Any kind of a dream--a fancy--a wish
+unfulfilled--a sorrow that we coddle--some nothing which suddenly
+becomes everything to us. I shall always say to my pupils: "Young men,
+if you want to be happy as long as you live, create gods for yourselves
+in your own image; these gods will take care of your happiness."
+
+The Princess. And what would the god be like that you would create?
+
+STRÜBEL. _Would be?_ _Is_, my dear young lady, _is!_ A man of the world,
+a gentleman, well-bred, smiling, enjoying life--who looks out upon
+mankind from under bushy eyebrows, who knows Nietzsche and Stendhal by
+heart, and--[_pointing to his shoes_] who isn't down at the heels--a
+god, in short, worthy of my princess. I know perfectly well that all my
+life long I shall never do anything but crawl around on the ground like
+an industrious ant, but I know, too, that the god of my fancy will
+always take me by the collar when the proper moment comes and pull me up
+again into the clouds. Yes, up there I'm safe. And your god, or rather
+your goddess--what would she look like?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Thoughtfully._] That's not easy to say. My goddess would
+be--a quiet, peaceful woman who would treasure a secret little joy like
+the apple of her eye, who would know nothing of the world except what
+she wanted to know, and who would have the strength to make her own
+choice when it pleased her.
+
+STRÜBEL. But that doesn't seem to me a particularly lofty aspiration, my
+dear young lady.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Lofty as the heavens, my friend.
+
+STRÜBEL. My princess would be of a different opinion.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Do you think so?
+
+STRÜBEL. For that's merely the ideal of every little country girl.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Not her ideal--her daily life which she counts as naught.
+It is my ideal because I can never attain it.
+
+STRÜBEL. Oh, I say, my dear young girl! It can't be as bad as that! A
+young girl like you--so charming and--I don't want to be forward, but if
+I could only help you a bit!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Have you got to be helping all the time? Before, it was
+only a cheap lunch, now it's actually----
+
+STRÜBEL. Yes, yes, I'm an awful donkey, I know, but----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling._] Don't say any more about it, dear friend! I
+like you that way.
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Feeling oppressed by her superiority._] Really, you are an
+awfully strange person! There's something about you that--that----
+
+THE PRINCESS. Well?
+
+STRÜBEL. I can't exactly define it. Tell me, weren't you wanting to go
+into the woods before? It's so--so oppressive in here.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oppressive? I don't find it so at all--quite the contrary.
+
+STRÜBEL. No, no--I'm restless. I don't know what--at all events, may I
+not escort you--? One can chat more freely, one can express himself more
+openly--if one----
+
+     [_Takes a deep breath._
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling._] And you are leaving your far-away princess
+with such a light heart?
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Carelessly._] Oh, she! She won't run away. She'll be sitting
+there to-morrow again--and the day after, too!
+
+THE PRINCESS. And so that is your great, undying love?
+
+STRÜBEL. Yes, but when a girl like you comes across one's path----
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_Hurrying in and then drawing back in feigned
+astonishment._] Oh!
+
+LIDDY AND MILLY. [_Similarly._] Oh!
+
+STRÜBEL. Well, ladies, didn't I tell you that you wouldn't find her?
+Princesses don't grow along the roadside like weeds!
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_Disregarding him--ceremoniously._] The infinite
+happiness with which this glorious event fills our hearts must excuse in
+some measure the extraordinary breach of good manners which we are
+committing in daring to address Your Highness. But, as the fortunate
+subjects of Your Highness's most noble fiancé, we could not refrain
+from----
+
+STRÜBEL. Well, well! What's all this?
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF.--from offering to our eagerly awaited sovereign a
+slight token of our future loyalty. Liddy! Milly! [LIDDY _and_ MILLY
+_come forward, and, with low court bows, offer their bouquets_.] My
+daughters respectfully present these few flowers to the illustrious
+princess----
+
+STRÜBEL. I beg your pardon, but who is doing the joking here, you
+or----?
+
+     [FRAU V. BROOK _enters_. THE PRINCESS, _taken unawares, has
+     retreated more and more helplessly toward the door at the left,
+     undecided whether to take flight or remain. She greets the arrival
+     of_ FRAU V. BROOK _with a happy sigh of relief_.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. [_Severely._] Pardon me, ladies. Apparently you have not
+taken the proper steps toward being presented to Her Highness. In
+matters of this sort one must first apply to me. I may be addressed
+every morning from eleven to twelve, and I shall be happy to consider
+your desires.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_With dignity._] I and my children, madame, were
+aware of the fact that we were acting contrary to the usual procedure;
+but the impulse of loyal hearts is guided by no rule. I shall be glad to
+avail myself of your--very kind invitation.
+
+     [_All three go out with low curtsies to_ THE PRINCESS.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. What forwardness! But how could you come down without me?
+And what is that young man over there doing? Does he belong to those
+people?
+
+     [THE PRINCESS _shakes her head_. STRÜBEL, _without a word, goes to
+     get his hat, which has been lying on a chair, bows abruptly, and is
+     about to leave_.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, no! That wouldn't be nice. Not that way----
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. [_Amazed._] What? What! Why, Your Highness----!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Let me be, Eugenie. This young man and I have become far
+too good friends to part in such an unfriendly, yes, almost hostile
+fashion.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Your Highness, I am _very_ much----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_To_ STRÜBEL.] You and I will certainly remember this
+hour with great pleasure, and I thank you for it with all my heart. If I
+only had a rose with me, so as to give you your dear wish! Eugenie,
+haven't we any roses with us?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Your Highness, I am _very_ much----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Examining herself and searching among the vases._] Well,
+how are we going to manage it?
+
+STRÜBEL. I most humbly thank--your Highness--for the kind intention.
+
+THE PRINCESS. No, no--wait! [_Her glance falls upon the hat which she is
+holding in her hand--with a sudden thought._] I have it! But don't think
+that I'm joking. And we'll have to do without scissors! [_She tears one
+of the roses from the hat._] I don't know whether there are just
+twenty--[_Holding out one of the roses to him._] Well? This rose has the
+merit of being just as real as the sentiment of which we were speaking
+before--and just as unfading.
+
+STRÜBEL. Is this--to be--my punishment? [THE PRINCESS _smilingly shakes
+her head_.] Or does your Highness mean by it that only the Unreal never
+fades?
+
+THE PRINCESS. That's exactly what I mean--because the Unreal must always
+dwell in the imagination.
+
+STRÜBEL. So that's it! Just as it is only the _far-away_ princesses who
+are always near to us.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Permit me to remark, Your Highness--that it is _high_
+time----
+
+THE PRINCESS. As you see, those who are near must hurry away. [_Offering
+him the rose again._] Well?
+
+STRÜBEL. [_Is about to take it, but lets his hand fall._] With the
+far-away princess there--[_pointing down_] it would have been in
+harmony, but with the--[_Shakes his head, then softly and with
+emotion._] No, thanks--I'd rather not.
+
+[_He bows and goes out._
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling pensively, throws away the artificial flower._]
+I'm going to ask my fiancé to let me send him a rose.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Your Highness, I am _very_ much--surprised!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Well, I told you that I wasn't sleepy.
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE STRONGER
+
+BY
+
+AUGUST STRINDBERG
+
+
+AUGUST STRINDBERG
+
+August Strindberg, Sweden's foremost dramatist, was born at Stockholm in
+1849. He attended the University of Upsala but did not graduate. In 1872
+he wrote _Master Olaf_, which was for six years steadily refused by
+managers. When it did appear it inaugurated the Swedish dramatic
+renascence. By turns Strindberg was schoolmaster, journalist, dramatist,
+writer of scientific and political treatises, and writer of short
+stories. In 1883 he left Sweden and travelled extensively in Denmark,
+Germany, France, and Italy. He died in 1912.
+
+As a dramatist Strindberg's chief strength lies not so much in dramatic
+technique as it does in his trenchant and searching power of analysis of
+the human mind. His chief plays are very exact and narrow views of the
+feminine soul. Some of his own domestic bitterness finds expression in
+the feminine studies in his plays. He is very fond of showing the power
+of one character over another.
+
+His important one-act plays are _The Outlaw_, _Countess Julie_,
+_Creditors_, _Pariah_, _Facing Death_, and _The Stronger_. _The
+Stronger_ has a dramatic intensity that few plays possess. Though but
+one character speaks, the souls of three are skilfully laid bare.
+
+
+PERSONS
+
+    MRS. X., _an actress, married_
+    MISS Y., _an actress, unmarried_
+
+
+
+
+THE STRONGER[M]
+
+
+     SCENE: _A corner of a ladies' restaurant; two small tables of
+     cast-iron, a sofa covered with red plush, and a few chairs._
+
+     MRS. X. _enters, dressed in hat and winter coat, and carrying a
+     pretty Japanese basket on her arm_.
+
+     MISS Y. _has in front of her a partly emptied bottle of beer; she
+     is reading an illustrated weekly, and every now and then, she
+     exchanges it for a new one_.
+
+MRS. X. Well, how do, Millie! Here you are sitting on Christmas Eve, as
+lonely as a poor bachelor.
+
+     [MISS Y. _looks up from the paper for a moment, nods, and resumes
+     her reading_.]
+
+MRS. X. Really, I feel sorry to find you like this--alone--alone in a
+restaurant, and on Christmas Eve of all times. It makes me as sad as
+when I saw a wedding party at Paris once in a restaurant--the bride was
+reading a comic paper and the groom was playing billiards with the
+witnesses. Ugh, when it begins that way, I thought, how will it end?
+Think of it, playing billiards on his wedding day! Yes, and you're going
+to say that she was reading a comic paper--- that's a different case, my
+dear.
+
+     [_A waitress brings a cup of chocolate, places it before_ MRS. X.,
+     _and disappears again_.
+
+MRS. X. [_Sips a few spoonfuls; opens the basket and displays a number
+of Christmas presents._] See what I've bought for my tots. [_Picks up a
+doll._] What do you think of this? Lisa is to have it. She can roll her
+eyes and twist her head, do you see? Fine, is it not? And here's a cork
+pistol for Carl.
+
+     [_Loads the pistol and pops it at_ MISS Y. MISS Y. _starts as if
+     frightened_.
+
+MRS. X. Did I scare you? Why, you didn't fear I was going to shoot you,
+did you? Really, I didn't think you could believe that of me. If you
+were to shoot _me_--well, that wouldn't surprise me the least. I've got
+in your way once, and I know you'll never forget it--but I couldn't help
+it. You still think I intrigued you away from the Royal Theatre, and I
+didn't do anything of the kind--although you think so. But it doesn't
+matter what I say, of course--you believe it was I just the same.
+[_Pulls out a pair of embroidered slippers._] Well, these are for my
+hubby--tulips--I've embroidered them myself. H'm!--I hate tulips--and he
+must have them on everything.
+
+     [MISS Y. _looks up from the paper with an expression of mingled
+     sarcasm and curiosity_.
+
+MRS. X. [_Puts a hand in each slipper._] Just see what small feet Bob
+has. See? And you should see him walk--elegant! Of course, you've never
+seen him in slippers.
+
+     [MISS Y. _laughs aloud_.
+
+MRS. X. Look here--here he comes.
+
+     [_Makes the slippers walk across the table._ MISS Y. _laughs
+     again_.
+
+MRS. X. Then he gets angry, and he stamps his foot just like this:
+"Blame that cook who can't learn how to make coffee." Or: "The
+idiot--now that girl has forgotten to fix my study lamp again." Then
+there is a draught through the floor and his feet get cold. "Gee, but
+it's freezing, and those blanked idiots don't even know enough to keep
+the house warm."
+
+     [_She rubs the sole of one slipper against the instep of the
+     other._ MISS Y. _breaks into prolonged laughter_.
+
+MRS. X. And then he comes home and has to hunt for his slippers--Mary
+has pushed them under the bureau. Well, perhaps it is not right to be
+making fun of one's own husband. He's pretty good for all that--a real
+dear little hubby, that's what he is. You should have such a
+husband--what are you laughing at? Can't you tell? Then, you see, I know
+he is faithful. Yes, I know, for he has told me himself--what in the
+world makes you giggle like that? That nasty Betty tried to get him away
+from me while I was on the road. Can you think of anything more
+infamous? [_Pause._] But I'd have scratched the eyes out of her face,
+that's what I'd have done, if I had been at home when she tried it.
+[_Pause._] I'm glad Bob told me all about it, so I didn't have to hear
+it first from somebody else. [_Pause._] And, just think of it, Betty was
+not the only one! I don't know why it is, but all women seem to be crazy
+after my husband. It must be because they imagine his government
+position gives him something to say about the engagements. Perhaps
+you've tried it yourself--you may have set your traps for him, too? Yes,
+I don't trust you very far--but I know he never cared for you--and then
+I have been thinking you rather had a grudge against him.
+
+     [_Pause. They look at each other in an embarrassed manner._
+
+MRS. X. Amelia, spend the evening with us, won't you? Just to show that
+you are not angry--not with me, at least. I cannot tell exactly why, but
+it seems so awfully unpleasant to have you--you--for an enemy. Perhaps
+because I got in your way that time [_rallentando_] or--I don't
+know--really, I don't know at all----
+
+     [_Pause._ MISS Y. _gazes searchingly at_ MRS. X.
+
+MRS. X. [_Thoughtfully._] It was so peculiar, the way our
+acquaintance--why, I was afraid of you when I first met you; so afraid
+that I did not dare to let you out of sight. It didn't matter where I
+tried to go--I always found myself near you. I didn't have the courage
+to be your enemy--and so I became your friend. But there was always
+something discordant in the air when you called at our home, for I saw
+that my husband didn't like you--and it annoyed me--just as it does when
+a dress won't fit. I've tried my very best to make him appear friendly
+to you at least, but I couldn't move him--not until you were engaged.
+Then you two became such fast friends that it almost looked as if you
+had not dared to show your real feelings before, when it was not
+safe--and later--let me see, now! I didn't get jealous--strange, was it
+not? And I remember the baptism--you were acting as godmother, and I
+made him kiss you--and he did, but both of you looked terribly
+embarrassed--that is, I didn't think of it then--or afterwards, even--I
+never thought of it--till--_now_! [_Rises impulsively._] Why don't you
+say something? You have not uttered a single word all this time. You've
+just let me go on talking. You've been sitting there staring at me only,
+and your eyes have drawn out of me all these thoughts which were lying
+in me like silk in a cocoon--thoughts--bad thoughts maybe--let me think.
+Why did you break your engagement? Why have you never called on us
+afterward? Why don't you want to be with us to-night?
+
+     [MISS Y. _makes a motion as if intending to speak_.
+
+MRS. X. No, you don't need to say anything at all. All is clear to me
+now. So, that's the reason of it all. Yes, yes! Everything fits together
+now. Shame on you! I don't want to sit at the same table with you.
+[_Moves her things to another table._] That's why I must put those
+hateful tulips on his slippers--because you love them. [_Throws the
+slippers on the floor._] That's why we have to spend the summer in the
+mountains--because you can't bear the salt smell of the ocean; that's
+why my boy had to be called Eskil--because that was your father's name;
+that's why I had to wear your color, and read your books, and eat your
+favorite dishes, and drink your drinks--this chocolate, for instance;
+that's why--great heavens!--it's terrible to think of it--it's terrible!
+Everything was forced on me by you--even your passions. Your soul bored
+itself into mine as a worm into an apple, and it ate and ate and
+burrowed and burrowed, till nothing was left but the outside shell and a
+little black dust. I wanted to run away from you, but I couldn't. You
+were always on hand like a snake, with your black eyes, to charm me--I
+felt how my wings beat the air only to drag me down--I was in the water
+with my feet tied together, and the harder I worked with my arms, the
+further down I went--down, down, till I sank to the bottom, where you
+lay in wait like a monster crab to catch me with your claws--and now I'm
+there! Shame on you! How I hate you, hate you, hate you! But you, you
+just sit there, silent and calm and indifferent, whether the moon is new
+or full; whether it's Christmas or mid-summer; whether other people are
+happy or unhappy. You are incapable of hatred and you don't know how to
+love. As a cat in front of a mouse-hole, you are sitting there. You
+can't drag your prey out, and you can't pursue it, but you can outwait
+it. Here you sit in this comer--do you know they've nicknamed it "the
+mousetrap" on your account? Here you read the papers to see if anybody
+is in trouble, or if anybody is about to be discharged from the theatre.
+Here you watch your victims and calculate your chances and take your
+tributes. Poor Amelia! Do you know, I pity you all the same, for I know
+you are unhappy--unhappy as one who has been wounded, and malicious
+because you are wounded. I ought to be angry with you, but really I
+can't--you are so small, after all--and as to Bob, why, that does not
+bother me in the least. What does it matter to me, anyhow? If you or
+somebody else taught me to drink chocolate--what of that? [_Takes a
+spoonful of chocolate; then, sententiously._] They say chocolate is very
+wholesome. And if I have learned from you how to dress--_tant
+mieux!_--it has only given me a stronger hold on my husband--and you
+have lost where I have gained. Yes, judging by several signs, I think
+you have lost him already. Of course, you meant me to break with him--as
+you did, and as you are now regretting--but, you see, _I_ never would do
+that. It wouldn't do to be narrow-minded, you know. And why should I
+take only what nobody else wants? Perhaps, after all, I am the stronger
+now. You never got anything from me; you merely gave--and thus happened
+to me what happened to the thief--I had what you missed when you woke
+up. How explain in any other way that, in your hand, everything proved
+worthless and useless? You were never able to keep a man's love, in
+spite of your tulips and your passions--and I could; you could never
+learn the art of living from the books--as I learned it; you bore no
+little Eskil, although that was your father's name. And why do you keep
+silent always and everywhere--silent, ever silent? I used to think it
+was because you were so strong; and maybe the simple truth was you never
+had anything to say--because you were unable to think! [_Rises and picks
+up the slippers._] I'm going home now--I'll take the tulips with
+me--your tulips. You couldn't learn anything from others; you couldn't
+bend--and so you broke like a dry stem--and I didn't. Thank you,
+Amelia, for all your instructions. I thank you that you have taught me
+how to love my husband. Now I'm going home--to him! [_Exit._
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+
+
+COLLECTIONS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+     _The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays._ The Atlantic Monthly Press,
+     Boston, 1921.
+
+     Baker, Geo. Pierce. _Plays of the 47 Workship_ (two volumes) and
+     _Plays of the Harvard Dramatic Club_ (two volumes). Brentano's, New
+     York City, 1918-20.
+
+     Clark, Barrett H., _Representative One-Act Plays by British and
+     Irish Authors_. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1921.
+
+     Cohen, Helen Louise, _One-Act Plays by Modern Authors_. Harcourt,
+     Brace and Company, New York, 1921.
+
+     Eliot, Samuel A., _Little Theatre Classics_, one-act versions of
+     standard plays from the modern and the classic plays. Four volumes
+     now issued. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1918.
+
+     Mayorga, Margaret Gardner, _Representative One-Act Plays by
+     American Authors_. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1919.
+
+     Moses, Montrose J., _Representative One-Act Plays by Continental
+     European Authors_. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1922.
+
+     Shay, Frank, and Loving, Pierre, _Fifty Contemporary One-Act
+     Plays_. Stewart and Kidd Company, Cincinnati, 1920.
+
+     _Wisconsin Plays_, First and Second Series. B. W. Huebsch, New York
+     City, 1914, 1918.
+
+     Smith, Alice M., _Short Plays by Representative Authors_. The
+     Macmillan Company, New York City, 1921.
+
+     _A Volume of Plays from the Drama_, 59 East Van Buren Street,
+     Chicago, is announced for 1922.
+
+     _A Volume of One-Act Plays_ from the work of Professor Franz
+     Rickaby, of the University of North Dakota, is under way.
+
+     _A Volume of One-Act Plays_, from the work of Professor Frederick
+     H. Koch, of the University of North Carolina, is under way.
+
+
+
+
+LISTS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+     _Bibliography of Published Plays Available in English._ World Drama
+     Promoters, La Jolla, California.
+
+     Cheney, Sheldon, _The Art Theatre_. (Appendix: _Plays Produced at
+     the Arts and Crafts Theatre, Detroit_.) Alfred A. Knopf, New York,
+     1917.
+
+     Clapp, John Mantel, _Plays for Amateurs_. _Bulletin of The Drama
+     League of America_, Chicago, 1915.
+
+     Clark, Barrett Harper, _How to Produce Amateur Plays_. Little,
+     Brown and Company, Boston, 1917.
+
+     Dickinson, Thomas H., _The Insurgent Theatre_. (Appendix: _List of
+     Plays Produced by Little Theatres_.) B. W. Huebsch, New York, 1917.
+
+     Drummond, Alex. M., _Fifty One-Act Plays_. _Quarterly Journal of
+     Public Speaking_, Vol. I, p. 234, 1915.
+
+     Drummond, Alex. M., _One-Act Plays for Schools and Colleges_.
+     _Education_, Vol. 4, p. 372, 1918.
+
+     Faxon, F. W., _Dramatic Index_. Published from year to year,
+     Boston.
+
+     French, Samuel, _Guide to Selecting Plays_. Catalogues, etc. Samuel
+     French, publisher, New York.
+
+     Johnson, Gertrude, _Choosing a Play_. Lists of various types of
+     one-act plays in the Appendix. The Century Company, New York, 1920.
+
+     Kaplan, Samuel, _Actable One-Act Plays_. Chicago Public Library,
+     Chicago, 1916.
+
+     Koch, Frederick H., _Community Drama Service_. A select list of
+     one-act plays. Extension Series, Number 36, in _University of North
+     Carolina Record_, Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1920.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _The Technique of the One-Act Play_ (Appendix:
+     _Contemporary One-Act Plays_). John W. Luce and Company, Boston,
+     1918.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _The One-Act Play in Colleges and High Schools_.
+     A select list of fifty one-act plays. _Bulletin of Extension
+     Division of University of Utah_, Series No. 2, Vol. 10, No. 16,
+     Salt Lake City, 1920.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _One Hundred Representative One-Act Plays_, in
+     _The Drama_, April, 1921, Vol. 11, No. 7, Chicago.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland. _Bulletin on the One-Act Play_, prepared for The
+     Drama League of America. Contains a selected list of one hundred
+     and fifty one-act plays, with analyses, etc. The Drama League of
+     America, Chicago, Illinois, 1921.
+
+     McFadden, E. A., _Selected List of Plays for Amateurs_, 113 Lake
+     View Avenue, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1920.
+
+     Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, _The Little Theatre in the United States_
+     (Appendix: _List of Plays Produced in Little Theatres_). Henry Holt
+     & Company, New York, 1917.
+
+     Mayorga, Margaret Gardner, _Representative One-Act Plays by
+     American Authors_ (Appendix: _Selective List of One-Act Plays by
+     American Authors_). Little, Brown & Company, Boston, 1919.
+
+     Merry, Glenn Newton, _College Plays_. University of Iowa, Iowa
+     City, Iowa, 1919.
+
+     Riley, Alice C. D., _The One-Act Play--Study Course_. Three issues
+     (February, March, April) of _The Drama League Bulletin_, 1918,
+     Washington, D. C.
+
+     Riley, Ruth, _Plays and Recitations, Extension Division Record_,
+     Vol. 2, No. 2, November, 1920. University of Florida, Gainesville,
+     Florida.
+
+     _Selected List of Christmas Plays._ Drama League Calendar, November
+     15, 1918, New York.
+
+     _Selected List of Patriotic Plays and Pageants Suitable for
+     Amateurs._ Drama League Calendar, October 1, 1918, New York.
+
+     _Selected List of Plays for Amateurs._ The Drama League, Boston.
+     Also Doubleday, Page & Company, New York, 1917.
+
+     Shay, Frank, _Play List, Winter, 1921._ Frank Shay, 4 Christopher
+     Street, New York.
+
+     Shay, Frank, and Loving, Pierre, _Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays_
+     (Appendix: _The Plays of the Little Theatre_). Stewart & Kidd
+     Company, Cincinnati, 1920.
+
+     Stratton, Clarence, _Two Hundred Plays Suitable for Amateurs_. One
+     hundred of them are one-act plays. St. Louis, Missouri, 1920. The
+     Drama Shop, 7 East 42d Street, New York.
+
+     Stratton, Clarence, _Producing in Little Theatres_ (Appendix
+     contains a revised list of one-act plays). Henry Holt & Company,
+     New York City, 1921.
+
+     Swartout, Norman Lee, _One Hundred and One Good Plays_. Summit, New
+     Jersey, 1920.
+
+
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY OF REFERENCE ON THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+     Andrews, Charlton, _The Technique of Play Writing_, Chapter XVIII.
+     Home Correspondence School, Springfield, Massachusetts.
+
+     Cannon, Fanny, _Writing and Selling a Play_, Chapter XXII. Henry
+     Holt & Company, New York, 1915.
+
+     Cohen, Helen Louise, _One-Act Plays by Modern Authors_,
+     Introduction. Harcourt, Brace and Company, New York, 1921.
+
+     Corbin, John, _The One-Act Play_, in the New York _Times_, May,
+     1918. Vol. IV, p. 8, col. 1.
+
+     Eaton, Walter P., _Washington Square Plays_, Introduction.
+     Doubleday, Page & Company, Garden City, New York, 1917.
+
+     Gibbs, Clayton E., _The One-Act Play_, in _The Theatre_, Vol.
+     XXIII, pp. 143-156, March, 1916.
+
+     Goodman, Edward, _Why the One-Act Play_?, in _The Theatre_, Vol.
+     XXV, p. 327, June, 1917.
+
+     Gregory, Lady Augusta, _Our Irish Theatre_. G. P. Putnam's Sons,
+     New York, 1913.
+
+     Hamilton, Clayton, _The One-Act Play in America_, in _The Bookman_,
+     April, 1913. Appears as Chapter XXII in _Studies in Stagecraft_,
+     Henry Holt & Company, New York, 1914.
+
+     Johnson, Gertrude, _Choosing a Play_, Chapter III, _Why the One-Act
+     Play?_?The Century Company, New York, 1920.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _The Technique of the One-Act Play_. John W. Luce
+     & Company, Boston, 1918.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _The One-Act Play in Colleges and High Schools,
+     Bulletin of the University of Utah_, Extension Series No. 2, Vol.
+     X, No. 16, 1920. Extension Division, University of Utah, Salt Lake
+     City.
+
+     Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, _The Little Theatre in the United
+     States_, some interesting comments on various one-act plays. Henry
+     Holt & Company, New York, 1917.
+
+     Middleton, George, _Tradition and Other One-Act Plays_,
+     Introduction, 1913; _Embers, Etc._, Introduction, 1911;
+     _Possession, Etc._, Introduction, 1915. All published by Henry
+     Holt & Company, New York.
+
+     Middleton, George, _The Neglected One-Act Play_, in _The Dramatic
+     Mirror_, January 31, 1913, pp. 13-14, New York.
+
+     Moses, Montrose J., _The American Dramatist_, comment on the
+     one-act play. Little, Brown & Company, Boston, 1917.
+
+     Neal, Robert Wilson, _Short Stories in the Making_, Chapter I.
+     Oxford University Press, New York, 1914.
+
+     Page, Brett, _Writing for Vaudeville_. Home Correspondence School,
+     Springfield, Massachusetts, 1915.
+
+     _Poole's Index_, for articles on the one-act play in the magazines.
+
+     _The Reader's Guide to Periodical Literature_ for articles on the
+     one-act play in the magazines.
+
+     Schitzler, Arthur, _Comedies of Words_, Introduction by Pierre
+     Loving. Stewart & Kidd Company, Cincinnati, 1917.
+
+     Underhill, John Garrett, _The One-Art Play in Spain_, in _The
+     Drama: A Quarterly Review_, February, 1917.
+
+     Wilde, Percival, _Confessional, and Other One-Act Plays_, Preface.
+     Henry Holt & Company, New York, 1916.
+
+     The several volumes dealing with the short story are suggested as
+     collateral study: Pitkin, Neal, Williams, Grabo, Baker, Esenwein,
+     Notestein and Dunn, Canby, Albright, Smith, Cross, Barrett,
+     Mathews, Pain, Gerwig.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY ON HOW TO PRODUCE PLAYS
+
+     Beegle, Mary Porter, and Crawford, Jack, _Community Drama and
+     Pageantry_. The Appendices in this volume contain excellent
+     bibliographies on almost every aspect of dramatic production. It is
+     a most valuable work. Yale University Press, New Haven, 1917.
+
+     Chubb, Percival, _Festivals and Plays_. Harper and Brothers, New
+     York, 1912.
+
+     Clark, Barrett H., _How to Produce Amateur Plays_. Little, Brown &
+     Company, Boston, 1917.
+
+     Crampton, C. Ward, _Folk Dance Book_. A. S. Barnes & Company, New
+     York, 1909.
+
+     Hughes, Talbot, _Dress Designs_. The Macmillan Company, New York,
+     1913.
+
+     Johnson, Gertrude, _Choosing a Play_. The Century Company, New
+     York, 1920.
+
+     Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, _Costumes and Scenery for Amateurs_.
+     Henry Holt & Company, New York, 1915.
+
+     Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, _How to Produce Children's Plays_. Henry
+     Holt & Company, New York, 1915.
+
+     Rath, Emil, _Esthetic Dancing_. A. S. Barnes & Company, New York,
+     1914.
+
+     Rhead, G. N., _Chats on Costume, or Treatment of Draperies in Art_.
+     F. A. Stokes Company, New York, 1906.
+
+     Stratton, Clarence, _Producing in the Little Theatres_. Henry Holt
+     & Company, New York, 1921.
+
+     Stratton, Clarence, _Public Speaking_, has a chapter on Dramatics.
+     Henry Holt & Company, New York, 1920.
+
+     Taylor, Emerson, _Practical Stage Directing for Amateurs_. E. P.
+     Dutton & Company, New York, 1916.
+
+     Waugh, Frank A., _Outdoor Theatres_. Richard G. Badger, Boston,
+     1917.
+
+     Young, James, _Making Up_. M. Witmark & Sons, 114 West 37th Street,
+     New York.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Copyright, 1914, by Charles Scribner's Sons. All rights reserved.
+
+[B] Copyright, 1913, by George Middleton. All rights reserved.
+
+[C] Copyright, 1921. All rights reserved.
+
+[D] Copyright, 1912, 1921, by Percy Mackaye. All rights reserved.
+
+[E] The head and face of the Figure are partly hidden by a beak-shaped
+cowl. Momentarily, however, when his head is turned toward the fire,
+enough of the face is discernible to reveal his narrow iron-gray beard,
+shaven upper lip, aquiline nose, and eyes that twinkle in the dimness.
+
+[F] Copyright, 1919, by _The Stratford Journal_.
+
+[G] Copyright, 1914, by Bosworth Crocker. All rights reserved.
+
+[H] Pronounced _niece_.
+
+[I] Copyright, 1917, by Little, Brown & Co. All rights reserved.
+
+[J] Copyright, 1917, by Oscar M. Wolff. All rights reserved.
+
+[K] Plans for this clock may be had by addressing Professor N. B. Knapp,
+of the Manual Training Department, University of North Dakota,
+University, North Dakota.
+
+Copyright, 1922, by the Dakota Playmakers.
+
+[L] Copyright, 1909, by Charles Scribner's Sons. All rights reserved.
+
+[M] Copyright, 1912, by Charles Scribner's Sons. All rights reserved.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Contemporary One-Act Plays, by Various
+
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+  <head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+<title>
+  The Project Gutenberg eBook of Contemporary One-act Plays, by Various.
+</title>
+<style type="text/css">
+ p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:2%;}
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+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Contemporary One-Act Plays, by Various
+
+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
+
+
+Title: Contemporary One-Act Plays
+
+Compiler: B. Roland Lewis
+
+Author: Sir James M. Barrie
+        George Middleton
+        Althea Thurston
+        Percy Mackaye
+        Lady Augusta Gregor
+        Eugene Pillot
+        Anton Tchekov
+        Bosworth Crocker
+        Alfred Kreymborg
+        Paul Greene
+        Arthur Hopkins
+        Paul Hervieu
+        Jeannette Marks
+        Oscar M. Wolff
+        David Pinski
+        Beulah Bornstead
+        Hermann Sudermann
+        August Strindberg
+
+Release Date: November 10, 2011 [EBook #37970]
+[Last updated: January 23, 2012]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="cb">CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="345" height="550" alt="image of the book&#39;s cover" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h1>
+CONTEMPORARY<br />
+ONE-ACT PLAYS</h1>
+
+<p class="cb">WITH OUTLINE STUDY OF THE<br />
+ONE-ACT PLAY AND BIBLIOGRAPHIES</p>
+
+<p class="cb"><br />
+<br />
+<br />BY<br />
+B. ROLAND LEWIS<br />
+<small>Professor and Head of the Department of English in the University of Utah;<br />
+Author of "The Technique of the One-Act Play"</small><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br />
+NEW YORK <span style="margin-left: 2em;">CHICAGO</span> <span style="margin-left: 2em;">BOSTON</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p class="c"><small>C<small>OPYRIGHT</small>, 1922, by<br />
+CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br />
+&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+Printed in the United States of America<br />
+&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</small></p>
+
+<p class="nind"><small>The plays in this book are fully protected by copyright and the
+professional and amateur stage rights are reserved by the authors.
+Applications for their use should be made to the respective authors or
+publishers, as designated</small></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="c">             TO<br />
+     THE MEN AND WOMEN<br />
+WHO SO KINDLY HAVE PERMITTED ME TO<br />
+  REPRINT THESE ONE-ACT PLAYS</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>This collection of one-act plays appears because of an increasingly
+large demand for such a volume. The plays have been selected and the
+Introduction prepared to meet the need of the student or teacher who
+desires to acquaint himself with the one-act play as a specific dramatic
+form.</p>
+
+<p>The plays included have been selected with this need in mind.
+Accordingly, emphasis has been placed upon the wholesome and uplifting
+rather than upon the sordid and the ultra-realistic. The unduly
+sentimental, the strikingly melodramatic, and the play of questionable
+moral problems, has been consciously avoided. Comedies, tragedies,
+farces, and melodramas have been included; but the chief concern has
+been that each play should be good, dramatic art.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Dramatic Analysis and Construction of the One-Act Play</i>, which
+appears in the Introduction, also has been prepared for the student or
+teacher. This outline-analysis and the plays in this volume are
+sufficient material, if carefully studied, for an understanding and
+appreciation of the one-act play.</p>
+
+<p class="r">B. R<small>OLAND</small> L<small>EWIS</small>.
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS">
+
+<tr><th colspan="3" align="center"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a><big>CONTENTS</big></th></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></td><td>&nbsp; </td><td align="right"><a href="#page_003">3</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">LIST OF PLAYS</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Twelve-Pound Look</span></td><td>      <i>Sir James M. Barrie</i>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_017">17</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Tradition</span></td><td>      <i>George Middleton</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_043">43</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Exchange</span></td><td>      <i>Althea Thurston</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_061">61</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Sam Average</span></td><td>      <i>Percy Mackaye</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_085">85</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Hyacinth Halvey</span></td><td>      <i>Lady Augusta Gregory</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Gazing Globe</span></td><td>      <i>Eugene Pillot</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_139">139</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Boor</span></td><td>      <i>Anton Tchekov</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Last Straw</span></td><td>      <i>Bosworth Crocker</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Manikin and Minikin</span></td><td>      <i>Alfred Kreymborg</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_197">197</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">White Dresses</span></td><td>      <i>Paul Greene</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_215">215</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Moonshine</span></td><td>      <i>Arthur Hopkins</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_239">239</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Modesty</span></td><td>      <i>Paul Hervieu</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_255">255</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Deacon's Hat</span></td><td>      <i>Jeannette Marks</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_273">273</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Where but in America</span></td><td>      <i>Oscar M. Wolff</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_301">301</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Dollar</span></td><td>      <i>David Pinski</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_321">321</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Diabolical Circle</span></td><td>      <i>Beulah Bornstead</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_343">343</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Far-Away Princess</span></td><td>      <i>Hermann Sudermann</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_365">365</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Stronger</span></td><td>      <i>August Strindberg</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_393">393</a></td></tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="BIBLIOGRAPHIES">
+
+<tr><th colspan="2" align="center"><a name="BIBLIOGRAPHIES" id="BIBLIOGRAPHIES"></a><big>BIBLIOGRAPHIES</big></th></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2" align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Collections of One-Act Plays</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_405">405</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lists of One-Act Plays</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_406">406</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Bibliography of Reference on the One-Act Play</span>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td align="right"><a href="#page_408">408</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="smcap">Bibliography on How to Produce Plays</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_409">409</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<h1>CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS</h1>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION<br />
+<br /><small>THE ONE-ACT PLAY AS A SPECIFIC DRAMATIC TYPE</small></h2>
+
+<p>The one-act play is with us and is asking for consideration. It is
+challenging our attention whether we will or no. In both Europe and
+America it is one of the conspicuous factors in present-day dramatic
+activity. Theatre managers, stage designers, actors, playwrights, and
+professors in universities recognize its presence as a vital force.
+Professional theatre folk and amateurs especially are devoting zestful
+energy both to the writing and to the producing of this shorter form of
+drama.</p>
+
+<p>The one-act play is claiming recognition as a specific dramatic type. It
+may be said that, as an art form, it has achieved that distinction. The
+short story, as every one knows, was once an embryo and an experiment;
+but few nowadays would care to hold that it has not developed into a
+specific and worthy literary form. This shorter form of prose fiction
+was once apologetic, and that not so many years ago; but it has come
+into its own and now is recognized as a distinct type of prose
+narrative. The one-act play, like the short story, also has come into
+its own. No longer is it wholly an experiment. Indeed, it is succeeding
+in high places. The one-act play is taking its place among the
+significant types of dramatic and literary expression.</p>
+
+<p>Artistically and technically considered, the one-act play is quite as
+much a distinctive dramatic problem as the longer play. In writing
+either, the playwright aims so to handle his material that he will get
+his central intent to his audience and will provoke their interest and
+emotional response thereto. Both aim<a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a> at a singleness of impression and
+dramatic effect; both aim to be a high order of art. Yet since the one
+is shorter and more condensed, it follows that the dramaturgy of the one
+is somewhat different from that of the other, just as the technic of the
+cameo is different from the technic of the full-sized statue. The
+one-act play must, as it were, be presented at a "single setting": it
+must start quickly at the beginning with certain definite dramatic
+elements and pass rapidly and effectively to a crucial movement without
+halt or digression. A careful analysis of any one of the plays in this
+volume, like Anton Tchekov's <i>The Boor</i>, or like Oscar M. Wolff's <i>Where
+But in America</i>, will reveal this fact. The shorter form of drama, like
+the short story, has a technical method characteristically its own.</p>
+
+<p>It is a truth that the one-act play is well made or it is nothing at
+all. A careful analysis of Sir James M. Barrie's <i>The Twelve-Pound
+Look</i>, Paul Hervieu's <i>Modesty</i>, Althea Thurston's <i>The Exchange</i>, will
+reveal that these representative one-act plays are well made and are
+real bits of dramatic art. A good one-act play is not a mere cheap
+mechanical <i>tour de force</i>; mechanics and artistry it has, of course,
+but it is also a high order of art product. A delicately finished cameo
+is quite as much a work of art as is the larger statue; both have
+mechanics and design in their structure, but those of the cameo are more
+deft and more highly specialized than those of the statue, because the
+work of the former is done under far more restricted conditions. The
+one-act play at its best is cunningly wrought.</p>
+
+<p>Naturally, the material of the one-act play is a bit episodical. It
+deals with but a single situation. A study of the plays in this volume
+will reveal that no whole life's story can be treated adequately in the
+short play, and that no complexity of plot can be employed. Unlike the
+longer play, the shorter form of drama shows not the whole man&mdash;except
+by passing hint&mdash;but a significant moment or experience, a significant
+character-trait. However vividly this chosen moment may be
+interpreted&mdash;and<a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a> the one-act play must be vivid&mdash;much will still be
+left to the imagination. It is the aim of the one-act form to trace the
+causal relations of but <i>one</i> circumstance so that the circumstance may
+be intensified. The writer of the one-act play deliberately isolates so
+that he may throw the strong flashlight more searchingly on some one
+significant event, on some fundamental element of character, on some
+moving emotion. He presents in a vigorous, compressed, and suggestive
+way a simplification and idealization of a particular part or aspect of
+life. Often he opens but a momentary little vista of life, but it is so
+clear-cut and so significant that a whole life is often revealed
+thereby.</p>
+
+<p>The student must not think that because the one-act play deals with but
+one crisis or but one simplified situation, it is therefore weak and
+inconsequential. On the contrary, since only one event or situation can
+be emphasized, it follows that the writer is obliged to choose the one
+determining crisis which makes or mars the supreme struggle of a soul,
+the one great change or turning-point or end of a life history. Often
+such moments are the really vital material for drama; nothing affords so
+much opportunity for striking analysis, for emotional stress, for the
+suggestion of a whole character sketched in the act of meeting its test.</p>
+
+<p>The one-act play is a vital literary product. To segregate a bit of
+significant experience and to present a finished picture of its aspects
+and effects; to dissect a motive so searchingly and skilfully that its
+very roots are laid bare; to detach a single figure from a dramatic
+sequence and portray the essence of its character; to bring a series of
+actions into the clear light of day in a sudden and brief human crisis;
+to tell a significant story briefly and with suggestion; to portray the
+humor of a person or an incident, or in a trice to reveal the touch of
+tragedy resting like the finger of fate on an experience or on a
+character&mdash;these are some of the possibilities of the one-act play when
+bandied by a master dramatist.<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a></p>
+
+<h3>THE PROPER APPROACH TO THE STUDY OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY</h3>
+
+<p>To read a one-act play merely to get its story is not in itself an
+exercise of any extraordinary value. This sort of approach to any form
+of literature does not require much appreciation of literary art nor
+much intelligence. Almost any normal-minded person can read a play for
+its story with but little expenditure of mental effort. Proper
+appreciation of a one-act play requires more than a casual reading whose
+chief aim is no more than getting the plot.</p>
+
+<p>If the shorter form of drama is to be appreciated properly as a real
+literary form, it must be approached from the point of view of its
+artistry and technic. This means that the student should understand its
+organic construction and technic, just as he should understand the
+organic construction and technic of a short story, a ballad, or a
+perfect sonnet, if he is to appreciate them properly.</p>
+
+<p>The student should know <i>what</i> the dramatist intends to get across the
+footlights to his audience, and should be able to detect <i>how</i> he
+accomplishes the desired result.</p>
+
+<p>It must not be thought that the author urges a study of construction at
+the expense of the human values in a play. On the contrary, such a study
+is but the means whereby the human values are made the more manifest.
+Surely no one would argue that the less one knows about the technic of
+music the better able is one to appreciate music. Indeed, it is not too
+much to say that, within reasonable limits, no one can really appreciate
+a one-act play if one does not know at least the fundamentals of its
+dramatic organization.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, students of the one-act play recognize in its constructive
+regularity not a hindrance to its beauty but a genuine power. This but
+lends to it the charm of perfection. The sonnet and the cameo are
+admirable, if for no other reason than their superior<a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a> workmanship. The
+one-act play does not lose by any reason of its technical requirements;
+indeed, this is one of its greatest assets. And the student who will
+take the pains to familiarize himself with the organic construction of a
+typical one-act play will have gone a long way in arriving at a proper
+appreciation of this shorter form of drama.</p>
+
+<h3>DRAMATIC ANALYSIS AND CONSTRUCTION OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY</h3>
+
+<h4>I. <span class="smcap">The Theme of the One-Act Play</span></h4>
+
+<p>The one-act play, like the short story, is a work of literary art, and
+must be approached as such. Just like a painting or a poem or a fine
+public building, the one-act play aims at making a <i>singleness of
+effect</i> upon the reader or observer. One does not judge a statue, or a
+poem, or any other work of art, by the appearance of any isolated part
+of it, but by the sum-total effect of the whole. The fundamental aim of
+a one-act play is that it shall so present a singleness of effect to the
+reader or to the assembled group who have gathered to witness a
+performance of it, that the reader or observer will be provoked to
+emotional response thereto.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, when a student reads a play like George Middleton's <i>Tradition</i>,
+he is made to see and feel that the life of a daughter has been
+handicapped and the longings of a mother smothered because of the
+conventional narrowness of an otherwise loving father. This is the
+singleness of effect of the play; this is its theme. This is precisely
+what the author of the play wished his reader or observer to see and
+feel. When one reads Bosworth Crocker's <i>The Last Straw</i>, one feels that
+a reasonably good and worthy man, because of his sensitiveness to
+criticism, has been driven to despair and to a tragic end by the
+malicious gossip of neighbors. One's sense of pity at his misfortune is
+aroused. This is what the author intended to do. This idea and effect is
+the theme of the play. And when the student reads Paul Hervieu's<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>
+<i>Modesty</i>, he feels that a woman, even though she may lead herself into
+thinking she prefers brutal frankness, instinctively likes affection and
+even flattery. This is the effect produced by the play; this is its
+intent; this is its theme.</p>
+
+<p>In approaching a one-act play, then, the very first consideration should
+be to determine what the purpose and intent of the play is&mdash;to determine
+its theme. This demands that the play be read through complete at one
+sitting and that no premature conclusions be drawn. Once the play is
+read, it is well to subject the play to certain leading questions. What
+has the author intended that his reader or hearer shall understand,
+think, or feel? What is the play about? What is its object and purpose?
+Is it a precept or an observation found in life, or is it a bit of
+fancy? Is it artificially didactic and moralizing? With what fundamental
+element in human nature does it have to do: Love? Patriotism? Fear?
+Egotism and self-centredness? Sacrifice? Faithfulness? Or what?</p>
+
+<p>A word of warning should be given. The student should not get the idea
+that by theme is meant the moral of the play. A good play may be
+thoroughly moral without its descending to commonplace moralizing. Good
+plays concern themselves with the presentation of the fundamentals of
+life rather than a creed of morals, theories, and propagandas. Art
+concerns itself with larger things than didactic and argumentative
+moralizing.</p>
+
+<h4>II. <span class="smcap">The Technic of the One-Act Play</span></h4>
+
+<p>Once the student satisfies himself as to the singleness of effect or
+theme of the play, he will do well to set himself to the task of seeing
+just how the dramatist has achieved this effect. He should keep in mind
+that the playwright is a skilled workman; that he has predetermined for
+himself just what he wishes his audience to think, feel, or understand,
+and has marshalled all his materials to that end. The way by which he
+accomplishes that end is his technic. Technic is but the practical
+method by<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a> which an artist can most effectively convey his message to
+his public. In a play the materials that the dramatist uses to this end
+are character, plot, dialogue, and stage direction. If he is skilled he
+will use these elements in such a way that the result will be an
+artistic whole, a singleness of effect, an organized unit that will
+exemplify and express his theme.</p>
+
+<p><i>A.</i> <span class="smcap">The Characters in the One-Act Play.</span>&mdash;Generally speaking, drama
+grows out of character. Farce, melodrama, and extravaganza usually
+consist of situation rather than of character. In any event, the student
+should avail himself of every means to understand the characters in the
+play under discussion. His real appreciation of the play will be in
+direct ratio almost to his understanding of the persons in the drama.
+Any attention given to this end will be energy well spent. The student
+should get into the very heart of the characters, as it were.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>, in Beulah Bornstead's <i>The Diabolical Circle</i>, is a
+narrow, self-centred, Puritan egotist who has little about his
+personality to appeal to the romantic and vivacious <span class="smcap">Betty</span>. <span class="smcap">Lady Sims</span>, in
+Sir James M. Barrie's <i>The Twelve-Pound Look</i>, is a woman who really is
+pathetic in her longing for some human independence in the presence of
+her self-centred husband, <span class="smcap">"Sir" Harry Sims</span>. And <span class="smcap">Manikin</span> and <span class="smcap">Minikin</span>, in
+Alfred Kreymborg's <i>Manikin and Minikin</i>, are conventionalized puppets
+representing the light yet half-serious bickerings, jealousies, and
+quarrellings of human nature.</p>
+
+<p>The student will do well to characterize the <i>dramatis personæ</i>
+deliberately and specifically. He should not now value himself for
+working fast; for things done in a hurry usually lack depth. He must not
+be content with vague and thin generalities. In analyzing a character it
+might be well to apply some specific questions similar to the following:
+Just what is the elemental human quality in the character? Loving?
+Trusting? Egotistic? Superstitious? Revengeful? Treacherous? Selfish?
+Discontented? Optimistic? Romantic? Or what? How does the<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a> dramatist
+characterize them: By action? By dialogue? By spirit of likes and
+dislikes? By racial trait? By religion? By peculiarity of manner,
+speech, appearance? Are the characters really dramatic: are they
+impelled to strong emotional reaction upon each other and upon
+situation? Do they provoke one's dramatic sympathy? Do they make one
+feel their own point of view and their own motives for conduct?</p>
+
+<p><i>B.</i> <span class="smcap">The Plot of the One-Act Play.</span>&mdash;Plot and character are integrally
+interlinked. Plot is not merely story taken from every-day life, where
+seldom do events occur in a series of closely following minor crucial
+moments leading to a climax. The dramatist so constructs his material
+that there is a sequential and causal interplay of dramatic forces,
+ending in some major crisis or crucial moment. Plot may be said to be
+the framework and constructed story by which a dramatist exemplifies his
+theme. It does not exist for its own end, but is one of the fundamental
+means whereby the playwright gets his singleness of effect, or theme, to
+his reader or hearer. From the story material at his disposal the
+playwright constructs his plot to this very end.</p>
+
+<p>Careful attention should be given to the plot. The student should
+question it carefully. Do the plot materials seem to have been taken
+from actual life? Or do they seem to be invented? Is the plot well
+suited to exemplifying the theme? Reconstruct the story out of which the
+plot may have been built. Since the plot of a one-act play is highly
+simplified, determine whether there are any complexities, any
+irrelevancies, any digressions. Does the plot have a well-defined
+beginning, middle, and end?</p>
+
+<p>1. <i>The Beginning of the One-Act Play.</i>&mdash;Having but a relatively short
+time at its disposal, usually about thirty minutes and seldom more than
+forty-five minutes, the beginning of a one-act play is very short. It is
+characterized by condensation, compactness, and brevity. Seldom is the
+beginning more than a half-page in length; often the play is got under
+way in two or<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a> three speeches. The student will do well to practise to
+the end that he will recognize instantly when the dramatic background of
+a one-act play has been laid.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever else may characterize the beginning, it must be dramatically
+effective. Instantly it must catch the powers of perception by making
+them aware of the initial situation out of which the subsequent dramatic
+action will develop. A good beginning makes one <i>feel</i> that suddenly he
+has come face to face with a situation which cannot be solved without an
+interplay of dramatic forces to a given final result.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, when one reads Althea Thurston's <i>The Exchange</i>, one is made
+suddenly to feel that human beings are discontent with their
+shortcomings and possessed qualities, and that they always feel that
+they would be happier if they possessed something other than what they
+have. The <span class="smcap">Judge</span>, who handles the cases as they come in for exchange, is
+disgusted with the vanities of humankind, and is ready to clear his
+hands of the whole matter. Here is a situation; it is the beginning of
+the play. In the beginning of Lady Gregory's <i>Hyacinth Halvey</i> one is
+brought suddenly to the realization that <span class="smcap">Hyacinth Halvey</span> instinctively
+rebels against the highly colored and artificially created good name
+that has been unwittingly superimposed upon him. This situation,
+suddenly presented, is the beginning of the play. Out of this initial
+situation the subsequent dramatic action evolves.</p>
+
+<p>Is the beginning too short? Too long? Does it make the initial dramatic
+situation clear? How has the playwright made it clear and effective?
+Just where is the end of the beginning? Although the beginning and the
+subsequent plot development are well blended together, so that there is
+no halting where the beginning ends, usually one can detect where the
+one ends and the other begins. It is a good idea, for the purpose of
+developing a sense of the organic structure of the one-act play, to draw
+a line across the page of the play, just where the one ends and the
+other begins.<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a></p>
+
+<p>The <i>setting</i> of the play is a part of the beginning. Is the setting
+realistic? Romantic? Fantastic or bizarre? Are the details of stage
+design, properties, and especially the atmosphere and color scheme in
+harmony with the tone of the play itself? Is the setting really an
+organic part of the play or is it something apart from it? Note that the
+setting is usually written in the third person, present tense, and in
+italics.</p>
+
+<p>2. <i>The Middle of the One-Act Play.</i>&mdash;The middle of a one-act play is
+concerned primarily with the main crucial moment or climax and the
+dramatic movement that from the beginning leads up to it. A good play
+consists of a series of minor crises leading up to a major crisis or
+crucial moment. It is for this crucial moment that the play exists; it
+is for this big scene precisely that the play has been written. Indeed,
+the play succeeds or fails as the crucial moment is strongly dramatic or
+flabbily weak. This is the part of the play that is strongest in
+dramatic tension, strongest in emotional functioning.</p>
+
+<p>A study of Sir James M. Barrie's <i>The Twelve-Pound Look</i> shows that the
+crucial moment comes at the point where <span class="smcap">"Sir" Harry Sims</span> in his
+self-centred egotism discovers that his wife's, <span class="smcap">Lady Sims's</span>,
+heart-longing could easily be satisfied if she were permitted no other
+freedom than merely operating a typewriter. In Althea Thurston's <i>The
+Exchange</i> the crucial moment comes when the several characters, who
+unwittingly had exchanged one ill for a worse one, find that they can
+never re-exchange, and that they must endure the torments and
+displeasure of the newly acquired ill throughout life.</p>
+
+<p>Just where is the crucial moment or climax in the play under
+consideration? Determine the several minor crises that lead up to the
+crucial moment. Is the crucial moment delayed too long for good dramatic
+effect? Or is it reached too soon, so that the play is too short and too
+sudden in reaching the climax? Does it make one <i>feel</i> that some vital
+result has been attained in the plot movement? Is it characterized by
+strong situation and by<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a> strong emotional reactions of character on
+character or of character on situation?</p>
+
+<p>For purposes of impressing a sense the organic structure of a one-act
+play, it is a good plan to draw a horizontal line across the page at the
+close of the crucial moment. Keep in mind, however, that the crucial
+moment is <i>not</i> the end of the play as it appears on the printed page or
+as it is acted on the stage.</p>
+
+<p>3. <i>The End of the One-Act Play.</i>&mdash;The end of the one-act play is an
+important consideration. Too often it is entirely lost sight of. It is
+the part that frequently makes or mars a play. When the crucial moment
+or climax has been reached, the plot action of the play is completed,
+but the play is not yet completed. The play needs yet to be rounded out
+into an artistic and dramatic whole. In life the actual crisis in human
+affairs is not often our chiefest interest, but the reaction of
+characters immediately <i>after</i> the crisis has occurred. Thus, in a play,
+the emotional reaction of the characters on the crucial moment and the
+more or less sudden readjustment between characters after the crucial
+moment must be presented. For this very purpose the end of the one-act
+play is constructed. The end is of need very short&mdash;usually even shorter
+than the beginning. Usually the end consists of but a speech or two, or
+sometimes only of pantomime that more effectively expresses the
+emotional reactions of the characters on the crucial moment than
+dialogue.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, in Sir James M. Barrie's <i>The Twelve-Pound Look</i>, the end consists
+of but pantomime, in which <span class="smcap">"Sir" Harry</span> expresses his emotional reaction
+upon his wife's longing for the human liberty that even the operating of
+a typewriter would provide her. The end of Bosworth Crocker's <i>The Last
+Straw</i> comes immediately after the pistol-shot is heard in the adjoining
+room and <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer's</span> voice is heard: "Fritz! Fritz! Speak to me! Look
+at me, Fritz! You didn't do it, Fritz! I know you didn't do it!" etc.</p>
+
+<p>Is the end of the play under consideration in terms of dialogue?<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a> In
+pantomime? Or both? Is it too long? Too short? Is it dramatic? Is it
+conclusive and satisfying?</p>
+
+<p><i>C.</i> <span class="smcap">Dialogue of the One-Act Play.</span>&mdash;Dialogue, like plot and
+characterization, is another means whereby the theme of the play is got
+to the reader or audience. Good dramatic dialogue is constructed to this
+very end. It is not the commonplace, rambling, uncertain, and realistic
+question and answer of every-day life. Usually good dramatic dialogue is
+crisp, direct, condensed. It is the substance but not the form of
+ordinary conversation. Its chiefest characteristic is spontaneity.</p>
+
+<p><i>The highest type of dramatic dialogue is that which expresses the ideas
+and emotions of characters at the points of highest emotional
+functioning.</i> It will readily be seen, then, that not all dialogue in a
+play is necessarily dramatic. In truth, the best dramatic dialogue
+occurs in conjunction with the series of minor crises and the crucial
+moment that go to make up the dramatic movement of the play. Often there
+is much dialogue in a play that essentially is not dramatic at all.</p>
+
+<p>In analyzing dramatic dialogue it is well to inquire whether in the play
+it serves (1) to express the ideas and emotions of characters at points
+of highest emotional functioning, (2) to advance the plot, (3) to reveal
+character, or (4) what. Is it brief, clear, direct, spontaneous? Or is
+it careless, loose, insipid? Wit, repartee? Didactic, moralizing?
+Satirical, cynical?</p>
+
+<p><i>D.</i> <span class="smcap">Stage-Business and Stage-Direction in the One-Act Play.</span>&mdash;The
+stage-business and stage-direction, usually printed in italics, of a
+play are an essential part of a drama. They must not be ignored in
+either reading or staging a play. The novel or short story generally
+uses narration and description to achieve its desired result; a play, on
+the contrary, uses dialogue and concrete objective pantomime that may be
+seen readily with the eye. A play is not a story narrated in
+chronological order of events, but it is a story so handled and so
+constructed that it can be acted on a stage by actors before an
+audience. It is a series<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a> of minor crises leading to a major crisis,
+presented to a reader or to an audience by characters, dialogue, and
+stage-business and pantomime. For purposes of indicating the pantomimic
+action of the play, the dramatist resorts to stage-business and
+stage-direction.</p>
+
+<p>Does the stage-direction aid in making (1) the dialogue, (2) the plot,
+(3) the dramatic action, or (4) the character more clear? Does it
+shorten the play? Does it express idea, emotion, or situations more
+effectively than could dialogue, if it were used?</p>
+
+<p>And, finally, do not judge any play until all the evidence is in, until
+you have thoroughly mastered every detail and have fully conceived the
+<i>author's idea</i> and <i>purpose</i>. It is not a question whether <i>you</i> would
+have selected such a theme or whether <i>you</i> would have handled it in the
+same way in which the author did; but the point is does the <i>author</i> in
+<i>his</i> way make <i>his</i> theme clear to you. The author has conceived a
+dramatic problem in his <i>own mind</i> and has set it forth in <i>his own
+way</i>. The question is, does he make you see his result and his method?</p>
+
+<p>Do you like the play? Or do you not like it? State your reason in either
+case. Is it because of the author? Is it because of the theme? Is it
+because of the technic&mdash;the way he gets his intent to his reader or
+audience? Is it because of your own likes or dislikes; preconceived
+notions or prejudices? Is it because of the acting? Of the staging or
+setting? Does it uplift or depress? Does it provoke you to emotional
+functioning?</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">"Though old the thought and oft expressed,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp; 'Tis his at last who says it best."</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a></p>
+
+<h2>
+THE TWELVE-POUND LOOK<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+<br />
+SIR JAMES M. BARRIE</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>The Twelve-Pound Look</i> is reprinted by permission of Charles Scribner's
+Sons, the publisher in America of the works of Sir James M. Barrie. For
+permission to perform, address the publisher.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="SIR_JAMES_M_BARRIE" id="SIR_JAMES_M_BARRIE"></a>SIR JAMES M. BARRIE</p>
+
+<p>Sir James M. Barrie is rated as the foremost English dramatist of the
+day; and his plays, taken together, make the most significant
+contribution to English drama since Sheridan. Practically his entire
+life has been given to the writing of novels and plays, many of the
+latter having their heroines conceived especially for Maude Adams, one
+of America's greatest actresses. He was born in Kirriemuir, Scotland, in
+1860. He received his education at Dumfries and Edinburgh University.
+His first work in journalism and letters was done at Nottingham, but
+soon he took up his work in London, where he now resides.</p>
+
+<p>Sir James M. Barrie's literary labors have been very fruitful. His <i>The
+Professor's Love Story</i>, <i>The Little Minister</i>, <i>Quality Street</i>, <i>The
+Admirable Crichton</i>, <i>Peter Pan</i>, <i>What Every Woman Knows</i>, and <i>Alice
+Sit-by-the-Fire</i> are well known to every one.</p>
+
+<p>In 1914 there appeared a volume of one-act plays, <i>Half Hours</i>, the most
+important of which is <i>The Twelve-Pound Look</i>. And in 1918 appeared a
+volume, <i>Echoes of the War</i>, the most important one-act play therein
+being <i>The Old Lady Shows Her Medals</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Barrie is a great playwright because he is so thoroughly human. All the
+little whimsicalities, sentiments, little loves, and heart-longings of
+human beings are ever present in his plays. He is no reformer, no
+propagandist. He appeals to the emotions rather than to the intellect.
+He continues the romantic tradition in English drama and gives us plays
+that are wholesome, tender, and human. And with all this, he has the
+added saving grace of a most absorbing humor.</p>
+
+<p>While Barrie is not a devotee of the well-made play, his <i>The
+Twelve-Pound Look</i> is one of the most nearly perfect one-act plays of
+contemporary drama. His interest in human personalities is not more
+manifest in any of his plays than in <span class="smcap">Lady Sims</span> and <span class="smcap">"Sir" Harry Sims</span> in
+this play.<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left"><a name="CHARACTERS" id="CHARACTERS"></a>CHARACTERS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">"Sir" Harry Sims</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Lady Sims</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Kate</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Tombes</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><a name="THE_TWELVE-POUND_LOOKA" id="THE_TWELVE-POUND_LOOKA"></a>THE TWELVE-POUND LOOK<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size:50%;">[A]</span></a></h2>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>If quite convenient (as they say about checks) you are to conceive
+that the scene is laid in your own house, and that</i> <span class="smcap">Harry Sims</span> <i>is
+you. Perhaps the ornamentation of the house is a trifle
+ostentatious, but if you cavil at that we are willing to
+redecorate: you don't get out of being</i> <span class="smcap">Harry Sims</span> <i>on a mere
+matter of plush and dados. It pleases us to make him a city man,
+but (rather than lose you) he can be turned with a scrape of the
+pen into a K.C., fashionable doctor, Secretary of State, or what
+you will. We conceive him of a pleasant rotundity with a thick red
+neck, but we shall waive that point if you know him to be thin.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>It is that day in your career when everything went wrong just when
+everything seemed to be superlatively right.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>In</i> <span class="smcap">Harry's</span> <i>case it was a woman who did the mischief. She came to
+him in his great hour and told him she did not admire him. Of
+course he turned her out of the house and was soon himself again,
+but it spoiled the morning for him. This is the subject of the
+play, and quite enough too.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>is to receive the honor of knighthood in a few days, and we
+discover him in the sumptuous "snuggery" of his home in Kensington
+(or is it Westminster?), rehearsing the ceremony with his wife.
+They have been at it all the morning, a pleasing occupation.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
+Sims</span> <i>(as we may call her for the last time, as it were, and
+strictly as a good-natured joke) is wearing her presentation gown,
+and personates the august one who is about to dub her</i> <span class="smcap">Harry</span>
+<i>knight. She is seated regally. Her jewelled shoulders proclaim
+aloud her husband's generosity. She must<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a> be an extraordinarily
+proud and happy woman, yet she has a drawn face and shrinking ways,
+as if there were some one near her of whom she is afraid. She claps
+her hands, as the signal to</i> <span class="smcap">Harry</span>. <i>He enters bowing, and with a
+graceful swerve of the leg. He is only partly in costume, the sword
+and the real stockings not having arrived yet. With a gliding
+motion that is only delayed while one leg makes up on the other, he
+reaches his wife, and, going on one knee, raises her hand superbly
+to his lips. She taps him on the shoulder with a paper-knife and
+says huskily: "Rise, Sir Harry." He rises, bows, and glides about
+the room, going on his knees to various articles of furniture, and
+rises from each a knight. It is a radiant domestic scene, and</i>
+<span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>is as dignified as if he knew that royalty was rehearsing it
+at the other end</i>.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Complacently.</i>] Did that seem all right, eh?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Much relieved.</i>] I think perfect.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. But was it dignified?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Oh, very. And it will be still more so when you have the
+sword.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. The sword will lend it an air. There are really the five
+moments&mdash;[<i>suiting the action to the word</i>]&mdash;the glide&mdash;the dip&mdash;the
+kiss&mdash;the tap&mdash;and you back out a knight. It's short, but it's a very
+beautiful ceremony. [<i>Kindly.</i>] Anything you can suggest?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. No&mdash;oh, no. [<i>Nervously, seeing him pause to kiss the tassel
+of a cushion.</i>] You don't think you have practised till you know what to
+do almost too well?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He has been in a blissful temper, but such niggling criticism
+would try any man.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. I do not. Don't talk nonsense. Wait till your opinion is
+asked for.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Abashed.</i>] I'm sorry, Harry. [<i>A perfect butler appears and
+presents a card.</i>] "The Flora Typewriting Agency."<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Ah, yes. I telephoned them to send some one. A woman, I
+suppose, Tombes?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OMBES</small>. Yes, Sir Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Show her in here. [<i>He has very lately become a stickler for
+etiquette.</i>] And, Tombes, strictly speaking, you know, I am not Sir
+Harry till Thursday.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OMBES</small>. Beg pardon, sir, but it is such a satisfaction to us.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Good-naturedly.</i>] Ah, they like it down-stairs, do they?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OMBES</small>. [<i>Unbending.</i>] Especially the females, Sir Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Exactly. You can show her in, Tombes. [<i>The butler departs on
+his mighty task.</i>] You can tell the woman what she is wanted for, Emmy,
+while I change. [<i>He is too modest to boast about himself, and prefers
+to keep a wife in the house for that purpose.</i>] You can tell her the
+sort of things about me that will come better from you. [<i>Smiling
+happily.</i>] You heard what Tombes said: "Especially the females." And he
+is right. Success! The women like it even better than the men. And
+rightly. For they share. <i>You</i> share, <i>Lady</i> Sims. Not a woman will see
+that gown without being sick with envy of it. I know them. Have all our
+lady friends in to see it. It will make them ill for a week.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>These sentiments carry him off light-heartedly, and presently the
+disturbing element is shown in. She is a mere typist, dressed in
+uncommonly good taste, but at contemptibly small expense, and she
+is carrying her typewriter in a friendly way rather than as a badge
+of slavery, as of course it is. Her eye is clear; and in odd
+contrast to</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Sims</span>, <i>she is self-reliant and serene</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Respectfully, but she should have waited to be spoken to.</i>] Good
+morning, madam.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>In her nervous way, and scarcely noticing that the typist
+is a little too ready with her tongue.</i>] Good morning. [<i>As a first
+impression she rather likes the woman, and the woman,<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a> though it is
+scarcely worth mentioning, rather likes her.</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Sims</span> <i>has a maid for
+buttoning and unbuttoning her, and probably another for waiting on the
+maid, and she gazes with a little envy perhaps at a woman who does
+things for herself</i>.] Is that the typewriting machine?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Who is getting it ready for use.</i>] Yes. [<i>Not "Yes, madam" as it
+ought to be.</i>] I suppose if I am to work here I may take this off. I get
+on better without it. [<i>She is referring to her hat.</i></p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Certainly. [<i>But the hat is already off.</i>] I ought to
+apologize for my gown. I am to be presented this week, and I was trying
+it on.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Her tone is not really apologetic. She is rather clinging to the
+glory of her gown, wistfully, as if not absolutely certain, you
+know, that it is a glory.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. It is beautiful, if I may presume to say so.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She frankly admires it. She probably has a best and a second best
+of her own; that sort of thing.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>With a flush of pride in the gown.</i>] Yes, it is very
+beautiful. [<i>The beauty of it gives her courage.</i>] Sit down, please.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>The sort of woman who would have sat down in any case.</i>] I
+suppose it is some copying you want done? I got no particulars. I was
+told to come to this address, but that was all.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Almost with the humility of a servant.</i>] Oh, it is not work
+for me, it is for my husband, and what he needs is not exactly copying.
+[<i>Swelling, for she is proud of</i> <span class="smcap">Harry</span>.] He wants a number of letters
+answered&mdash;hundreds of them&mdash;letters and telegrams of congratulation.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>As if it were all in the day's work.</i>] Yes?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Remembering that</i> <span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>expects every wife to do her
+duty</i>.] My husband is a remarkable man. He is about to be knighted.
+[<i>Pause, but</i> <span class="smcap">Kate</span> <i>does not fall to the floor</i>.] He is to be knighted
+for his services to&mdash;[<i>on reflection</i>]&mdash;for his services. [<i>She is
+conscious that she is not doing</i> <span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>justice</i>.] He can explain it so
+much better than I can.<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a></p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>In her businesslike way.</i>] And I am to answer the
+congratulations?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Afraid that it will be a hard task.</i>] Yes.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Blithely</i>] It is work I have had some experience of.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She
+proceeds to type.</i></p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. But you can't begin till you know what he wants to say.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Only a specimen letter. Won't it be the usual thing?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>To whom this is a new idea.</i>] Is there a usual thing?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Oh, yes.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She continues to type, and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Sims</span>, <i>half-mesmerized, gazes at
+her nimble fingers. The useless woman watches the useful one, and
+she sighs, she could not tell why.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. How quickly you do it! It must be delightful to be able to do
+something, and to do it well.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Thankfully.</i>] Yes, it is delightful.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small> [<i>Again remembering the source of all her greatness.</i>] But,
+excuse me, I don't think that will be any use. My husband wants me to
+explain to you that his is an exceptional case. He did not try to get
+this honor in any way. It was a complete surprise to him&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Who is a practical</i> <span class="smcap">Kate</span> <i>and no dealer in sarcasm</i>.] That is
+what I have written.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>In whom sarcasm would meet a dead wall.</i>] But how could you
+know?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I only guessed.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Is that the usual thing?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Oh, yes.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. They don't try to get it?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I don't know. That is what we are told to say in the letters.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>To her at present the only important thing about the letters is
+that they are ten shillings the hundred.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Returning to surer ground.</i>] I should explain<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a> that my
+husband is not a man who cares for honors. So long as he does his
+duty&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Yes, I have been putting that in.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Have you? But he particularly wants it to be known that he
+would have declined a title were it not&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I have got it here.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. What have you got?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Reading.</i>] "Indeed, I would have asked to be allowed to decline
+had it not been that I want to please my wife."</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Heavily.</i>] But how could you know it was that?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Is it?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Who, after all, is the one with the right to ask
+questions.</i>] Do they all accept it for that reason?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. That is what we are told to say in the letters.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Thoughtlessly.</i>] It is quite as if you knew my husband.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I assure you, I don't even know his name.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Suddenly showing that she knows him.</i>] Oh, he wouldn't like
+that!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>And it is here that</i> <span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>re-enters in his city garments,
+looking so gay, feeling so jolly, that we bleed for him. However,
+the annoying</i> <span class="smcap">Katherine</span> <i>is to get a shock also</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. This is the lady, Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Shooting his cuffs.</i>] Yes, yes. Good morning, my dear.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Then they see each other, and their mouths open, but not for
+words. After the first surprise</i> <span class="smcap">Kate</span> <i>seems to find some humor in
+the situation, but</i> <span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>lowers like a thunder-cloud</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Who has seen nothing.</i>] I have been trying to explain to
+her&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Eh&mdash;what? [<i>He controls himself.</i>] Leave it to me, Emmy; I'll
+attend to her.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Sims</span> <i>goes, with a dread fear that somehow she has vexed her
+lord, and then</i> <span class="smcap">Harry</span> <i>attends to the intruder</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>With concentrated scorn.</i>] You!</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>As if agreeing with him.</i>] Yes, it's funny.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. The shamelessness of your daring to come here.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Believe me, it is not less a surprise to me than it is to you. I
+was sent here in the ordinary way of business. I was given only the
+number of the house. I was not told the name.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Withering her.</i>] The ordinary way of business! This is what
+you have fallen to&mdash;a typist!</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Unwithered.</i>] Think of it!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. After going through worse straits, I'll be bound.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>With some grim memories.</i>] Much worse straits.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Alas, laughing coarsely.</i>] My congratulations!</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Thank you, Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Who is annoyed, as any man would be, not to find her
+abject.</i>] Eh? What was that you called me, madam?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Isn't it Harry? On my soul, I almost forget.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. It isn't Harry to you. My name is Sims, if you please.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Yes, I had not forgotten that. It was my name, too, you see.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>In his best manner.</i>] It was your name till you forfeited
+the right to bear it.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Exactly.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Gloating.</i>] I was furious to find you here, but on second
+thoughts it pleases me. [<i>From the depths of his moral nature.</i>] There
+is a grim justice in this.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Sympathetically.</i>] Tell me?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Do you know what you were brought here to do?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I have just been learning. You have been made a knight, and I was
+summoned to answer the messages of congratulation.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. That's it, that's it. You come on this day as my servant!</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I, who might have been Lady Sims.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. And you are her typist instead. And she has<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a> four
+men-servants. Oh, I am glad you saw her in her presentation gown.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I wonder if she would let me do her washing, Sir Harry?</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Her want
+of taste disgusts him.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>With dignity.</i>] You can go. The mere thought that only a
+few flights of stairs separates such as you from my innocent
+children&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He will never know why a new light has come into her face.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Slowly.</i>] You have children?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Inflated.</i>] Two. [<i>He wonders why she is so long in
+answering.</i></p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Resorting to impertinence.</i>] Such a nice number.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>With an extra turn of the screw.</i>] Both boys.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Successful in everything. Are they like you, Sir Harry?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Expanding.</i>] They are very like me.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. That's nice. [<i>Even on such a subject as this she can be ribald.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Will you please to go.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Heigho! What shall I say to my employer?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. That is no affair of mine.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. What will you say to Lady Sims?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. I flatter myself that whatever I say, Lady Sims will accept
+without comment.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She smiles, heaven knows why, unless her next remark explains
+it.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Still the same Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. What do you mean?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Only that you have the old confidence in your profound knowledge
+of the sex.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Beginning to think as little of her intellect as of her
+morals.</i>] I suppose I know my wife.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Hopelessly dense.</i>] I suppose so. I was only remembering<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a> that
+you used to think you knew her in the days when I was the lady. [<i>He is
+merely wasting his time on her, and he indicates the door. She is not
+sufficiently the lady to retire worsted.</i>] Well, good-by, Sir Harry.
+Won't you ring, and the four men-servants will show me out?</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>But he
+hesitates.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>In spite of himself.</i>] As you are here, there is something
+I want to get out of you. [<i>Wishing he could ask it less eagerly.</i>] Tell
+me, who was the man?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The strange woman&mdash;it is evident now that she has always been
+strange to him&mdash;smiles tolerantly.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. You never found out?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. I could never be sure.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Reflectively.</i>] I thought that would worry you.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Sneering.</i>] It's plain that he soon left you.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Very soon.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. As I could have told you. [<i>But still she surveys him with
+the smile of Mona Lisa. The badgered man has to entreat.</i>] Who was he?
+It was fourteen years ago, and cannot matter to any of us now. Kate,
+tell me who he was?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>It is his first youthful moment, and perhaps because of that she
+does not wish to hurt him.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Shaking a motherly head.</i>] Better not ask.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. I do ask. Tell me.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. It is kinder not to tell you.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Violently.</i>] Then, by James, it was one of my own pals. Was
+it Bernard Roche? [<i>She shakes her head.</i>] It may have been some one who
+comes to my house still.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I think not. [<i>Reflecting.</i>] Fourteen years! You found my letter
+that night when you went home?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Impatient.</i>] Yes.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I propped it against the decanters. I thought you would be sure to
+see it there. It was a room not unlike this, and the furniture was
+arranged in the same attractive way. How it all comes back to me. Don't
+you see me, Harry, in hat and<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a> cloak, putting the letter there, taking a
+last look round, and then stealing out into the night to meet&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Whom?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Him. Hours pass, no sound in the room but the tick-tack of the
+clock, and then about midnight you return alone. You take&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Gruffly.</i>] I wasn't alone.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>The picture spoiled.</i>] No? Oh. [<i>Plaintively.</i>] Here have I all
+these years been conceiving it wrongly. [<i>She studies his face.</i>] I
+believe something interesting happened.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Growling.</i>] Something confoundedly annoying.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Coaxing.</i>] Do tell me.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. We won't go into that. Who was the man? Surely a husband has
+a right to know with whom his wife bolted.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Who is detestably ready with her tongue.</i>] Surely the wife has a
+right to know how he took it. [<i>The woman's love of bargaining comes to
+her aid.</i>] A fair exchange. You tell me what happened, and I will tell
+you who he was.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. You will? Very well.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>It is the first point on which they have agreed, and, forgetting
+himself, he takes a place beside her on the fire-seat. He is
+thinking only of what he is to tell her, but she, womanlike, is
+conscious of their proximity.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Tastelessly.</i>] Quite like old times. [<i>He moves away from her
+indignantly.</i>] Go on, Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Who has a manful shrinking from saying anything that is to
+his disadvantage.</i>] Well, as you know, I was dining at the club that
+night.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Yes.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Jack Lamb drove me home. Mabbett Green was with us, and I
+asked them to come in for a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Jack Lamb, Mabbett Green? I think I remember them. Jack was in
+Parliament.<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. No, that was Mabbett. They came into the house with me
+and&mdash;[<i>with sudden horror</i>]&mdash;was it him?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Bewildered.</i>] Who?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Mabbett?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. What?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. The man?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. What man? [<i>Understanding.</i>] Oh, no. I thought you said he came
+into the house with you.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. It might have been a blind.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Well, it wasn't. Go on.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. They came in to finish a talk we had been having at the club.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. An interesting talk, evidently.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. The papers had been full that evening of the elopement of
+some countess woman with a fiddler. What was her name?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Does it matter?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. No. [<i>Thus ends the countess.</i>] We had been discussing the
+thing and&mdash;[<i>he pulls a wry face</i>]&mdash;and I had been rather warm&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>With horrid relish.</i>] I begin to see. You had been saying it
+served the husband right, that the man who could not look after his wife
+deserved to lose her. It was one of your favorite subjects. Oh, Harry,
+say it was that!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Sourly.</i>] It may have been something like that.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. And all the time the letter was there, waiting; and none of you
+knew except the clock. Harry, it is sweet of you to tell me. [<i>His face
+is not sweet. The illiterate woman has used the wrong adjective.</i>] I
+forget what I said precisely in the letter.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Pulverizing her.</i>] So do I. But I have it still.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Not pulverized.</i>] Do let me see it again.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She has observed his eye wandering to the desk.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. You are welcome to it as a gift.<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The fateful letter, a poor little dead thing, is brought to light
+from a locked drawer.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Taking it.</i>] Yes, this is it. Harry, how you did crumple it!
+[<i>She reads, not without curiosity.</i>] "Dear husband&mdash;I call you that for
+the last time&mdash;I am off. I am what you call making a bolt of it. I won't
+try to excuse myself nor to explain, for you would not accept the
+excuses nor understand the explanation. It will be a little shock to
+you, but only to your pride; what will astound you is that any woman
+could be such a fool as to leave such a man as you. I am taking nothing
+with me that belongs to you. May you be very happy.&mdash;Your ungrateful
+<span class="smcap">Kate</span>. <i>P.S.</i>&mdash;You need not try to find out who he is. You will try, but
+you won't succeed." [<i>She folds the nasty little thing up.</i>] I may
+really have it for my very own?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. You really may.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Impudently.</i>] If you would care for a typed copy&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>In a voice with which he used to frighten his
+grandmother</i>.] None of your sauce! [<i>Wincing.</i>] I had to let them see it
+in the end.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I can picture Jack Lamb eating it.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. A penniless parson's daughter.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. That is all I was.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. We searched for the two of you high and low.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Private detectives?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. They couldn't get on the track of you.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Smiling.</i>] No?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. But at last the courts let me serve the papers by
+advertisement on a man unknown, and I got my freedom.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. So I saw. It was the last I heard of you.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Each word a blow for her.</i>] And I married again just as
+soon as ever I could.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. They say that is always a compliment to the first wife.<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Violently.</i>] I showed them.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. You soon let them see that if one woman was a fool, you still had
+the pick of the basket to choose from.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. By James, I did.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Bringing him to earth again.</i>] But still, you wondered who he
+was.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. I suspected everybody&mdash;even my pals. I felt like jumping at
+their throats and crying: "It's you!"</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. You had been so admirable to me, an instinct told you that I was
+sure to choose another of the same.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. I thought, it can't be money, so it must be looks. Some dolly
+face. [<i>He stares at her in perplexity.</i>] He must have had something
+wonderful about him to make you willing to give up all that you had with
+me.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>As if he was the stupid one.</i>] Poor Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. And it couldn't have been going on for long, for I would have
+noticed the change in you.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Would you?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. I knew you so well.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. You amazing man.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. So who was he? Out with it.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. You are determined to know?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Your promise. You gave your word.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. If I must&mdash;[<i>She is the villain of the piece, but it must be
+conceded that in this matter she is reluctant to pain him.</i>] I am sorry
+I promised. [<i>Looking at him steadily.</i>] There was no one, Harry; no one
+at all.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>.. [<i>Rising.</i>] If you think you can play with me&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I told you that you wouldn't like it.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Rasping.</i>] It is unbelievable.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I suppose it is; but it is true.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Your letter itself gives you the lie.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. That was intentional. I saw that if the truth were known you might
+have a difficulty in getting your freedom; and<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a> as I was getting mine it
+seemed fair that you should have yours also. So I wrote my good-by in
+words that would be taken to mean what you thought they meant, and I
+knew the law would back you in your opinion. For the law, like you,
+Harry, has a profound understanding of women.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Trying to straighten, himself.</i>] I don't believe you yet.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Looking not unkindly into the soul of this man.</i>] Perhaps that
+is the best way to take it. It is less unflattering than the truth. But
+you were the only one. [<i>Summing up her life.</i>] You sufficed.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Then what mad impulse&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. It was no impulse, Harry. I had thought it out for a year.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. A year? [<i>Dazed.</i>] One would think to hear you that I hadn't
+been a good husband to you.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>With a sad smile.</i>] You were a good husband according to your
+lights.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Stoutly.</i>] <i>I</i> think so.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. And a moral man, and chatty, and quite the philanthropist.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>On sure ground.</i>] All women envied you.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. How you loved me to be envied.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. I swaddled you in luxury.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Making her great revelation.</i>] That was it.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Blankly.</i>] What?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Who can be serene because it is all over.</i>] How you beamed at me
+when I sat at the head of your fat dinners in my fat jewelry, surrounded
+by our fat friends.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Aggrieved.</i>] They weren't so fat.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>A side issue.</i>] All except those who were so thin. Have you ever
+noticed, Harry, that many jewels make women either incredibly fat or
+incredibly thin?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Shouting.</i>] I have not. [<i>Is it worth while to<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a> argue with
+her any longer?</i>] We had all the most interesting society of the day. It
+wasn't only business men. There were politicians, painters, writers&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Only the glorious, dazzling successes. Oh, the fat talk while we
+ate too much&mdash;about who had made a hit and who was slipping back, and
+what the noo house cost and the noo motor and the gold soup-plates, and
+who was to be the noo knight.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Who it will be observed is unanswerable from first to
+last.</i>] Was anybody getting on better than me, and consequently you?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Consequently me! Oh, Harry, you and your sublime religion.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Honest heart.</i>] My religion? I never was one to talk about
+religion, but&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Pooh, Harry, you don't even know what your religion was and is and
+will be till the day of your expensive funeral. [<i>And here is the lesson
+that life has taught her.</i>] One's religion is whatever he is most
+interested in, and yours is Success.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Quoting from his morning paper.</i>] Ambition&mdash;it is the last
+infirmity of noble minds.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Noble minds!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>At last grasping what she is talking about.</i>] You are not
+saying that you left me because of my success?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Yes, that was it. [<i>And now she stands revealed to him.</i>] I
+couldn't endure it. If a failure had come now and then&mdash;but your success
+was suffocating me. [<i>She is rigid with emotion.</i>] The passionate
+craving I had to be done with it, to find myself among people who had
+not got on.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>With proper spirit.</i>] There are plenty of them.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. There were none in our set. When they began to go down-hill they
+rolled out of our sight.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Clenching it.</i>] I tell you I am worth a quarter of a
+million.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small> [<i>Unabashed.</i>] That is what you are worth to yourself.<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a> I'll tell
+you what you are worth to me: exactly twelve pounds. For I made up my
+mind that I could launch myself on the world alone if I first proved my
+mettle by earning twelve pounds; and as soon as I had earned it I left
+you.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>In the scales.</i>] Twelve pounds!</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. That is your value to a woman. If she can't make it she has to
+stick to you.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Remembering perhaps a rectory garden.</i>] You valued me at
+more than that when you married me.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Seeing it also.</i>] Ah, I didn't know you then. If only you had
+been a man, Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. A man? What do you mean by a man?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Leaving the garden.</i>] Haven't you heard of them? They are
+something fine; and every woman is loath to admit to herself that her
+husband is not one. When she marries, even though she has been a very
+trivial person, there is in her some vague stirring toward a worthy
+life, as well as a fear of her capacity for evil. She knows her chance
+lies in him. If there is something good in him, what is good in her
+finds it, and they join forces against the baser parts. So I didn't give
+you up willingly, Harry. I invented all sorts of theories to explain
+you. Your hardness&mdash;I said it was a fine want of mawkishness. Your
+coarseness&mdash;I said it goes with strength. Your contempt for the weak&mdash;I
+called it virility. Your want of ideals was clear-sightedness. Your
+ignoble views of women&mdash;I tried to think them funny. Oh, I clung to you
+to save myself. But I had to let go; you had only the one quality,
+Harry, success; you had it so strong that it swallowed all the others.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Not to be diverted from the main issue.</i>] How did you earn
+that twelve pounds?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. It took me nearly six months; but I earned it fairly. [<i>She
+presses her hand on the typewriter as lovingly as many a woman has
+pressed a rose.</i>] I learned this. I hired it and taught myself. I got
+some work through a friend, and with my first twelve<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a> pounds I paid for
+my machine. Then I considered that I was free to go, and I went.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. All this going on in my house while you were living in the
+lap of luxury! [<i>She nods.</i>] By God, you were determined.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Briefly.</i>] By God, I was.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Staring.</i>] How you must have hated me.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Smiling at the childish word.</i>] Not a bit&mdash;after I saw that
+there was a way out. From that hour you amused me, Harry; I was even
+sorry for you, for I saw that you couldn't help yourself. Success is
+just a fatal gift.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Oh, thank you.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Thinking, dear friends in front, of you and me perhaps.</i>] Yes,
+and some of your most successful friends knew it. One or two of them
+used to look very sad at times, as if they thought they might have come
+to something if they hadn't got on.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Who has a horror of sacrilege.</i>] The battered crew you live
+among now&mdash;what are they but folk who have tried to succeed and failed?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. That's it; they try, but they fail.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. And always will fail.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Always. Poor souls&mdash;I say of them. Poor soul&mdash;they say of me. It
+keeps us human. That is why I never tire of them.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Comprehensively.</i>] Bah! Kate, I tell you I'll be worth half
+a million yet.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I'm sure you will. You're getting stout, Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. No, I'm not.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. What was the name of that fat old fellow who used to fall asleep
+at our dinner-parties?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. If you mean Sir William Crackley&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. That was the man. Sir William was to me a perfect picture of the
+grand success. He had got on so well that he was very, very stout, and
+when he sat on a chair it was thus [<i>her hands<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a> meeting in front of
+her</i>]&mdash;as if he were holding his success together. That is what you are
+working for, Harry. You will have that and the half million about the
+same time.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Who has surely been very patient.</i>] Will you please to
+leave my house?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Putting on her gloves, soiled things.</i>] But don't let us part in
+anger. How do you think I am looking, Harry, compared to the dull, inert
+thing that used to roll round in your padded carriages?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>In masterly fashion.</i>] I forget what you were like. I'm
+very sure you never could have held a candle to the present Lady Sims.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. That is a picture of her, is it not?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Seizing his chance again.</i>] In her wedding-gown. Painted by
+an R.A.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Wickedly.</i>] A knight?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Deceived.</i>] Yes.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Who likes</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Sims</span>&mdash;<i>a piece of presumption on her part</i>.] It
+is a very pretty face.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>With the pride of possession.</i>] Acknowledged to be a beauty
+everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. There is a merry look in the eyes, and character in the chin.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Like an auctioneer.</i>] Noted for her wit.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. All her life before her when that was painted. It is a
+<i>spirituelle</i> face too. [<i>Suddenly she turns on him with anger, for the
+first and only time in the play.</i>] Oh, Harry, you brute!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Staggered.</i>] Eh? What?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. That dear creature, capable of becoming a noble wife and
+mother&mdash;she is the spiritless woman of no account that I saw here a few
+minutes ago. I forgive you for myself, for I escaped, but that poor lost
+soul, oh, Harry, Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Waving her to the door.</i>] I'll thank you&mdash;If<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a> ever there
+was a woman proud of her husband and happy in her married life, that
+woman is Lady Sims.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I wonder.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Then you needn't wonder.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Slowly.</i>] If I was a husband&mdash;it is my advice to all of them&mdash;I
+would often watch my wife quietly to see whether the twelve-pound look
+was not coming into her eyes. Two boys, did you say, and both like you?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. What is that to you?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>With glistening eyes</i>.] I was only thinking that somewhere there
+are two little girls who, when they grow up&mdash;the dear, pretty girls who
+are all meant for the men that don't get on! Well, good-by, Sir Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Showing a little human weakness, it is to be feared.</i>] Say
+first that you're sorry.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. For what?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. That you left me. Say you regret it bitterly. You know you
+do. [<i>She smiles and shakes her head. He is pettish. He makes a terrible
+announcement.</i>] You have spoiled the day for me.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>To hearten him.</i>] I am sorry for that; but it is only a
+pin-prick, Harry. I suppose it is a little jarring in the moment of your
+triumph to find that there is&mdash;one old friend&mdash;who does not think you a
+success; but you will soon forget it. Who cares what a typist thinks?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Heartened.</i>] Nobody. A typist at eighteen shillings a week!</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>Proudly.</i>] Not a bit of it, Harry. I double that.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Neatly.</i>] Magnificent!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>There is a timid knock at the door.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. May I come in?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Rather appealingly.</i>] It is Lady Sims.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. I won't tell. She is afraid to come into her husband's room
+without knocking!<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. She is not. [<i>Uxoriously.</i>] Come in, dearest.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Dearest enters, carrying the sword. She might have had the sense
+not to bring it in while this annoying person is here.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Thinking she has brought her welcome with her.</i>] Harry, the
+sword has come.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Who will dote on it presently.</i>] Oh, all right.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. But I thought you were so eager to practise with it.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The person smiles at this. He wishes he had not looked to see if
+she was smiling.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Sharply.</i>] Put it down.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Sims</span> <i>flushes a little as she lays the sword aside</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. [<i>With her confounded courtesy.</i>] It is a beautiful sword, if I
+may say so.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Helped.</i>] Yes.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The person thinks she can put him in the wrong, does she? He'll
+show her.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>With one eye on</i> <span class="smcap">Kate</span>.] Emmy, the one thing your neck needs
+is more jewels.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Faltering.</i>] More!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Some ropes of pearls. I'll see to it. It's a bagatelle to me.
+[<span class="smcap">Kate</span> <i>conceals her chagrin, so she had better be shown the door. He
+rings.</i>] I won't detain you any longer, miss.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. Thank you.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Going already? You have been very quick.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. The person doesn't suit, Emmy.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. I'm sorry.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ATE</small>. So am I, madam, but it can't be helped. Good-by, your
+ladyship&mdash;good-by, Sir Harry.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>There is a suspicion of an impertinent courtesy, and she is
+escorted off the premises by</i> <span class="smcap">Tombes</span>. <i>The air of the room is
+purified by her going.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Harry</span> <i>notices it at once</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Whose tendency is to say the wrong thing.</i>] She seemed such
+a capable woman.<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>On his hearth.</i>] I don't like her style at all.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Meekly.</i>] Of course you know best.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>This is the right kind of woman.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Rather anxious for corroboration.</i>] Lord, how she winced
+when I said I was to give you those ropes of pearls.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Did she? I didn't notice. I suppose so.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Frowning.</i>] Suppose? Surely I know enough about women to
+know that.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Yes, oh yes.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Odd that so confident a man should ask this.</i>] Emmy, I know
+you well, don't I? I can read you like a book, eh?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Nervously.</i>] Yes, Harry.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Jovially, but with an inquiring eye.</i>] What a different
+existence yours is from that poor lonely wretch's.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Yes, but she has a very contented face.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>With a stamp of his foot.</i>] All put on. What?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Timidly.</i>] I didn't say anything.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. [<i>Snapping.</i>] One would think you envied her.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Envied? Oh, no&mdash;but I thought she looked so alive. It was
+while she was working the machine.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. Alive! That's no life. It is you that are alive. [<i>Curtly.</i>]
+I'm busy, Emmy.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>He sits at his writing-table.</i></p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. [<i>Dutifully.</i>] I'm sorry; I'll go, Harry.
+[<i>Inconsequentially.</i>] Are they very expensive?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>IR</small> H<small>ARRY</small>. What?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ADY</small> S<small>IMS</small>. Those machines?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>When she has gone the possible meaning of her question startles
+him. The curtain hides him from us, but we may be sure that he will
+soon be bland again. We have a comfortable feeling, you and I, that
+there is nothing of</i> <span class="smcap">Harry Sims</span> <i>in us</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+TRADITION<br />
+<br /><small>
+BY<br />
+<br />
+GEORGE MIDDLETON</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>Tradition</i> is reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher,
+Henry Holt &amp; Company, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission
+to perform, address the author, in care of the publisher.</p>
+
+<p>The author and publisher of this play have permitted this reprinting of
+copyrighted material on the understanding that the play will be used
+only in classroom work. No other use of the play is authorized, and
+permission for any other use must be secured from the holder of the
+acting rights.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb">GEORGE MIDDLETON</p>
+
+<p>George Middleton, one of the first to write and publish a volume of
+one-act plays in America, was born in Paterson, New Jersey, 1880. He was
+graduated from Columbia University in 1902. Since 1921 he has been
+literary editor of <i>La Follette's Weekly</i>, and, in addition, has been a
+frequent contributor to magazines and reviews on dramatic and literary
+subjects. During the last few years he has spent much of his time
+abroad.</p>
+
+<p>George Middleton's chiefest interest has been in the one-act play. He
+has been an ardent champion of the shorter form of drama. Among his
+three volumes of one-act plays are <i>Embers</i> (including <i>The Failures</i>,
+<i>The Gargoyle</i>, <i>In His House</i>, <i>Madonna</i>, and <i>The Man Masterful</i>),
+<i>Tradition</i> (including <i>On Bail</i>, <i>Their Wife</i>, <i>Waiting</i>, <i>The Cheat of
+Pity</i>, and <i>Mothers</i>), and <i>Possession</i> (including <i>The Grove</i>, <i>A Good
+Woman</i>, <i>The Black Tie</i>, <i>Circles</i>, and <i>The Unborn</i>). Other one-act
+plays are <i>Criminals</i> and <i>The Reason</i>. His longer plays are <i>Nowadays</i>
+and <i>The Road Together</i>. Mr. Middleton has lectured widely on the
+one-act play before colleges, in Little Theatres, and clubs. Perhaps his
+most notable article is <i>The Neglected One-Act Play</i>, which appeared in
+<i>The New York Dramatic Mirror</i> in 1912.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tradition</i> is one of Mr. Middleton's best and most popular one-act
+plays; and it most nearly conforms to the organic technic of the one-act
+play.<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c">FIRST PERFORMANCE AT THE BERKELEY THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY, JANUARY 24,
+1913.<br />
+<small>(Produced under the personal direction of Mr. <span class="smcap">Frank Reicher</span>.)</small></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">THE PEOPLE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">George Ollivant</span></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. George W. Wilson</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Emily</span>, <i>his wife</i></td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Miss Alice Leigh</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mary</span>, <i>his daughter, an actress</i>&nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Miss Fola La Follette</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a></p>
+
+<h2>TRADITION<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size:50%;">[B]</span></a></h2>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>The sitting-room at the</i> <span class="smcap">Ollivants'</span> <i>in a small town
+up-State. It is an evening late in the spring.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>A simple room is disclosed, bearing the traces of another
+generation. Old-fashioned window-doors at the right, overlooking
+the garden, open on a porch; another door in back opening on the
+hall-way. A large fire-place at the left, now concealed by an
+embroidered screen; the horsehair furniture, several terra-cotta
+statuettes, and a woodcut or two on the walls create the subtle
+atmosphere of the past. There is a lamp on the table, and another
+on a bracket by the door in back. Moonlight filters through the
+window-doors.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Ollivants</span> <i>are discovered together</i>. <span class="smcap">Mary</span>, <i>a rather plain
+woman of about twenty-five, with a suggestion of quick
+sensibilities, is standing, lost in thought, looking out into the
+garden. Her mother</i>, <span class="smcap">Emily</span>, <i>nearing fifty, quiet and subdued in
+manner, is seated at the table trimming a hat. Occasionally she
+looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>, <i>stops her work, glances at her husband, closes her
+eyes as though tired, and then resumes. The silence continues for
+some time, broken only by the rattle of the town paper which</i>
+<span class="smcap">George Ollivant</span> <i>is reading. He is well on in middle life, with a
+strong, determined face not entirely without elements of kindness
+and deep feeling. When he finishes, he folds the paper, puts it on
+the table, knocks the ashes carefully from his pipe into his hand,
+and throws them behind the screen; takes<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a> off his spectacles and
+wipes them as he, too, looks over toward his daughter, still gazing
+absently into the garden. Finally, after a slight hesitation, he
+goes to her and puts his arm about her; she is startled but smiles
+sweetly.</i></p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Affectionately.</i>] Glad to be home again, Mary?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Evasively.</i>] The garden is so pretty.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Hasn't changed much, eh?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. It seems different; perhaps it's the night.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I guess it isn't up to its usual standard. Haven't seen your
+mother there so often this spring.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>Quietly.</i>] This dry spell is not good for flowers.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. It's only the cultivated flowers that need care; can't help
+thinking that when I see the wild ones so hardy in my fields on the
+hill. [<i>Turning to</i> <span class="smcap">Emily</span> <i>and patting her</i>.] Is there any of that spray
+mixture left, Emily, dear?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. I haven't looked lately.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I'll order some to-morrow. [<i>Taking up his pipe again and
+looking for the tobacco.</i>] Think it would be a good idea, daughter, if
+you'd spray those rosebushes every couple of weeks. The bugs are a pest
+this spring. Where's my tobacco?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. On the mantel.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Wish you would always leave it on the table; you know how I
+hate to have things changed.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Ollivant</span> <i>goes to the mantel, filling his pipe, and while his back
+is turned</i>, <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>makes a quick questioning gesture to her mother,
+who sighs helplessly</i>. <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>ponders a moment</i>.]</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. How's Ben been doing these two years, father?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Hasn't your brother written you?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Only once&mdash;when I left home; he disapproved, too.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Had an older brother's feeling of wanting to take care of you,
+Mary.<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes; I know. How's he doing?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. He's commencing to get on his feet. Takes time and money for
+any one to get started these days.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. But he's still in partnership with Bert Taylor, isn't he?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Yes. He'd have been somewhere if he'd worked in with me as I
+did with <i>my</i> father. Things should be handed down. Offered him the
+chance, tried to make him take it, as your mother knows; but that
+college chum&mdash;nice enough fellow, I've heard&mdash;turned his head another
+way. [<i>Lighting his pipe and puffing slowly.</i>] It's best to humor a
+young fellow's ideas if he sticks them out, but I'd like to have had us
+all here together now. The place is big enough even if he should want to
+marry. Your mother and I came here, you know, when your grandfather was
+still alive.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Then Ben isn't making any money?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Reluctantly.</i>] Not yet&mdash;to speak of.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>Quietly.</i>] But he's promised to pay his father back, Mary.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I see. [<i>Thoughtfully.</i>] College and then more help to get
+started, because he's a man.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Complacently.</i>] He'll have to support a family some day;
+I've had to keep that in mind.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I'd like to have a real talk with him.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. When did his letter say he'd be coming for a visit, Emily?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. The fifteenth.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Not till then? That's too bad.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Eh?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>After exchanging a quick glance with her mother and gaining
+courage.</i>] Father, I hope you didn't misunderstand my coming back?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Not at all. We all make mistakes&mdash;especially when we're young.
+Perhaps I was a bit hasty when you left<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a> home, but I knew you'd soon see
+I was right. I didn't think it would take you two years&mdash;but perhaps if
+I'd written you before you'd have come sooner. I told your mother I'd
+like to make it easy for you to come home.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Mother suggested that you write me?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, I suppose you might put it that way. I always felt she
+thought I was a bit hard on you, but I'm not one to back down easily.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Don't blame me then, father, if I showed I was your daughter.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Let's forget my feeling; but naturally I was set back.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Because you didn't take my going seriously until I was actually
+leaving.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I couldn't get it into my head then, and I can't now, how any
+girl would want to leave a home like this, where you have everything.
+You don't know how lucky you are&mdash;or maybe you have realized it. Look
+about you and see what other girls have. Is it like this? Trees,
+flowers, and a lake view that's the best in the county. Why, one can
+breathe here and even taste the air. Every time I come back from a
+business trip it makes a new man of me. Ask your mother. Eh, Emily? When
+I sit out there on the porch in the cool evenings it makes me feel at
+ease with the world to know that the place is <i>mine</i> and that I've
+raised a family and can take care of them all. Ben had to go, I
+suppose&mdash;it's the way with sons; but I thought you, at least, would stay
+here, daughter, in this old house where you were born, where I was born,
+where all your early associations&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Shuddering.</i>] I hate associations.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Eying her.</i>] Well, I'd like to know where you get <i>that</i>
+from. Not from your mother and me. <i>We</i> like them, don't we, Emily? Why,
+your mother's hardly ever even left here&mdash;but you had to up and get out.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes. That's right, father; I <i>had</i> to.<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a></p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>He stops smoking and looks at her sharply.</i>] Had to? Who
+made you?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Reluctantly.</i>] It was something inside me.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>In spite of himself.</i>] Tush&mdash;that foolishness.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Quickly.</i>] Don't make it hard for us again.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I made it hard, Mary? Because I objected to your leaving your
+mother here alone?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I remember; you said I was a foolish, "stage-struck" girl.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, you're over <i>that</i>, aren't you?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. That's just where you are mistaken, father. [<i>Slowly.</i>] That's why
+I asked you if you hadn't misunderstood my coming back.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Suspiciously.</i>] Then why did you come at all?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I'm human; I wanted to see you and mother, so I came when you
+generously wrote me. I'm not going to stay and spray the roses.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>He eyes her tensely and controls himself with an effort.</i>]
+So you are not going to stay with your mother and me?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Affectionately.</i>] I'll come see you as often as I can and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>.&mdash;and make a hotel of your home? [<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>is silent</i>.] Don't you
+see your mother is getting older and needs somebody to be here?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>With a quiet assurance.</i>] I have never been so well and
+contented.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Tenderly.</i>] I know better, Emily; can't I see you're getting
+thinner and older? [<i>Stopping her protests.</i>] Now, let me manage this,
+dear. It's a girl's place to stay at home. You know my feelings about
+that. Suppose anything should happen to your mother, what would <i>I</i> do?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. So it's not mother alone you are thinking of?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Tersely.</i>] I'm thinking of your place at home&mdash;doing a
+woman's work. I'm not proud of having my daughter<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a> off earning her own
+living as though I couldn't support her.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. George!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I thought it was only because I was on the stage.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, it's not the most heavenly place, is it? A lot of
+narrow-minded fools here in town thought I was crazy to <i>let</i> you go; I
+knew how they felt; I grinned and bore it. You were my daughter and I
+loved you, and I didn't want them to think any less of you by their
+finding out you were leaving against my wish.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Slowly, with comprehension.</i>] That's what hurt you.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, I blamed myself a bit for taking you to plays and liking
+them myself.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. People here will soon forget about me and merely be sorry for you.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Persuasively.</i>] Why, Mary. I've made it easy for you to
+stay. I told every one you were coming home for good. They'll think me a
+fool if&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Tenderly.</i>] You meant what was dear and good, father; but you
+had no right to say that. I'm sorry.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I did it because I thought you had come to your senses.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Firmly.</i>] I never saw so clearly as I do now.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Bluntly.</i>] Then you're stubborn&mdash;plain stubborn&mdash;not to
+admit failure.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Startled.</i>] Failure?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I know what the newspapers said; Ben sent them to me.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Which ones?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Why, all of them, I guess.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Did he send you the good ones?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Were there any?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Oh, I see. So Ben carefully picked out only those which would
+please you.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Sarcastically.</i>] Please me?<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes; because you and he didn't want me to succeed; because you
+thought failure would bring me home. But don't you think I'll let some
+cub reporter settle things for me. I'll never come home through
+failure&mdash;never.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Kindly.</i>] Ben and I only want to protect you, Mary.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Why do men always want to protect women?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Because we know the world.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes; but you don't know <i>me</i>. Father, you still think I'm only a
+foolish, stage-struck girl, and want flowers and men and my name in big
+letters. It isn't that.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, what is it, then?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Oh&mdash;I want to be an artist. I don't suppose you can understand it;
+I didn't, myself, at first. I was born with it, but didn't know what it
+was till that first time you took me to the theatre.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. So it was all my fault?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. It isn't anybody's fault; it's just a fact. I knew from that day
+what I wanted to do. I wanted to act&mdash;to create. I don't care whether I
+play a leading lady or a scrub-woman, if I can do it with truth and
+beauty.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, you haven't done much of either, have you? What have you
+got to show for our unhappiness? What have you got ahead of you?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Nothing&mdash;definite.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Incredulously.</i>] Yet, you're going to keep at it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. What do you think of that, Emily?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I am going to the city Monday.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Persistently.</i>] But what will you do when you get there?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. What I've done before: hunt a job, tramp the streets, call at the
+offices, be snubbed and insulted by office-boys&mdash;keep at it till I get
+something to do.<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a></p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Come, come, Mary; don't make me lose patience. Put your pride
+in your pocket. You've had your fling. You've tried and failed. Give it
+all up and stay home here where you can be comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>With intense feeling.</i>] Father, I can't give it up. It doesn't
+make any difference how they treat me, how many times I get my "notice"
+and don't even make good according to their standards. I can't give it
+up. I simply can't. It keeps gnawing inside me and driving me on. It's
+there&mdash;always there, and I know if I keep at work I will succeed. I know
+it; I know it.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>throws herself into the chair, much stirred</i>. <span class="smcap">Emily's</span> <i>eyes
+have eagerly followed her throughout this as though responding
+sympathetically, but</i> <span class="smcap">Ollivant</span> <i>has stood in silence, watching her
+apparently without comprehension</i>.]</p></div>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Not without kindness.</i>] Something inside. Huh! Have you any
+clear idea what she's talking about, Emily?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>gives a short, hurt cry and goes quickly to the window,
+looking out and controlling herself with an effort</i>.]</p></div>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>Softly, as she looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>.] I think I understand.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I don't. Something inside. I never had anything like that
+bothering me. What's it all mean?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>Quietly.</i>] So many people use the same words, but cannot
+understand each other.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, you seem to think it's mighty important Mary, whatever
+it is; but it's too much for me. If you had something to show for it I
+wouldn't mind. But you're just where you started and you might as well
+give up.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. George!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Now I don't know much about the stage, Emily, but Ben does. He
+says you're not made for an actress, Mary; you haven't got a chance.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Turning.</i>] Father!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Can't you see your failure isn't your own fault? If you were a
+beauty like Helen Safford or some of those other<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a> "stars"&mdash;but you're
+not pretty, why, you're not even good-looking and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>With bitter vehemence</i>.] Oh, don't go any further. I know all
+that. But I don't care how I look off the stage if only I can grow
+beautiful on it. I'll create with so much inner power and beauty that
+people will forget how I look and only see what I think and feel. I can
+do it; I have done it; I've made audiences feel and even got my "notice"
+because the stage-manager said I was "too natural." Helen
+Safford&mdash;what's she? A professional beauty with everything outside and
+nothing in. You think of her eyes, her mouth, and her profile; but does
+she touch you so you remember? I know her work. Wait till I get a chance
+to play a scene with her&mdash;which they may give me because I'm not
+good-looking&mdash;I'll make them forget she's on the stage the first ten
+minutes&mdash;yes, and you and Ben, too, if you'll come. Helen Safford? Huh!
+Why, people will remember me when she's only a lithograph.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, then, why haven't you had your chance?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Quickly.</i>] Because most managers feel the way you and Ben do.
+And not having a lovely profile and a fashion-plate figure stands
+between me and a chance even to read a part, let alone play it. That's
+what eats the heart out of me, mother; and makes me hate my face every
+time I sit down to put on the grease paint.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, don't blame me for that.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Going to her mother, who takes her hand.</i>] You can laugh at me,
+father; you don't understand. It's foolish to talk. But, oh, mother, why
+is such beauty given to women like Helen Safford who have no inner need
+of it, and here am I, with a real creative gift, wrapped up in a
+nondescript package which stands between me and everything I want to do?
+[<i>With determination.</i>] But I will&mdash;ultimately I will make good, in
+spite of my looks; others have. And what I've suffered will make me a
+greater artist.<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a></p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>In a matter-of-fact tone.</i>] Are you sure all this isn't
+overconfidence and vanity?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I don't care what you call it. It's what keeps me working.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Quickly.</i>] Working? But how can you work without an
+engagement?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. That <i>is</i> the hard part of our life; waiting, waiting for a chance
+to work. But don't think I stand still when I haven't an engagement. I
+don't dare. That's why I keep at my voice work and dancing and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Suddenly interrupting.</i>] Dancing and voice work when you
+have no engagements. Would you mind telling me who is paying the bills?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Indignantly.</i>] Father!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I think I have the right to ask that.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Have you?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I am your father.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>With quiet dignity.</i>] You thought you'd force me here at home to
+do as you wished because you paid for my food and clothes; when you took
+that from me you <i>ceased</i> to have that right. Don't forget since I left
+you've not helped me with my work or given me a penny.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Suspiciously.</i>] Mary.... No, that's not why you went away
+from home?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. No.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Or you met some man <i>there</i> and....</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. No.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. There is some man.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Why a <i>man</i>?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Damn them; I know them. [<i>Breaking.</i>] Good God, Mary, dear,
+you haven't ...? Answer me, daughter.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Calmly.</i>] No, there's been no need of that.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He has been violently shaken at the thought, looks at her
+intently, believes her, and then continues in a subdued manner.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Then who helped you? Ben?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. How could he help me? Are men the only ones who help women?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>Quietly.</i>] Tell him, Mary; it's best now.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Turning slowly to her in surprise.</i>] You knew and have kept
+it from me?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>Calmly, as she puts down the hat she has been trimming.</i>] I
+found I hadn't lost my old skill, though it's been a good many years
+since I held a brush&mdash;since before we were married, George. I had an
+idea I thought would sell: paper dolls with little hand-painted dresses
+on separate sheets; they were so much softer than the printed kind, and
+children like anything soft. I wrote to Mr. Aylwin&mdash;you remember&mdash;he was
+so kind to me years before. He had called here once before when you were
+away and asked after my work. He used to think I had such promise. He
+found an opportunity to use the dolls as a specialty, and when I
+explained he induced some other firms to use all I can paint, too. They
+pay me very well. I made enough each month to help Mary when she went
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Incredulously.</i>] You! After you heard me say when she left I
+wouldn't give her a cent?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>Looking fondly at</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>.] You were keeping Ben, weren't you?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. But&mdash;that's&mdash;that's different.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. I didn't see why we shouldn't help <i>both</i> our children.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Perplexed by this he turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>.] And you took it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. You knew how she got the money?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Your mother working herself sick for you, and you took it?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. I told you I've never been so happy.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Simply.</i>] I couldn't bargain with what I felt. I had to study.
+I'd have taken anything, gotten it anywhere. I<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a> had to live. You didn't
+help me. Ben and I both went against your will, but you helped him
+because he was your son. I was only your daughter.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Ollivant</span> <i>eyes her and seems to be struggling with himself. He is
+silent a long while as they both watch him. Finally, after several
+efforts he speaks with emotion.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Mary, I&mdash;I didn't realize how much you meant to me till&mdash;till
+I thought of what might have happened to you without my help.
+Would&mdash;would you have stayed on in the city if&mdash;if your mother hadn't
+helped you?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Firmly.</i>] Yes, father; I would have stayed on.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>After a pause.</i>] Then I guess what you <i>feel</i> is stronger
+than all your mother and I tried to teach you.... Are you too proud to
+take help from me&mdash;now?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Simply.</i>] No, father; till I succeed. Then I'll pay you back
+like Ben promised.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>Hurt.</i>] You don't think it was the money, daughter? It would
+have cost to keep you here. It wasn't that.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. No; it was your father speaking and his father and his father.
+[<i>Looking away wistfully.</i>] And perhaps I was speaking for those before
+me who were silent or couldn't be heard.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>With sincerity.</i>] I don't exactly understand <i>that</i> any more
+than the feeling you spoke of driving you from home. But I do see what
+you mean about brothers and sisters. You seem to think boys and girls
+are the same. But they're not. Men and women are different. You may not
+know it, but your mother had foolish ideas like you have when I first
+knew her. She was poor and didn't have a mother to support her, and she
+had to work for a living. She'd about given up when I met her&mdash;trying to
+work at night to feed herself in the day while studying. But she was
+sensible; when a good man came along who could support her she married
+him and settled down. Look how happy she's been here with a home of her
+own that is a home&mdash;<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>with associations and children. Where would she be,
+struggling to-day trying to paint pictures for a living? Why, there's
+lots of men who can paint pictures, and too few good wives for
+hard-working, decent men who want a family&mdash;which is God's law. You'll
+find that out one of these days and you'll give yourself as she did.
+Some day a man will come and you'll want to marry him. How could you if
+you keep on with your work, going about the country?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Quietly.</i>] You leave mother at times, don't you?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. I've got to.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. So may I.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. And the children?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. They'd have a share of my life.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. A mighty big share if you're human, I tell you. Ask your
+mother if you think they're easy coming and bringing up.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. And now they've left her. Dear mother, what has she to do?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Well, if you ever get a husband with those ideas of yours
+you'll see what a wife has to do. [<i>He goes to her.</i>] Mary, it isn't
+easy, all this you've been saying. But your mother and I are left alone,
+and perhaps we <i>have</i> got different views than you. But if ever you do
+see it our way, and give up or fail&mdash;- well, come back to us,
+understand?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Going to him and kissing him.</i>] I understand how hard it was for
+you to say that. And remember I may come back a success.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Yes. I suppose they all think that; it's what keeps them
+going. But some day, when you're in love and marry, you'll see it all
+differently.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Father, what if the man does not come&mdash;or the children?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Why&mdash;[<i>He halts as though unable to answer her.</i>] Nonsense.
+He'll come, never fear; they always do.<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I wonder.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. [<i>He goes affectionately to</i> <span class="smcap">Emily</span><i>, who has been staring
+before her during this</i>.] Emily, dear. No wonder the flowers have been
+neglected. Well, you'll have time to spray those roses yourself. I'll
+get the spray mixture to-morrow. [<i>Kisses her tenderly.</i>] Painting paper
+dolls with a change of clothes! When I might have been sending her the
+money without ever feeling it. No more of that, dear; you don't have to
+now. I shan't let you get tired and sick. That's one thing I draw the
+line at. [<i>He pats her again, looks at his watch, and then goes slowly
+over to the window-doors.</i>] Well, it's getting late. I'll lock up.
+[<i>Looking up at sky.</i>] Paper says it will rain to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>Very quietly so only</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>can hear</i>.] At the art school they
+said I had a lovely sense of color. Your father is so kind; but he
+doesn't know how much I enjoyed painting again&mdash;even those paper dolls.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Comprehending in surprise.</i>] Mother! You, <i>too</i>?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>MILY</small>. [<i>Fearing lest</i> <span class="smcap">Ollivant</span> <i>should hear</i>.] Sh!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Ollivant</span> <i>closes the doors and eyes the women thoughtfully</i>.]</p></div>
+
+<p>O<small>LLIVANT</small>. Better fasten the other windows when you come. Good-night.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He goes out slowly as mother and daughter sit there together.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<p class="c"><small>THE CURTAIN FALLS</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+THE EXCHANGE<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+<br />
+ALTHEA THURSTON</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>The Exchange</i> is reprinted by permission of Althea Thurston. This play
+is one of the farces written in the Course in Dramatic Composition
+(English 109) in the University of Utah. For permission to perform,
+address B. Roland Lewis, Department of English, University of Utah, Salt
+Lake City, Utah.</p></div>
+
+<p><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb">ALTHEA THURSTON</p>
+
+<p>Althea Cooms-Thurston, one of the promising writers of the younger set
+of American dramatists, was born in Iowa, but soon moved with her
+parents to Colorado, where she spent her girlhood. She was educated in
+the public schools of Colorado Springs and Denver. Her collegiate
+training was received in the University of Utah, Salt Lake City. In 1902
+she married Walter R. Thurston, a well-known engineer. At present she
+resides in Dallas, Texas.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Thurston has travelled widely and has resided for periods of time
+in Mexico City and Havana, Cuba. She is an able linguist and has made a
+special study of her native English tongue and of Spanish and French,
+all of which she uses fluently.</p>
+
+<p>From childhood she has shown dramatic ability. Her dramatic composition
+has been more or less directly associated with the courses in
+playwriting and the history of the drama which she completed in the
+University of Utah. Among her one-act plays are <i>When a Man's Hungry</i>,
+<i>And the Devil Laughs</i>, and <i>The Exchange</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Thurston has an aptitude for delicate and satirical farce. <i>The
+Exchange</i> is an excellent example of farce-comedy in the contemporary
+one-act play.<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">CHARACTERS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Judge</span>, <i>the exchanger of miseries</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Imp</span>, <i>office boy to the</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Poor Man</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Vain Woman</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Rich Citizen</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a></p>
+
+<h2>THE EXCHANGE<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size:50%;">[C]</span></a></h2>
+
+<h3>SCENE I</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The curtain rises upon an office scene. Seemingly there is nothing
+unusual about this office: it has tables, chairs, a filing cabinet,
+and a hat-rack. A portion of the office is railed off at the right.
+Within this enclosed space is a commodious desk and swivel-chair;
+and the filing cabinet stands against the wall. This railed-off
+portion of the office belongs, exclusively, to the</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span>. <i>Here he
+is wont to spend many hours&mdash;sometimes to read or write, and again,
+perhaps, he will just sit and ponder upon the vagaries of mankind.
+The</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span> <i>is a tall, spare man with rather long gray hair, which
+shows beneath the skull-cap that he always wears. When we first see
+him, he is reading a letter, and evidently he is not pleased, for
+he is tapping with impatient fingers upon his desk.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>At the left of the stage is a heavily curtained door which leads
+to an inner room. At centre rear is another door which evidently
+leads to the street, as it is through this door that the</i> <span class="smcap">Poor Man</span>,
+<i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span>, <i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Rich Citizen</span> <i>will presently enter,
+each upon his special quest. The hat-rack stands near the street
+door, and we glimpse a soft black hat and a long black overcoat
+hanging upon it.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Down stage to the left is a flat-topped desk, littered with papers
+and letters. This desk has two large drawers, wherein a number of
+miscellaneous articles might be kept. It is at this desk that we
+catch our first glimpse of</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>. <i>He is busily writing in a huge<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>
+ledger, and he seems to be enjoying his work, for he chuckles the
+while.</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>is a little rogue; he looks it and acts it, and we
+feel that he has a Mephistophelian spirit. He wears a dark-green
+tight-fitting uniform, trimmed with red braid. His saucy little
+round cap is always cocked over one eye. He is ever chuckling
+impishly, and we feel that he is slyly gleeful over the weaknesses
+of mankind and the difficulties that beset them.</i></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Throws down his pen, chuckles, and half standing on the rungs of
+his chair and balancing himself against his desk, surveys the ledger.</i>]
+Your honor, I've all the miseries listed to date and a fine lot there is
+to choose from. Everything from bunions to old wives for exchange.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Scowls and impatiently taps the letter he is reading.</i>] Here is
+another one. A woman suspects her husband of a misalliance. Wants to
+catch him, but is so crippled with rheumatism she can't get about. Wants
+us to exchange her rheumatism for something that won't interfere with
+either her walking or her eyesight.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Referring to the ledger and running his finger along the lines.</i>]
+We have a defective heart or a lazy liver that we could give her.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Irritably tossing the letter over to</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>.] She would not be
+satisfied. People never are. They always want to change their miseries,
+but never their vices. Each thinks his own cross heavier than others
+have to bear, but he is very willing to make light of his own weaknesses
+and shortcomings. He thinks they are not half so bad as his neighbor's.
+I have tried for years to aid distressed humanity, but I can't satisfy
+them. I am growing tired of it all, Imp. People need a lesson and
+they're going to get it, too. I am going to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Knock is heard at the street door.</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span> <i>sighs, turns to his
+desk and begins to write</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>sweeps the litter of papers on his
+desk into a drawer, closes ledger, and goes to answer knock</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. Here comes another misery.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>opens the door to admit the</i> <span class="smcap">Poor Man</span>, <i>who is very shabbily
+dressed. He hesitates, looks around the room as if he were in the
+wrong place, and then addresses</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>in a loud whisper</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Indicating the</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span> <i>with a motion of his head</i>.] Is that
+him?</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Whispering loudly his reply.</i>] Yes, that is his honor.</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Still whispering and showing signs of nervousness.</i>] Do I
+dare speak to him?</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Enjoying the situation and still whispering.</i>] Yes, but be
+careful what you say.</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Takes off his hat, approaches slowly to the railing, and
+speaks humbly.</i>] Your honor. I&mdash;[<i>Swallows hard, clears throat.</i>] Your
+honor, I've a little favor&mdash;to ask of you.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Looking coldly at the</i> <span class="smcap">Poor Man</span>.] Well?</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. You see, your honor, I've been poor all my life. I've never
+had much fun. I don't ask for a lot of money, but&mdash;I would like enough
+so that I could have some swell clothes, and&mdash;so that I could eat,
+drink, and be merry with the boys. You know, I just want to have a good
+time. Do you think you could fix it for me, Judge?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Gazes at him sternly for a moment.</i>] So you just want to have a
+good time? Want me to take away your poverty? I suppose you have no
+moral weakness you want to change, no defects in your character that you
+want to better?</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Stammering and twirling his hat.</i>] Why, w-hy, Judge, I&mdash;I am
+not a bad man. Of&mdash;of course, I have my faults, but then&mdash;I've never
+committed any crimes. I guess I stack up pretty fair as men go. I'm just
+awful tired of being poor and never having any fun. Couldn't you help me
+out on that point, Judge?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Sighs wearily and turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>.] Bring me the ledger.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>gives him the ledger in which he has been writing</i>. <span class="smcap">Judge</span>
+<i>opens it, and then speaks sharply to the</i> <span class="smcap">Poor Man</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. You understand, do you, my good man, that if I take away your
+poverty and give you enough money for your good time, you will have to
+accept another misery?</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Eagerly.</i>] Yes, your honor, that's all right. I'm willing.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Scanning ledger.</i>] Very well. Let us see. Here is paralysis.</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Hesitatingly.</i>] Well. I&mdash;I couldn't have a&mdash;very good time,
+if&mdash;if I was paralyzed.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Shortly.</i>] No. I suppose not. How about a glass eye?</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Anxiously.</i>] Please, your honor, if I'm going to have a good
+time I need two good eyes. I don't want to miss anything.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Wearily turning over the leaves of the ledger.</i>] A man left his
+wife here for exchange, perhaps you would like her.</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Shifting from one foot to the other and nervously twirling
+his hat.</i>] Oh, Judge, oh, no, please, no. I don't want anybody's old
+cast-off wife.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Becoming exasperated.</i>] Well, choose something, and be quick
+about it. Here is lumbago, gout, fatness, old age, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Interrupting, and walking quickly over to the railing.</i>] Excuse
+me, Judge, but maybe the gentleman would like the indigestion that Mr.
+Potter left when he took old Mrs. Pratt's fallen arches.</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Eagerly.</i>] Indigestion? Sure! That will be fine! I won't
+mind a little thing like indigestion if I can get rid of my poverty.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Sternly.</i>] Very well. Raise your right hand. Repeat after me:
+"I swear to accept indigestion for better or for worse as my portion of
+the world's miseries, so help me God."</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Solemnly.</i>] "I swear to accept indigestion for better or for
+worse as my portion of the world's miseries, so help me God."<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a></p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>.] Show this gentleman to the changing-room.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Poor Man</span> <i>follows</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>, <i>who conducts him to the heavily curtained
+door. The</i> <span class="smcap">Poor Man</span> <i>throws out his chest and swaggers a bit, as a
+man might who had suddenly come into a fortune</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>swaggers
+along with him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. Won't you have a grand time, though. I'll get you a menu card, so
+that you can be picking out your dinner.</p>
+
+<p>P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Joyfully slapping</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>on the back</i>.] Good idea, and I'll
+pick out a regular banquet.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Pausing a moment before he passes through the curtains, he smiles
+and smacks his lips in anticipation. Exit.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Speaks disgustedly to</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>.] There you are! He's perfectly
+satisfied with his morals. Has no defects in his character. Just wants
+to have a good time.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Sighs heavily and turns back to his writing.</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>nods his head
+in agreement and chuckles slyly</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>The street door opens slowly and the</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>stands upon the
+threshold. She does not enter at once, but stands
+posing&mdash;presumably she desires to attract attention, and she is
+worthy of it. She has a superb figure, and her rich gowning
+enhances it. Her fair face reveals a shallow prettiness, but the
+wrinkles of age are beginning to leave telltale lines upon its
+smoothness. As</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>hurries forward to usher her in, she sweeps
+grandly past him to the centre of the stage</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>stops near the
+door, with his hands on his hips, staring after her, then takes a
+few steps in imitation of her. She turns around slowly and,
+sauntering over to the railing, coughs affectedly, and as the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Judge</span> <i>rises and bows curtly, she speaks in a coaxing manner</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. Judge, I have heard that you are very kind, and I have been
+told that you help people out of their troubles, so I have a little
+favor to ask of you.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Coldly.</i>] Yes, I supposed so; go on.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Archly.</i>] Well, you know that I am a famous<a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a> beauty; in
+fact, both my face and my form are considered very lovely. [<i>She turns
+around slowly that he may see for himself.</i>] Great and celebrated men
+have worshipped at my feet. I simply cannot live without admiration. It
+is my very life. But, Judge [<i>plaintively</i>], horrid wrinkles are
+beginning to show in my face. [<i>Intensely.</i>] Oh, I would give anything,
+do anything, to have a smooth, youthful face once more. Please, oh,
+please, won't you take away these wrinkles [<i>touching her face with her
+fingers</i>] and give me something in their stead.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Looking directly at her and speaking coldly.</i>] Are you
+satisfied with yourself in other ways? Is your character as beautiful as
+your face? Have you no faults or weaknesses that you want exchanged?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Uncertainly.</i>] Why, I&mdash;don't know what you mean. I am just
+as good as any other woman and lots better than some I know. I go to
+church, and I subscribe to the charities, and I belong to the best
+clubs. [<i>Anxiously.</i>] Oh, please, Judge, it's these wrinkles that make
+me so unhappy. Won't you exchange them? You don't want me to be unhappy,
+do you? Please take them away.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Wearily looking over the ledger.</i>] Oh, very well, I'll see what
+I can do for you. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>.] Fetch a chair for this lady.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>gives her a chair and she sits facing front</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>returns to
+his desk, perches himself upon it and watches the</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span>
+<i>interestedly</i>. <span class="smcap">Judge</span> <i>turns over the leaves of the ledger</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. I have a goitre that I could exchange for your wrinkles.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Protestingly, clasping her hands to her throat.</i>] Oh,
+heavens, no! That would ruin my beautiful throat. See. [<i>Throwing back
+her fur and exposing her neck in a low-cut gown.</i>] I have a lovely neck.
+[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>makes an exaggerated attempt to see</i>.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Glances coldly at her and then scans ledger again.</i>] Well, how
+about hay-fever?<a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a></p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Reproachfully.</i>] Oh, Judge, how can you suggest such a
+thing! Watery eyes and a red nose, the worst enemy of beauty there is. I
+simply couldn't think of it. I want something that won't show.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Disgustedly turns to filing cabinet and looks through a series
+of cards, withdraws one, and turns back to</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span>.] Perhaps this
+will suit you. [<i>Refers to card.</i>] A woman has grown very tired of her
+husband and wants to exchange him for some other burden.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Indignantly.</i>] What! I accept a man that some other woman
+doesn't want! Certainly not! I prefer one that some other woman does
+want.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Irritated, puts the card back in its place, and turns upon the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>crossly</i>.] I fear that I cannot please you and I do not have
+time to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Interrupts and runs over to the railing, speaking soothingly to
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span>.] Excuse me, Judge, but maybe the lady would like deafness in
+exchange for her wrinkles. Deafness wouldn't show, so it couldn't spoil
+her face or her elegant figure.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Wearily.</i>] No, it won't show. Deafness ought to be a good thing
+for you.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Consideringly.</i>] Why&mdash;yes&mdash;that might do. But&mdash;well, it
+wouldn't show. I've a notion to take it. [<i>Pause&mdash;she seems to consider
+and meditate. The</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span> <i>stares at her coldly</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>grins impudently.
+She rises leisurely, sighs.</i>] All right. I'll accept it.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Sharply.</i>] Hold up your right hand. [<i>She raises hand.</i>] Do you
+swear to accept deafness for better or for worse, as your portion of the
+world's miseries, so help you God?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Sweetly.</i>] Oh, yes. I do, Judge.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>.] Show the lady to the changing-room.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Escorts her to the curtained door with rather mock deference.</i>]
+No, deafness won't show at all, and you'll have 'em all crazy about you.
+[<i>Draws aside curtains for her to pass.</i>] Take second booth to your
+right.<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>stands posing a moment. She smiles radiantly and pats
+her cheeks softly with her hands, then with a long-drawn sigh of
+happiness, she exits.</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>bows low and mockingly after her
+vanishing form, his hand on his heart</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Sarcastically.</i>] Do her faults or shortcomings trouble her? Not
+at all! Perfectly satisfied with herself, except for a few wrinkles in
+her face. Vain women! Bah!</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. Yes, sir; women have queer notions.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>An imperative rap at the street-door, immediately followed by the
+rapper's abrupt entrance. We see an important-appearing personage.
+His arrogant bearing and commanding pose lead us to believe that he
+is accustomed to prompt attention. It is the</i> <span class="smcap">Rich Citizen</span>,
+<i>exceedingly well groomed. His manner is lordly, but he addresses
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span> <i>in a bored tone. When</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>scampers to meet him, the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Rich Citizen</span> <i>hands him his hat and cane and turns at once to the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Judge</span>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>examines the hat and cane critically, hangs them on the
+hat-rack, and returns to his desk, where he again perches to watch
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Rich Citizen</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Lighting a cigarette.</i>] I am addressing the Judge, am I
+not?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Shortly.</i>] You are.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Languidly, between puffs of his cigarette.</i>] Well,
+Judge, life has become rather boresome, so I thought I would drop in and
+ask you to do me a small favor.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Wearily.</i>] Yes? We&mdash;What is your grievance?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Nonchalantly.</i>] Oh, I wouldn't say grievance exactly.
+You see, my dear Judge, it is this way. I am a very rich and influential
+citizen, a prominent member of society, and I am very much sought after.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Frigidly.</i>] Oh, indeed!</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>In a very bored manner.</i>] Yes. Women run<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a> after me day
+and night. Ambitious mothers throw their marriageable daughters at my
+head. Men seek my advice on all matters. I am compelled to head this and
+that committee.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Smokes languidly.</i></p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Sharply.</i>] Well, go on.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. Really, Judge, my prestige has become a burden. I want to
+get away from it all. I would like to become a plain, ordinary man with
+an humble vocation, the humbler the better, so that people will cease
+bothering me.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Sarcastically.</i>] Is your prestige all that troubles you? Don't
+worry about your morals, I suppose. Satisfied with your habits and
+character?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Coldly.</i>] What have my habits or morals got to do with
+my request? [<i>Scornfully.</i>] Certainly I am not one of your saintly men.
+I live as a man of my station should live, and I think I measure up very
+well with the best of them. I am simply bored and I would like a change.
+I would like to be a plain man with an humble calling.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Ironically.</i>] I'll see what we have in humble callings. [<i>He
+looks at the ledger, turning the leaves over slowly.</i>] We have several
+bartenders' vocations.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Wearily smoking.</i>] No. Too many people about all the
+time, and too much noise.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. Well, here's a janitor's job open to you.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Impatiently throwing away his cigarette.</i>] No. I don't
+like that, either. Too confining. Too many people bickering at you all
+the time. I want to get out in the open, away from crowds.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Sighing, and turning over the leaves of the ledger, then
+hopefully.</i>] Here's the very thing for you, then&mdash;postman in a rural
+district.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Showing vexation.</i>] No, no, <i>no</i>. Too many old women
+that want to gossip. I tell you, I want to get away<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a> from women. Haven't
+you something peaceful and quiet; something that would take me out in
+the quiet of the early morning, when the birds are singing?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Closing ledger with a bang, and rising.</i>] Well, you're too
+particular, and I have not time to bother with you. I bid you good
+after&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Slides from his desk, runs to railing, and speaks suavely.</i>]
+Excuse me, Judge, but maybe the gentleman would like the vocation of
+milkman. That is early-morning work. And, you remember, a milkman left
+his job here when he took that old, worn-out senator's position.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Sharply, to</i> <span class="smcap">Rich Citizen</span>.] Well, how about it? Does a
+milkman's vocation suit you? It's early-morning hours, fresh air, and no
+people about.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Musingly.</i>] Well, the very simplicity and quietness of
+it is its charm. It rather appeals to me. [<i>He ponders a moment.</i>] Yes,
+by Jove, I'll take it.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Sternly.</i>] Hold up your right hand. "Do you solemnly swear to
+accept, for better or for worse, the vocation of milkman as your lot in
+life, so help you God?"</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. I do.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>.] Show this gentleman to the changing-room.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>While escorting him to the curtained door.</i>] Yes, sir, you will
+lead the simple life. Fresh air, fresh milk, no people, just cows&mdash;and
+they can't talk. [<i>Holding aside the curtains.</i>] Third booth, sir.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Musingly.</i>] The simple life&mdash;peace and quietness.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Exit.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [I<i>n disgust.</i>] It's no use, Imp. They all cling to their vices,
+but they are very keen to change some little cross or condition that
+vexes them&mdash;or think vexes them.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. It's strange that people always want something different from what
+they have.<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a bottle, evidently
+filled with tablets, which he holds up, shaking it and chuckling.
+He hunts in the drawer again, and this time brings forth a huge
+ear-trumpet, which he chucklingly places an his table beside the
+bottle of tablets.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. Don't let any more in, Imp. I can't stand another one to-day. I
+am going to write a letter and then go home.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. All right, sir.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. I am feeling very tired; what I really need is a vacation. A
+sea-trip would put me right. By the way, Imp, where is that
+transatlantic folder that I told you to get?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>picks up the folder from his desk and takes it to the</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span>,
+<i>who studies it attentively</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>returns to his own desk, where
+he again looks in a drawer and brings forth a menu card, which he
+glances over, grinning mischievously</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>The former</i> <span class="smcap">Poor Man</span> <i>re-enters from the changing-room. He is
+well dressed, and taking a well-filled wallet from his pocket, he
+looks at it gloatingly. However, from time to time, a shade of
+annoyance passes over his face, and he puts his hand to the pit of
+his stomach.</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>runs to meet him, and hands him the menu that he
+has been reading</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. Here's a menu from the Gargoyle. Say, you sure do look swell!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Looking him over admiringly.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Grinning happily.</i>] Some class to me now, eh!
+[<i>Looking at menu.</i>] And you watch me pick out a real dinner. [<i>Sits
+down at left front.</i>] First, I'll have a cocktail, then&mdash;let's see&mdash;I'll
+have&mdash;another cocktail. Next, oysters, and [<i>he frowns and presses his
+hand to the pit of his stomach, keeping up a massaging
+motion</i>]&mdash;green-turtle soup, sand dabs&mdash;chicken breasts&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They become absorbed over the menu.</i></p>
+
+<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>re-enters from the changing-room. She now has a
+smooth face, and she is looking at herself in a<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a> hand-glass,
+smiling and touching her face delightedly, She walks over to the
+railing, and leans over it to the</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span>. <i>He looks up
+questioningly.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Smiling.</i>] Oh, I am so happy again. Am I not
+beautiful?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>UDGE</small>. [<i>Pityingly.</i>] You are a vain, foolish woman.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Since she is deaf, she does not hear his words, but thinks he is
+complimenting her. She smiles at him coyly.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. Ah, Judge, you too are susceptible to my charms.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span>, <i>in great exasperation, puts away his papers, thrusts
+the transatlantic folder in his pocket, hastily closes his desk,
+and hurries to the hat-rack, puts on his overcoat, slips his
+skull-cap into his pocket and puts on his soft black hat. Then,
+with a shrug of his shoulders and a wave of his hand indicative of
+disgust, he slips quietly out.</i></p>
+
+<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>saunters past the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span>, <i>stops near
+him, posing, and begins to put on her gloves. He looks at her
+admiringly, then, getting to his feet, makes an elaborate but
+awkward bow.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. Excuse me, lady, but I've had a big piece of luck
+to-day, and I want to celebrate, so I am having a big dinner. Won't you
+join me and help me have a good time?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Looking at him blankly, and trying to fathom what he has
+said.</i>] Oh&mdash;why, what did you say?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Hesitating, and a bit surprised.</i>] Why&mdash;er&mdash;I said
+that I had a big piece of luck to-day, and I am going to celebrate. I am
+having a fine dinner, and I just asked if&mdash;if&mdash;you wouldn't have dinner
+with me.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Still looking blank and a little confused, then smiling
+archly and acting as though she had been hearing compliments, she speaks
+affectedly.</i>] Really, do you think so? [<i>Looking down and smoothing her
+dress.</i>] But, then, every one tells me that I am.<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a></p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Puzzled, turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>for help</i>.] Just what is her
+trouble, Nut?</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Secretly gleeful.</i>] She is stone-deaf. You had better write it.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. Never! No deaf ones for me.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Turns away and consults menu again.</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>poses and
+frequently looks in hand-glass to reassure herself</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>re-enters from the changing-room. He is
+dressed in shabby overalls, jumper, and an old hat. He has a pipe
+in his mouth. He walks arrogantly over to the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span> <i>and
+addresses him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. Give me a light.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Trying to live up to his fine clothes and wallet full
+of money, looks the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>over snubbingly</i>.] Say, who do
+you think you are? You light out, see?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Very much surprised, stands nonplussed a
+moment.</i>] Well, upon my word, I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He stops short in his speech, walks haughtily over to the
+railing, where he stands glowering at the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span>. <i>The</i>
+<span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span> <i>starts for the street door, but</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>runs after
+him, waving the bottle of tablets</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. I'll sell you these for two bits.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. What is that?</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Grinning.</i>] Indigestion tablets.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Puts his hand to his stomach and laughs a little
+lamely.</i>] Keep 'em; I don't need 'em.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>fastens her fur and starts for the street-door, giving
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>a snubbing look as she passes him</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span>
+<i>stops her and offers the ear-trumpet</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. You might need this; I'll sell it for a dollar.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She does not hear what he says, but she looks her scorn at the
+ear-trumpet and walks proudly out.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Fumbling at his pocket, as if to find a watch.</i>]
+Boy, what time is it? I haven't my watch.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Grinning mischievously.</i>] Time to milk the cows.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>starts angrily toward</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>, <i>then
+evidently thinking better of it, shrugs his shoulders and stalks
+majestically to the street-door. He pauses with it partly open,
+turns as if to speak to</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>, <i>drawing himself up haughtily&mdash;a
+ludicrous figure in his shabby outfit&mdash;then he goes abruptly out,
+slamming the door</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>doubles himself up in a paroxysm of glee as the curtain
+falls</i>.</p></div>
+
+<h3>SCENE II</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>A fortnight has passed. The curtain rises upon the same
+stage-setting. The</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span> <i>is not about, but we see</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>asleep in
+a chair. All seems quiet and serene. But suddenly the street-door
+opens noisily, and the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span> <i>bursts into the room. He
+is panting, as though he had been running. He is haggard and seems
+in great pain, for occasionally he moans. He looks wildly about the
+room, and seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>asleep in the chair, he rushes to him and
+shakes him roughly</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>wakes slowly, yawning and rubbing his
+eyes</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Frantically.</i>] The Judge, where is he? I must see him
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Yawning.</i>] You're too early. He isn't down yet.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Settles himself to go to sleep again.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Walking the floor, and holding his hands to his
+stomach.</i>] Don't go to sleep again. I'm nearly crazy. What time does the
+Judge get here? Where does he live? Can't we send for him?</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Indifferently.</i>] Oh, he is liable to come any minute&mdash;and then he
+may not come for an hour or two.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Pacing the floor, moaning and rubbing<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a> his stomach</i>.]
+Oh, I can't stand it much longer. It's driving me wild, I tell you. I do
+wish the Judge would come.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Getting up from his chair and keeping step with the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor
+Man</span>.] What's the matter? I thought all you wanted was to eat, drink, and
+be merry.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Frantically waving his arms.</i>] Eat, drink, and be
+merry be&mdash;&mdash;! Everything I eat gives me indigestion something awful;
+everything I drink gives it to me worse. How can I be merry when I am in
+this torment all the time? I tell you this pain is driving me mad. I
+want to get rid of it quick. Oh, why doesn't the Judge come?</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. What's the Judge got to do with it?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Pathetically.</i>] I am going to beg him to take back
+this indigestion and give me back my poverty. It was not so bad, after
+all; not nearly so bad as this pain in my stomach.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The street-door opens slowly, and a sorrowful woman enters. She
+is weeping softly. It is the</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span>. <i>Gone is her posing and
+her proud manner. She walks humbly to the railing, and not seeing
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span>, she turns to <span class="smcap">Imp</span>. <i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span> <i>looks at the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span>, <i>frowningly muttering: "What's she here for?" Then he
+sits down at the left and rocks back and forth in misery.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Tearfully.</i>] I must see the Judge right away, please.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [Languidly.] He isn't down yet. You're too earl&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Tell him that it is very important, that I
+am in great distress and that he must see me at once.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Loudly.</i>] I said that he was not down yet.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Seeing that she does not understand, he takes a writing-pad from
+his desk, scribbles a few words, and standing in front of her,
+holds it up for her to read.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>After reading.</i>] Oh, when will he be here? Can't you get
+him to come right away? Oh, I am so unhappy. </p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She walks the floor in
+agitation.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span> <i>grunts in irritation and turns his back on
+her</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. I cannot hear a word that is said to me. No one seems to
+want me around, and I am not invited out any more. I have the feeling
+that people are making fun of me instead of praising my beauty. Oh, it
+is dreadful to be deaf. [<i>Getting hysterical.</i>] I want the Judge to take
+away this deafness. I would rather have my wrinkles.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>shakes his head in pretended sympathy, saying: "Too bad, too
+bad."</i></p>
+
+<p>[<i>She misunderstands and cries out.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. Has the Judge given away my wrinkles? I want them back. I
+want my very own wrinkles, too. Wrinkles are distinguished-looking.
+[<i>Beginning to sob.</i>] I don't want to be deaf any longer.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Running over to the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span>.] Say, this lady feels very
+bad. Can't you cheer her up a little?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Who is still rocking back and forth with his own
+misery, looks up at</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>in disgust</i>.] Cheer&mdash;her&mdash;up! Me? What's the
+joke?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>walks to the curtained door, looks in as if
+seeking something, then returns to a chair, where she sits, weeping
+softly</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>A peculiar thumping is heard at the street-door. The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor
+Man</span> <i>jumps to his feet in expectancy, hoping it is the</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span>,
+<i>also, stands waiting. The door opens as though the person that
+opened it did so with difficulty. The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>hobbles
+in. He is ragged and dirty, and one foot is bandaged, which causes
+him to use a crutch. He carries a large milk-can. He hobbles
+painfully to the centre of the stage. The</i> <span class="smcap">Former</span><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a> <span class="smcap">Poor Man</span> <i>grunts
+with disappointment, and sits down again, rubbing away at his
+stomach. The</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>sits with bowed head, silently weeping.
+The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>looks about, then addresses</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>in a
+rather husky voice</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. I wish to see the Judge at once. It is most urgent.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>With an ill-concealed smile.</i>] You can't see the Judge at once.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Impatiently.</i>] Why not? I told you it was most
+urgent.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Grinning openly.</i>] Because he isn't here. He hasn't come in yet.
+What's your trouble?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Vehemently.</i>] Trouble! Everything's the trouble!
+I have been abused, insulted, overworked&mdash;even the cows have kicked me.
+[<i>Looking down at his bandaged foot.</i>] I can't stand it. I won't stand
+it. I want back my proper place in the world, where I am respected, and
+where I can rest and sleep and mingle with my kind. </p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>He hobbles to a
+chair and sits down wearily.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Getting up from his chair, walks over to the</i> <span class="smcap">Former
+Rich Citizen</span>, <i>waggles his finger in his face and speaks fretfully</i>.]
+What cause have you to squeal so? If you had indigestion like I have all
+the time, you might be entitled to raise a holler. Why, I can't eat a
+thing without having the most awful pain right here [<i>puts his hand to
+the pit of his stomach</i>], and when I take a drink, oh, heavens, it&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Interrupting contemptuously.</i>] You big baby,
+howling about the stomachache. If you had a man-sized trouble, there
+might be some excuse for you. Now I, who have been used to wealth and
+respect, have been subjected to the most gruelling ordeals; why, in that
+dairy there were a million cows, and they kicked me, and horned me, and
+I&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>Walks over to them, interrupting their talk,<a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a> and speaks
+in a voice punctuated with sniffing sobs.</i>] Have&mdash;[<i>sniff</i>] either of
+you gentlemen [<i>sniff</i>] ever been deaf? [<i>Sniff, sniff.</i>] It is a
+terrible thing [<i>sniff</i>] for a beautiful woman like I am [<i>sniff</i>] to
+have such an affliction. </p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Sniff, sniff, sniff.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>shrugs his shoulders indifferently and limps
+to the other side of the stage, where he sits</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Stalks over to the railing, where he leans limply.</i>]
+Lord deliver me from a sniffling woman.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span>, <i>who is perched on his desk, chuckles wickedly of their
+sufferings</i>. <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>sinks dejectedly into the chair vacated by
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>A knock is heard at the street-door. The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span> <i>and
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>start forward eagerly, expecting the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Judge</span>. <i>Even the</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span>, <i>seeing the others rise, gets to her
+feet hopefully</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>hastily slides from his desk and, pulling
+down his tight little jacket and cocking his round little cap a
+little more over one eye, goes to see who knocks. A messenger hands
+him a letter and silently departs.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Importantly.</i>] Letter for me from the Judge.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. A letter! Why doesn't he come himself?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. Send for him, boy.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Grins at</i> <span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>in an insolent manner</i>.] Well,
+well, I wonder what the Judge is writing to me for. It's queer he would
+send me a letter.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He looks the letter over carefully, both sides; holds it up to
+the light, smells it, shakes it. The two men and the woman grow
+more and more nervous.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Extremely irritated.</i>] For goodness' sake, open it
+and read it.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. Yes, yes, and don't be so long about it.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span> <i>simply stands pathetically and waits</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a> <i>walks
+over to his desk, hunts for a knife, finally finds one; looks
+letter over again, then slowly slits the envelope and draws out
+letter, which he reads silently to himself. They are breathlessly
+waiting.</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>whistles softly to himself</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. Well, what do you think of that!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>Excitedly.</i>] What is it&mdash;why don't you tell us?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Pounding with his crutch on the floor.</i>] Come,
+come, don't keep me waiting like this.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>MP</small>. [<i>Reads letter again, silently, chuckling.</i>] All right. Here it is.
+[<i>Reads.</i>]</p>
+
+<p class="nind">"<span class="smcap">My dear Imp</span>:</p>
+
+<p>"I have tried faithfully for years to aid distressed humanity, but
+they are an ungrateful lot of fools, and I wash my hands of them.
+When this letter reaches you I will be on the high seas, and I am
+never coming back. So write 'Finis' in the big old ledger of
+miseries, and shut up shop, for the Exchange is closed&mdash;forever.</p>
+
+<p class="r"><span style="margin-right: 10%;">Yours in disgust,</span> T<small>HE</small> J<small>UDGE</small>."</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They all stand dazed a moment. The</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span>, <i>sensing that
+something terrible has happened, rushes from one to the other,
+saying: "What is it? What has happened?"</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>gives her the letter
+to read</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> P<small>OOR</small> M<small>AN</small>. [<i>In a perfect frenzy.</i>] My God! Indigestion all the
+rest of my days.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>AIN</small> W<small>OMAN</small>. [<i>After reading letter collapses in a chair, hysterically
+sobbing out.</i>] Deaf, always deaf! Oh, what shall I do!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ORMER</small> R<small>ICH</small> C<small>ITIZEN</small>. [<i>Leaning heavily on his crutch and shaking his
+free hand, clenched in anger.</i>] This is an outrage. I am rich and have
+influence, and I shall take steps to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>laughs mockingly. The man looks down at his milk-spattered
+clothes, his bandaged foot, and, letting his crutch<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a> fall to the
+floor, sinks dejectedly into a chair, burying his face in his
+hands.</i></p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>dangles his keys and opens the street-door, as an invitation
+for them to go. The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span> <i>is the first to start, moving
+dazedly and breathing hard</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>offers him the bottle of
+indigestion tablets; the man grasps them, eagerly, tipping</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>,
+<i>who chuckles as he pockets the money. The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Poor Man</span> <i>takes
+a tablet as he exits. The</i> <span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span>, <i>bowed with sorrow, moves
+slowly toward the door</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>touches her arm and offers the
+ear-trumpet. She accepts it, with a wild sob, tipping</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span>, <i>who
+again chuckles as he pockets the money. The last we see of the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Vain Woman</span>, <i>she is trying to hold the ear-trumpet to her ear, and
+exits, sobbing. The</i> <span class="smcap">Former Rich Citizen</span> <i>still sits in his chair,
+his head in his hands</i>. <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>picks up the milk-can, and, tapping
+the man not too gently on the shoulder, thrusts the milk-can at him
+and makes a significant gesture, indicative of</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">This Way Out</span>. <i>The
+man rises dejectedly, picks up his crutch, takes the milk-can, and
+hobbles painfully toward the door.</i> <span class="smcap">Imp</span> <i>doubles himself up in wild
+Mephistophelian glee as the</i></p></div>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c"><small>CURTAIN FALLS</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+SAM AVERAGE<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+<br />
+PERCY MACKAYE</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>Sam Average</i> is reprinted by special permission of Percy Mackaye. This
+play first appeared in <i>Yankee Fantasies</i>, Duffield &amp; Company, New York.</p>
+
+<p class="c"><i>Special Notice</i></p>
+
+<p>No public or private performance of this play&mdash;professional or
+amateur&mdash;and no public reading of it for money may be given without the
+written permission of the author and the payment of royalty. Persons who
+desire to obtain such permission should communicate direct with the
+author at his address, Harvard Club, 27 West 44th Street, New York
+City.</p></div>
+
+<p><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb">PERCY MACKAYE</p>
+
+<p>Percy Mackaye, who was born in New York City in 1875, is one of the few
+Americans whose interest has been almost wholly in the theatre. As a
+lecturer, writer, and champion of real art in drama, he has had few if
+any equals. He inherited his interest in drama from his father, Steele
+Mackaye, author of <i>Hazel Kirke</i>. He was educated at Harvard, where he
+studied under Professor George Pierce Baker, and at Leipzig. He has
+travelled extensively in Europe and at various times has resided in
+Rome, Switzerland, and London. In 1914 Dartmouth conferred upon him the
+honorary Master of Arts degree. At present he holds a fellowship in
+dramatic literature in Miami University, Oxford, Ohio.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Mackaye's efforts in the dramatic field have been varied. Masques,
+pageants, operas, and plays are to his credit. <i>The Canterbury
+Pilgrims</i>, <i>The Scarecrow</i>, <i>Jeanne D'Arc</i>, <i>Mater</i>, <i>Anti-Matrimony</i>,
+<i>Sanctuary</i>, <i>Saint Louis Masque</i>, and <i>Caliban</i> are among his
+better-known works.</p>
+
+<p>In 1912 appeared his Yankee Fantasies, of which <i>Sam Average</i> and
+<i>Gettysburg</i> are the more noteworthy.</p>
+
+<p>In all of Mr. Mackaye's work he possesses what many dramatists lack&mdash;a
+definite ideal. He aims at an artistic and literary effect. His <i>Sam
+Average</i> is a real contribution to American patriotic drama.<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">CHARACTERS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Andrew</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Joel</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ellen</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sam Average</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a></p>
+
+<h2>SAM AVERAGE<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size:50%;">[D]</span></a></h2>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>An intrenchment in Canada, near Niagara Falls, in the year 1814.
+Night, shortly before dawn.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>On the right, the dull glow of a smouldering wood fire ruddies the
+earthen embankment, the low-stretched outline of which forms, with
+darkness, the scenic background.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Near the centre, left, against the dark, a flag with stars floats
+from its standard.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Beside the fire</i>, <span class="smcap">Andrew</span>, <i>reclined, gazes at a small frame in his
+hand; near him is a knapsack, with contents emptied beside it</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>On the embankment</i>, <span class="smcap">Joel</span>, <i>with a gun, paces back and forth, a
+blanket thrown about his shoulders</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>With a singing call.</i>] Four o'clock!&mdash;All's well!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Jumping down from the embankment, he approaches the fire.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. By God, Joel, it's bitter.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Rubbing his hands over the coals.</i>] A mite sharpish.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Looks up eagerly.</i>] What?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Cuts sharp, for Thanksgivin'.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Sinks back, gloomily.</i>] Oh! [<i>A pause.</i>] I wondered you should
+agree with me. You meant the weather. I meant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>A pause again.</i></p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Well, Andy, what'd you mean?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Life.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Shucks!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>To himself.</i>] Living!<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a></p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Sauntering over left, listens.</i>] Hear a rooster crow?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. No. What are you doing?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Tiltin' the flag over crooked in the dirt. That's our signal.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Nothing could be more appropriate, unless we buried it&mdash;buried
+it in the dirt!</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. She's to find us where the flag's turned down. I fixed that with
+the sergeant all right. The rooster crowin' 's <i>her</i> watchword for us.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. An eagle screaming, Joel: that would have been better.
+[<i>Rising.</i>] Ah!</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>He laughs painfully.</i></p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Hush up, Andy! The nearest men ain't two rods away. You'll wake
+'em. Pitch it low.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Don't be alarmed. I'm coward enough.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. 'Course, though, there ain't much danger. I'm sentinel this end,
+and the sergeant has the tip at t'other. Besides, you may call it the
+reg'lar thing. There's been two thousand deserters already in this
+tuppenny-ha'penny war, and none on 'em the worse off. When a man don't
+get his pay for nine months&mdash;well, he ups and takes his vacation. Why
+not? When Nell joins us, we'll hike up the Niagara, cross over to
+Tonawanda, and take our breakfast in Buffalo. By that time the boys here
+will be marchin' away toward Lundy's Lane.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Walks back and forth, shivering.</i>] I'm afraid.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. 'Fraid? Bosh!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. I'm afraid to face&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Face what? We won't get caught.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Your sister&mdash;my wife.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Nell! Why, ain't she comin' here just a-purpose to get you? Ain't
+there reason enough, Lord knows? Ain't you made up your mind to light
+out home anyhow?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Yes. That's just what she'll never forgive me for. In her heart
+she'll never think of me the same. For she knows as well as I what
+pledge I'll be breaking&mdash;what sacred pledge.<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a></p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. What you mean?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. No matter, no matter; this is gush.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He returns to the fire and begins to fumble over the contents of
+his knapsack.</i> <span class="smcap">Joel</span> <i>watches him idly</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. One of <i>her</i> curls?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Looking at a lock of hair in the firelight.</i>] No; the baby's,
+little Andy's. Some day they'll tell him how his father&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>He winces,
+and puts the lock away.</i></p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Going toward the embankment.</i>] Listen!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Ties up the package, muttering.</i>] Son of a traitor!</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Tiptoeing back.</i>] It's crowed&mdash;that's her.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Leaping to his feet</i>, <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>stares toward the embankment where
+the flag is dipped; then turns his back to it, closing his eyes and
+gripping his hands</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>After a pause, silently the figure of a young woman emerges from
+the dark and stands on the embankment. She is bareheaded and ill
+clad.</i></p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Joel</span> <i>touches</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span>, <i>who turns and looks toward her. Silently
+she steals down to him and they embrace</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. My Nell!</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. Nearly a year&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Now, at last!</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. Hold me close, Andy.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. You're better?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. Let's forget&mdash;just for now.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Is he grown much?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. Grown? You should see him! But so ill! What could I do? You
+see&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. I know, I know.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. The money was all gone. They turned me out at the old place, and
+then&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. I know, dear.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. I got sewing, but when the smallpox&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a></p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. I have all your letters, Nell. Come, help me to pack.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. What! You're really decided&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Approaching.</i>] Hello, Sis!</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Absently.</i>] Ah, Joel; that you? [<i>Eagerly, following</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span>
+<i>to the knapsack</i>.] But, my dear&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Just these few things, and we're off.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Agitated.</i>] Wait, wait! You don't know yet why I've
+come&mdash;instead of writing.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. I can guess.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. But you can't; that's&mdash;what's so hard! I have to tell you
+something, and then&mdash;&mdash; [<i>Slowly.</i>] I must know from your own eyes, from
+yourself, that you wish to do this, Andrew; that you think it is
+<i>right</i>.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Gently.</i>] I guessed that.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. This is what I must tell you. It's not just the sickness, it's
+not only the baby, not the money gone&mdash;and all that; it's&mdash;it's&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Murmurs.</i>] My God!</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. It's what all that brings&mdash;the helplessness. I've been insulted.
+Andy&mdash;[<i>Her voice breaks.</i>] I want a protector.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Taking her in his arms, where she sobs.</i>] There, dear!</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>With a low moan.</i>] You know.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. I know. Come, now; we'll go.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Her face lighting up.</i>] Oh! and you <i>dare</i>! It's <i>right</i>?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Moving from her, with a hoarse laugh.</i>] <i>Dare?</i> Dare I be
+damned by God and all his angels? Ha! Come, we're slow.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Time enough.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Sinking upon</i> <span class="smcap">Joel's</span> <i>knapsack as a seat, leans her head on her
+hands, and looks strangely at</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span>.] I'd better have written, I'm
+afraid.<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a></p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Controlling his emotion.</i>] Now, don't take it that way. I've
+considered it all.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>With deep quiet.</i>] Blasphemously?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Reasonably, my brave wife. When I enlisted, I did so in a dream.
+I dreamed I was called to love and serve our country. But that dream is
+shattered. This sordid war, this political murder, has not one single
+principle of humanity to excuse its bloody sacrilege. It doesn't deserve
+my loyalty&mdash;our loyalty.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. Are you saying this&mdash;for my sake? What of "God and his angels"?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Not looking at her.</i>] If we had a just cause&mdash;a cause of
+liberty like that in Seventy-six; if to serve one's country meant to
+serve God and his angels&mdash;then, yes; a man might put away wife and
+child. He might say: "I will not be a husband, a father; I will be a
+patriot." But now&mdash;like this&mdash;tangled in a web of spiders&mdash;caught in a
+grab-net of politicians&mdash;and you, you and our baby-boy, like this&mdash;hell
+let in on our home&mdash;no, Country be cursed!</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Slowly.</i>] So, then, when little Andy grows up&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Groaning.</i>] I say that the only thing&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. I am to tell him&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Defiantly.</i>] Tell him his father deserted his country, and
+thanked God for the chance. [<i>Looking about him passionately.</i>] Here!
+[<i>He tears a part of the flag from its standard, and reaches it toward
+her.</i>] You're cold; put this round you.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>As he is putting the strip of colored silk about her shoulders,
+there rises, faint yet close by, a sound of fifes and flutes,
+playing the merry march-strains of "Yankee Doodle."</i></p>
+
+<p>[<i>At the same time there enters along the embankment, dimly,
+enveloped in a great cloak, a tall</i> <span class="smcap">Figure</span>, <i>which pauses beside
+the standard of the torn flag, silhouetted against the first pale
+streaks of the dawn</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Gazing at</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span>.] What's the matter?<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a></p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Listening.</i>] Who are they? Where is it?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Starts, alertly.</i>] He hears something.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Why should they play before daybreak?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. Andy&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Whispers.</i>] Ssh! Look out! We're spied on!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He points to the embankment.</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> <i>draw back</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. [<i>Straightening the flag-standard, and leaning on it.</i>]
+Desartin'?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Puts</i> <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> <i>behind him</i>.] Who's there? The watchword!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. God save the smart folks!</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span>.] He's on to us. Pickle him quiet, or it's court
+martial! [<i>Showing a long knife.</i>] Shall I give him this?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Taking it from him.</i>] No. <i>I</i> will.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Seizing his arm.</i>] Andrew!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Let go.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">The Figure</span>, <i>descending into the intrenchment, approaches with
+face muffled</i>. <span class="smcap">Joel</span> <i>draws</i> <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> <i>away</i>. <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>moves toward</i> <span class="smcap">the
+Figure</span> <i>slowly</i>. <i>They meet and pause.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. You're a spy!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>With a quick flash,</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>raises the knife to strike, but
+pauses, staring</i>. <span class="smcap">The Figure</span>, <i>throwing up one arm to ward the
+blow, reveals&mdash;through the parted cloak&mdash;a glint of stars in the
+firelight</i>.<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Steady, boys; I'm one of ye. The sergeant told me to drop
+round.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Oh, the sergeant! That's all right, then.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Dropping the knife.</i>] Who are you?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Who be <i>I</i>? My name, ye mean? My name's<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a> Average&mdash;Sam
+Average. Univarsal Sam, some o' my prophetic friends calls me.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. What are you doing here&mdash;now?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Oh, tendin' to business.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Tendin' to <i>other</i> folks' business, eh?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. [<i>With a touch of weariness.</i>] Ye-es; reckon that <i>is</i> my
+business. Some other folks is me.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Grimacing to</i> <span class="smcap">Ellen</span>.] Cracked!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span>.] You're a mite back'ard in wages, ain't ye?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Nine months. What of that?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. That's what I dropped round for. Seems like when a man's
+endoored and fit, like you have, for his country, and calc'lates he'll
+quit, he ought to be takin' a little suthin' hom' for Thanksgivin'. So I
+fetched round your pay.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. My pay! You?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Yes; I'm the paymaster.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Coming forward, eagerly.</i>] Andy! The money, is it?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. [<i>Bows with a grave, old-fashioned stateliness.</i>] Your
+sarvent, ma'am!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Speaking low.</i>] Keep back, Nell. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">The Figure</span>.] You&mdash;you
+were saying&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. I were about to say how gold bein' scarce down to the
+Treasury, I fetched ye some s'curities instead; some national I.O.U.'s,
+as ye might say. [<i>He takes out an old powder-horn, and rattles it
+quietly.</i>] That's them. [<i>Pouring from the horn into his palm some
+glistening, golden grains.</i>] Here they be.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Peering, with</i> <span class="smcap">Joel</span>.] Gold, Andy!</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>With a snigger.</i>] Gold&mdash;nothin'! That's corn&mdash;just Injun corn.
+Ha!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. [<i>Bowing gravely.</i>] It's the quality, ma'am, what counts, as
+ye might say.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Behind his hand.</i>] His top-loft leaks!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. These here karnels, now, were give' me down<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a> Plymouth way,
+in Massachusetts, the fust Thanksgivin' seems like I can remember.
+'Twa'n't long after the famine we had thar. Me bein' some hungry, the
+red-folks fetched a hull-lot o' this round, with the compliments of
+their capting&mdash;what were his name now?&mdash;Massasoit. This here's the last
+handful on't left. Thought ye might like some, bein' Thanksgivin'.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>In a low voice, to</i> <span class="smcap">Ellen</span>.] His screws are droppin' out. Come
+and pack. We've got to mark time and skip.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. [<i>Without looking at</i> <span class="smcap">Joel</span>.] Eight or ten minutes still to
+spare, boys. The sergeant said&mdash;wait till ye hear his jew's-harp playin'
+of that new war tune, <i>The Star-Spangled Banner</i>. Then ye'll know the
+coast's clear.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Gad, that's right, I remember now.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He draws</i> <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> <i>away to the knapsack, which they begin to pack</i>.
+<span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>has never removed his eyes from the tall form in the
+cloak</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Now, as</i> <span class="smcap">The Figure</span> <i>pours back the yellow grains from his palm
+into the powder-horn, he speaks, hesitatingly</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. I think&mdash;I'd like some.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Some o' what?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Those&mdash;my pay.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. [<i>Cheerfully.</i>] So. <i>Would</i> ye? [<i>Handing him the horn.</i>]
+Reckon that's enough?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Not taking it.</i>] That's what I want to make sure of&mdash;first.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Oh! So ye're hesitatin'!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Yes; but I want you to help me decide. Pardon me, sir. You're a
+stranger, yet somehow I feel I may ask your help. You've come just in
+time.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Queer I should a-dropped round jest now, wa'n't it? S'posin'
+we take a turn.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Together they walk toward the embankment. By the knapsack</i> <span class="smcap">Ellen</span>
+<i>finds the little frame</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>To herself.</i>] My picture!<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She looks toward</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>affectionately</i>. <span class="smcap">Joel</span>, <i>lifting the
+knapsack, beckons to her</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. There's more stuff over here.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>He goes off, right</i>; <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> <i>follows him</i>.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">The Figure</span>.] I should like the judgment of your
+experience, sir. I can't quite see your face, yet you appear to be one
+who has had a great deal of experience.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Why, consid'able some.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Did you&mdash;happen to fight in the late war for independence?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Happen to? [<i>Laughing quietly.</i>] N-no, not fight; ye see&mdash;I
+was paymaster.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. But you went through the war?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Ye-es, oh, yes; I went through it. I took out my fust
+reg'lar papers down to Philadelphie, in '76, seems like 'twas the fourth
+day o' July. But I was paymaster afore that.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Tell me: I've heard it said there were deserters even in those
+days, even from the roll-call of Washington. Is it true?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. True, boy? Have ye ever watched a prairie-fire rollin'
+toward ye, billowin' with flame and smoke, and seed all the midget
+cowerin' prairie-dogs scootin' for their holes? Wall, that's the way I
+watched Howe's army sweepin' crosst the Jarsey marshes, and seed the
+desartin' little patriots, with their chins over their shoulders,
+skedaddlin' home'ards.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. What&mdash;the Americans!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. All but a handful on 'em&mdash;them as weren't canines, ye might
+say, but men. <i>They</i> set a back-fire goin' at Valley Forge. Most on 'em
+burnt their toes and fingers off, lightin' on't thar in the white frost,
+but they stuck it through and saved&mdash;wall, the prairie-dogs.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. But they&mdash;those others. What reason did they give to God and
+their own souls for deserting?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. To who?<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a></p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. To their consciences. What was their reason? It must have been a
+noble one in '76. <i>Their</i> reason <i>then</i>; don't you see, I must have it.
+I must know what reason real heroes gave for their acts. You were there.
+You can tell me.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. <i>Real</i> heroes, eh? Look around ye, then. To-day's the heroic
+age, and the true brand o' hero is al'ays in the market. Look around ye!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. What, here&mdash;in this war of jobsters, this petty campaign of
+monstrous boodle?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Thar we be!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Why, here are only a lot of cowardly half-men, like me&mdash;lovers
+of their own folks&mdash;their wives and babies at home. They'll make
+sacrifices for them. But real men like our fathers in '76: they looked
+in the beautiful face of Liberty, and sacrificed to <i>her</i>!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Our fathers, my boy, was jest as fond o' poetry as you be.
+They talked about the beautiful face o' Liberty same's you; but when the
+hom'made eyes and cheeks of their sweethearts and young uns took to
+cryin', they desarted their beautiful goddess and skun out hom'.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. But there were some&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Thar was some as didn't&mdash;yes; and thar's some as don't
+to-day. Those be the folks on my pay-roll. Why, look a-here: I calc'late
+I wouldn't fetch much on the beauty counter. My talk ain't rhyme stuff,
+nor the Muse o' Grammar wa'n't my schoolma'am. Th' ain't painter nor
+clay-sculptor would pictur' me jest like I stand. For the axe has hewed
+me, and the plough has furrered; and the arnin' of gold by my own
+elbow-grease has give' me the shrewd eye at a bargain. I manure my crops
+this side o' Jordan, and as for t'other shore, I'd ruther swap jokes
+with the Lord than listen to his sarmons. And yet for the likes o' me,
+jest for to arn my wages&mdash;ha, the many, many boys and gals that's gone
+to their grave-beds, and when I a-closed their eyes, the love-light was
+shinin' thar.<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a></p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Who has listened with awe.</i>] What <i>are</i> you? What <i>are</i> you?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Me? I'm the paymaster.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. I want to serve you&mdash;like those others.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Slow, slow, boy! Nobody sarves <i>me</i>.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. But they died for you&mdash;the others.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. No, 'twa'n't for me; 'twas for him as pays the wages; the
+one as works through me&mdash;the one higher up. I'm only the paymaster; kind
+of a needful makeshift&mdash;his obedient sarvant.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>With increasing curiosity, seeks to peer in</i> <span class="smcap">The Figure's</span>
+<i>face</i>.] But the one up higher&mdash;who is he?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. [<i>Turning his head away.</i>] Would ye sarve him, think, if ye
+heerd his voice?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Ardently, drawing closer.</i>] And saw his face!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Drawing his cowl lower and taking</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew's</span> <i>arm</i>, <span class="smcap">The Figure</span>
+<i>leads him up on the embankment, where they stand together</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Hark a-yonder!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Listening.</i>] Is it thunder?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Have ye forgot?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. The voice! I remember now&mdash;Niagara!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>With awe</i>, <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>looks toward</i> <span class="smcap">The Figure</span>, <i>who stands shrouded
+and still, facing the dawn. From far off comes a sound as of
+falling waters, and with that&mdash;a deep murmurous voice, which seems
+to issue from</i> <span class="smcap">The Figure's</span> <i>cowl</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> V<small>OICE</small>. I am the Voice that was heard of your fathers, and your
+fathers' fathers. Mightier&mdash;mightier, I shall be heard of your sons. I
+am the Million in whom the one is lost, and I am the One in whom the
+millions are saved. Their ears shall be shut to my thunders, their eyes
+to my blinding stars. In shallow streams they shall tap my life-blood
+for gold. With dregs of coal and of copper they shall pollute me. In the
+mystery of my<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> mountains they shall assail me; in the majesty of my
+forests, strike me down; with engine and derrick and millstone, bind me
+their slave. Some for a lust, some for a love, shall desert me. One and
+one, for his own, shall fall away. Yet one and one and one shall return
+to me for life; the deserter and the destroyer shall re-create me.
+Primeval, their life-blood is mine. My pouring waters are passion, my
+lightnings are laughter of man. I am the One in whom the millions are
+saved, and I am the Million in whom the one is lost.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Yearningly, to</i> <span class="smcap">The Figure</span>.] Your face!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">The Figure</span> <i>turns majestically away</i>. <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>clings to him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. Your face!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>In the shadow of the flag</i> <span class="smcap">The Figure</span> <i>unmuffles for an instant</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Peering, dazzled</i>, <span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>staggers back, with a low cry, and,
+covering his eyes, falls upon the embankment</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>From away, left, the thrumming of a jew's-harp is heard, playing
+"The Star-Spangled Banner."</i></p>
+
+<p>[<i>From the right enter</i> <span class="smcap">Joel</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ellen</span>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Descending from the embankment</i>, <span class="smcap">The Figure</span> <i>stands apart</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Well, Colonel Average, time's up.</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Andrew's</span> <i>prostrate form, hastens to him</i>.] Andy!
+What's happened?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Rising slowly.</i>] Come here. I'll whisper it.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He leads her beside the embankment, beyond which the dawn is
+beginning to redden.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. Yonder's the sergeant's jew's-harp. That's our signal, Nell. So
+long, colonel.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. [<i>Nodding.</i>] So long, sonny.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Holding</i> <span class="smcap">Ellen's</span> <i>hands, passionately</i>.] You understand? You
+<i>do</i>?</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>Looking in his eyes.</i>] I understand, dear.<a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They kiss each other.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>OEL</small>. [<i>Calls low.</i>] Come, you married turtles. The road's clear. Follow
+me now. Sneak.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Carrying his knapsack</i>, <span class="smcap">Joel</span> <i>climbs over the embankment and
+disappears</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>The thrumming of the jew's-harp continues.</i></p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Ellen</span>, <i>taking the strip of silk flag from her shoulders, ties it
+to the standard</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Faintly.</i>] God bless you!</p>
+
+<p>E<small>LLEN</small>. [<i>As they part hands.</i>] Good-by!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">The Figure</span> <i>has remounted the embankment, where&mdash;in the distincter
+glow of the red dawn&mdash;the gray folds of his cloak, hanging from his
+shoulders, resemble the half-closed wings of an eagle, the beaked
+cowl falling, as a kind of visor, before his face, concealing it</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Come, little gal.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Ellen</span> <i>goes to him, and hides her face in the great cloak. As she
+does so, he draws from it a paper, writes on it, and hands it to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Andrew</span>, <i>with the powder-horn</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. By the by, Andy, here's that s'curity. Them here's my
+initials; they're all what's needful. Jest file this in the right
+pigeonhole, and you'll draw your pay. Keep your upper lip, boy. I'll
+meet ye later, mebbe, at Lundy's Lane.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>NDREW</small>. [<i>Wistfully.</i>] You'll take her home?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> F<small>IGURE</small>. Yes; reckon she'll housekeep for your uncle till you get
+back; won't ye, Nellie? Come, don't cry, little gal. We'll soon git
+'quainted. 'Tain't the fust time sweethearts has called me <i>Uncle</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Flinging back his great cloak, he throws one wing of it, with his
+arm, about her shoulders, thus with half its reverse side draping
+her with shining stripes and stars. By the same action his own
+figure is made partly visible&mdash;the legs clad in the tight,
+instep-strapped trousers (blue and white) of the Napoleonic era.
+Holding the girl gently to him&mdash;<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>while her face turns back toward</i>
+<span class="smcap">Andrew</span>&mdash;<i>he leads her, silhouetted against the sunrise, along the
+embankment, and disappears</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Meantime, the thrumming twang of the jew's-harp grows sweeter,
+mellower, modulated with harmonies that, filling now the air with
+elusive strains of the American war-hymn, mingle with the faint
+dawn-twitterings of birds.</i></p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Andrew</span> <i>stares silently after the departed forms; then, slowly
+coming down into the intrenchment, lifts from the ground his gun
+and ramrod, leans on the gun, and&mdash;reading the paper in his hand by
+the growing light&mdash;mutters it aloud</i>:</p>
+
+<p class="c">
+<i>U. S. A.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Smiling sternly, he crumples the paper in his fist, makes a wad
+of it, and rams it into his gun-barrel.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+HYACINTH HALVEY<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+<br />
+LADY AUGUSTA GREGORY</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>Hyacinth Halvey</i> is reprinted by special permission of G. P. Putnam's
+Sons, New York City, publishers of Lady Gregory's work in America. All
+rights reserved. For permission to perform, address the publisher.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb">LADY AUGUSTA GREGORY</p>
+
+<p>Lady Augusta Gregory, one of the foremost figures in the Irish dramatic
+movement, was born at Roxborough, County Galway, Ireland, in 1859. "She
+was then a young woman," says one who has described her in her early
+married life, "very earnest, who divided her hair in the middle and wore
+it smooth on either side of a broad and handsome brow. Her eyes were
+always full of questions.... In her drawing-room were to be met men of
+assured reputation in literature and politics, and there was always the
+best reading of the times upon her tables." Lady Gregory has devoted her
+entire life to the cause of Irish literature. In 1911 she visited the
+United States and at a dinner given to her by <i>The Outlook</i> in New York
+City she said:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">"I will not cease from mental strife</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp; Or let the sword fall from my hand</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp; Till we have built Jerusalem</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp; In&mdash;Ireland's&mdash;fair and lovely land."</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Lady Gregory, with William Butler Yeats and John Millington Synge, has
+been the very life of the Irish drama. The literary association of these
+three has been highly fruitful. She helped to found the Irish National
+Theatre Society, and for a number of years has been the managing force
+of the celebrated Abbey Theatre in Dublin.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Gregory's chief interest has been in peasant comedies and
+folk-plays. Her <i>Spreading the News</i>, <i>Hyacinth Halvey</i>, <i>The Rising of
+the Moon</i>, <i>The Workhouse Ward</i>, and <i>The Travelling Man</i> are well-known
+contributions to contemporary drama.</p>
+
+<p>It is a noteworthy fact that most of the plays of the Irish dramatic
+movement are one-act plays. Much of Irish life lends itself admirably to
+one-act treatment. <i>Hyacinth Halvey</i> is one of Lady Gregory's best
+productions. This play contains a universal idea: reputation is in great
+measure a matter of "a password or an emotion." Hyacinth, having a good
+reputation thrust upon him, may do as he likes&mdash;his good name clings to
+him notwithstanding.<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">PERSONS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Hyacinth Halvey</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">James Quirke</span>, <i>a butcher</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Fardy Farrel</span>, <i>a telegraph boy</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sergeant Carden</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Delane</span>, <i>postmistress at Cloon</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Miss Joyce</span>, <i>the priest's housekeeper</i></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a></p>
+
+<h2><a name="HYACINTH_HALVEY" id="HYACINTH_HALVEY"></a>HYACINTH HALVEY</h2>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>Outside the post-office at the little town of Cloon.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
+Delane</span> <i>at post-office door</i>. <span class="smcap">Mr. Quirke</span> <i>sitting on a chair at
+butcher's door. A dead sheep hanging beside it, and a thrush in a
+cage above.</i> <span class="smcap">Fardy Farrell</span> <i>playing on a mouth-organ. Train-whistle
+heard.</i></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. There is the four-o'clock train, Mr. Quirke.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Is it now, Mrs. Delane, and I not long after rising? It
+makes a man drowsy to be doing the half of his work in the night-time.
+Going about the country, looking for little stags of sheep, striving to
+knock a few shillings together. That contract for the soldiers gives me
+a great deal to attend to.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I suppose so. It's hard enough on myself to be down ready
+for the mail-car in the morning, sorting letters in the half-dark. It's
+often I haven't time to look who are the letters from&mdash;or the cards.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. It would be a pity you not to know any little news might be
+knocking about. If you did not have information of what is going on, who
+should have it? Was it you, ma'am, was telling me that the new
+sub-sanitary inspector would be arriving to-day?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. To-day it is he is coming, and it's likely he was in that
+train. There was a card about him to Sergeant Carden this morning.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. A young chap from Carrow they were saying he was.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. So he is, one Hyacinth Halvey; and indeed if<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a> all that is
+said of him is true, or if a quarter of it is true, he will be a credit
+to this town.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Is that so?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Testimonials he has by the score. To Father Gregan they
+were sent. Registered they were coming and going. Would you believe me
+telling you that they weighed up to three pounds?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. There must be great bulk in them indeed.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It is no wonder he to get the job. He must have a great
+character, so many persons to write for him as what there did.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It would be a great thing to have a character like that.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Indeed, I am thinking it will be long before you will get
+the like of it, Fardy Farrell.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. If I had the like of that of a character it is not here carrying
+messages I would be. It's in Noonan's Hotel I would be, driving cars.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Here is the priest's housekeeper coming.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. So she is; and there is the sergeant a little while after
+her.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Joyce</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Good evening to you, Miss Joyce. What way is his reverence
+to-day? Did he get any ease from the cough?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. He did not, indeed, Mrs. Delane. He has it sticking to him
+yet. Smothering he is in the night-time. The most thing he comes short
+in is the voice.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I am sorry, now, to hear that. He should mind himself well.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. It's easy to say let him mind himself. What do you say to
+him going to the meeting to-night?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Sergeant</span> <i>comes in</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. It's for his reverence's "Freeman" I am come, Mrs. Delane.<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Here it is ready. I was just throwing an eye on it to see
+was there any news. Good evening, Sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Holding up a placard.</i>] I brought this notice, Mrs. Delane,
+the announcement of the meeting to be held to-night in the court-house.
+You might put it up here convenient to the window. I hope you are coming
+to it yourself?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I will come, and welcome. I would do more than that for
+you, Sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. And you, Mr. Quirke.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I'll come, to be sure. I forget what's this the meeting is
+about.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. The Department of Agriculture is sending round a lecturer in
+furtherance of the moral development of the rural classes. [<i>Reads.</i>] "A
+lecture will be given this evening in Cloon Court-House, illustrated by
+magic-lantern slides&mdash;" Those will not be in it; I am informed they were
+all broken in the first journey, the railway company taking them to be
+eggs. The subject of the lecture is "The Building of Character."</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Very nice, indeed, I knew a girl lost her character, and
+she washed her feet in a blessed well after, and it dried up on the
+minute.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. The arrangements have all been left to me, the archdeacon
+being away. He knows I have a good intellect for things of the sort. But
+the loss of those slides puts a man out. The thing people will not see
+it is not likely it is the thing they will believe. I saw what they call
+tableaux&mdash;standing pictures, you know&mdash;one time in Dundrum&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Miss Joyce was saying Father Gregan is supporting you.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I am accepting his assistance. No bigotry about me when there
+is a question of the welfare of any fellow creatures. Orange and green
+will stand together to-night, I, myself, and the station-master on the
+one side, your parish priest in the chair.<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. If his reverence would mind me he would not quit the house
+to-night. He is no more fit to go speak at a meeting than [<i>pointing to
+the one hanging outside</i> <span class="smcap">Quirke's</span> <i>door</i>] that sheep.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I am willing to take the responsibility. He will have no
+speaking to do at all, unless it might be to bid them give the lecturer
+a hearing. The loss of those slides now is a great annoyance to me&mdash;and
+no time for anything. The lecturer will be coming by the next train.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Who is this coming up the street, Mrs. Delane?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I wouldn't doubt it to be the new sub-sanitary inspector.
+Was I telling you of the weight of the testimonials he got, Miss Joyce?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Sure, I heard the curate reading them to his reverence. He
+must be a wonder for principles.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Indeed, it is what I was saying to myself, he must be a
+very saintly young man.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hyacinth Halvey</span>. <i>He carries a small bag and a large
+brown-paper parcel. He stops and nods bashfully.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Good evening to you. I was bid to come to the post-office&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I suppose you are Hyacinth Halvey? I had a letter about you
+from the resident magistrate.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I heard he was writing. It was my mother got a friend he deals
+with to ask him.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. He gives you a very high character.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. It is very kind of him, indeed, and he not knowing me at all.
+But, indeed, all the neighbors were very friendly. Anything any one
+could do to help me they did it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I'll engage it is the testimonials you have in your parcel?
+I know the wrapping-paper, but they grew in bulk since I handled them.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Indeed, I was getting them to the last. There<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a> was not one
+refused me. It is what my mother was saying, a good character is no
+burden.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I would believe that, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Let us have a look at the testimonials.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hyacinth Halvey</span> <i>opens a parcel, and a large number of envelopes
+fall out</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Opening and reading one by one.</i>] "He possesses the fire of
+the Gael, the strength of the Norman, the vigor of the Dane, the
+stolidity of the Saxon&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. It was the chairman of the Poor Law Guardians wrote that.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. "A magnificent example to old and young&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. That was the secretary of the De Wet Hurling Club&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. "A shining example of the value conferred by an eminently
+careful and high-class education&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. That was the national schoolmaster.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. "Devoted to the highest ideals of his motherland to such an
+extent as is compatible with a hitherto non-parliamentary career&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. That was the member for Carrow.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. "A splendid exponent of the purity of the race&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. The editor of the "Carrow Champion."</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. "Admirably adapted for the efficient discharge of all possible
+duties that may in future be laid upon him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. The new station-master.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. "A champion of every cause that can legitimately benefit his
+fellow creatures&mdash;" Why, look here, my man, you are the very one to come
+to our assistance to-night.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I would be glad to do that. What way can I do it?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. You are a newcomer&mdash;your example would carry weight&mdash;you must
+stand up as a living proof of the beneficial<a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a> effect of a high
+character, moral fibre, temperance&mdash;there is something about it here I
+am sure&mdash;(<i>Looks.</i>) I am sure I saw "unparalleled temperance" in some
+place&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. It was my mother's cousin wrote that&mdash;I am no drinker, but I
+haven't the pledge taken&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. You might take it for the purpose.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Eagerly.</i>] Here is an antitreating button. I was made a
+present of it by one of my customers&mdash;I'll give it to you [<i>sticks it
+in</i> <span class="smcap">Hyacinth's</span> <i>coat</i>] and welcome.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. That is it. You can wear the button on the platform&mdash;or a bit
+of blue ribbon&mdash;hundreds will follow your example&mdash;I know the boys from
+the Workhouse will&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I am in no way wishful to be an example&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I will read extracts from the testimonials. "There he is," I
+will say, "an example of one in early life who by his own unaided
+efforts and his high character has obtained a profitable situation."
+[<i>Slaps his side.</i>] I know what I'll do. I'll engage a few corner-boys
+from Noonan's bar, just as they are, greasy and sodden, to stand in a
+group&mdash;there will be the contrast&mdash;the sight will deter others from a
+similar fate&mdash;that's the way to do a tableau&mdash;I knew I could turn out a
+success.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I wouldn't like to be a contrast&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Puts testimonials in his pocket.</i>] I will go now and engage
+those lads&mdash;sixpence each, and well worth it&mdash;nothing like an example
+for the rural classes.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Goes off</i>, <span class="smcap">Hyacinth</span> <i>feebly trying to detain him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. A very nice man, indeed. A little high up in himself,
+maybe. I'm not one that blames the police. Sure they have their own
+bread to earn like every other one. And indeed it is often they will let
+a thing pass.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Gloomily.</i>] Sometimes they will, and more times they will
+not.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. And where will you be finding a lodging, Mr. Halvey?<a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I was going to ask that myself, ma'am. I don't know the town.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. I know of a good lodging, but it is only a very good man
+would be taken into it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Sure there could be no objection there to Mr. Halvey. There
+is no appearance on him but what is good, and the sergeant after taking
+him up the way he is doing.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. You will be near to the sergeant in the lodging I speak of.
+The house is convenient to the barracks.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Doubtfully.</i>] To the barracks?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Alongside of it, and the barrack-yard behind. And that's not
+all. It is opposite to the priest's house.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Opposite, is it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. A very respectable place, indeed, and a very clean room you
+will get. I know it well. The curate can see into it from his window.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Can he now?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. There was a good many, I am thinking, went into that lodging and
+left it after.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. [<i>Sharply.</i>] It is a lodging you will never be let into or
+let stop in, Fardy. If they did go they were a good riddance.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. John Hart, the plumber, left it&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. If he did it was because he dared not pass the police coming
+in, as he used, with a rabbit he was after snaring in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. The schoolmaster himself left it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. He needn't have left it if he hadn't taken to card-playing.
+What way could you say your prayers, and shadows shuffling and dealing
+before you on the blind?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I think maybe I'd best look around a bit before I'll settle in
+a lodging&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Not at all. You won't be wanting to pull down the blind.<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It is not likely <i>you</i> will be snaring rabbits.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Or bringing in a bottle and taking an odd glass the way
+James Kelly did.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Or writing threatening notices, and the police taking a
+view of you from the rear.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Or going to roadside dances, or running after
+good-for-nothing young girls&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I give you my word I'm not so harmless as you think.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Would you be putting a lie on these, Mr. Halvey? [<i>Touching
+testimonials.</i>] I know well the way you will be spending the evenings,
+writing letters to your relations&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Learning O'Growney's exercises&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Sticking post-cards in an album for the convent bazaar.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Reading the "Catholic Young Man"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Playing the melodies on a melodeon&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Looking at the pictures in the "Lives of the Saints." I'll
+hurry on and engage the room for you.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Wait. Wait a minute&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. No trouble at all. I told you it was just opposite.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Goes.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I suppose I must go up-stairs and ready myself for the
+meeting. If it wasn't for the contract I have for the soldiers' barracks
+and the sergeant's good word, I wouldn't go anear it.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Goes into shop.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I should be making myself ready, too. I must be in good
+time to see you being made an example of, Mr. Halvey. It is I, myself,
+was the first to say it; you will be a credit to the town.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Goes.</i></p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>In a tone of agony.</i>] I wish I had never seen Cloon.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. What is on you?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I wish I had never left Carrow. I wish I had<a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a> been drowned the
+first day I thought of it, and I'd be better off.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. What is it ails you?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I wouldn't for the best pound ever I had be in this place
+to-day.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I don't know what you are talking about.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. To have left Carrow, if it was a poor place, where I had my
+comrades, and an odd spree, and a game of cards&mdash;and a coursing-match
+coming on, and I promised a new greyhound from the city of Cork. I'll
+die in this place, the way I am, I'll be too much closed in.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Sure it mightn't be as bad as what you think.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Will you tell me, I ask you, what way can I undo it?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. What is it you are wanting to undo?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Will you tell me what way can I get rid of my character?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. To get rid of it, is it?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. That is what I said. Aren't you after hearing the great
+character they are after putting on me?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. That is a good thing to have.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. It is not. It's the worst in the world. If I hadn't it, I
+wouldn't be like a prize marigold at a show, with every person praising
+me.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. If I had it, I wouldn't be like a head in a barrel, with every
+person making hits at me.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. If I hadn't it, I wouldn't be shoved into a room with all the
+clergy watching me and the police in the back yard.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. If I had it, I wouldn't be but a message-carrier now, and a
+clapper scaring birds in the summer-time.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. If I hadn't it, I wouldn't be wearing this button and brought
+up for an example at the meeting.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. [<i>Whistles.</i>] Maybe you're not so, what those papers make you out
+to be?<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. How would I be what they make me out to be? Was there ever any
+person of that sort since the world was a world, unless it might be
+Saint Antony of Padua looking down from the chapel wall? If it is like
+that I was, isn't it in Mount Melleray I would be, or with the friars at
+Esker? Why would I be living in the world at all, or doing the world's
+work?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. [<i>Taking up parcel.</i>] Who would think, now, there would be so
+much lies in a small place like Carrow?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. It was my mother's cousin did it. He said I was not reared for
+laboring&mdash;he gave me a new suit and bid me never to come back again. I
+daren't go back to face him&mdash;the neighbors knew my mother had a long
+family&mdash;bad luck to them the day they gave me these. [<i>Tears letters and
+scatters them.</i>] I'm done with testimonials. They won't be here to bear
+witness against me.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. The sergeant thought them to be great. Sure he has the samples of
+them in his pocket. There's not one in the town but will know before
+morning that you are the next thing to an earthly saint.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Stamping.</i>] I'll stop their mouths. I'll show them I can be
+a terror for badness. I'll do some injury. I'll commit some crime. The
+first thing I'll do I'll go and get drunk. If I never did it before I'll
+do it now. I'll get drunk&mdash;then I'll make an assault&mdash;I tell you I'd
+think as little of taking a life as of blowing out a candle.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. If you get drunk you are done for. Sure that will be held up
+after as an excuse for any breaking of the law.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I will break the law. Drunk or sober, I'll break it. I'll do
+something that will have no excuse. What would you say is the worst
+crime that any man can do?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I don't know. I heard the sergeant saying one time it was to
+obstruct the police in the discharge of their duty&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. That won't do. It's a patriot I would be then, worse than
+before, with my picture in the weeklies. It's a red<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a> crime I must commit
+that will make all respectable people quit minding me. What can I do?
+Search your mind now.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It's what I heard the old people saying there could be no worse
+crime than to steal a sheep&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I'll steal a sheep&mdash;or a cow&mdash;or a horse&mdash;if that will leave
+me the way I was before.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It's maybe in jail it will leave you.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I don't care&mdash;I'll confess&mdash;I'll tell why I did it&mdash;I give you
+my word I would as soon be picking oakum or breaking stones as to be
+perched in the daylight the same as that bird, and all the town
+chirruping to me or bidding me chirrup&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. There is reason in that, now.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Help me, will you?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Well, if it is to steal a sheep you want, you haven't far to go.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Looking around wildly.</i>] Where is it? I see no sheep.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Look around you.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I see no living thing but that thrush&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Did I say it was living? What is that hanging on Quirke's rack?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. It's [<i>fingers it</i>] a sheep, sure enough&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Well, what ails you that you can't bring it away?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. It's a dead one&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. What matter if it is?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. If it was living I could drive it before me&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. You could. Is it to your own lodging you would drive it? Sure
+every one would take it to be a pet you brought from Carrow.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I suppose they might.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Miss Joyce sending in for news of it and it bleating behind the
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Distracted.</i>] Stop! stop!<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. [<i>From upper window.</i>] Fardy! Are you there, Fardy Farrell?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I am, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. [<i>From window.</i>] Look and tell me is that the telegraph I
+hear ticking?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. [<i>Looking in at door.</i>] It is, ma'am.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Then botheration to it, and I not dressed or undressed.
+Wouldn't you say, now, it's to annoy me it is calling me down. I'm
+coming! I'm coming!</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Disappears.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Hurry on, now! Hurry! She'll be coming out on you. If you are
+going to do it, do it, and if you are not, let it alone.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I'll do it! I'll do it!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. [<i>Lifting the sheep on his back.</i>] I'll give you a hand with it.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Goes a step or two and turns round.</i>] You told me no place
+where I could hide it.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. You needn't go far. There is the church beyond at the side of the
+square. Go round to the ditch behind the wall&mdash;there's nettles in it.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. That'll do.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. She's coming out&mdash;run! run!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Runs a step or two.</i>] It's slipping!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Hoist it up. I'll give it a hoist!</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Halvey</span> <i>runs out</i>.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. [<i>Calling out.</i>] What are you doing, Fardy Farrell? Is it
+idling you are?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Waiting I am, ma'am, for the message&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Never mind the message yet. Who said it was ready? [<i>Going
+to door.</i>] Go ask for the loan of&mdash;no, but ask news of&mdash;Here, now go
+bring that bag of Mr. Halvey's to the lodging Miss Joyce has taken&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I will, ma'am. [<i>Takes bag and goes out.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. [<i>Coming out with a telegram in her hand.</i>] Nobody<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> here?
+[<i>Looks round and calls cautiously.</i>] Mr. Quirke! Mr. Quirke! James
+Quirke!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Looking out of his upper window, with soap-suddy face.</i>]
+What is it, Mrs. Delane?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. [<i>Beckoning.</i>] Come down here till I tell you.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I cannot do that. I'm not fully shaved.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. You'd come if you knew the news I have.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Tell it to me now. I'm not so supple as I was.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Whisper now, have you an enemy in any place?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. It's likely I may have. A man in business&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I was thinking you had one.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Why would you think that at this time more than any other
+time?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. If you could know what is in this envelope you would know
+that, James Quirke.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Is that so? And what, now, is there in it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Who do you think now is it addressed to?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. How would I know that, and I not seeing it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. That is true. Well, it is a message from Dublin Castle to
+the sergeant of police!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. To Sergeant Carden, is it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It is. And it concerns yourself.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Myself, is it? What accusation can they be bringing against
+me? I'm a peaceable man.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Wait till you hear.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Maybe they think I was in that moonlighting case&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. That is not it&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I was not in it&mdash;I was but in the neighboring field&mdash;cutting
+up a dead cow, that those never had a hand in&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. You're out of it&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. They had their faces blackened. There is no man can say I
+recognized them.<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. That's not what they're saying&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I'll swear I did not hear their voices or know them if I did
+hear them.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I tell you it has nothing to do with that. It might be
+better for you if it had.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. What is it, so?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It is an order to the sergeant, bidding him immediately to
+seize all suspicious meat in your house. There is an officer coming
+down. There are complaints from the Shannon Fort Barracks.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I'll engage it was that pork.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. What ailed it for them to find fault?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. People are so hard to please nowadays, and I recommended
+them to salt it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. They had a right to have minded your advice.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. There was nothing on that pig at all but that it went mad on
+poor O'Grady that owned it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. So I heard, and went killing all before it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Sure it's only in the brain madness can be. I heard the
+doctor saying that.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. He should know.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I give you my word I cut the head off it. I went to the loss
+of it, throwing it to the eels in the river. If they had salted the
+meat, as I advised them, what harm would it have done to any person on
+earth?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I hope no harm will come on poor Mrs. Quirke and the
+family.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Maybe it wasn't that but some other thing&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Here is Fardy. I must send the message to the sergeant.
+Well, Mr. Quirke, I'm glad I had the time to give you a warning.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I'm obliged to you, indeed. You were always very neighborly,
+Mrs. Delane. Don't be too quick now sending<a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a> the message. There is just
+one article I would like to put away out of the house before the
+sergeant will come.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Fardy</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Here now, Fardy&mdash;that's not the way you're going to the
+barracks. Any one would think you were scaring birds yet. Put on your
+uniform.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Fardy</span> <i>goes into office</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. You have this message to bring to the sergeant of police.
+Get your cap now; it's under the counter.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Fardy</span> <i>reappears, and she gives him telegram</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I'll bring it to the station. It's there he was going.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. You will not, but to the barracks. It can wait for him
+there.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Fardy</span> <i>goes off</i>. <span class="smcap">Mr. Quirke</span> <i>has appeared at door</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. It was indeed a very neighborly act, Mrs. Delane, and I'm
+obliged to you. There is just <i>one</i> article to put out of the way. The
+sergeant may look about him then and welcome. It's well I cleared the
+premises on yesterday. A consignment to Birmingham I sent. The Lord be
+praised, isn't England a terrible country, with all it consumes?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Indeed, you always treat the neighbors very decent, Mr.
+Quirke, not asking them to buy from you.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Just one article. [<i>Turns to rack.</i>] That sheep I brought in
+last night. It was for a charity, indeed, I bought it from the widow
+woman at Kiltartan Cross. Where would the poor make a profit out of
+their dead meat without me? Where now is it? Well, now, I could have
+swore that that sheep was hanging there on the rack when I went in&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. You must have put it in some other place.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Going in and searching and coming out.</i>] I did not; there
+is no other place for me to put it. Is it gone blind I am, or is it not
+in it, it is?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It's not there now, anyway.<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Didn't you take notice of it there, yourself, this morning?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I have it in my mind that I did; but it's not there now.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. There was no one here could bring it away?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Is it me, myself, you suspect of taking it, James Quirke?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Where is it at all? It is certain it was not of itself it
+walked away. It was dead, and very dead, the time I bought it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I have a pleasant neighbor, indeed, that accuses me that I
+took his sheep. I wonder, indeed, you to say a thing like that! I to
+steal your sheep or your rack or anything that belongs to you or to your
+trade! Thank you, James Quirke. I am much obliged to you, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Ah, be quiet, woman; be quiet&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. And let me tell you, James Quirke, that I would sooner
+starve and see every one belonging to me starve than to eat the size of
+a thimble of any joint that ever was on your rack or that ever will be
+on it, whatever the soldiers may eat that have no other thing to get, or
+the English, that devour all sorts, or the poor ravenous people that's
+down by the sea!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She turns to go into shop.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Stopping her.</i>] Don't be talking foolishness, woman. Who
+said you took my meat? Give heed to me now. There must some other
+message have come. The sergeant must have got some other message.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. [<i>Sulkily.</i>] If there is any way for a message to come that
+is quicker than to come by the wires, tell me what it is, and I'll be
+obliged to you.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. The sergeant was up here, making an excuse he was sticking
+up that notice. What was he doing here, I ask you?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. How would I know what brought him?<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. It is what he did; he made as if to go away&mdash;he turned back
+again and I shaving&mdash;he brought away the sheep&mdash;he will have it for
+evidence against me&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. [<i>Interested.</i>] That might be so.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I would sooner it to have been any other beast nearly ever I
+had upon the rack.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Is that so?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I bade the Widow Early to kill it a fortnight ago&mdash;but she
+would not, she was that covetous!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. What was on it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. How would I know what was on it? Whatever was on it, it was
+the will of God put it upon it&mdash;wasted it was, and shivering and
+refusing its share.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. The poor thing.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Gone all to nothing&mdash;wore away like a flock of thread. It
+did not weigh as much as a lamb of two months.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It is likely the inspector will bring it to Dublin?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. The ribs of it streaky with the dint of patent medicines&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I wonder is it to the Petty Sessions you'll be brought or
+is it to the Assizes?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I'll speak up to them. I'll make my defense. What can the
+army expect at fippence a pound?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It is likely there will be no bail allowed?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Would they be wanting me to give them good quality meat out
+of my own pocket? Is it to encourage them to fight the poor Indians and
+Africans they would have me? It's the Anti-Enlisting Societies should
+pay the fine for me.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It's not a fine will be put on you, I'm afraid. It's five
+years in jail you will be apt to be getting. Well, I'll try and be a
+good neighbor to poor Mrs. Quirke.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mr. Quirke</span>, <i>who has been stamping up and down, sits<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a> down and
+weeps</i>. <span class="smcap">Halvey</span> <i>comes in and stands on one side</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Hadn't I heart-scalding enough before, striving to rear five
+weak children?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I suppose they will be sent to the Industrial Schools?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. My poor wife&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I'm afraid the workhouse&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. And she out in an ass-car at this minute, helping me to
+follow my trade.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I hope they will not arrest her along with you.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I'll give myself up to justice. I'll plead guilty! I'll be
+recommended to mercy!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It might be best for you.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Who would think so great a misfortune could come upon a
+family through the bringing away of one sheep!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Coming forward.</i>] Let you make yourself easy.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Easy! It's easy to say let you make yourself easy.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I can tell you where it is.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Where what is?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. The sheep you are fretting after.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. What do you know about it?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I know everything about it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I suppose the sergeant told you?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. He told me nothing.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I suppose the whole town knows it, so?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. No one knows it, as yet.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. And the sergeant didn't see it?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. No one saw it or brought it away but myself.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Where did you put it at all?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. In the ditch behind the church wall. In among <a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>the nettles it
+is. Look at the way they have me stung.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Holds out hands.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. In the ditch! The best hiding-place in the town.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I never thought it would bring such great trouble upon you.
+You can't say, anyway, I did not tell you.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. You, yourself, that brought it away and that hid it! I
+suppose it was coming in the train you got information about the message
+to the police.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. What now do you say to me?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Say! I say I am as glad to hear what you said as if it was
+the Lord telling me I'd be in heaven this minute.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. What are you going to do to me?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Do, is it? [<i>Grasps his hand.</i>] Any earthly thing you would
+wish me to do, I will do it.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I suppose you will tell&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Tell! It's I that will tell when all is quiet. It is I will
+give you the good name through the town!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I don't well understand.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Embracing him.</i>] The man that preserved me!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. That preserved you?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. That kept me from ruin!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. From ruin?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. That saved me from disgrace!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Delane</span>.] What is he saying at all?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. From the inspector!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. What is he talking about?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. From the magistrates!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. He is making some mistake.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. From the Winter Assizes!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Is he out of his wits?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Five years in jail!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Hasn't he the queer talk?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. The loss of the contract!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Are my own wits gone astray?<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. What way can I repay you?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Shouting.</i>] I tell you I took the sheep&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. You did, God reward you!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I stole away with it&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. The blessing of the poor on you!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I put it out of sight&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. The blessing of my five children&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I may as well say nothing&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Let you be quiet now, Quirke. Here's the sergeant coming to
+search the shop&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Sergeant</span> <i>comes in</i>. <span class="smcap">Quirke</span> <i>leaves go of</i> <span class="smcap">Halvey</span>, <i>who arranges
+his hat, etc.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. The department to blazes!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. What is it is putting you out?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. To go to the train to meet the lecturer, and there to get a
+message through the guard that he was unavoidably detained in the South,
+holding an inquest on the remains of a drake.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. The lecturer, is it?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. To be sure. What else would I be talking of? The lecturer has
+failed me, and where am I to go looking for a person that I would think
+fitting to take his place?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. And that's all? And you didn't get any message but the one?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Is that all? I am surprised at you, Mrs. Delane. Isn't it
+enough to upset a man, within three-quarters of an hour of the time of
+the meeting? Where, I would ask you, am I to find a man that has
+education enough and wit enough and character enough to put up speaking
+on the platform on the minute?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Jumps up.</i>] It is I, myself, will tell you that.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. You!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Slapping</i> <span class="smcap">Halvey</span> <i>on the back</i>.] Look at here, Sergeant.
+There is not one word was said in all those papers about this young man
+before you but it is true. And there could be no good thing said of him
+that would be too good for him.<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. It might not be a bad idea.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Whatever the paper said about him, Sergeant, I can say more
+again. It has come to my knowledge&mdash;by chance&mdash;that since he came to
+this town that young man has saved a whole family from destruction.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. That is much to his credit&mdash;helping the rural classes&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. A family and a long family, big and little, like sods of
+turf&mdash;and they depending on a&mdash;on one that might be on his way to dark
+trouble at this minute if it was not for his assistance. Believe me, he
+is the most sensible man, and the wittiest, and the kindest, and the
+best helper of the poor that ever stood before you in this square. Is
+not that so, Mrs. Delane?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It is true, indeed. Where he gets his wisdom and his wit
+and his information from I don't know, unless it might be that he is
+gifted from above.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>.. Well, Mrs. Delane, I think we have settled that question. Mr.
+Halvey, you will be the speaker at the meeting. The lecturer sent these
+notes&mdash;you can lengthen them into a speech. You can call to the people
+of Cloon to stand out, to begin the building of their character. I saw a
+lecturer do it one time at Dundrum. "Come up here," he said; "Dare to be
+a Daniel," he said&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I can't&mdash;I won't&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Looking at papers and thrusting them into his hand.</i>] You
+will find it quite easy. I will conduct you to the platform&mdash;these
+papers before you and a glass of water&mdash;that's settled. [<i>Turns to go.</i>]
+Follow me on to the court-house in half an hour&mdash;I must go to the
+barracks first&mdash;I heard there was a telegram&mdash;[<i>Calls back as he goes.</i>]
+Don't be late, Mrs. Delane. Mind, Quirke, you promised to come.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Well, it's time for me to make an end of settling
+myself&mdash;and, indeed, Mr. Quirke, you'd best do the same.<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Rubbing his cheek.</i>] I suppose so. I had best keep on good
+terms with him for the present. [<i>Turns.</i>] Well, now, I had a great
+escape this day.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Both go in as</i> <span class="smcap">Fardy</span> <i>reappears, whistling</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Sitting down.</i>] I don't know in the world what has come upon
+the world that the half of the people of it should be cracked!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Weren't you found out yet?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Found out, is it? I don't know what you mean by being found
+out.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Didn't he miss the sheep?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. He did, and I told him it was I took it&mdash;and what happened I
+declare to goodness I don't know&mdash;Will you look at these?</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Holds out
+notes.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Papers! Are they more testimonials?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. They are what is worse. [<i>Gives a hoarse laugh.</i>] Will you
+come and see me on the platform&mdash;these in my hand&mdash;and I
+speaking&mdash;giving out advice. [<span class="smcap">Fardy</span> <i>whistles</i>.] Why didn't you tell me,
+the time you advised me to steal a sheep, that in this town it would
+qualify a man to go preaching, and the priest in the chair looking on?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. The time I took a few apples that had fallen off a stall, they
+did not ask me to hold a meeting. They welted me well.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Looking round.</i>] I would take apples if I could see them. I
+wish I had broke my neck before I left Carrow, and I'd be better off! I
+wish I had got six months the time I was caught setting snares&mdash;I wish I
+had robbed a church.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Would a Protestant church do?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I suppose it wouldn't be so great a sin.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It's likely the sergeant would think worse of it. Anyway, if you
+want to rob one, it's the Protestant church is the handiest.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Getting up.</i>] Show me what way to do it?<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a></p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. [<i>Pointing.</i>] I was going around it a few minutes ago, to see
+might there be e'er a dog scenting the sheep, and I noticed the window
+being out.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Out, out and out?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It was, where they are putting colored glass in it for the
+distiller&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. What good does that do me?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Every good. You could go in by that window if you had some person
+to give you a hoist. Whatever riches there is to get in it then, you'll
+get them.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I don't want riches. I'll give you all I will find if you will
+come and hoist me.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Here is Miss Joyce coming to bring you to your lodging. Sure I
+brought your bag to it, the time you were away with the sheep&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Run! Run!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They go off.</i> <i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Joyce</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Are you here, Mrs. Delane? Where, can you tell me, is Mr.
+Halvey?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. [<i>Coming out dressed.</i>] It's likely he is gone on to the
+court-house. Did you hear he is to be in the chair and to make an
+address to the meeting?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. He is getting on fast. His reverence says he will be a good
+help in the parish. Who would think, now, there would be such a godly
+young man in a little place like Carrow!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sergeant</span> <i>in a hurry, with telegram</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. What time did this telegram arrive, Mrs. Delane?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I couldn't be rightly sure, Sergeant. But sure it's marked
+on it, unless the clock I have is gone wrong.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. It is marked on it. And I have the time I got it marked on my
+own watch.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Well, now, I wonder none of the police would have followed
+you with it from the barracks&mdash;and they with so little to do&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Looking in at</i> <span class="smcap">Quirke's</span> <i>shop</i>.] Well, I am sorry to do what
+I have to do, but duty is duty.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He ransacks shop.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Delane</span> <i>looks on</i>. <span class="smcap">Mr. Quirke</span> <i>puts his
+head out of window</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. What is that going on inside? [<i>No answer.</i>] Is there any
+one inside, I ask? [<i>No answer.</i>] It must be that dog of Tannian's&mdash;wait
+till I get at him.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It is Sergeant Carden, Mr. Quirke. He would seem to be
+looking for something&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mr. Quirke</span> <i>appears in shop</i>. <span class="smcap">Sergeant</span> <i>comes out, makes another
+dive, taking up sacks, etc.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I'm greatly afraid I am just out of meat, Sergeant&mdash;and I'm
+sorry now to disoblige you, and you not being in the habit of dealing
+with me&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I should think not, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Looking for a tender little bit of lamb, I suppose you are,
+for Mrs. Carden and the youngsters?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I am not.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. If I had it now, I'd be proud to offer it to you, and make
+no charge. I'll be killing a good kid to-morrow. Mrs Carden might fancy
+a bit of it&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I have had orders to search your establishment for unwholesome
+meat, and I am come here to do it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Sitting down with a smile.</i>] Is that so? Well, isn't it a
+wonder the schemers does be in the world.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. It is not the first time there have been complaints.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I suppose not. Well, it is on their own head it will fall at
+the last!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I have found nothing so far.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I suppose not, indeed. What is there you could find, and it
+not in it?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Have you no meat at all upon the premises?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I have, indeed, a nice barrel of bacon.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. What way did it die?<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. It would be hard for me to say that. American it is. How
+would I know what way they do be killing the pigs out there? Machinery,
+I suppose, they have&mdash;steam-hammers&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Is there nothing else here at all?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. I give you my word, there is no meat, living or dead, in
+this place, but yourself and myself and that bird above in the cage.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Well, I must tell the inspector I could find nothing. But mind
+yourself for the future.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Thank you, Sergeant. I will do that.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Fardy</span>. <i>He stops short.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. It was you delayed that message to me, I suppose? You'd best
+mend your ways or I'll have something to say to you.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Seizes and shakes him.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. That's the way every one does be faulting me.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Whimpers.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Sergeant</span> <i>gives him another shake. A half-crown falls out of
+his pocket.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. [<i>Picking it up.</i>] A half-a-crown! Where, now, did you get
+that much, Fardy?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Where did I get it, is it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. I'll engage it was in no honest way you got it.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I picked it up in the street&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. If you did, why didn't you bring it to the sergeant or to
+his reverence?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. And some poor person, maybe, being at the loss of it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. I'd best bring it to his reverence. Come with me, Fardy,
+till he will question you about it.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It was not altogether in the street I found it&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. There, now! I knew you got it in no good way! Tell me, now.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It was playing pitch and toss I won it&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. And who would play for half-crowns with the like of you,
+Fardy Farrell? Who was it, now?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It was&mdash;a stranger&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Do you hear that? A stranger! Did you see e'er a stranger in
+this town, Mrs. Delane, or Sergeant Carden, or Mr. Quirke?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Not a one.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. There was no stranger here.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. There could not be one here without me knowing it.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I tell you there was.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Come on, then, and tell who was he to his reverence.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Taking other arm.</i>] Or to the bench.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I did get it, I tell you, from a stranger.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Where is he, so?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. He's in some place&mdash;not far away.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Bring me to him.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. He'll be coming here.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Tell me the truth and it will be better for you.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. [<i>Weeping.</i>] Let me go and I will.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Letting go.</i>] Now&mdash;who did you get it from?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. From that young chap came to-day, Mr. Halvey.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. Mr. Halvey!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Indignantly.</i>] What are you saying, you young ruffian,
+you? Hyacinth Halvey to be playing pitch and toss with the like of you!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I didn't say that.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. You did say it. You said it now.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Hyacinth Halvey! The best man that ever came into this town!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Well, what lies he has!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. It's my belief the half-crown is a bad one. Maybe it's to
+pass it off it was given to him. There were tinkers<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a> in the town at the
+time of the fair. Give it here to me. [<i>Bites it.</i>] No, indeed, it's
+sound enough. Here, Sergeant, it's best for you take it. [<i>Gives it to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Sergeant</span>, <i>who examines it</i>.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Can it be? Can it be what I think it to be?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. What is it? What do you take it to be?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. It is, it is. I know it, I know this half-crown&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. That is a queer thing, now.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I know it well. I have been handling it in the church for the
+last twelvemonth&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Is that so?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. It is the nest-egg half-crown we hand round in the
+collection-plate every Sunday morning. I know it by the dint on the
+Queen's temples and the crooked scratch under her nose.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Examining it.</i>] So there is, too.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. This is a bad business. It has been stolen from the church.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. Oh! Oh! Oh!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Seizing</i> <span class="smcap">Fardy</span>.] You have robbed the church!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. [<i>Terrified.</i>] I tell you I never did!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I have the proof of it.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Say what you like! I never put a foot in it!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. How did you get this, so?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. I suppose from the <i>stranger</i>?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. I suppose it was Hyacinth Halvey gave it to you, now?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It was so.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I suppose it was he robbed the church?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. [<i>Sobs.</i>] You will not believe me if I say it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Oh! the young vagabond! Let me get at him!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Here he is himself now!</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Hyacinth</span> <i>comes in</i>. <span class="smcap">Fardy</span> <i>releases himself and creeps behind him</i>.<a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. It is time you to come, Mr. Halvey, and shut the mouth of
+this young schemer.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. I would like you to hear what he says of you, Mr. Halvey.
+Pitch and toss, he says.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Robbery, he says.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Robbery of a church.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. He has had a bad name long enough. Let him go to a reformatory
+now.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. [<i>Clinging to</i> <span class="smcap">Hyacinth</span>.] Save me, save me! I'm a poor boy trying
+to knock out a way of living; I'll be destroyed if I go to a
+reformatory. [<i>Kneels and clings to</i> <span class="smcap">Hyacinth's</span> <i>knees</i>.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I'll save you easy enough.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Don't let me be jailed!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I am going to tell them.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I'm a poor orphan&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Will you let me speak?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I'll get no more chance in the world&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Sure I'm trying to free you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It will be tasked to me always.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Be quiet, can't you?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Don't you desert me!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Will you be silent?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Take it on yourself.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I will if you'll let me.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Tell them you did it.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I am going to do that.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Tell them it was you got in at the window.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I will! I will!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Say it was you robbed the box.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I'll say it! I'll say it!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. It being open!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Let me tell, let me tell.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Of all that was in it.<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I'll tell them that.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. And gave it to me.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Putting hand on his mouth and dragging him up.</i>] Will you
+stop and let me speak?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. We can't be wasting time. Give him here to me.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I can't do that. He must be let alone.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Seizing him.</i>] He'll be let alone in the lock-up.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. He must not be brought there.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. I'll let no man get him off.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I will get him off.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. You will not!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I will.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Do you think to buy him off?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. I will buy him off with my own confession.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. And what will that be?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. It was I robbed the church.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. That is likely indeed!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Let him go, and take me. I tell you I did it.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. It would take witnesses to prove that.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. [<i>Pointing to</i> <span class="smcap">Fardy</span>.] He will be witness.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. Oh, Mr. Halvey, I would not wish to do that. Get me off and I
+will say nothing.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Sure you must. You will be put on oath in the court.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I will not! I will not! All the world knows I don't understand
+the nature of an oath!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Coming forward.</i>] Is it blind ye all are?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. What are you talking about?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Is it fools ye all are?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ISS</small> J<small>OYCE</small>. Speak for yourself.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Is it idiots ye all are?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. Mind who you're talking to.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. [<i>Seizing</i> <span class="smcap">Hyacinth's</span> <i>hands</i>.] Can't you see?<a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a> Can't you
+hear? Where are your wits? Was ever such a thing seen in this town?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Say out what you have to say.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. A walking saint he is!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. D<small>ELANE</small>. Maybe so.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. The preserver of the poor! Talk of the holy martyrs! They
+are nothing at all to what he is! Will you look at him! To save that
+poor boy he is going! To take the blame on himself he is going! To say
+he, himself, did the robbery he is going! Before the magistrate he is
+going! To jail he is going! Taking the blame on his own head! Putting
+the sin on his own shoulders! Letting on to have done a robbery! Telling
+a lie&mdash;that it may be forgiven him&mdash;to his own injury! Doing all that, I
+tell you, to save the character of a miserable slack lad, that rose in
+poverty.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Murmur of admiration from all.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Now, what do you say?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Pressing his hand.</i>] Mr. Halvey, you have given us all a
+lesson. To please you, I will make no information against the boy,
+[<i>Shakes him and helps him up.</i>] I will put back the half-crown in the
+poor-box next Sunday. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Fardy</span>.] What have you to say to your
+benefactor?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>ARDY</small>. I'm obliged to you, Mr. Halvey. You behaved very decent to me,
+very decent indeed. I'll never let a word be said against you if I live
+to be a hundred years.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>ERGEANT</small>. [<i>Wiping eyes with a blue handkerchief.</i>] I will tell it at
+the meeting. It will be a great encouragement to them to build up their
+character. I'll tell it to the priest and he taking the chair&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>YACINTH</small>. Oh, stop, will you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. The chair. It's in the chair he, himself, should be. It's in
+a chair we will put him now. It's to chair him through the streets we
+will. Sure he'll be an example and a blessing to the whole of the town.
+[<i>Seizes</i> <span class="smcap">Halvey</span><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a> <i>and seats him in chair</i>.] Now, Sergeant, give a hand.
+Here. Fardy.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They all lift the chair with</i> <span class="smcap">Halvey</span> <i>in it, wildly protesting</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UIRKE</small>. Come along now to the court-house. Three cheers for Hyacinth
+Halvey! Hip! hip! hoora!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Cheers heard in the distance as the curtain drops.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+THE GAZING GLOBE<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+<br />
+EUGENE PILLOT</small>
+</h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>The Gazing Globe</i> is reprinted by special permission of Eugene Pillot.
+All rights are retained by the author. This play is protected by
+copyright and must not be used without the permission of and payment of
+royalty to Eugene Pillot, who may be reached through The 47 Workshop,
+Cambridge, Massachusetts.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb">EUGENE PILLOT</p>
+
+<p>Eugene Pillot, one of the well-known contemporary writers of one-act
+plays, was born in Houston, Texas. He was educated in the New York
+School of Fine and Applied Arts, at the University of Texas, at Cornell
+University, and at Harvard University. While at Harvard, he participated
+in the activities of The 47 Workshop.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pillot's one-act plays are always characterized by excellent and
+well-sustained technic. Among his best-known one-act plays are <i>The
+Gazing Globe</i>, <i>Two Crooks and a Lady</i>, <i>Telephone Number One</i> (a prize
+play), <i>Hunger</i>, and <i>My Lady Dreams</i>. Mr. Pillot's plays have been
+produced frequently in schools and Little Theatres of America.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Gazing Globe</i> originally appeared in <i>The Stratford Journal</i>, and
+was first produced by the Boston Community Players, February 26, 1920,
+with the following cast: <span class="smcap">Zama</span>, Rosalie Manning; <span class="smcap">Ohano</span>, Beulah Auerbach;
+and <span class="smcap">Nijo</span>, Eugene Pillot. <i>The Gazing Globe</i> has unusually sustained tone
+and dramatic suspense.<a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">CHARACTERS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Zama</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ohano</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Nijo</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a></p>
+
+<h2>THE GAZING GLOBE<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size:50%;">[F]</span></a></h2>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>A soft cream-colored room, bare walled and unfurnished
+except for dull-blue grass mats on the floor and brilliant
+cushions. In the centre of rear wall is a great circular window
+with a dais before it, so that it may be used as a doorway. A
+gathered shade of soft blue silk covers the opening of the window.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang">PLACE: <i>An island in a southern sea.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang">TIME: <i>Not so long ago.</i></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The curtain rises on an empty stage.</i> <span class="smcap">Zama</span>, <i>an old servant woman
+dressed in dull purples and grays, hurries in from the right. She
+stops at centre stage and glances about searchingly, then calls in
+a weazen voice.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Ohano&mdash;Ohano! Where do you be, child?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Listens, looks about, sees drawn shade at the rear, and sighs as
+she goes to it and starts to raise it.</i></p>
+
+<p>[<i>As the shade rolls out of sight we see through the open window a
+bit of quaint cliff garden that overlooks a sea of green. The rocks
+are higher on the left, near the window, where a purple-pink vine
+in full blossom has started to climb. At the right the rocks slope
+down to the sea. At centre, stone steps lead up to a slender stone
+pedestal that holds a gazing globe, now a brilliant gold in the
+late afternoon sunlight.</i> <span class="smcap">Ohano</span>, <i>with hands clasped round the
+globe, is gazing at it. She is a woman of the early twenties,
+beautiful and gowned in a flowing kimono-like robe of green with
+embroideries of white and blue.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. [<i>In a chiding, motherly way.</i>] Ohano, my child, you must not be
+so much at that evil ball! How many times be I not telling you it is an
+<i>enchanted</i> ball?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Yes, Zama, I hope it is enchanted. I've tried every other means
+to gain the way to my heart's desire&mdash;and they've all failed me. The
+story these islanders have woven round this gazing globe may be but a
+myth&mdash;but if it shows me the way to my freedom, I shall not have looked
+at it in vain.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Be you forgetting, child, 'tis said that evil ball shows only the
+way to destruction!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Yes, these island people will create any myth, go any length, to
+keep one thinking, living in their narrow way. You are destined for evil
+if you try to follow the urge of your own heart&mdash;oh, yes, I know.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. But <i>your</i> heart, child, should only be wanting the love of Nijo.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Nijo&mdash;I am hoping that he will be big enough to help me&mdash;but my
+lover has been away so long&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. But to-day he be coming back&mdash;I came to tell you I think I saw his
+boat&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Nijo's boat? Where?</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. It be near the edge of the island just where&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Why didn't you tell me before?</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. I came to&mdash;but I be forgetting when I see you at that evil ball
+again.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>All eagerness.</i>] Perhaps we can see him land&mdash;from here on the
+rocks&mdash;come, Zama, I hear the sound of voices down near the sea&mdash;come!
+[<i>They climb to the highest rock.</i>] Look, Zama, the boat is there!
+Already there in the green water against the shore!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. It do seem to be so.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Peers toward right.</i></p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. And <i>there</i>&mdash;is Nijo!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Where, where, child?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. There&mdash;see, he's just coming ashore&mdash;oh, Nijo!<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a> And look, Zama,
+look what the people crowding round him have done&mdash;look!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. What? My poor eyes be yet uncertain. What do they be doing to your
+lover?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. They have put upon him the Robe of Flame&mdash;to greet him with the
+highest honor of the island.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. So they be. The robe they say the gods themselves did wear when
+time did first begin. Nijo must come back a great warrior now&mdash;a great
+warrior!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Oh, how wonderful to return from the wars like that! Zama, I want
+to&mdash;I <i>must</i> go out into the world and do great things too, like Nijo.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Nijo be coming back, child. That do be enough. Look, what is it
+that glitters so in the sun?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Why, they are giving something to my red god&mdash;something that's
+long as a serpent moon&mdash;see, he holds it out in admiration, before him.
+Just what can it be?</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. In faith I do believe they have given your hero&mdash;a sword!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. A marvellous sword&mdash;look, its jewels flash with the shifting
+lights, warm as the colored rifts of sunset!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Such gems do be a tribute to his greatness, Ohano, they do.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. How gladly would I have the way I seek without such tribute&mdash;how
+willingly!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. And now the crowd do be parting&mdash;he leaves the boat and he looks
+this way, Ohano&mdash;he looks!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Nijo, my red wonder of the world!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. See, he mounts his steed&mdash;he waves to you!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Nijo! Nijo!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. And now he rides off to come to you here. It is better we be
+waiting inside for him&mdash;when he brings back his love to his promised
+bride.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>As they enter room.</i>] Ah, Zama, he must bring me<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a> more than
+love this time&mdash;much more. Yes, your little Ohano must have more in her
+life to-day than just love&mdash;and Nijo must show her the way to that realm
+where she may stretch her soul and <i>live</i>!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. The love of so great a man do be enough for any woman, child.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Oh, no&mdash;oh, no&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. But it do be; and evil will fall, I know, if you do be asking more
+than love!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. But I tell you, Nijo's love is not enough. I must have a bigger,
+greater thing!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. The gods do know of none that be more than love.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. But there must be, else why would I feel the rush of its pulse
+within my veins? Why would my whole being cry out for action and the
+glory of doing big things in the lands across the sea? Why, tell me why,
+I would feel those things if they were not so?</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. It be not for me to say, child; but I do be thinking you moon at
+that evil ball too much. It do make your sight grow red! It be not wise
+to know an enchanted thing so well.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. If that gazing globe in the garden would only show me the way to
+my heart's desire, how gladly would I be the victim of its enchantment!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Nijo's kiss do be your enchantment, child. One touch of his lips
+and you do be forgetting all else.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. If Nijo's kiss can make me forget this fever within me, I want
+his kiss as I shall never want anything else in all of this life. I want
+it!!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Approaching horse's hoofs are heard from off right.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Listen&mdash;the horse! Ohano, your lover do be coming!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Running to the window.</i>] Already? He must have taken the short
+way through the cliffs.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Ah, child, do you not be excited as a bird in a storm-wind's
+blow?<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a></p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Superbly, as she leans against window.</i>] Yes, I await my hero!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. He's stopped, child! He do be here! At last he comes back to my
+little Ohano!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. My hope comes! [<i>With outstretched arms to right.</i>] My Nijo!!
+Oh&mdash;&mdash;!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She had impulsively started to greet</i> <span class="smcap">Nijo</span>, <i>but suddenly shrinks
+back</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. What do be wrong&mdash;what?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. He's so different&mdash;so changed&mdash;oh, here he is&mdash;ssh!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Nijo</span> <i>appears at the window, where he pauses for a moment. He is a
+tall, brunette man, scarcely thirty&mdash;a handsome, well-knit southern
+island type, wearing a flowing robe of flame, with a flaring collar
+of old-gold brocade. A peaked hat completes the costume. A curved
+sword, with a hilt thickly studded with large jewels and incased in
+gold, hangs at his belt. He seems worldly weary and sad as he
+advances into the room.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Nijo!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Unimpassioned.</i>] Ohano.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Eagerly.</i>] You have come back!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. Yes&mdash;and the season of the heat has been gracious to your health,
+I hope?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Yes&mdash;and yours, Nijo?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. The same.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Oh, I am glad&mdash;glad as tree-blossoms for the kiss of spring. And
+Zama here shares my welcome, don't you?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Recognizing</i> <span class="smcap">Zama</span>.] Ah, Zama.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. [<i>Bowing before him.</i>] The gods do be kind to bring back a hero to
+us.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. Thank you.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Now I do be going for refreshments for your weariness; <a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>great it
+must be after so long a voyage.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Exits right.</i></p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Shall we not sit here?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. As you will.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Ohano</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Nijo</span> <i>sit upon mats near the window, partly facing
+each other</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. They&mdash;they gave you a sword at the boat.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Wearily.</i>] Oh, yes.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Even from up here we could see its jewels flash.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Without interest.</i>] Yes, it is cunningly conceived.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. How wonderful it must be. Perhaps&mdash;I may see it?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Still wearily.</i>] If you so desire.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Unbuckles sword and holds it before himself for her to examine.
+She leans over it admiringly, touching the jewels as she speaks of
+them.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Magnificent! Rubies and emeralds and sapphires! And here are
+moonstones and diamonds. How you must prize it.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Wearily.</i>] Of course, one must.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. And the very people who tried to stop you from going across the
+sea to win your glory have given it to you.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. That is the way of the world.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Show me the way to glory, Nijo.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. And why?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. I would travel it too.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. You&mdash;a simple island maiden?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. I'm not simple. I've grown beyond the people here.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. But there is glory in the work women must do at home.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. And I have done my share of it. I want bigger work now&mdash;out in
+the world.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. But the simple tasks must be done.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. I am sick unto death of doing them!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. But you can't go into the battles of the world. You are an island
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. This last war has made all women free. If the other island women
+cling to the everlasting tradition that woman should not go beyond her
+native hearth, let them cling. I shall<a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a> reach the summit of things and
+know the glory of doing big things in the world!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. But you&mdash;sheltered, protected all your life&mdash;how can you do it?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. That's what troubles me. But you were fettered by this island
+life and you broke through the bars of convention. How did <i>you</i> do it?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Sadly.</i>] Ohano, I would not spoil your life by telling you.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Spoil it? What do you think is happening to it now? Oh, Nijo,
+can't you understand I'm stagnating&mdash;<i>dying</i> in this commonplace island
+life.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. I thought that about myself, too, when I started my climb to
+glory; but scarcely a moon had passed before I realized the loneliness
+of great heights.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Tigerishly.</i>] Are you trying to turn me from my wish&mdash;to have
+all the island's glory for yourself?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. No, but only the valley people enjoy the sublimity of a mountain.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Scornfully.</i>] Ha!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. Those who reach the top have lost their perspective. All they see
+are the lonely tops of other mountains.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Sublimely.</i>] But they've had the joy of the climb!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. And worth what&mdash;no more than the mist of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Do you think that satisfies me? I want to find out for myself! I
+only want you to tell me the way to use this spirit that boils within my
+blood, thirsts for action!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. That I never will.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Oh, what shall I do? I've even implored the sun and the moon!
+[<i>Looks toward sea.</i>] Now I <i>must</i> listen to my dreams&mdash;my dreams that
+cry and cry: "Look in the gazing globe! Look in the gazing globe! It
+will show you the way!" And if it ever does, I'll take that path <i>no
+matter where it leads</i>.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. My journey only made me want to come back to the<a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a> haven of your
+love, Ohano. The amber cup of glory left me athirst to be wrapped in the
+mantle of your boundless love and warmed with the glow of your heart.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Surprised.</i>] Your journey has really led you back to me?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Sadly.</i>] You're my only hope. I've been as mad for you as the
+sea for the moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Disturbed.</i>] But you had fire and impulse when you went away;
+and now&mdash;well, you do still yearn for me?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Quietly, without passion.</i>] The hope for your love has been the
+light of my brain, changing from life to dream, from earth to star.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. My thirst for glory has been that way; but Zama tells me it is as
+nothing in the kiss of love. If love has that power, I am willing to
+forget all else. Kiss me, Nijo!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. At last my lips will press yours, as the sun flames to an immortal
+moment when it meets the sky.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Kneeling opposite each other, their lips meet.</i> <span class="smcap">Ohano</span> <i>instantly
+gives a piercing scream and recoils from him</i>. <span class="smcap">Nijo</span> <i>sinks into a
+heap</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Rising and turning toward the sea, weeping.</i>] Oh, oh, oh!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. [<i>Rushing in from right.</i>] What is it? What is it, Ohano?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Still weeping.</i>] Oh&mdash;ooh.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. What do it be, my little Ohano?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Turning.</i>] His kiss&mdash;Nijo's kiss!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Yes?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Cold as white marble&mdash;<i>cold</i>!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Cold as white marble?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Oh, Nijo, why do you kiss me like a thing of stone?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>As he looks up, pitifully.</i>] Into that kiss I tried to put all
+the love I've thought these many years.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. The love you've <i>thought</i>?<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a></p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Despondently.</i>] Yes, I've only thought it&mdash;<i>thought</i> it!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. But your heart&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Rising.</i>] My heart feels no more! Only my head thinks.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. You love no more?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. Only with my head, it seems. I see things, know things, understand
+things; but I no longer feel anything. And my thirst for glory has done
+it all&mdash;killed my love of life and turned my very kiss to stone. Oh,
+glory, why do men give the essence of their lives to you&mdash;you who last
+no longer than the glow of gold above the place of sunset!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Superbly.</i>] Because glory gives you the world&mdash;everything!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. It takes everything away&mdash;strips you&mdash;and leaves you nothing to
+believe. Oh, I could have become a common soldier here, marching
+shoulder to shoulder with the island men going out to war&mdash;but no&mdash;I
+must be a great warrior, a hero in position. Had I known then what I
+know now, how gladly would I have gone as one of the thousands who are
+known as&mdash;just soldiers. They are the ones who know the throb of life
+and love!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. You bring back such a message to me? You who have climbed and
+climbed to heights till I have believed you to be as constant in your
+quest as the light that shines upon the gazing globe?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. I&mdash;a light?</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. Why not? I've always likened your feet unto the disks of two
+luminaries, lighting the way for all the world to follow. [<i>Looks at
+gazing globe, which is now a ball of gold against the black sea and
+sky.</i>] And now you tell me I was wrong. Perhaps the light upon the
+gazing globe itself is the only one to follow.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. I&mdash;a light? Why, Ohano, if I'm anything, I'm a gazing globe!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. What do you mean&mdash;you a gazing globe?<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a></p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. That without I'm all fair, all wonderful&mdash;but within I'm empty as
+a gazing globe.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Scornfully.</i>] But a gazing globe shows men the way to their
+heart's desire.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. It reflects to men what they see into it. So does glory.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. I can't believe that&mdash;now.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. Behold what it has done to me! Already as a child I gazed at that
+globe, longing to grasp the glory of which it was a symbol. It filled me
+with a red madness, surged with an unbearable music, giving me a riotous
+pain! Oh, it made me drunk for the wine of glory!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. I know! I know! Now you talk as the man I thought you were.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. I'm not a man. I'm dead.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. But you have known the glory of life. Shall I never know the way
+to it? [<i>Appealingly, to the globe.</i>] The way&mdash;the way is what I seek!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Look not so upon the evil ball, child. It do be enchanted for one
+thousand years! [<span class="smcap">Ohano</span> <i>moves nearer the globe</i>.] Go not so near, child!
+Evil will fall&mdash;and you will be enslaved!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. What care I, if it shows me the way?</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Hands outstretched to the
+globe.</i></p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. [<i>Appealingly to</i> <span class="smcap">Nijo</span>.] Sir, I pray you do be stopping her. She
+do be always gazing at that golden ball; and slowly it do be drawing her
+within its enchanted grasp. And it do be an enchanted ball!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. Perhaps there's more to its enchantment than I thought. It claimed
+me for a victim&mdash;and now it's freezing her life's warmth to the
+falseness of Orient pearl.</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Murmuring to the globe.</i>] The way&mdash;the way! I must have the
+way!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Swiftly drawing his sword.</i>] I will not show you&mdash;but I'll save
+you!</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Starts toward the gazing globe.</i></p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. [<i>Barring his path.</i>] Nijo, sir, what do you be doing?<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a></p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>With a flourish of his sword.</i>] I kill the thing that freezes
+another heart!</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. That do mean ruin! It be an enchanted ball!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Brushing past</i> <span class="smcap">Zama</span>.] It will enchant no longer!!</p>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. No! No, Nijo!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Running up pedestal steps.</i>] Yes!!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>With a mighty blow he strikes the gazing globe with his sword.
+Frightened</i>, <span class="smcap">Ohano</span> <i>shrinks to one side, facing right, as a
+thunder-like crash follows the blow, and pieces of the globe tumble
+to the ground&mdash;all but one piece that remains upon the pedestal.
+Then from a moon off stage right shines a straight golden path
+across the sea to the bit of gazing globe on the pedestal.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>O<small>HANO</small>. [<i>Triumphantly.</i>] The moon&mdash;The way! At last the way! From the
+gazing globe&mdash;the golden path to the moon of glory. Now I am free!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Rushes wildly down the moonlight path to the sea.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. Stop her!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. No, it is better to let her go.</p>
+
+<p>Z<small>AMA</small>. But the path do lead into the sea. It is death! Stop her!!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Starts forward.</i></p>
+
+<p>N<small>IJO</small>. [<i>Restraining</i> <span class="smcap">Zama</span>.] No! In death her soul has found the only
+way!</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+THE BOOR<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+<br />
+ANTON TCHEKOV</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>The Boor</i> is reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark and of
+Samuel French, publisher, New York City. All rights reserved. For
+permission to perform, address Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street,
+New York City.</p></div>
+
+<p><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb">ANTON TCHEKOV</p>
+
+<p>Anton Tchekov, considered the foremost of contemporary Russian
+dramatists, was born in 1860 at Taganrog, Russia. In 1880 he was
+graduated from the Medical School of the University of Moscow. Ill
+health soon compelled him to abandon his practice of medicine, and in
+1887 he sought the south. In 1904, the year of the successful appearance
+of his <i>Cherry Orchard</i>, he died in a village of the Black Forest in
+Germany.</p>
+
+<p>As a dramatist, Tchekov has with deliberate intent cast off much of the
+conventionalities of dramatic technic. In his longer plays especially,
+like <i>The Sea Gull</i>, <i>Uncle Vanya</i>, and <i>Cherry Orchard</i>, he somewhat
+avoids obvious struggles, time-worn commonplaces, well-prepared
+climaxes, and seeks rather to spread out a panoramic canvas for our
+contemplation. His chief aim is to show us humanity as he sees it. It is
+his interest in humanity that gives him so high rank as a dramatist.</p>
+
+<p>His one-act plays, a form of drama unusually apt for certain intimate
+aspects of Russian peasant life, are more regular in their technic than
+his longer plays. Among the five or six shorter plays that Tchekov
+wrote, <i>The Boor</i> and <i>A Marriage Proposal</i> are his best. In these plays
+he shows the lighter side of Russian country life, infusing some of the
+spirit of the great Gogol into his broad and somewhat farcical character
+portrayals. With rare good grace, in these plays he appears to be asking
+us to throw aside our restraint and laugh with him at the stupidity and
+naïveté, as well as good-heartedness, of the Russian people he knew so
+well.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Boor</i> is a remarkably well-constructed one-act play, and is
+probably the finest one-act play of the Russian school of drama.<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">PERSONS IN THE PLAY</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Helena Ivanovna Popov</span>, <i>a young widow, mistress of a country estate</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Grigori Stepanovitch Smirnov</span>, <i>proprietor of a country estate</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Luka</span>, <i>servant of</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Popov</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>A gardener.</i> <i>A coachman.</i> <i>Several workmen.</i></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a></p>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_BOOR" id="THE_BOOR"></a>THE BOOR</h2>
+
+<p class="hang">TIME: <i>The present.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>A well-furnished reception-room in</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Popov's</span> <i>home</i>.
+<span class="smcap">Mrs. Popov</span> <i>is discovered in deep mourning, sitting upon a sofa,
+gazing steadfastly at a photograph</i>. <span class="smcap">Luka</span> <i>is also present</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. It isn't right, ma'am. You're wearing yourself out! The maid and
+the cook have gone looking for berries; everything that breathes is
+enjoying life; even the cat knows how to be happy&mdash;slips about the
+courtyard and catches birds&mdash;but you hide yourself here in the house as
+though you were in a cloister. Yes, truly, by actual reckoning you
+haven't left this house for a whole year.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. And I shall never leave it&mdash;why should I? My life is over.
+He lies in his grave, and I have buried myself within these four walls.
+We are both dead.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. There you are again! It's too awful to listen to, so it is!
+Nikolai Michailovitch is dead; it was the will of the Lord, and the Lord
+has given him eternal peace. You have grieved over it and that ought to
+be enough. Now it's time to stop. One can't weep and wear mourning
+forever! My wife died a few years ago. I grieved for her. I wept a whole
+month&mdash;and then it was over. Must one be forever singing lamentations?
+That would be more than your husband was worth! [<i>He sighs.</i>] You have
+forgotten all your neighbors. You don't go out and you receive no one.
+We live&mdash;you'll pardon me&mdash;like the spiders, and the good light of day
+we never see. All the livery is eaten by the mice&mdash;as though there
+weren't any more nice people in the world! But the whole neighborhood is
+full of<a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a> gentlefolk. The regiment is stationed in
+Riblov&mdash;officers&mdash;simply beautiful! One can't see enough of them! Every
+Friday a ball, and military music every day. Oh, my dear, dear ma'am,
+young and pretty as you are, if you'd only let your spirits live&mdash;!
+Beauty can't last forever. When ten short years are over, you'll be glad
+enough to go out a bit and meet the officers&mdash;and then it'll be too
+late.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Resolutely.</i>] Please don't speak of these things again.
+You know very well that since the death of Nikolai Michailovitch my life
+is absolutely nothing to me. You think I live, but it only seems so. Do
+you understand? Oh, that his departed soul may see how I love him! I
+know, it's no secret to you; he was often unjust toward me, cruel,
+and&mdash;he wasn't faithful, but I shall be faithful to the grave and prove
+to him how <i>I</i> can love. There, in the Beyond, he'll find me the same as
+I was until his death.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. What is the use of all these words, when you'd so much rather go
+walking in the garden or order Tobby or Welikan harnessed to the trap,
+and visit the neighbors?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Weeping.</i>] Oh!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. Madam, dear madam, what is it? In Heaven's name!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. He loved Tobby so! He always drove him to the Kortschagins
+or the Vlassovs. What a wonderful horse-man he was! How fine he looked
+when he pulled at the reins with all his might! Tobby, Tobby&mdash;give him
+an extra measure of oats to-day!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. Yes, ma'am.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>A bell rings loudly.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Shudders.</i>] What's that? I am at home to no one.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. Yes, ma'am. [<i>He goes out, centre.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Gazing at the photograph.</i>] You shall see, Nikolai, how I
+can love and forgive! My love will die only with me<a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>&mdash;when my poor heart
+stops beating. [<i>She smiles through her tears.</i>] And aren't you ashamed?
+I have been a good, true wife; I have imprisoned myself and I shall
+remain true until death, and you&mdash;you&mdash;you're not ashamed of yourself,
+my dear monster! You quarrelled with me, left me alone for weeks&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Luka</span> <i>enters in great excitement</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. Oh, ma'am, some one is asking for you, insists on seeing you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. You told him that since my husband's death I receive no one?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. I said so, but he won't listen; he says it is a pressing matter.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I receive no one!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. I told him that, but he's a wild man; he swore and pushed himself
+into the room; he's in the dining-room now.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Excitedly.</i>] Good. Show him in. The impudent&mdash;&mdash;!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Luka</span> <i>goes out, centre</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. What a bore people are! What can they want with me? Why do
+they disturb my peace? [<i>She sighs.</i>] Yes, it is clear I must enter a
+convent. [<i>Meditatively.</i>] Yes, a convent.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Smirnov</span> <i>enters, followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Luka</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [To <span class="smcap">Luka.</span>] Fool, you make too much noise! You're an ass!
+[<i>Discovering</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Popov</span>&mdash;<i>politely</i>.] Madam, I have the honor to
+introduce myself: Lieutenant in the Artillery, retired, country
+gentleman, Grigori Stepanovitch Smirnov! I'm compelled to bother you
+about an exceedingly important matter.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Without offering her hand.</i>] What is it you wish?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Your deceased husband, with whom I had the honor to be
+acquainted, left me two notes amounting to about twelve hundred roubles.
+Inasmuch as I have to pay the interest<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a> to-morrow on a loan from the
+Agrarian Bank, I should like to request, madam, that you pay me the
+money to-day.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Twelve hundred&mdash;and for what was my husband indebted to you?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. He bought oats from me.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>With a sigh, to</i> <span class="smcap">Luka</span>.] Don't forget to give Tobby an
+extra measure of oats.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Luka</span> <i>goes out</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Smirnov</span>.] If Nikolai Michailovitch is indebted to you,
+I shall, of course, pay you, but I am sorry, I haven't the money to-day.
+To-morrow my manager will return from the city and I shall notify him to
+pay you what is due you, but until then I cannot satisfy your request.
+Furthermore, to-day it is just seven months since the death of my
+husband, and I am not in a mood to discuss money matters.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. And I am in the mood to fly up the chimney with my feet in the
+air if I can't lay hands on that interest to-morrow. They'll seize my
+estate!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Day after to-morrow you will receive the money.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. I don't need the money day after to-morrow; I need it to-day.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I'm sorry I can't pay you to-day.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. And I can't wait until day after to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. But what can I do if I haven't it?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. So you can't pay?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I cannot.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Hm! Is that your last word?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. My last.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Absolutely?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Absolutely.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Thank you. [<i>He shrugs his shoulders.</i>] And they expect me to
+stand for all that. The toll-gatherer just now met me in the road and
+asked me why I was always worrying.<a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a> Why, in Heaven's name, shouldn't I
+worry? I need money, I feel the knife at my throat. Yesterday morning I
+left my house in the early dawn and called on all my debtors. If even
+one of them had paid his debt! I worked the skin off my fingers! The
+devil knows in what sort of Jew-inn I slept; in a room with a barrel of
+brandy! And now at last I come here, seventy versts from home, hope for
+a little money, and all you give me is moods! Why shouldn't I worry?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I thought I made it plain to you that my manager will return
+from town, and then you will get your money.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. I did not come to see the manager; I came to see you. What the
+devil&mdash;pardon the language&mdash;do I care for your manager?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Really, sir, I am not used to such language or such manners.
+I shan't listen to you any further.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She goes out, left.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. What can one say to that? Moods! Seven months since her husband
+died! Do I have to pay the interest or not? I repeat the question, have
+I to pay the interest or not? The husband is dead and all that; the
+manager is&mdash;the devil with him!&mdash;travelling somewhere. Now, tell me,
+what am I to do? Shall I run away from my creditors in a balloon? Or
+knock my head against a stone wall? If I call on Grusdev he chooses to
+be "not at home," Iroschevitch has simply hidden himself, I have
+quarrelled with Kurzin and came near throwing him out of the window,
+Masutov is ill and this woman has&mdash;moods! Not one of them will pay up!
+And all because I've spoiled them, because I'm an old whiner, dish-rag!
+I'm too tender-hearted with them. But wait! I allow nobody to play
+tricks with me, the devil with 'em all! I'll stay here and not budge
+until she pays! Brr! How angry I am, how terribly angry I am! Every
+tendon is trembling with anger, and I can hardly breathe! I'm even
+growing ill! [<i>He calls out.</i>] Servant!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Luka</span> <i>enters</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. What is it you wish?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Bring me Kvas or water! [<span class="smcap">Luka</span> <i>goes out</i>.] Well, what can we
+do? She hasn't it on hand? What sort of logic is that? A fellow stands
+with the knife at his throat, he needs money, he is on the point of
+hanging himself, and she won't pay because she isn't in the mood to
+discuss money matters. Woman's logic! That's why I never liked to talk
+to women, and why I dislike doing it now. I would rather sit on a powder
+barrel than talk with a woman. Brr!&mdash;I'm getting cold as ice; this
+affair has made me so angry. I need only to see such a romantic creature
+from a distance to get so angry that I have cramps in the calves! It's
+enough to make one yell for help!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Luka</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. [<i>Hands him water.</i>] Madam is ill and is not receiving.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. March! [<span class="smcap">Luka</span> <i>goes out</i>.] Ill and isn't receiving! All right,
+it isn't necessary. I won't receive, either! I'll sit here and stay
+until you bring that money. If you're ill a week, I'll sit here a week.
+If you're ill a year, I'll sit here a year. As Heaven is my witness,
+I'll get the money. You don't disturb me with your mourning&mdash;or with
+your dimples. We know these dimples! [<i>He calls out the window.</i>] Simon,
+unharness! We aren't going to leave right away. I am going to stay here.
+Tell them in the stable to give the horses some oats. The left horse has
+twisted the bridle again. [<i>Imitating him.</i>] Stop! I'll show you how.
+Stop! [<i>Leaves window.</i>] It's awful. Unbearable heat, no money, didn't
+sleep last night and now&mdash;mourning-dresses with moods. My head aches;
+perhaps I ought to have a drink. Ye-s, I must have a drink. [<i>Calling.</i>]
+Servant!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. What do you wish?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Something to drink! [<span class="smcap">Luka</span> <i>goes out</i>. <span class="smcap">Smirnov</span> <i>sits down and
+looks at his clothes</i>.] Ugh, a fine figure! No use denying that. Dust,
+dirty boots, unwashed, uncombed, straw on my vest&mdash;the lady probably
+took me for a highwayman. [<i>He yawns.</i>] It was a little impolite to come
+into a reception-room<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a> with such clothes. Oh, well, no harm done. I'm
+not here as a guest. I'm a creditor. And there is no special costume for
+creditors.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. [<i>Entering with glass.</i>] You take great liberty, sir.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Angrily.</i>] What?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. I&mdash;I&mdash;I just&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Whom are you talking to? Keep quiet.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. [<i>Angrily.</i>] Nice mess! This fellow won't leave!</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>He goes out.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Lord, how angry I am! Angry enough to throw mud at the whole
+world! I even feel ill! Servant!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Popov</span> <i>comes in with downcast eyes</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Sir, in my solitude I have become unaccustomed to the human
+voice and I cannot stand the sound of loud talking. I beg you, please to
+cease disturbing my rest.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Pay me my money and I'll leave.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I told you once, plainly, in your native tongue, that I
+haven't the money at hand; wait until day after to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. And I also had the honor of informing you in your native tongue
+that I need the money, not day after to-morrow, but to-day. If you don't
+pay me to-day I shall have to hang myself to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. But what can I do if I haven't the money?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. So you are not going to pay immediately? You're not?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I cannot.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Then I'll sit here until I get the money. [<i>He sits down.</i>] You
+will pay day after to-morrow? Excellent! Here I stay until day after
+to-morrow. [<i>Jumps up.</i>] I ask you, do I have to pay that interest
+to-morrow or not? Or do you think I'm joking?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Sir, I beg of you, don't scream! This is not a stable.<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. I'm not talking about stables, I'm asking you whether I have to
+pay that interest to-morrow or not?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. You have no idea how to treat a lady.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Oh, yes, I have.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. No, you have not. You are an ill-bred, vulgar person!
+Respectable people don't speak so to ladies.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. How remarkable! How do you want one to speak to you? In French,
+perhaps! Madame, je vous prie! Pardon me for having disturbed you. What
+beautiful weather we are having to-day! And how this mourning becomes
+you!</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>He makes a low bow with mock ceremony.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Not at all funny! I think it vulgar!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Imitating her.</i>] Not at all funny&mdash;vulgar! I don't understand
+how to behave in the company of ladies. Madam, in the course of my life
+I have seen more women than you have sparrows. Three times have I fought
+duels for women, twelve I jilted and nine jilted me. There was a time
+when I played the fool, used honeyed language, bowed and scraped. I
+loved, suffered, sighed to the moon, melted in love's torments. I loved
+passionately, I loved to madness, loved in every key, chattered like a
+magpie on emancipation, sacrificed half my fortune in the tender
+passion, until now the devil knows I've had enough of it. Your obedient
+servant will let you lead him around by the nose no more. Enough! Black
+eyes, passionate eyes, coral lips, dimples in cheeks, moonlight
+whispers, soft, modest sighs&mdash;for all that, madam, I wouldn't pay a
+kopeck! I am not speaking of present company, but of women in general;
+from the tiniest to the greatest, they are conceited, hypocritical,
+chattering, odious, deceitful from top to toe; vain, petty, cruel with a
+maddening logic and [<i>he strikes his forehead</i>] in this respect, please
+excuse my frankness, but one sparrow is worth ten of the aforementioned
+petticoat-philosophers. When one sees one of the romantic creatures
+before him he imagines he is looking at some holy being, so wonderful
+that its one breath could dissolve<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a> him in a sea of a thousand charms
+and delights; but if one looks into the soul&mdash;it's nothing but a common
+crocodile. [<i>He seizes the arm-chair and breaks it in two.</i>] But the
+worst of all is that this crocodile imagines it is a masterpiece of
+creation, and that it has a monopoly on all the tender passions. May the
+devil hang me upside down if there is anything to love about a woman!
+When she is in love, all she knows is how to complain and shed tears. If
+the man suffers and makes sacrifices she swings her train about and
+tries to lead him by the nose. You have the misfortune to be a woman,
+and naturally you know woman's nature; tell me on your honor, have you
+ever in your life seen a woman who was really true and faithful? Never!
+Only the old and the deformed are true and faithful. It's easier to find
+a cat with horns or a white woodcock, than a faithful woman.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. But allow me to ask, who is true and faithful in love? The
+man, perhaps?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Yes, indeed! The man!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. The man! [<i>She laughs sarcastically.</i>] The man true and
+faithful in love! Well, that is something <i>new</i>! [<i>Bitterly.</i>] How can
+you make such a statement? Men true and faithful! So long as we have
+gone thus far, I may as well say that of all the men I have known, my
+husband was the best; I loved him passionately with all my soul, as only
+a young, sensible woman may love; I gave him my youth, my happiness, my
+fortune, my life. I worshipped him like a heathen. And what happened?
+This best of men betrayed me in every possible way. After his death I
+found his desk filled with love-letters. While he was alive he left me
+alone for months&mdash;it is horrible even to think about it&mdash;he made love to
+other women in my very presence, he wasted my money and made fun of my
+feelings&mdash;and in spite of everything I trusted him and was true to him.
+And more than that: he is dead and I am still true to him. I have buried
+myself within these four walls and I shall wear this mourning to my
+grave.<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Laughing disrespectfully.</i>] Mourning! What on earth do you
+take me for? As if I didn't know why you wore this black domino and why
+you buried yourself within these four walls. Such a secret! So romantic!
+Some knight will pass the castle, gaze up at the windows, and think to
+himself: "Here dwells the mysterious Tamara who, for love of her
+husband, has buried herself within four walls." Oh, I understand the
+art!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Springing up.</i>] What? What do you mean by saying such
+things to me?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. You have buried yourself alive, but meanwhile you have not
+forgotten to powder your nose!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. How dare you speak so?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Don't scream at me, please; I'm not the manager. Allow me to
+call things by their right names. I am not a woman, and I am accustomed
+to speak out what I think. So please don't scream.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I'm not screaming. It is you who are screaming. Please leave
+me, I beg of you.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Pay me my money and I'll leave.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I won't give you the money.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. You won't? You won't give me my money?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I don't care what you do. You won't get a kopeck! Leave me!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. As I haven't the pleasure of being either your husband or your
+fiancé, please don't make a scene. [<i>He sits down.</i>] I can't stand it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Breathing hard.</i>] You are going to sit down?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. I already have.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Kindly leave the house!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Give me the money.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I don't care to speak with impudent men. Leave! [<i>Pause.</i>]
+You aren't going?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. No.<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. No?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. No.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Very well.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>She rings the bell.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Luka</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Luka, show the gentleman out.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. [<i>Going to</i> <span class="smcap">Smirnov</span>.] Sir, why don't you leave when you are
+ordered? What do you want?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Jumping up.</i>] Whom do you think you are talking to? I'll
+grind you to powder.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. [<i>Puts his hand to his heart.</i>] Good Lord! [<i>He drops into a
+chair.</i>] Oh, I'm ill; I can't breathe!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Where is Dascha? [<i>Calling.</i>] Dascha! Pelageja! Dascha!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She rings.</i></p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. They're all gone! I'm ill! Water!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Smirnov</span>.] Leave! Get out!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Kindly be a little more polite!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Striking her fists and stamping her feet.</i>] You are
+vulgar! You're a boor! A monster!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. What did you say?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. I said you were a boor, a monster!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Steps toward her quickly.</i>] Permit me to ask what right you
+have to insult me?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. What of it? Do you think I am afraid of you?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. And you think that because you are a romantic creature you can
+insult me without being punished? I challenge you!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. Merciful Heaven! Water!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. We'll have a duel.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Do you think because you have big fists and a steer's neck I
+am afraid of you?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. I allow no one to insult me, and I make no exception because
+you are a woman, one of the "weaker sex"!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Trying to cry him down.</i>] Boor, boor, boor!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. It is high time to do away with the old superstition<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a> that it
+is only the man who is forced to give satisfaction. If there is equity
+at all let there be equity in all things. There's a limit!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. You wish to fight a duel? Very well.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Immediately.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Immediately. My husband had pistols. I'll bring them. [<i>She
+hurries away, then turns.</i>] Oh, what a pleasure it will be to put a
+bullet in your impudent head. The devil take you!</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>She goes out.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. I'll shoot her down! I'm no fledgling, no sentimental young
+puppy. For me there is no weaker sex!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. Oh, sir. [<i>Falls to his knees.</i>] Have mercy on me, an old man, and
+go away. You have frightened me to death already, and now you want to
+fight a duel.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Paying no attention.</i>] A duel. That's equity, emancipation.
+That way the sexes are made equal. I'll shoot her down as a matter of
+principle. What can a person say to such a woman? [<i>Imitating her.</i>]
+"The devil take you. I'll put a bullet in your impudent head." What can
+one say to that? She was angry, her eyes blazed, she accepted the
+challenge. On my honor, it's the first time in my life that I ever saw
+such a woman.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. Oh, sir. Go away. Go away!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. That <i>is</i> a woman. I can understand her. A real woman. No
+shilly-shallying, but fire, powder, and noise! It would be a pity to
+shoot a woman like that.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. [<i>Weeping.</i>] Oh, sir, go away.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Popov</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Here are the pistols. But before we have our duel, please
+show me how to shoot. I have never had a pistol in my hand before!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. God be merciful and have pity upon us! I'll go and get the
+gardener and the coachman. Why has this horror come <a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>to us?</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>He goes out.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Looking at the pistols.</i>] You see, there are different kinds.
+There are special duelling pistols, with cap and ball. But these are
+revolvers, Smith &amp; Wesson, with ejectors; fine pistols! A pair like that
+cost at least ninety roubles. This is the way to hold a revolver.
+[<i>Aside.</i>] Those eyes, those eyes! A real woman!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Like this?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Yes, that way. Then you pull the hammer back&mdash;so&mdash;then you
+aim&mdash;put your head back a little. Just stretch your arm out, please.
+So&mdash;then press your finger on the thing like that, and that is all. The
+chief thing is this: don't get excited, don't hurry your aim, and take
+care that your hand doesn't tremble.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. It isn't well to shoot inside; let's go into the garden.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Yes. I'll tell you now, I am going to shoot into the air.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. That is too much! Why?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Because&mdash;because. That's my business.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. You are afraid. Yes. A-h-h-h, No, no, my dear sir, no
+flinching! Please follow me. I won't rest until I've made a hole in that
+head I hate so much. Are you afraid?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Yes, I'm afraid.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. You are lying. Why won't you fight?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Because&mdash;because&mdash;I&mdash;like you.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>With an angry laugh.</i>] You like me! He dares to say he
+likes me! [<i>She points to the door.</i>] Go.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Laying the revolver silently on the table, takes his hat and
+starts. At the door he stops a moment, gazing at her silently, then he
+approaches her, hesitating.</i>] Listen! Are you still angry? I was mad as
+the devil, but please understand me&mdash;how can I express myself? The thing
+is like this&mdash;such things are&mdash;[<i>He raises his voice.</i>] Now, is it my
+fault that you owe me money? [<i>Grasps the back of the chair, which
+breaks.</i>] The devil<a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a> knows what breakable furniture you have! I like
+you! Do you understand? I&mdash;I'm almost in love!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Leave! I hate you.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Lord! What a woman! I never in my life met one like her. I'm
+lost, ruined! I've been caught like a mouse in a trap.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Go, or I'll shoot.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Shoot! You have no idea what happiness it would be to die in
+sight of those beautiful eyes, to die from the revolver in this little
+velvet hand! I'm mad! Consider it and decide immediately, for if I go
+now, we shall never see each other again. Decide&mdash;speak&mdash;- I am a noble,
+a respectable man, have an income of ten thousand, can shoot a coin
+thrown into the air. I own some fine horses. Will you be my wife?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Swings the revolver angrily.</i>] I'll shoot!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. My mind is not clear&mdash;I can't understand. Servant&mdash;water! I
+have fallen in love like any young man. [<i>He takes her hand and she
+cries with pain.</i>] I love you! [<i>He kneels.</i>] I love you as I have never
+loved before. Twelve women I jilted, nine jilted me, but not one of them
+all have I loved as I love you. I am conquered, lost; I lie at your feet
+like a fool and beg for your hand. Shame and disgrace! For five years I
+haven't been in love; I thanked the Lord for it, and now I am caught,
+like a carriage tongue in another carriage. I beg for your hand! Yes or
+no? Will you?&mdash;Good!</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>He gets up and goes quickly to the door.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Wait a moment!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Stopping.</i>] Well?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Nothing. You may go. But&mdash;wait a moment. No, go on, go on. I
+hate you. Or&mdash;no; don't go. Oh, if you knew how angry I was, how angry!
+[<i>She throws the revolver on to the chair.</i>] My finger is swollen from
+this thing. [<i>She angrily tears her handkerchief.</i>] What are you
+standing there for? Get out!<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. Farewell!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Yes, go. [<i>Cries out.</i>] Why are you going? Wait&mdash;no, go!!
+Oh, how angry I am! Don't come too near, don't come too
+near&mdash;er&mdash;come&mdash;no nearer.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>MIRNOV</small>. [<i>Approaching her.</i>] How angry I am with myself! Fall in love
+like a schoolboy, throw myself on my knees. I've got a chill!
+[<i>Strongly.</i>] I love you. This is fine&mdash;all I needed was to fall in
+love. To-morrow I have to pay my interest, the hay harvest has begun,
+and then you appear! [<i>He takes her in his arms.</i>] I can never forgive
+myself.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. Go away! Take your hands off me! I hate you&mdash;you&mdash;this
+is&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>A long kiss.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Luka</span> <i>with an axe, the gardener with a rake, the coachman
+with a pitchfork, and workmen with poles</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>UKA</small>. [<i>Staring at the pair.</i>] Merciful heavens!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>A long pause.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. P<small>OPOV</small>. [<i>Dropping her eyes.</i>] Tell them in the stable that Tobby
+isn't to have any oats.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+THE LAST STRAW<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+<br />
+BOSWORTH CROCKER</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>The Last Straw</i> is reprinted by special permission of Bosworth Crocker.
+All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address the author, care
+Society of American Dramatists and Composers, 148 West 45th Street, New
+York City.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb">BOSWORTH CROCKER</p>
+
+<p>Bosworth Crocker was born March 2, 1882, in Surrey, England. While still
+a child he was brought to the United States. He lives in New York City
+and may be reached in care of the Society of American Dramatists and
+Composers, 148 West 45th Street.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to <i>Pawns of War</i> and <i>Stone Walls</i>, he has written a number
+of one-act plays, <i>The Dog</i>, <i>The First Time</i>, <i>The Cost of a Hat</i>, <i>The
+Hour Before</i>, <i>The Baby Carriage</i>, and <i>The Last Straw</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Last Straw</i>, produced by the Washington Square Players in New York
+City, is an excellent one-act tragedy, based upon the psychological law
+of suggestion.<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">CAST</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Friedrich Bauer</span>, <i>janitor of the Bryn Mawr</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Miene</span>, <i>his wife</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Karl</span>, <i>elder son, aged ten</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Fritzi</span>, <i>younger son, aged seven</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Jim Lane</span>, <i>a grocer boy</i></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a></p>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_LAST_STRAWG" id="THE_LAST_STRAWG"></a>THE LAST STRAW<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size:50%;">[G]</span></a></h2>
+
+<p class="hang">TIME: <i>The present day.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>The basement of a large apartment-house in New York City.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>The kitchen of the Bauer flat in the basement of the Bryn
+Mawr. A window at the side gives on an area and shows the walk
+above and the houses across the street. Opposite the windows is a
+door to an inner room. Through the outer door, in the centre of the
+back wall, a dumb-waiter and whistles to tenants can be seen. A
+broken milk-bottle lies in a puddle of milk on the cement floor in
+front of the dumb-waiter. To the right of the outer door, a
+telephone; gas-range on which there are flat-irons heating and
+vegetables cooking. To the left of the outer door is an old
+sideboard; over it hangs a picture of Schiller. Near the centre of
+the room, a little to the right, stands a kitchen table with four
+chairs around it. Ironing-board is placed between the kitchen table
+and the sink, a basket of dampened clothes under it. A large
+calendar on the wall. An alarm-clock on the window-sill. Time: a
+little before noon. The telephone rings</i>; <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>leaves her
+ironing and goes to answer it</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. No, Mr. Bauer's out yet. [<i>She listens through the
+transmitter.</i>] Thank you, Mrs. Mohler. [<i>Another pause.</i>] I'll tell him
+just so soon he comes in&mdash;yes, ma'am.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>goes back to her ironing. Grocer boy rushes into
+basement, whistling; he puts down his basket, goes up to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
+Bauer's</span> <i>door and looks in</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Say&mdash;where's the boss?<a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. He'll be home soon, I&mdash;hope&mdash;Jim. What you want?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He stands looking at her with growing sympathy.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Nothin'. Got a rag 'round here? Dumb-waiter's all wet.... Lot of
+groceries for Sawyers.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Without lifting her eyes, mechanically hands him a mop
+which hangs beside the door.</i>] Here.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. What's the matter?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Dully.</i>] Huh?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. [<i>Significantly.</i>] Oh, I know.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. What you know?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. About the boss. [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>looks distressed</i>.] Heard your
+friends across the street talkin'.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Bitterly.</i>] Friends!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Rotten trick to play on the boss, all right, puttin' that old maid
+up to get him pinched.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Absently.</i>] Was she an old maid?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. The cruelty-to-animals woman over there [<i>waves his
+hand</i>]&mdash;regular old crank. Nies<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a> put her up to it all right.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. I guess it was his old woman. Nies ain't so bad. She's the
+one. Because my two boys dress up a little on Sunday, she don't like it.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Yes, she's sore because the boys told her the boss kicks their
+dog.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. He don't do nothin' of the sort&mdash;jus' drives it 'way from
+the garbage-pails&mdash;that's all. We coulda had that dog took up long
+ago&mdash;they ain't got no license. But Fritz&mdash;he's so easy&mdash;he jus' takes
+it out chasin' the dog and hollerin'.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. That ain't no way. He ought to make the dog holler&mdash;good and
+hard&mdash;once; then it'd keep out of here.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Don't you go to talkin' like that 'round my man. Look at all
+this trouble we're in on account of a stray cat.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. I better get busy. They'll be callin' up the store in<a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a> a minute.
+That woman's the limit.... Send up the groceries in that slop, she'd
+send them down again. High-toned people like her ought to keep maids.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He mops out the lower shelf of the dumb-waiter, then looks at the
+broken bottle and the puddle of milk inquiringly.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Taking the mop away from him.</i>] I'll clean that up. I
+forgot&mdash;in all this trouble.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Whose milk?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. The Mohlers'. That's how it all happened. Somebody upset
+their milk on the dumb-waiter and the cat was on the shelf lickin' it
+up; my man, not noticin', starts the waiter up and the cat tries to jump
+out; the bottle rolls off and breaks. The cat was hurt awful&mdash;caught in
+the shaft. I don't see how it coulda run after that, but it did&mdash;right
+into the street, right into that woman&mdash;Fritz after it. Then it fell
+over. "You did that?" she says to Fritz. "Yes," he says, "I did that."
+He didn't say no more, jus' went off, and then after a while they came
+for him and&mdash;&mdash; [<i>She begins to cry softly.</i></p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Brace up; they ain't goin' to do anything to him.... [<i>Comes into
+kitchen. Hesitatingly.</i>] Say!... He didn't kick the cat&mdash;did he?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Who said so?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Mrs. Nies&mdash;says she saw him from her window.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>As though to herself.</i>] I dunno. [<i>Excitedly.</i>] Of course
+he didn't kick that cat. [<i>Again, as though to herself.</i>] Fritz is so
+quick-tempered he mighta kicked it 'fore he knew what he was about. No
+one'd ever know how good Fritz is unless they lived with him. He never
+hurt no one and nothing except himself.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Oh, I'm on to the boss. I never mind his hollerin'.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. If you get a chance, bring me some butter for dinner&mdash;a
+pound.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. All right. I'll run over with it in ten or fifteen minutes, soon
+as I get rid of these orders out here in the wagon.<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. That'll do.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She moves about apathetically, lays the cloth on the kitchen
+table and begins to set it.</i> <span class="smcap">Lane</span> <i>goes to the dumb-waiter,
+whistles up the tube, puts the basket of groceries on the shelf of
+the dumb-waiter, pulls rope and sends waiter up</i>. <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span>
+<i>continues to set the table. Boys from the street suddenly swoop
+into the basement and yell</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HORUS OF</small> B<small>OY'S</small> V<small>OICES</small>. Who killed the cat! Who killed the cat!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. [<i>Letting the rope go and making a dive for the boys.</i>] I'll show
+you, you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They rush out</i>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>stands despairingly in the doorway
+shaking her clasped hands</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Those are Nies's boys.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Regular toughs! Call the cop and have 'em pinched if they don't
+stop it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. If my man hears them&mdash;you know&mdash;there'll be more trouble.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. The boss ought to make it hot for them.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Such trouble!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. [<i>Starts to go.</i>] Well&mdash;luck to the boss.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. There ain't no such thing as luck for us.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. Aw, come on....</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Everything's against us. First Fritz's mother dies. We named
+the baby after her&mdash;Trude.... Then we lost Trude. That finished Fritz.
+After that he began this hollerin' business. And now this here
+trouble&mdash;just when things was goin' half-ways decent for the first time.
+[<i>She pushes past him and goes to her ironing.</i></p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. [<i>Shakes his head sympathetically and takes up his basket.</i>] A
+pound, you said?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Yes.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE</small>. All right. [<i>He starts off and then rushes back.</i>] Here's <a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>the
+boss comin', Mrs. Bauer.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Rushes off again.</i></p>
+
+<p>L<small>ANE'S</small> V<small>OICE</small>. [<i>Cheerfully.</i>] Hello, there!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER'S</small> V<small>OICE</small>. [<i>Dull and strained.</i>] Hello!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>comes in. His-naturally bright blue eyes are tired and
+lustreless; his strung frame seems to have lost all vigor and
+alertness; there in a look of utter despondency on his face.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Closing the door after him.</i>] They let you off?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>With a hard little laugh.</i>] Yes, they let me off&mdash;they let me
+off with a fine all right.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Aghast.</i>] They think you did it then.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Harshly.</i>] The judge fined me, I tell you.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Unable to express her poignant sympathy.</i>] Fined you!...
+Oh, Fritz!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She lays her hand on his shoulder.</i></p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Roughly, to keep himself from, going to pieces.</i>] That slop out
+there ain't cleaned up yet.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. I've been so worried.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>With sudden desperation.</i>] I can't stand it, I tell you.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Well, it's all over now, Fritz.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. Yes, it's all over.... it's all up with me.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Fritz!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. That's one sure thing.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You oughtn't to give up like this.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Pounding on the table.</i>] I tell you I can't hold up my head
+again.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Why, Fritz?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. They've made me out guilty. The judge fined me. Fined me, Miene!
+How is that? Can a man stand for that? The woman said I told her
+myself&mdash;right out&mdash;that I did it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. The woman that had you&mdash;[<i>he winces as she hesitates</i>] took?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. Damned&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Putting her hand over his mouth.</i>] Hush, Fritz.<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. Why will I hush, Miene? She said I was proud of the job.
+[<i>Passionately raising his voice.</i>] The damned interferin'&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Don't holler, Fritz. It's your hollerin' that's made all
+this trouble.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Penetrated by her words more and more.</i>] My hollerin'!....</p>
+
+<p class="r">[The telephone rings; she answers it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Yes, Mrs. Mohler, he's come in now.&mdash;Yes.&mdash;Won't after
+dinner do?&mdash;All right.&mdash;Thank you, Mrs. Mohler. [<i>She hangs up the
+receiver.</i>] Mrs. Mohler wants you to fix her sink right after dinner.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I'm not goin' to do any more fixin' around here.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You hold on to yourself, Fritz; that's no way to talk; Mrs.
+Mohler's a nice woman.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I don't want to see no more nice women. [<i>After a pause.</i>]
+Hollerin'!&mdash;that's what's the matter with me&mdash;hollerin', eh? Well, I've
+took it all out in hollerin'.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. They hear you and they think you've got no feelings.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>In utter amazement at the irony of the situation.</i>] And I was
+goin' after the damned cat to take care of it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Why didn't you tell the judge all about it?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. They got me rattled among them. The lady was so soft and
+pleasant&mdash;"He must be made to understand, your honor," she said to the
+judge, "that dumb animals has feelin's, too, just as well as human
+beings"&mdash;<i>Me</i>, Miene&mdash;made to understand that! I couldn't say nothin'.
+My voice just stuck in my throat.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. What's the matter with you! You oughta spoke up and told the
+judge just how it all happened.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I said to myself; I'll go home and put a bullet through my
+head&mdash;that's the best thing for me now.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>With impatient unbelief.</i>] Ach, Fritz, Fritz!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Clatter of feet.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HORUS OF</small> V<small>OICES</small>. [<i>At the outer door.</i>] Who killed the cat! Who killed
+the cat!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>jumps up, pale and shaken with strange rage; she pushes him
+gently back into his chair, opens the door, steps out for a moment,
+then comes in and leaves the door open behind her</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. You see?... Even the kids ... I'm disgraced all over the place.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. So long as you didn't hurt the cat&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. What's the difference? Everybody believes it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. No, they don't, Fritz.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. You can't fool me, Miene. I see it in their eyes. They looked
+away from me when I was comin' 'round the corner. Some of them kinder
+smiled like&mdash;[<i>passes his hand over his head</i>]. Even the cop says to me
+on the way over, yesterday: "Don't you put your foot in it any more'n
+you have to." You see? He thought I did it all right. Everybody believes
+it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Putting towels away.</i>] Well, then <i>let</i> them believe
+it.... The agent don't believe it.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I dunno. He'da paid my fine anyhow.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. He gave you a good name.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>With indignant derision.</i>] He gave me a good name!... Haven't I
+always kept this place all right since we been here? Afterward he said
+to me: "I'm surprised at this business, Bauer, very much surprised."
+That shows what he thinks. I told him it ain't true, I didn't mean to
+hurt it. I saw by his eyes he didn't believe me.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Well, don't you worry any more now.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>To himself.</i>] Hollerin'!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Shuts the door.</i>] Well, now, holler a little if it does
+you good.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. Nothin's goin' to do me good.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You just put it out of your mind. [<i>The telephone<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a> rings.
+She answers it.</i>] Yes, but he can't come now, Mrs. McAllister. He'll be
+up this afternoon.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She hangs up the receiver.</i></p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. And I ain't goin' this afternoon&mdash;nowhere.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. It's Mrs. McAllister. Somethin's wrong with her
+refrigerator&mdash;the water won't run off, she says.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. They can clean out their own drain-pipes.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You go to work and get your mind off this here business.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Staring straight ahead of him.</i>] I ain't goin' 'round among the
+people in this house ... to have them lookin' at me ... disgraced like
+this.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You want to hold up your head and act as if nothin's
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. Nobody spoke to me at the dumb-waiter when I took off the garbage
+and paper this morning. Mrs. Mohler always says something pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You just think that because you're all upset. [<i>The
+telephone rings; she goes to it and listens.</i>] Yes, ma'am, I'll see.
+Fritz, have you any fine wire? Mrs. McAllister thinks she might try and
+fix the drain with it&mdash;till you come up.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I got no wire.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Mr. Bauer'll fix it&mdash;right after dinner, Mrs. McAllister.
+[<i>Impatiently.</i>] He can't find the wire this minute&mdash;soon's he eats his
+dinner.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Doggedly.</i>] You'll see....</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Soothingly.</i>] Come now, Fritz, give me your hat.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She takes his hat from him.</i></p>
+
+<p>V<small>OICES IN THE</small> S<small>TREET</small>. [<i>Receding from the front area.</i>] Who killed the
+cat! Who killed the cat!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>rushes toward the window in a fury of excitement</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Shouting at the top of his voice.</i>] <i>Verdammte</i> loafers!
+<i>Schweine!</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Goes up to him.</i>] Fritz! Fritz!<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Collapses and drops into chair.</i>] You hear 'em.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Don't pay no attention, then they'll get tired.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. Miene, we must go away. I can't stand it here no longer.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. But there's not such another good place, Fritz&mdash;and the
+movin'....</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I say I can't stand it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Desperately.</i>] It ... it would be just the same any other
+place.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. Just the same?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Yes, something'd go wrong anyhow.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. You think I'm a regular Jonah.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He shakes his head repeatedly in the affirmative, as though
+wholly embracing her point of view.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Folks don't get to know you. They hear you hollerin' 'round
+and they think you beat the children and kick the dogs and cats.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. Do I ever lick the children when they don't need it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Not Fritzi.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. You want to spoil Karl. I just touch him with the strap once, a
+little&mdash;like this [<i>illustrates with a gesture</i>] to scare him, and he
+howls like hell.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Yes, and then he don't mind you no more because he knows you
+don't mean it.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>To himself.</i>] That's the way it goes ... a man's own wife and
+children ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Attending to the dinner. Irritably.</i>] Fritz, if you would
+clean that up out there&mdash;and Mrs. Carroll wants her waste-basket. You
+musta forgot to send it up again.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. All right.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He goes out and leaves the door open. She stands her flat-iron on
+the ledge of the range to cool and puts her ironing-board away,
+watching him at the dumb-waiter while he picks up the glass and
+cleans up the milk on the cement<a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a> floor. He disappears for a
+moment, then he comes in again, goes to a drawer and takes out rags
+and a bottle of polish.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Pushing the clothes-basket out of the way.</i>] This ain't
+cleanin' day, Fritz.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Dully, putting the polish back into the drawer.</i>] That's so.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Comforting him.</i>] You've got to eat a good dinner and then
+go up-stairs and fix that sink for Mrs. Mohler and the drain for Mrs.
+McAllister.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>In a tense voice.</i>] I tell you I can't stand it.... I tell you,
+Miene....</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. What now, Fritz?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. People laugh in my face. [<i>Nods in the direction of the street.</i>]
+Frazer's boy standin' on the stoop calls his dog away when it runs up to
+me like it always does.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Dogs know better'n men who's good to them.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. He acted like he thought I'd kick it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You've got all kinds of foolishness in your head now.... You
+sent up Carroll's basket?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. No.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Well&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>She checks herself.</i></p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. All right.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>He gets up.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. It's settin' right beside the other dumb-waiter, [<i>He goes
+out.</i>] Oh, Gott!&mdash;Oh, Gott!&mdash;Oh, Gott!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Karl</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span>. <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span> <i>is crying</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Running to them.</i>] What's the matter?</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She hushes them and carefully closes the door.</i></p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. The boys make fun of us; they mock us.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. They mock us&mdash;"Miau! Miau!" they cry, and then they go like
+this&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Fritzi</span> <i>imitates kicking and breaks out crying afresh</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Hush, Fritzi, you mustn't let your father hear.<a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a></p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. He'd make them shut up.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. I don't want to go to school this afternoon.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>He doubles his fists.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Turning on him fiercely.</i>] Why not? [<i>In an undertone.</i>]
+You talk that way before your little brother.&mdash;Have you no sense?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Beginning to whimper.</i>] I d-d-d-on't want to go to school this
+afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You just go 'long to school and mind your own business.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span>. [<i>Together.</i>] But the boys....</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. They ain't a-goin' to keep it up forever. Don't you answer
+them. Just go 'long together and pay no attention.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Then they get fresher and fresher.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Echoing</i> <span class="smcap">Karl</span>.] Yes, then they get fresher and fresher.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>begins to take up the dinner. The sound of footfalls
+just outside the door is heard.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Go on now, hang up your caps and get ready for your dinners.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. I'm going to tell my papa.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Goes to inner door.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. For God's sake, Fritzi, shut up. You mustn't tell no one.
+Papa'd be disgraced all over.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<i>Coming up to her.</i>] Disgraced?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Hush!</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Why disgraced?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Because there's liars, low-down, snoopin' liars in the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Who's lied, mama?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. The janitress across the street.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Mrs. Nies?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Calling out.</i>] Henny Nies is a tough.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Looking toward the outer door anxiously and<a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a> shaking her
+head threateningly at</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span>.] I give you somethin' if you don't stop
+hollerin' out like that.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Who'd she lie to?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Never mind. Go 'long now. It's time you begin to eat.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. What'd she lie about?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Warningly.</i>] S-s-sh! Papa'll be comin' in now in a minute.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. It was Henny Nies set the gang on to us. I coulda licked them all
+if I hadn't had to take care of Fritzi.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You'll get a lickin' all right if you don't keep away from
+Henny Nies.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Well&mdash;if they call me names&mdash;and say <i>my</i> father's been to the
+station-house for killing a cat ...?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. Miau! Miau! Miau!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Hold your mouth.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Swaggering.</i>] My father never was in jail&mdash;was he, mama?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Course not.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span>.] Go, wash your hands, Fritzi.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She steers him to the door of the inner room. He exits.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Distressed.</i>] Karl ...</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<i>Turning to his mother.</i>] Was he, mama?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Papa don't act like he used to. Sometimes I wonder what's
+come over him. Of course it's enough to ruin any man's temper, all the
+trouble we've had.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HORUS OF</small> V<small>OICES</small>. [<i>From the area by the window.</i>] Who killed the cat!
+Who killed the cat!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Sound of feet clattering up the area steps.</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span> <i>rushes in,
+flourishing a revolver</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. I shoot them, mama.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Grabbing the revolver.</i>] <i>Mein Gott!</i> Fritzi! Papa's
+pistol! [<i>She examines it carefully.</i>] You ever touch that <a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>again and
+I'll ...</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>She menaces him.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Sulkily.</i>] I'll save up my money and buy me one.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Smiling a little to herself.</i>] I see you buyin' one.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Carries revolver into inner room.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>In a loud, voice and as though shooting at</i> <span class="smcap">Karl</span>.] Bang! Bang!
+Bang!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Karl</span> <i>strikes at</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span>; <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span> <i>dodges</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<i>To his mother as she re-enters.</i>] Trouble with Fritzi is he
+don't mind me any more.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You wash your dirty hands and face this minute&mdash;d'you hear
+me, Fritzi!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Looking at his hands.</i>] That's ink-stains. I got the highest
+mark in spelling to-day. Capital H-e-n-n-y, capital N-i-e-s&mdash;Henny Nies,
+a bum.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>makes a rush at him, and he runs back into the inner
+room</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<i>Sitting down beside the table.</i>] Do we have to go to school this
+afternoon?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You have to do what you always do.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Can't we stay home?...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Fiercely.</i>] Why? Why?</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<i>Sheepishly.</i>] I ain't feelin' well.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Karlchen!... <i>schäm dich!</i></p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Till the boys forget....</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Papa'd know somethin' was wrong right away. That'd be the
+end. You mustn't act as if anything was different from always.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<i>Indignantly.</i>] Sayin' <i>my</i> father's been to jail!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Karl....</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Papa'd make them stop.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Panic-stricken.</i>] Karl, don't you tell papa nothing.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Not tell papa?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. No.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Why not tell papa?<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Because&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Yes, mama?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Because he was arrested yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<span class="smcap">Shocked.</span>] What for, mama? Why was he&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. For nothing.... It was all a lie.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Well&mdash;what was it, mama?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. The cat got hurt in the dumb-waiter&mdash;papa didn't mean
+to&mdash;then they saw papa chasin' it&mdash;then it died.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Why did papa chase it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. To see how it hurt itself.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Whose cat?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. The stray cat.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. The little black cat? Is Blacky dead?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Yes, he died on the sidewalk.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Where was we?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. You was at school.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Papa didn't want us to keep Blacky.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. So many cats and dogs around....</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Wailing at the door.</i>] Blacky was my cat.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. S-s-h! What do you know about Blacky?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. I was listening. Why did papa kill Blacky?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Hush!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. Why was papa took to jail?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Fritzi! If papa was to hear....</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>goes out</i>.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Sidling up to</i> <span class="smcap">Karl</span>.] Miau! Miau!</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. You shut up that. Didn't mama tell you?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. When I'm a man I'm going to get arrested. I'll shoot Henny Nies.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<i>Contemptuously.</i>] Yes, you'll do a lot of shooting.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Fritzi</span> <i>punches</i> <span class="smcap">Karl</span> <i>in back</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<i>Striking at</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span>.] You're as big a tough as Henny Nies.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Proud of this alleged likeness.</i>] I'm going to be a<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a> man just
+like my father; I'll holler and make them stand around.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. [<i>With conviction.</i>] What you need is a good licking.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Telephone rings</i>; <span class="smcap">Karl</span> <i>goes to it</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. No, ma'am, we're just going to eat now.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Sits down beside the table.</i>] Blacky was a nice cat; she
+purred just like a steam-engine.</p>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. Mama told you not to bring her in.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. Papa said I could.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>There is the sound of footfalls.</i> <span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>and his wife come in and
+close the door behind them</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Putting the dinner on the table.</i>] Come, children. [<i>To</i>
+<span class="smcap">Bauer</span>.] Sit down, Fritz.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She serves the dinner.</i> <span class="smcap">Karl</span> <i>pulls</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span> <i>out of his father's
+chair and pushes him into his own; then he takes his place next to
+his mother</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Bauer</span>, <i>who sits looking at his food</i>.] Eat somethin',
+Friedrich.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>She sits down.</i></p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I can't eat nothin'. I'm full up to here.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He touches his throat.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. If you haven't done nothin' wrong, why do you let it worry
+you so?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Children are absorbed in eating.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Suddenly.</i>] Gee, didn't Blacky like liver!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Karl</span> <i>look at him warningly</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Fiercely.</i>] You eat your dinner.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Affectionately, laying his hand on</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi's</span> <i>arm</i>.] Fritzi.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Points toward the inner room.</i>] I'm going to have a gun, too,
+when I'm a man.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>follows</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi's</span> <i>gesture and falls to musing. There is a
+look of brooding misery on his face.</i> <span class="smcap">Karl</span> <i>nudges</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span>
+<i>warningly and watches his father furtively</i>. <span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>sits
+motionless, staring straight ahead of him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Bauer</span>.] Now drink your coffee.<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. Don't you see, Miene, don't you see?... Nothing makes it right
+now; no one believes me&mdash;no one believes&mdash;no one.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. What do you care, if you didn't do it?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I care like hell.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>With a searching took at her husband.</i>] Fritzi, when you
+go on like this, people won't believe you didn't do it. You ought to act
+like you don't care.... [<i>She fixes him with a beseeching glance.</i>] If
+you <i>didn't</i> do it.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>looks at his wife as though a hidden meaning to her words
+had suddenly bitten into his mind</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>As though to himself.</i>] A man can't stand that. I've gone
+hungry ... I've been in the hospital ... I've worked when I couldn't
+stand up hardly....</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Coaxingly.</i>] Drink your coffee, drink it now, Fritz, while
+it's hot.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He tries to swallow a little coffee and then puts down the cup.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I've never asked favors of no man.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. Well, an' if you did ...</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I've always kept my good name ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. If a man hasn't done nothin' wrong it don't matter. Just go
+ahead like always&mdash;if&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Muttering.</i>] If&mdash;if&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>To the boys.</i>] Get your caps now, it's time to go to
+school.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Karl</span> <i>gets up, passes behind his father and beckons to</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span> <i>to
+follow him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. [<i>Keeping his seat.</i>] Do we have to go to school?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Suddenly alert.</i>] Why, what's the matter?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RITZI</small>. The boys&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Breaking in.</i>] Fritzi!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The boys go into the inner room.</i> <span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>collapses again</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Looking at him strangely.</i>] Fritzi&mdash;if you didn't&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>AUER</small>. I can't prove nothing&mdash;and no one believes me. [<i>A pause. She is
+silent under his gaze.</i>] No one! [<i>He waits for her to speak. She sits
+with averted face. He sinks into a dull misery. The expression in his
+eyes changes from beseeching to despair as her silence continues, and he
+cries out hoarsely.</i>] No one! Even if you kill a cat&mdash;what's a cat
+against a man's life!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>Tensely, her eyes fastened on his.</i>] But you <i>didn't</i> kill
+it?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>A pause.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>In a low, appealing voice.</i>] Did you? Fritz? Did you?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>gets up slowly. He stands very still and stares at his
+wife.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL'S</small> V<small>OICE</small>. Mama, Fritzi's fooling with papa's gun.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Both children rush into the room.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>K<small>ARL</small>. You oughta lock it up.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Fritzi</span>.] Bad boy! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Karl</span>.] Fritzi wants to kill
+himself&mdash;that's what. Go on to school.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Boys run past area.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>OICES</small>. Who killed the cat! Who killed the cat!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>At the sound of the voices the boys start back. Instinctively</i>
+<span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>lays a protecting hand on each. She looks around at her
+husband with a sudden anxiety which she tries to conceal from the
+children, who whisper together.</i> <span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>rises heavily to his feet
+and walks staggeringly toward the inner room</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER</small>. [<i>In a worried tone, as the pushes the children out.</i>] Go on
+to school.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>At the threshold of the inner room</i> <span class="smcap">Bauer</span> <i>stops, half turns back
+with distorted features, and then hurries in. The door slams behind
+him.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>closes the outer door, turns, takes a step as
+though to follow</i> <span class="smcap">Bauer</span>, <i>hesitates, then crosses to the kitchen
+table and starts to clear<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a> up the dishes. The report of a revolver
+sounds from the inner room. Terror-stricken</i>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bauer</span> <i>rushes
+in</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. B<small>AUER'S</small> V<small>OICE</small>. Fritz! Fritz! Speak to me! Look at me, Fritz! You
+didn't do it, Fritz! I know you didn't do it!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Sound of low sobbing.... After a few seconds the telephone
+bell.... It rings continuously while the Curtain slowly falls.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><a name="MANIKIN_AND_MINIKIN" id="MANIKIN_AND_MINIKIN"></a>MANIKIN AND MINIKIN<br /><br />
+<small>(<span class="smcap">A Bisque-Play</span>)<br /><br />
+BY<br />
+ALFRED KREYMBORG</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>Manikin and Minikin</i> is reprinted by special permission of Alfred
+Kreymborg. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address
+Norman Lee Swartout, Summit, New Jersey.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="ALFRED_KREYMBORG" id="ALFRED_KREYMBORG"></a>ALFRED KREYMBORG</p>
+
+<p>Alfred Kreymborg, one of the foremost advocates of free-verse rhythmical
+drama, was born in New York City, 1883. He founded and edited <i>The
+Globe</i> while it was in existence; and under its auspices issued the
+first anthology of imagist verse (Ezra Pound's Collection, 1914). In
+July, 1915, he founded <i>Others, a Magazine of the New Verse</i>, and <i>The
+Other Players</i> in March, 1918, an organization devoted exclusively to
+American plays in poetic form. At present Mr. Kreymborg is in Italy,
+launching a new international magazine, <i>The Broom</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Kreymborg has been active in both poetry and drama. He has edited
+several anthologies of free verse, and has published his own free verse
+as <i>Mushrooms</i> and <i>The Blood of Things</i>. His volume of plays, all in
+free rhythmical verse, is <i>Plays for Poem&mdash;Mimes</i>. The most popular
+plays in this volume are <i>Lima Beans</i>, and <i>Manikin and Minikin</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Manikin and Minikin</i> aptly exemplifies Mr. Kreymborg's idea of
+rhythmical, pantomimic drama. It is a semi-puppet play in which there
+are dancing automatons to an accompaniment of rhythmic lines in place of
+music. Mr. Kreymborg is a skilled musician and he composes his lines
+with musical rhythm in mind. His lines should be read accordingly.</p>
+
+<p><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a></p>
+
+<h2>MANIKIN AND MINIKIN<br /><br />
+(A BISQUE-PLAY)</h2>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Seen through an oval frame, one of the walls of a parlor. The
+wall-paper is a conventionalized pattern. Only the shelf of the
+mantelpiece shows. At each end, seated on pedestals turned slightly
+away from one another, two aristocratic bisque figures, a boy in
+delicate cerise and a girl in cornflower blue. Their shadows join
+in a grotesque silhouette. In the centre, an ancient clock whose
+tick acts as the metronome for the sound of their high voices.
+Presently the mouths of the figures open and shut, after the mode
+of ordinary conversation.</i></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> That fool of a servant has done it again.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I should say, she's more than a fool.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> A meddlesome busybody&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> A brittle-fingered noddy!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Which way are you looking? What do you see?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> The everlasting armchair,<br />
+the everlasting tiger-skin,<br />
+the everlasting yellow, green, and purple books,<br />
+the everlasting portrait of milord&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Oh, these Yankees!&mdash;And I see<br />
+the everlasting rattan rocker,<br />
+the everlasting samovar,<br />
+the everlasting noisy piano,<br />
+the everlasting portrait of milady&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Simpering spectacle!<a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> What does she want, always dusting?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I should say&mdash;that is, I'd consider the thought&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> You'd consider a lie&mdash;oh, Manikin&mdash;you're trying to defend her!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I'm not defending her&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> You're trying to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I'm not trying to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Then, what are you trying to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Well, I'd venture to say, if she'd only stay away some morning&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> That's what I say in my dreams!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> She and her broom&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Her everlasting broom&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> She wouldn't be sweeping&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Every corner, every cranny, every crevice&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> And the dust wouldn't move&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Wouldn't crawl, wouldn't rise, wouldn't fly&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> And cover us all over&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Like a spider-web&mdash;ugh!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Everlasting dust has been most of our life&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Everlasting years and years of dust!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> You on your lovely blue gown&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> And you on your manly pink cloak.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> If she didn't sweep, we wouldn't need dusting&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Nor need taking down, I should say&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> With her stupid, clumsy hands&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Her crooked, monkey paws&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> And we wouldn't need putting back&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> I with my back to you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I with my back to you.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> It's been hours, days, weeks&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a><br />
+by the sound of that everlasting clock&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+and the coming of day and the going of day&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+since I saw you last!<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> What's the use of the sun<br />
+with its butterfly wings of light&mdash;<br />
+what's the use of a sun made to see by&mdash;<br />
+if I can't see you!<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Say that again!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Why should I say it again&mdash;don't you know?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> I know, but sometimes I doubt&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Why do you, what do you doubt?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Please say it again!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> What's the use of a sun&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> What's the use of a sun?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> That was made to see by&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> That was made to see by?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> If I can't see you!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Oh, Manikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> If you hadn't said that again, my doubt would have filled a
+balloon.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Your doubt&mdash;which doubt, what doubt?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> And although I can't move, although I can't move unless somebody
+shoves me, one of these days when the sun isn't here, I would have
+slipped over the edge of this everlasting shelf&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> And fallen to that everlasting floor into so many fragments, they'd
+never paste Minikin together again!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin, Minikin!<a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> They'd have to set another here&mdash;some Minikin, I'm assured!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Why do you chatter so, prattle so?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Because of my doubt&mdash;because I'm as positive as I am that I sit
+here with my knees in a knot&mdash;that that human creature&mdash;loves you.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Loves me?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> And you her!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> When she takes us down she holds you much longer.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> I'm sufficiently feminine&mdash;and certainly old enough&mdash;I and my
+hundred and seventy years&mdash;I can see, I can feel by her manner of
+touching me and her flicking me with her mop&mdash;the creature hates
+me&mdash;she'd like to drop me, that's what she would!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Don't you venture defending her! Booby&mdash;you don't know live women!
+When I'm in the right position I can note how she fondles you, pets you
+like a parrot with her finger-tip, blows a pinch of dust from your eye
+with her softest breath, holds you off at arm's length and fixes you
+with her spider look, actually holds you against her cheek&mdash;her
+rose-tinted cheek&mdash;before she releases you! If she didn't turn us apart
+so often,<a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a> I wouldn't charge her with insinuation; but now I know she
+loves you&mdash;she's as jealous as I am&mdash;and poor dead me in her live power!
+Manikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> If you could see me&mdash;the way you see her&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> But I see you&mdash;see you always&mdash;see only you!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> If you could see me the way you see her, you'd still love me, you'd
+love me the way you do her! Who made me what I am? Who dreamed me in
+motionless clay?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Will you listen to me?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> No!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Will you listen to me?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> No.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Will you listen to me?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Yes.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I love you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> No!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I've always loved you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> No.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> You doubt that?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Yes!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> You doubt that?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Yes.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> You doubt that?<a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> No. You've always loved me&mdash;yes&mdash;but you don't love me now&mdash;no&mdash;not
+since that rose-face encountered your glance&mdash;no.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> If I could move about the way she can&mdash;<br />
+if I had feet&mdash;<br />
+dainty white feet which could twinkle and twirl&mdash;<br />
+I'd dance you so prettily<br />
+you'd think me a sun butterfly&mdash;<br />
+if I could let down my hair<br />
+and prove you it's longer than larch hair&mdash;<br />
+if I could raise my black brows<br />
+or shrug my narrow shoulders,<br />
+like a queen or a countess&mdash;<br />
+if I could turn my head, tilt my head,<br />
+this way and that, like a swan&mdash;<br />
+ogle my eyes, like a peacock,<br />
+till you'd marvel,<br />
+they're green, nay, violet, nay, yellow, nay, gold&mdash;<br />
+if I could move, only move<br />
+just the moment of an inch&mdash;<br />
+you would see what I could be!<br />
+It's a change, it's a change,<br />
+you men ask of women!<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> A change?<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> You're eye-sick, heart-sick<br />
+of seeing the same foolish porcelain thing,<br />
+a hundred years old,<br />
+a hundred and fifty,<br />
+and sixty, and seventy&mdash;<a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a><br />
+I don't know how old I am!<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Not an exhalation older than I&mdash;not an inhalation younger! Minikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Will you listen to me?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> No!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Will you listen to me?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> No!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Will you listen to me?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Yes.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I don't love that creature&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> You do.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I can't love that creature&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> You can.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Will you listen to me?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Yes&mdash;<br />
+if you'll tell me&mdash;<br />
+if you'll prove me&mdash;<br />
+so my last particle of dust&mdash;<br />
+the tiniest speck of a molecule&mdash;<br />
+the merest electron&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> Are you listening?<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Yes!<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> To begin with&mdash;<br />
+I dislike, suspect, deplore&mdash;<br />
+I had best say, feel compassion<br />
+for what is called humanity&mdash;<br />
+or the animate, as opposed to the inanimate&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> You say that so wisely&mdash;<br />
+you're such a philosopher&mdash;<br />
+say it again!<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> That which is able to move<br />
+can never be steadfast, you understand?<a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a><br />
+Let us consider the creature at hand<br />
+to whom you have referred<br />
+with an undue excess of admiration<br />
+adulterated with an undue excess of envy&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Say that again!<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> To begin with&mdash;<br />
+I can only see part of her at once.<br />
+She moves into my vision;<br />
+she moves out of my vision;<br />
+she is doomed to be wayward.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Yes, but that which you see of her&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> Is ugly, commonplace, unsightly.<br />
+Her face a rose-face?<br />
+It's veined with blood and the skin of it wrinkles&mdash;<br />
+her eyes are ever so near to a hen's&mdash;<br />
+her movements,<br />
+if one would pay such a gait with regard&mdash;<br />
+her gait is unspeakably ungainly&mdash;<br />
+her hair&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Her hair?<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> Luckily I've never seen it down&mdash;<br />
+I dare say it comes down in the dark,<br />
+when it looks, most assuredly, like tangled weeds.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Again, Manikin, that dulcet phrase!<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> Even were she beautiful,<br />
+she were never so beautiful as thou!<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Now you're a poet, Manikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Even were she so beautiful as thou&mdash;lending her your eyes, and the
+exquisite head which holds them&mdash;like a cup two last beads of wine, like
+a stone two last drops of rain, green, nay, violet, nay, yellow, nay,
+gold&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Faster, Manikin!<a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> I can't, Minikin!<br />
+Words were never given to man<br />
+to phrase such a one as you are&mdash;<br />
+inanimate symbols<br />
+can never embrace, embody, hold<br />
+the animate dream that you are&mdash;<br />
+I must cease.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> And even were she so beautiful as thou,<br />
+she couldn't stay beautiful.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Stay beautiful?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Humans change with each going moment.<br />
+That is a gray-haired platitude.<br />
+Just as I can see that creature<br />
+only when she touches my vision,<br />
+so I could only see her once, were she beautiful&mdash;<br />
+at best, twice or thrice&mdash;<br />
+you're more precious than when you came!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> And you!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> Human pathos penetrates still deeper<br />
+when one determines their inner life,<br />
+as we've pondered their outer.<br />
+Their inner changes far more desperately.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> How so, wise Manikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> They have what philosophy terms moods,<br />
+and moods are more pervious to modulation<br />
+than pools to idle breezes.<br />
+These people may say, to begin with&mdash;<br />
+I love you.<br />
+This may be true, I'm assured&mdash;<br />
+as true as when <i>we</i> say, I love you.<br />
+But they can only say,<br />
+I love you,<br />
+so long as the mood breathes,<a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a><br />
+so long as the breezes blow,<br />
+so long as water remains wet.<br />
+They are honest&mdash;<br />
+they mean what they say&mdash;<br />
+passionately, tenaciously, tragically&mdash;<br />
+but when the mood languishes,<br />
+they have to say,<br />
+if it be they are honest&mdash;<br />
+I do not love you.<br />
+Or they have to say,<br />
+I love you,<br />
+to somebody else.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> To somebody else?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> Now, you and I&mdash;<br />
+we've said that to each other&mdash;<br />
+we've had to say it<br />
+for a hundred and seventy years&mdash;<br />
+and we'll have to say it always.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Say always again!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> The life of an animate&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Say always again!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> Always!<br />
+The life of an animate<br />
+is a procession of deaths<br />
+with but a secret sorrowing candle,<br />
+guttering lower and lower,<br />
+on the path to the grave&mdash;<br />
+the life of an inanimate<br />
+is as serenely enduring&mdash;<br />
+as all still things are.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Still things?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> Recall our childhood in the English museum&mdash;<br />
+ere we were moved,<br />
+from place to place,<br />
+to this dreadful Yankee salon&mdash;<a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a><br />
+do you remember<br />
+that little old Greek tanagra<br />
+of the girl with a head like a bud&mdash;<br />
+that little old Roman medallion<br />
+of the girl with a head like a&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin, Manikin&mdash;<br />
+were they so beautiful as I&mdash;<br />
+did you love them, too&mdash;<br />
+why do you bring them back?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> They were not so beautiful as thou&mdash;<br />
+I spoke of them&mdash;<br />
+recalled, designated them&mdash;<br />
+well, because they were ages old&mdash;<br />
+and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> And&mdash;and?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> And we might live as long as they&mdash;<br />
+as they did and do!<br />
+I hinted their existence<br />
+because they're not so beautiful as thou,<br />
+so that by contrast and deduction&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> And deduction?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> You know what I'd say&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> But say it again!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> I love you.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Then even though that creature has turned us</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+can you see me?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> I can see you.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Even though you haven't seen me<br />
+for hours, days, weeks&mdash;<br />
+with your dear blue eyes&mdash;<br />
+you can see me&mdash;<br />
+with your hidden ones?<a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">He.</span> I can see you.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">She.</span> Even though you are still,<br />
+and calm, and smooth,<br />
+and lovely outside&mdash;<br />
+you aren't still and calm<br />
+and smooth and lovely inside?<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Lovely, yes&mdash;but not still and calm and smooth!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Which way are you looking? What do you see?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I look at you. I see you.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> And if that fool of a servant&mdash;oh, Manikin&mdash;suppose she should
+break the future&mdash;our great, happy centuries ahead&mdash;by dropping me,
+throwing me down?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I should take an immediate step off this everlasting shelf&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> But you cannot move!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> The good wind would give me a blow!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Now you're a punster! And what would your fragments do?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> They would do what Manikin did.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Say that again!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> They'd do what Manikin did....</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Shall I tell you something?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Tell me something.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Are you listening?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> With my inner ears.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> I wasn't jealous of that woman&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> You weren't jealous?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> I wanted to hear you talk&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> You wanted to hear me talk?<a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> You talk so wonderfully!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Do I, indeed? What a booby I am!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> And I wanted to hear you say&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> You cheat, you idler, you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Woman&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Dissembler!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Minikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Everlastingly?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Everlastingly.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Say it again!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I refuse&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> You refuse?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Well&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Well?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> You have ears outside your head&mdash;I'll say that for you&mdash;but they'll
+never hear&mdash;what your other ears hear!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Say it&mdash;down one of the ears&mdash;outside my head?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I refuse.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> You refuse?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> Leave me alone.</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin?</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">He.</span> I can't say it!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">She.</span> Manikin!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The clock goes on ticking for a moment. Its mellow chimes strike
+the hour.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+WHITE DRESSES<br />
+<small>(<span class="smcap">A Tragedy of Negro Life</span>)</small><br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+PAUL GREENE</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>White Dresses</i> is reprinted by special permission of Professor
+Frederick H. Koch. Copyrighted by the Carolina Playmakers, Inc., Chapel
+Hill, North Carolina. For permission to produce, address Frederick H.
+Koch, director.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="PAUL_GREENE" id="PAUL_GREENE"></a>PAUL GREENE</p>
+
+<p>Paul Greene, one of the most promising of the University of North
+Carolina Playmakers, was born in 1894 on a farm near Lillington, North
+Carolina. He has received his education at Buies Creek Academy and at
+the University of North Carolina, from which he received his bachelor's
+degree in 1921. He saw service with the A. E. F. in France, with the
+105th United States Engineers.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to <i>White Dresses</i>, Mr. Greene has written a number of
+one-act plays: <i>The Last of the Lowries</i> (to be included in a
+forthcoming volume of Carolina Folk-Plays, published by Henry Holt &amp;
+Company), <i>The Miser</i>, <i>The Old Man of Edenton</i>, <i>The Lord's Will</i>,
+<i>Wreck P'int</i>, <i>Granny Boling</i> (in <i>The Drama</i> for August-September,
+1921). The first three plays named above were produced originally by the
+Carolina Playmakers at Chapel Hill.</p>
+
+<p><i>White Dresses</i> is an excellent example of folk-play of North Carolina.
+This play was written in English 31, the course in dramatic composition
+at the University of North Carolina conducted by Professor Frederick H.
+Koch. "The Aim of the Carolina Playmakers," says Professor Koch, "is to
+build up a genuinely native drama, a fresh expression of the folk-life
+in North Carolina, drawn from the rich background of local tradition and
+from the vigorous new life of the present day. In these simple plays we
+hope to contribute something of lasting value in the making of a new
+folk-theatre and a new folk-literature."</p>
+
+<p>Out of the many conflicts of American life, past and present, Mr. Greene
+sees possibilities for a great native drama. <i>White Dresses</i> presents a
+fundamental aspect of the race problem in America.<a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">CHARACTERS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Candace Mclean</span>, <i>an old negro woman</i>, <span class="smcap">Mary's</span> <i>aunt</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mary Mclean</span>, <i>a quadroon girl, niece of</i> <span class="smcap">Candace</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Jim Matthews</span>, <i>Mary's lover</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Henry Morgan</span>, <i>the landlord, a white man</i></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a></p>
+
+<h2><a name="WHITE_DRESSES" id="WHITE_DRESSES"></a>WHITE DRESSES</h2>
+
+<p class="hang">TIME: <i>The evening before Christmas, 1900</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>The scene is laid in a negro cabin, the home of</i> <span class="smcap">Candace</span>
+<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mary Mclean</span>, <i>in eastern North Carolina</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>In the right corner of the room is a rough bed covered with a
+ragged counterpane. In the centre at the rear is an old bureau with
+a cracked mirror, to the left of it a door opening to the outside.
+In the left wall is a window with red curtains. A large chest
+stands near the front on this side, and above it hang the family
+clothes, several ragged dresses, an old bonnet, and a cape. At the
+right, toward the front, is a fireplace, in which a small fire is
+burning. Above and at the sides of the fireplace hang several pots
+and pans, neatly arranged. Above these is a mantel, covered with a
+lambrequin of dingy red crape paper. On the mantel are bottles and
+a clock. A picture of "Daniel in the Lion's Den" hangs above the
+mantel. The walls are covered with newspapers, to which are pinned
+several illustrations clipped from popular magazines. A rough table
+is in the centre of the room. A lamp without a chimney is on it.
+Several chairs are about the room. A rocking-chair with a rag
+pillow in it stands near the fire. There is an air of cleanliness
+and poverty about the whole room.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The rising of the curtain discloses the empty room. The fire is
+burning dimly.</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>enters at the rear, carrying several
+sticks of firewood under one arm. She walks with a stick, and is
+bent with rheumatism. She is dressed in a slat bonnet, which hides
+her face in its shadow, brogan shoes, a<a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a> man's ragged coat, a
+checkered apron, a dark-colored dress. She mumbles to herself and
+shakes her head as she comes in. With great difficulty she puts the
+wood on the fire, and then takes the poker and examines some
+potatoes that are cooking in the ashes. She takes out her snuff-box
+and puts snuff in her lip. As she does this her bonnet is pushed
+back, and in the firelight her features are discernible&mdash;sunken
+eyes, high cheek-bones, and big, flat nose. Upon her forehead she
+wears a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>She sits down in a rocking-chair, now and then putting her hand to
+her head, and groaning as if in pain. She turns and looks
+expectantly toward the door. After a moment she hobbles to the
+chest on the right and takes out an old red crocheted fascinator.
+Shivering she wraps it around her neck and stands looking down in
+the chest. She lifts out a little black box and starts to unfasten
+it, when the door suddenly opens and</i> <span class="smcap">Mary McLean</span> <i>comes in</i>. <span class="smcap">Aunt
+Candace</span> <i>puts the box hastily back into the chest, and hurries to
+the fire</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Mary Mclean</span> <i>has a "turn" of collards in one arm and a paper bundle
+in the other. She lays the collards on the floor near the window
+and puts her shawl on the bed. She is a quadroon girl about
+eighteen years old, with an oval face and a mass of fine dark hair,
+neatly done up. There is something in her bearing that suggests a
+sort of refinement. Her dress is pitifully shabby, her shoes
+ragged. But even this cannot hide the lines of an almost perfect
+figure. For a negro she is pretty. As she comes up to the fire her
+pinched lips and the tired expression on her face are plainly
+visible. Only her eyes betray any signs of excitement.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Aunt Candace.</span> Honey, I's been a-waitin' foh you de las' two hours. My
+haid's been bad off. Chile, whah you been? Miss Mawgin must a had a
+pow'ful washin' up at de big house.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>opens her hand and shows her a five-dollar bill</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. De Lawd help my life, chile!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. An' look here what Mr. Henry sent you, too. [<i>She undoes the
+bundle, revealing several cooked sweet potatoes, sausages, spareribs,
+and some boiled ham.</i>] He said as 'twas Christmas time he sent you this
+with the collards there.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She points toward the collards at the window.</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>pays
+little attention to the food as</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>places it in her lap, but
+continues to look straight into</i> <span class="smcap">Mary's</span> <i>face. The girl starts to
+give her the money, but she pushes her away.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Excitedly.</i>] Whah'd you git dat, honey? Whah'd you git
+it? Mr. Henry ain't never been dat kind befo'. Dey ain't no past
+Christmas times he was so free wid 'is money. He ain't de kind o' man
+foh dat. An' he a-havin' 'is washin' done on Christmas Eve. [<i>Her look
+is direct and troubled.</i>] Chile, Mr. Hugh didn't give you dat money, did
+he?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Still looking in the fire.</i>] Aunty, I ain't said Mr. Henry sent
+you this money. Yes'm, Mr. Hugh sent it to you. I done some washin' for
+him. I washed his socks and some shirts&mdash;pure silk they was. [<i>She
+smiles at the remembrance.</i>] An' he give me the money an' tole me to
+give it to you&mdash;said he wished he could give you somethin' more.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She hands the money to</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span>, <i>who takes it quickly</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Help my soul an' body! De boy said dat! Bless 'is soul! He
+ain't fo'got 'is ol' aunty, even if he ain't been to see 'er since he
+come back from school way out yander. De Lawd bless 'im! Allus was a
+good boy, an' he ain't changed since he growed up nuther. When I useter
+nuss 'im he'd never whimper, no suh. Bring me de tin box, honey. An'
+don't notice what I's been sayin'. I spects I's too perticler 'bout you.
+I dunno.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>goes to the bureau and gets a tin box. She puts the money in
+it, returns it, and lights the lamp.</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace<a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a></span> <i>takes off her
+bonnet and hangs it behind her on the rocking-chair. Then she
+begins to eat greedily, now and then licking the grease off her
+fingers. Suddenly she utters a low scream, putting her hands to her
+head and rocking to and fro. She grasps her stick and begins
+beating about her as if striking at something, crying out in a loud
+voice.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Ah-hah, I'll git you! I'll git you!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>goes to her and pats her on the cheek</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. It's your poor head, ain't it, aunty? You rest easy, I'll take
+care of you. [<i>She continues to rub her cheek and forehead until the
+spell passes.</i>] Set still till I git in a turn of light-wood. It's goin'
+to be a terrible cold night an' looks like snow.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>After a moment</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>quiets down and begins eating
+again</i>. <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>goes out and brings in an armful of wood which she
+throws into the box. She takes a bottle and spoon from the mantel,
+and starts to pour out some medicine.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. I's better now, honey. Put it back up. I ain't gwine take
+none now. D'ain't no use ... d'ain't no use in dat. I ain't long foh dis
+world, ain't long. I's done my las' washin' an' choppin' an' weighed up
+my las' cotton. Medicine ain't no mo' good.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. You're allus talkin' like that, aunty. You're goin' to live to be
+a hundred. An' this medicine&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. I ain't gwine take it, I say. No, suh, ain't gwine be
+long. I's done deef. I's ol' an' hipshot now. No, suh, I don't want no
+medicine. [<i>Childishly.</i>] I's got a taste o' dese heah spareribs an'
+sausages, an' I ain't gwine take no medicine. [<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>puts the bottle and
+spoon back on the mantel and sits down</i>. <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>stops eating and
+looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Mary's</span> <i>dreaming face</i>.] Honey, what makes you look like dat?
+[<i>Excitedly.</i>] Mr. Henry ain't said ... he ain't said no mo' 'bout us
+havin' to leave, has he?<a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Looking up confusedly.</i>] No'm, he ... no'm, he said ... he said
+to-day that he'd 'bout decided to let us stay right on as long as we
+please.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Huh, what's dat?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. He said it might be so we could stay right on as long as we
+please.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Joyously.</i>] Thank de Lawd! Thank de Lawd! I knowed he's
+gwine do it. I knowed. But I's been pow'ful feared, chile, he's gwine
+run us off. An' he ain't never liked Mr. Hugh's takin' up foh us. But
+now I c'n rest in peace. Thank de Lawd, I's gwine rest my bones rat whah
+I loves to stay till dey calls foh me up yander. [<i>Stopping.</i>] Has you
+et?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes'm, I et up at Mr. Henry's. Mr. Hugh ... [<i>hesitating</i>] he said
+'twas a shame for me to come off without eatin' nothin' an' so I et.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>becomes absorbed in her eating</i>. <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>goes to the
+chest, opens it, and takes out a faded cloak and puts it on. Then
+she goes to the bureau, takes out a piece of white ribbon, and ties
+it on her hair. For a moment she looks at her reflection in the
+mirror. She goes to the chest and stands looking down in it. She
+makes a movement to close it. The lid falls with a bang.</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt
+Candace</span> <i>turns quickly around</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. What you want, gal? You ain't botherin' de li'l box, is
+you?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Coming back to the fire.</i>] Botherin' that box! Lord, no, I don't
+worry about it no more ... I'm just dressin' up a little.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Ah-hah, but you better not be messin' 'round de chist too
+much. You quit puttin' you' clothes in dere. I done tol' you. What you
+dressin' up foh? Is Jim comin' round to-night?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She wraps up the remainder of her supper and puts it in the
+chimney corner.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Not noticing the question.</i>] Aunty, don't I look a little bit
+like a white person?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Taking out her snuff-box.</i>] Huh, what's dat?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I don't look like a common nigger, do I?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Lawd bless you, chile, you's purty, you is. You's jes' as
+purty as any white folks. You's lak yo' mammy what's dead an' gone.
+Yessuh, you's her very spit an' image, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [<i>Lowering
+her voice.</i>] Yes, suh, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [<i>They both look in the
+fire.</i>] 'Bout time foh Jim to be comin', ain't it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes'm, he'll be comin', I reckon. They ain't no gittin' away from
+him an' his guitar.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. <i>What</i> you got agin Jim? Dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim.
+He's gwine treat you white, an' it's time you's gittin' married. I's
+done nussin' my fust chile at yo' age, my li'l Tom 'twas. Useter sing to
+'im. [<i>Pausing.</i>] Useter sing to 'im de sweetest kin' o' chunes, jes'
+lak you, honey, jes' lak you. He's done daid an' gone do'. All my babies
+is. De Marster he call an' tuck 'em. An' 'druther'n let 'em labor an'
+sweat below, he gi'n 'em a harp an' crown up dere. Tuck my ol' man from
+'is toil an' trouble, too, an' I's left heah alone now. Ain't gwine be
+long do', ain't gwine be long. [<i>Her voice trails off into silence. All
+is quiet save for the ticking of the clock.</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>brushes her
+hand across her face, as if breaking the spell of her revery</i>.] Yessuh,
+I wants you to git married, honey. I told you, an' told you. We's lived
+long enough by ourselves. I's lak to nuss yo' li'l uns an' sing to 'em
+fo' I go. Mind me o' de ol' times.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Lost in abstraction, apparently has not been listening.</i>] Aunty,
+you ought to see him now. He's better to me than he ever was. He's as
+kind as he can be. An' he wears the finest clothes! [<i>She stares in the
+fire.</i></p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Dat he do. Dey ain't no 'sputin' of it. I<a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a> allus said he's
+de best-lookin' nigger in de country. An' dey ain't nobody kinder'n Jim.
+No, suh.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. An' to-day he said 'twas a pity I had to work an' wash like a
+slave for a livin'. He don' treat me like I was a nigger. He acts like
+I'm white folks. Aunty, you reckon ...</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Gazing at her with a troubled look of astonishment.</i>] I
+knows it, honey, I knows it. Course dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim an'
+I wants you to marry Jim. He's awaitin' an' ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Vehemently.</i>] I ain't talkin' 'bout Jim. What's Jim? He ain't
+nothin'.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Guessing at the truth, half rises from her seat.</i>] What
+you mean? Huh! What you talkin' 'bout?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Wearily sitting down.</i>] Nothin', aunty, jes' talkin'.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Jes' talkin'? Chile ... chile ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Aunty, did you ever wish you was white?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Troubled.</i>] Laws a mercy! Huh! White! Wish I's white?
+Lawdy, no! What I want to be white foh? I's born a nigger, an' I's gwine
+die a nigger. I ain't one to tear up de work o' de Lawd. He made me an'
+I ain't gwine try to change it. What's in yo' haid, chile? [<i>Sadly.</i>]
+Po' thing, don't do dat. Yo' po' mammy useter talk lak dat ... one
+reason she ain't livin' to-day. An' I ain't done prayin' foh 'er nuther.
+Chile, you git such notions ra't out'n yo' haid. [<i>She shakes her head,
+groaning.</i>] Oh, Lawdy! Lawdy! [<i>Then, screaming, she puts her hands to
+her head. She grasps her stick and begins striking about her,
+shrieking.</i>] Dey's after me! Dey's after me! [<i>She continues beating
+around her.</i>] Open de do'! Open de do'!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>puts her arms around her and tries to soothe her, but she
+breaks away from her, fighting with her stick. Then</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>runs and
+opens the door, and</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>drives the imaginary devils
+out</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. They're gone now, they're gone.<a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She closes the door and leads her back to her seat.</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span>
+<i>sits down, mumbling and groaning. The spell passes and the wild
+look dies from her face.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Looking up.</i>] I's had another spell, ain't I, honey?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes'm, but you're all right now.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She pours out some medicine and gives it to her.</i></p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Some dese days I's gwine be carried off by 'em, chile; I's
+ol' an' po'ly, ol' an' po'ly now. Dem debbils gwine git me yit.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She mumbles.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. No, they ain't, aunty. I ain't goin' to let 'em.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>There is a knock at the door, and stamping of feet.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. What's dat?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Nothin'. Somebody at the door. [<i>The low strumming of guitar is
+heard.</i>] That's Jim. Come in!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Jim Matthews</span> <i>enters. He is a young negro about twenty-two years
+old, and as black as his African ancestors. He carries a guitar
+slung over his shoulders, wears an old derby hat, tan shirt with a
+dark tie, well-worn blue suit, the coat of which comes to his
+knees, and tan shoes, slashed along the sides to make room for his
+feet. As he comes in he pulls off his hat and smiles genially,
+showing his white teeth. With better clothes he might call himself
+a spo't.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. Good even', ladies.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>He lays his derby an the bed.</i></p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Turning around in her chair.</i>] What does he say?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. He says good evenin'.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. <i>Ah</i>-hah! Good even', Jim. Take a seat. I's sho glad you
+come. Mary's been talkin' 'bout you. [<i>He smiles complacently.</i>] We's
+sho glad you come.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He takes a seat between</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. Yes'm. An' I's sho glad to be wid you all. I's allus glad to be wid
+de ladies.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. What's he say?<a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a></p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. [<i>Louder.</i>] I's glad to be wid you all.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Ah-hah! [<span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>pulls out a large checkered handkerchief
+from his breast-pocket, wipes his forehead, and then flips the dust from
+his shoes. He folds it carefully and puts it back in his pocket.</i>] Any
+news, Jim?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. No'm, none 'tall. Any wid you?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Hah? No, nothin' 'tall, 'ceptin' Mr. Henry done said ...
+said ...</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Here she groans sharply and puts her hand to her head.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. What's that she's sayin'? [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>continues groaning</i>.]
+Still havin' them spells, is she, Miss Mary?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Yes, she has 'em about every night.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Making a movement as if to go to</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span>. <i>She stops and stares
+in the fire.</i></p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Ne' min' me. I's all right now. An' you chillun go on wid
+yo' cou'tin'. I's gwine peel my 'taters.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Raking the potatoes from the ashes, she begins peeling them. Then
+she takes a piece of sausage from the package in the corner.</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span>
+<i>smiles sheepishly and strums his guitar once or twice. He moves
+his chair nearer to</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>. <i>She moves mechanically from him, still
+gazing in the fire.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. Er ... Miss Mary, you's lookin' 'ceedin' snatchin' wid dat white
+ribbon an' new cloak. I's glad to see you thought I's comin' 'round.
+Yes'm, I tells all de gals you got 'em beat a mile. [<i>He stops.</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>
+<i>pays no attention to him</i>.] From here slam to France an' back, I ain't
+seed no gals lak you. Yes'm, dat's what I tells 'em all, an' I oughta
+know, kaze I's an ol' road nigger. I's seen de world, I has. But I's
+tired of 'tall, an' I wants to settle down ... an' ... you knows me....
+[<i>He stops and fidgets in his chair, strums his guitar, feels of his
+necktie, takes out his handkerchief and wipes his forehead.</i>] Miss Mary,
+I's ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Jim, I done tol' you, you needn't come messin' 'round here. I
+ain't lovin' you. I ain't goin' to marry&mdash;nobody, never!<a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a></p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. [<i>Taken aback.</i>] Now, Miss Mary ... er ... honey. I knows jas' how
+you feels. It's kaze I been a rounder, but you'll hadder forgive me. An'
+I's gwine 'form, I is. I's quit all dem tother gals, near 'bout broke
+dey hearts, but I hadder do it. Dey's only one foh me, you know. To-day
+I's talkin' to dat young feller, Hugh Mawgin, an' ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Hugh what! What you sayin', Jim Matthews! Mr. Hugh, you mean.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. [<i>Hurriedly.</i>] Yes'm, I said "Mr. Hugh." Didn't you hear me, Miss
+Mary?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. What'd you say to him?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. I told 'im I's callin' 'round here 'casionally, an' he said ... he
+...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Looking straight at</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span>.] He said what?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. He axed me if I's a-courtin', an' I told 'im I mought ... er ... be
+...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Go on; tell me. Did he say I ought to marry you?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. [<i>Eagerly.</i>] Yes'm.... [<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>gasps</i>.] No'm, not ezzactly.... He
+said as how it was a pity you had nobody to take care o' you, an' had to
+work so hard lak a slave every day. An' he said you's most too purty an'
+good to do it. An' I tuck from 'is talk dat he meant he thought you's
+good enough foh me, an' wanted me to take care o' you, so's you wouldn't
+hadder work.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. <i>Oh!...</i> Yes, I reckon so.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She is silent.</i></p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. He's a eddicated boy, an' he knows. Dey teaches 'im how to know
+everything out yander at dat college place. He sees my worf', he does.
+Co'se I ain't braggin', but de gals all do say ... oh, you know what dey
+says.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Jumping up from her chair.</i>] Jim Matthews, you think I'd marry a
+... oh, I'd ...</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Turning around.</i>] What's you sayin', gal?<a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Sittin' down.</i>] Oh, aunty! I ... I ... was just askin' Jim to
+play a piece. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>in a lower voice</i>.] For the Lord's sake play
+somethin'....</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She hides her face in her apron.</i></p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Ah-hah.... Play us a piece on yo' box, Jim.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Jim</span>, <i>at a loss as to the meaning of</i> <span class="smcap">Mary's</span> <i>tears, but feeling
+that they are somehow a further proof of his power with the ladies,
+smiles knowingly, tunes his guitar, and begins strumming a chord.
+After playing a few bars, he starts singing in a clear voice, with
+"Ohs" and "Ahs" thrown in.</i></p></div>
+
+<p class="hangg">
+<span class="smcap">Jim.</span> Oh, whah you gwine, my lover?<br />
+Gwine on down de road.<br />
+Oh, whah you gwine, my lover?<br />
+Gwine on down de road.<br />
+(<i>Bass</i>) Gwine ... on ... gwine on down de road.<br />
+<br />
+She th'owed her arms aroun' me<br />
+An' cast me silver an' gold.<br />
+Said, "Whah you gwine, my lover?"<br />
+Gwine on down de road.<br />
+(<i>Bass</i>) Oh, Lawd! ... Oh, Lawd!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Gwine ... on ... down ... de ... road.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>still leans forward, with her face in her hands</i>. <span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>stops
+playing and speaks softly</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. Miss Mary, I's sho' sorry I made you cry. Honey, I don't want you
+to cry 'bout me lak dat ...</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She remains silent. He smiles in self-gratulation, but utters a
+mournful sigh for her benefit. Pulling his guitar further up on his
+lap, he takes out his pocket-knife, fits it between his fingers in
+imitation of the Hawaiians, clears his throat and strikes another
+chord.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Noticing the silence, looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>.]<a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a> What's de
+trouble wid you, gal? What's de trouble, chile? Oh, Lawdy me! [<i>Passing
+her hand across her forehead.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Raising her head.</i>] Nothin', nothin'. I'm tickled at Jim. [<i>To</i>
+<span class="smcap">Jim</span>.] Go on, play her piece about the hearse. Play it!</p>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">Jim.</span> [<i>Strums his guitar, tunes it, and begins.</i>]<br />
+Hearse done carried somebody to de graveyard.<br />
+&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lawd, I know my time ain't long.<br />
+Hearse done carried somebody to de graveyard.<br />
+&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lawd, I know my time ain't long.<br />
+[<i>He sings louder, syncopating with his feet.</i>]<br />
+Preacher keeps a-preachin' an' people keep a-dyin'.<br />
+&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Lawd, I know my time ain't long.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>begins swaying rhythmically with the music, clapping
+her hands, and now and then exclaiming</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Jesus! Lawdy, my Lawd!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She and</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>begin to sing alternately, she the first verse and</i>
+<span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>the refrain. While this is going on</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>, <i>unobserved, goes
+to the window, pulls open the curtain and looks out, stretching her
+clenched hands above her head. She turns to the mirror, smooths
+back her heavy hair, shakes her head, snatches off the ribbon and
+throws it on the floor. Then she pulls off her cloak and lays it on
+the bed. She picks up the ribbon and puts it in the bureau.
+Meanwhile the music has continued.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>Hammer keep ringin' on somebody's coffin.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. <i>Lawd</i>, I know my time ain't long.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They repeat these lines.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. <i>Gwine</i> roll 'em up lak leaves in de judgment.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. Lawd, I know my time ain't long.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>After these lines have been repeated</i>, <span class="smcap">Jim</span>, <i>noticing</i> <span class="smcap">Mary's</span>
+<i>absence from his side, stops and looks around</i>. <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span>
+<i>keeps on singing a verse or two. She stops and<a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a> looks around,
+seas</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>standing in an attitude of despair</i>. <span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>speaks</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. Miss Mary!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. What is it, honey?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>There is a stamping of feet outside.</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>raises her head with
+an expectant look an her face. She runs to the door and opens it.
+Her expression changes to one of disappointment and fear as</i> <span class="smcap">Henry
+Morgan</span> <i>enters. He is a man of powerful build, about fifty years
+old, rough and overbearing. A week's growth of grizzled beard
+darkens his face. He wears a felt hat, long black overcoat, ripped
+at the pockets and buttoned up to his chin, big laced boots, and
+yarn mittens. In his hand he carries a package, which he throws
+contemptuously on the bed. He keeps his hat on.</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>closes the
+door and stands with her back to it, clasping the latch-string</i>.
+<span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>offer their seats</i>. <span class="smcap">Jim's</span> <i>look is one of
+servile respect, that of Aunt Candace one of troubled expectancy</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>In a booming voice.</i>] Dad burn you, Jim. Still a-courtin', eh?
+Set down, Candace. I ain't goin't to stay long.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Querulously.</i>] What's he say?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Coming to the centre of the room.</i>] He says for you to set down.
+He ain't goin' to stay long.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Sitting down.</i>] Ah-hah ... Oh, Lawdy! Lawdy!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Coming closer to</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span>.] How you gettin' 'long now,
+Candace?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Po'ly, po'ly, Mr. Mawgin. Ain't got much longer down here,
+ain't much longer.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Laughing.</i>] Aw come on, Candace, cut out your foolin'. You
+ain't half as bad off as you make out. [<span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>moves his chair to the
+corner and sits down</i>.] I understand you. If you'd git up from there an'
+go to work you'd be well in a week.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Oh, Lawd, Mr. Mawgin, I sho' is po'ly! I hopes you'll
+never have to suffer lak me.<a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Mumbling, she shakes her head, rocks to and fro without taking
+her feet from the floor, punctuating her movements by tapping with
+her stick.</i> <span class="smcap">Morgan</span> <i>sees</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>looking at the package</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. That's for Mary. I was comin' down this way an' caught up with
+John. He said he was comin' here to bring it. An' so I took an' brought
+it, though he acted sort of queer about it, like he didn't want me even
+to save him a long walk. Wonder what that nigger can be givin' you.
+[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>starts toward the bed</i>.] No, you ain't goin' to see it now, gal.
+We got a little business to 'tend to first. Did you tell Candace what I
+said?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Mr. Morgan, how could I?... I couldn't do it, not to-night.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. Uh-huh ... I knowed it. Knowed I'd better come down here an'
+make sure of it. Durn me, you been cryin', ain't you? [<i>His voice
+softens.</i>] What's the trouble, gal?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Nothin', nothin'. I ... I been tickled at Jim.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. Tickled at Jim?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. What does he say?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Turning to her.</i>] Keep quiet, can't you, Candace; I got a
+little business with Mary. [<span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>becomes silent and begins
+watching the package. She half starts from her chair, then settles back,
+staring hard at the bundle.</i> <span class="smcap">Morgan</span> <i>speaks to</i> <span class="smcap">Mary.</span>] You ain't been
+cryin' about what I told you this evenin', have you?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. No, sir. I was tickled at Jim. It wan't nothin', honest it wan't.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. Well, go on lyin' if you want to.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Mr. Morgan, I was jes' ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. No matter. [<i>Brusquely.</i>] Well, what you goin' to do about what
+I said? [<i>He looks at her squarely.</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>watches them both with open
+mouth</i>. <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>keeps staring at the bundle on the bed, and now
+and then glancing around to see if any<a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a> one is watching her. She is
+oblivious of the conversation.</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>stands with bowed head</i>.] Well,
+what about it? I've done told you you got to get out at the first o' the
+year if you ain't a mind to marry Jim. [<span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>straightens up</i>.] At least
+you've got to marry somebody that can come here and work. I told you to
+tell Candace to look out for it. Why didn't you tell her like I said?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I couldn't do it. It'd kill her to leave here. You know it. She's
+been good to me all my life. Oh, I can't do it.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>stealthily slips across the room and picks up the
+package from the bed, unseen by any one but</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. Can't do it? Well, what you want me to do? Lose money on you
+till the end of time! You ain't earned enough to keep you in clothes for
+the last three years since Candace got down, an' ...</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>A terrible cry rings out.</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>stands by the bed,
+holding a white dress up before her</i>. <span class="smcap">Morgan</span> <i>looks perplexed.
+Suddenly he starts back in astonishment.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Starting forward.</i>] It's for me! [<i>Joyously.</i>] It's mine!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Catching</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>by the arm</i>.] What&mdash;what is it?... Heigh!
+Don't you move, gal! Wait a minute!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He pulls her back.</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Morgan</span>. <i>Gradually he
+lowers his head.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. I's a-feared on it. I knowed it ... I knowed it. [<i>She
+throws the dress back on the bed and hobbles to the fire, groaning.</i>]
+Oh, Lawdy! Oh, Lawdy! My po' li'l gal! My po' li'l gal!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She rocks to and fro.</i> <span class="smcap">Morgan's</span> <i>hand falls from</i> <span class="smcap">Mary's</span>
+<i>shoulder, and she runs to the bed</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. He sent it to me! He sent it to me! I knowed he wouldn't forget.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She hugs the dress to her.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Turning to her.</i>] Well, and what nigger's sending<a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a> you
+presents now? [<i>With suspicion fully aroused.</i>] Who give you that, Mary!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. He did!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Sternly.</i>] Who?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Impetuously.</i>] It was him! An' I don't care if you do know it!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. Who? You don't mean ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I do too&mdash;an' ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. God a'mighty, my ... it can't be so.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>goes to the window and holds the dress in front of her</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. It is, too. Mr. Hugh sent it to me. [<span class="smcap">Morgan</span> <i>groans</i>.] He told me
+to-day he's sorry for me. I knowed he'd remember me; I knowed it. An',
+after all, I ain't been workin' the whole year for nothin'. He's got a
+heart if nobody else ain't.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. What in the devil! I wonder ... Lord!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>still looks in the fire. For a moment</i> <span class="smcap">Morgan</span>
+<i>stands lost in abstraction, then he speaks fiercely</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. Mary, put them damned things up. Put 'em up, I say. [<i>He goes
+toward her. She shrinks back; holding the dress to her. He snatches it
+from her and throws it on the bed, then he pushes her out in the middle
+of the floor. She wipes the tears from her eyes with her apron.</i>] You
+listen here, gal. We're goin' to settle it right here and now, once and
+for all. You're goin' to marry Jim?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Mr. Morgan ... oh ... I can't marry him. I can't! I won't! Let me
+stay. Don't drive her out; she'll die. I'll work, I'll hoe an' wash, day
+an' night. I'll do anything, I'll ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Fiercely.</i>] You've tole me that a thousand times, an' you've
+got to say one or the other right now. Right now! Do you hear! Marry
+Jim, I tell you, and it'll be all right. He's smart and he'll take care
+of you ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. I can't do it, I tell you. I can't! I'd rather die. Look at me.
+Ain't I almost white? Look at him. He's black<a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a> and I hate him. I can't
+marry no nigger. Oh, don't make me do it.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. White! What's that got to do with your marryin'? Ain't you a
+...? You don't think you can marry a white man, do you? I tell you
+you've got to decide to-night. I've been after you now for two years
+and, gal, you've got to do it!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Don't make me do it! I hate him. I ain't black. Oh, Lord!...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Desperately.</i>] Candace!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Clutching at his arm.</i>] Don't tell her. I ain't goin' to see her
+drove out in the cold from her home. Don't tell her.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>still looks in the fire</i>. <span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>sits lost in
+amazement, idly strumming his guitar</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. Well?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Looking wildly around, as if seeking help.</i>] Oh!...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Wiping his face.</i>] Gal, I don't want to be too hard on you.
+But use common sense. I've been good to you. They ain't another man in
+the county that would have kept you for the last three years, an' losin'
+money on you every year. I'm done of it, gal, I'm done. Marry Jim.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. He wouldn't let you do it if he was here. He wouldn't.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. Who? Who you talkin' about?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Mr. Hugh, your boy. He's got feelin's, he has. If he was here ...</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Hoarsely.</i>] I know it. I know it. Don't you see? He's all I
+got. I can't run the risk of his ... Oh, Mary, I can't tell you. For
+God's sake, marry Jim. Can't you see? You've got to marry him! Hugh's
+gone off for a week, an' I'm goin' to settle it before he ever gets
+back. And when he gets back, you and Candace will be clean out of this
+country, if you don't marry Jim. They ain't nobody else 'round here will
+take you in, and keep you like I have.<a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a></p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. Where ... where's he gone?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. He's gone to see his gal. The one he's going to marry. And by
+God, you've got to marry Jim.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. [<i>Half sobbing.</i>] They ain't no use tryin' to change it. I've
+tried and tried, but they ain't no use. I jus' as well do it. Yes, yes,
+I'll marry him. I'll marry him. They ain't no way to be white. I got to
+be a nigger. I'll marry him, yes. I'll marry him, an' work an' hoe an'
+wash an' raise more children to go through it all like me, maybe other
+children that'll want to be white an' can't. They ain't nobody can help
+me. But look at him. [<i>Pointing to</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span>.] He's a nigger an' ... yes ...
+I'm a nigger too.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She throws her arms out, letting them fall at her side.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Almost gently.</i>] All right, Mary ... I'll send for the
+preacher and the license in the morning and have him marry you and Jim
+right here. You needn't think about leavin' any more. And you and Jim
+can live here as long as you please. Is that all right, Jim?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. [<i>Uncertainly.</i>] Yes-suh, yes-suh, Mr. Mawgin! An' I thanks you
+'specially.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ORGAN</small>. [<i>Going up to</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span>.] Mary and Jim are going to be
+married to-morrow, Candace. It'll be a lucky day for you. [<i>She makes no
+answer, but continues her trancelike stare in the fire.</i> <span class="smcap">Morgan</span> <i>comes
+to</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>and offers his hand. She fails to see it.</i>] Child, what I've
+had to do to-night has hurt me a whole lot worse'n you.... Good-night,
+Mary.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He stands a moment looking at the floor, then goes out quietly.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>IM</small>. [<i>Coming up to</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>.] Miss Mary, don't look lak dat. I's gwine do
+better, I's.... [<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>keeps her head muffled in her apron</i>.] Honey, I's
+sho' gwine make you a good man.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>pays no attention to him. In his embarrassment he strums his
+guitar, clears his throat, props his foot up on a chair rung, and
+begins singing in a low voice.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span class="smcap">Jim.</span> Lyin' in the jail house,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.75em;">A-peepin' th'ough de bars...</span>.
+</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. [<i>Waking from her reverie.</i>] Bring me de li'l black box,
+gal. Bring me de box! [<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>drops her apron and stares dully at the
+floor</i>.] Bring me de box! [<i>Half-screaming.</i>] Bring me de box, I say!
+[<i>Trembling and groaning, she stands up.</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>goes to the chest and
+brings her the black box</i>. <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>drops her stick and clutches
+it</i>.] I's gwine tell you de secret o' dis li'l box. Yo' mammy told me to
+tell you if de time ever come, an' it's come. She seed trouble an' our
+mammy befo' us. [<i>She takes a key, tied by a string around her neck, and
+unlocks the box, pulling out a wrinkled white dress, yellowed with age,
+of the style of the last generation.</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>sits down, overcome with
+astonishment, staring at the old woman with open mouth</i>.] Look heah,
+chile. I's gwine tell you now. Nineteen yeahs ago come dis Christmas
+dey's a white man gi'n your mammy dis heah, an' dat white man is kin to
+you, an' he don't live fur off nuther. Gimme dat dress dere on de bed.
+[<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>gets it and holds it tightly to her breast</i>. <span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span>
+<i>snatches at it, but</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>clings to it</i>.] Gimme dat dress!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ARY</small>. It's mine!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>UNT</small> C<small>ANDACE</small>. Gimme! [<i>She jerks the dress from</i> <span class="smcap">Mary</span>. <i>Hobbling to the
+fireplace, she lays both of them carefully on the flames.</i> <span class="smcap">Jim</span> <i>makes a
+movement as if to save them, but she waves him back with her stick</i>.]
+Git back, nigger! Git back! Dis night I's gwine wipe out some o' de
+traces o' sin. [<span class="smcap">Mary</span> <i>sits in her chair, sobbing. As the dresses burn</i>
+<span class="smcap">Aunt Candace</span> <i>comes to her and lays her hand upon her head</i>.] I knows
+yo' feelin's, chile. But yo's got to smother 'em in. Yo's got to smother
+'em in.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+MOONSHINE<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+ARTHUR HOPKINS</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>Moonshine</i> is reprinted by special permission of Arthur Hopkins,
+Plymouth Theatre, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission to
+perform, address the author.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="ARTHUR_HOPKINS" id="ARTHUR_HOPKINS"></a>ARTHUR HOPKINS</p>
+
+<p>Arthur Hopkins, one of the well-known men of the practical theatre of
+to-day, was born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1878. He completed his academic
+training at Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio. At present he
+is the manager of Plymouth Theatre, New York City.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hopkins's entire life has been given to the theatre, which is his
+hobby. In the midst of his various activities as a manager he has found
+time to do some dramatic writing. Among his one-act plays are <i>Thunder
+God</i>, <i>Broadway Love</i>, and <i>Moonshine</i>, which appeared in the <i>Theatre
+Acts Magazine</i> for January, 1919.</p>
+
+<p><i>Moonshine</i> is an excellent play of situation that has grown out of the
+reaction of character on character.<a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">CHARACTERS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Luke Hazy</span>, <i>Moonshiner</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Revenue Officer</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+<p><a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a></p>
+
+<h2>MOONSHINE</h2>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>Hut of a moonshiner in the mountain wilds of North
+Carolina. Door back left. Window back right centre. Old deal table
+right centre. Kitchen chair at either side of table, not close to
+it. Old cupboard in left corner. Rude stone fireplace left side. On
+back wall near door is a rough pencil sketch of a man hanging from
+a tree.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>At rise of curtain a commotion is heard outside of hut.</i></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Off stage.</i>] It's all right, boys.... Jist leave him to me....
+Git in there, Mister Revenue.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Revenue</span>, <i>a Northerner in city attire, without hat, clothes dusty,
+is pushed through doorway</i>. <span class="smcap">Luke</span>, <i>a lanky, ill-dressed Southerner,
+following, closes door</i>. <span class="smcap">Revenue's</span> <i>hands are tied behind him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. You must excuse the boys for makin' a demonstration over you,
+Mister Revenue, but you see they don't come across you fellers very
+frequent, and they allus gits excited.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I appreciate that I'm welcome.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. 'Deed you is, and I'm just agoin' to untie your hands long nuff
+fer you to take a sociable drink. [<i>Goes to stranger, feels in
+all-pockets for weapons.</i>] Reckon yer travellin' peaceable. [<i>Unties
+hands.</i>] Won't yer sit down?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>Drawing over chair and sitting.</i>] Thank you. [<i>Rubs wrists to
+get back circulation.</i>]</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Going over to cupboard and taking out jug.</i>] Yessa, Mister, the
+boys ain't seen one o' you fellers fer near two years. Began to think
+you wus goin' to neglect us. I wus hopin' you might be Jim Dunn. Have a
+drink?<a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>Starts slightly at mention of</i> <span class="smcap">Jim Dunn</span>.] No, thank you, your
+make is too strong for me.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. It hain't no luck to drink alone when you git company. Better have
+some.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Very well, my friend, I suffer willingly.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Drinks a little and chokes.</i></p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Draining cup.</i>] I reckon ye all don't like the flavor of liquor
+that hain't been stamped.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. It's not so bad.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. The last Revenue that sit in that chair got drunk on my make.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. That wouldn't be difficult.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. No, but it wuz awkward.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Why?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I had to wait till he sobered up before I give him his ticker. I
+didn't feel like sendin' him to heaven drunk. He'd a found it awkward
+climbin' that golden ladder.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Thoughtful executioner.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. So you see mebbe you kin delay things a little by dallyin' with
+the licker.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>Picking up cup, getting it as far as his lips, slowly puts it
+down.</i>] The price is too great.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I'm mighty sorry you ain't Jim Dunn. But I reckon you ain't. You
+don't answer his likeness.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Who's Jim Dunn?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. You ought to know who Jim Dunn is. He's just about the worst one
+of your revenue critters that ever hit these parts. He's got four of the
+boys in jail. We got a little reception all ready for him. See that?</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Pointing to sketch on back wall.</i></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>Looking at sketch.</i>] Yes.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. That's Jim Dunn.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>Rising, examining picture.</i>] Doesn't look much like any one.<a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a></p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Well, that's what Jim Dunn'll look like when we git 'im. I'm
+mighty sorry you hain't Jim Dunn.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I'm sorry to disappoint you.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Turning to cupboard and filling pipe.</i>] Oh, it's all right. I
+reckon one Revenue's about as good as another, after all.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Are you sure I'm a revenue officer?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Rising.</i>] Well, since we ketched ye climin' trees an' snoopin'
+round the stills, I reckon we won't take no chances that you hain't.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Oh.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Say, mebbe you'd like a seggar. Here's one I been savin' fer quite
+a spell back, thinkin' mebbe I'd have company some day. [<i>Brings out
+dried-up cigar, hands it to him.</i></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. No, thank you.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. It hain't no luck to smoke alone when ye got company. [<i>Striking
+match and holding it to</i> <span class="smcap">Revenue</span>.] Ye better smoke. [<span class="smcap">Revenue</span> <i>bites off
+end and mouth is filled with dust, spits out dust</i>. <span class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>holds match to
+cigar. With difficulty</i> <span class="smcap">Revenue</span> <i>lights it</i>.] That's as good a five-cent
+cigar as ye can git in Henderson.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>After two puffs, makes wry face, throws cigar on table.</i>] You
+make death very easy, Mister.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Luke's my name. Yer kin call me Luke. Make you feel as though you
+had a friend near you at the end&mdash;Luke Hazy.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>Starting as though interested, rising.</i>] Not the Luke Hazy
+that cleaned out the Crosby family?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Startled.</i>] How'd you hear about it?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Hear about it? Why, your name's been in every newspaper in the
+United States. Every time you killed another Crosby the whole feud was
+told all over again. Why, I've seen your picture in the papers twenty
+times.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Hain't never had one took.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. That don't stop them from printing it. Don't you ever read the
+newspapers?<a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a></p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Me read? I hain't read nothin' fer thirty years. Reckon I couldn't
+read two lines in a hour.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. You've missed a lot of information about yourself.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. How many Crosbys did they say I killed?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I think the last report said you had just removed the twelfth.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. It's a lie! I only killed six ... that's all they wuz&mdash;growed up.
+I'm a-waitin' fer one now that's only thirteen.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. When'll he be ripe?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Jes as soon as he comes a-lookin' fer me.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Will he come?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. He'll come if he's a Crosby.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. A brave family?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. They don't make 'em any braver&mdash;they'd be first-rate folks if they
+wuzn't Crosbys.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. If you feel that way why did you start fighting them?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I never started no fight. My granddad had some misunderstandin'
+with their granddad. I don't know jes what it wuz about, but I reckon my
+granddad wuz right, and I'll see it through.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. You must think a lot of your grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Never seen 'im, but it ain't no luck goin' agin yer own kin. Won't
+ye have a drink?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. No&mdash;no&mdash;thank you.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Well, Mr. Revenue, I reckon we might as well have this over.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. What?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Well, you won't get drunk, and I can't be put to the trouble o'
+havin' somebody guard you.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. That'll not be necessary.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Oh, I know yer like this yer place now, but this evenin' you might
+take it into yer head to walk out.<a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I'll not walk out unless you make me.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Tain't like I'll let yer, but I wouldn't blame yer none if yu
+tried.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. But I'll not.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Rising.</i>] Say, Mistah Revenue, I wonder if you know what you're
+up against?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. What do you mean?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I mean I gotta kill you.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>Rising, pauses.</i>] Well, that lets me out.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. What do yu mean?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I mean that I've been trying to commit suicide for the last two
+months, but I haven't had the nerve.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Startled.</i>] Suicide?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Yes. Now that you're willing to kill me, the problem is solved.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Why, what d'ye want to commit suicide fer?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I just want to stop living, that's all.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Well, yu must have a reason.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. No special reason&mdash;I find life dull and I'd like to get out of
+it.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Dull?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Yes&mdash;I hate to go to bed&mdash;I hate to get up&mdash;I don't care for
+food&mdash;I can't drink liquor&mdash;I find people either malicious or dull&mdash;I
+see by the fate of my acquaintances, both men and women, that love is a
+farce. I have seen fame and preference come to those who least deserved
+them, while the whole world kicked and cuffed the worthy ones. The
+craftier schemer gets the most money and glory, while the fair-minded
+dealer is humiliated in the bankruptcy court. In the name of the law
+every crime is committed; in the name of religion every vice is
+indulged; in the name of education greatest ignorance is rampant.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I don't git all of that, but I reckon you're some put out.<a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I am. The world's a failure ... what's more, it's a farce. I
+don't like it but I can't change it, so I'm just aching for a chance to
+get out of it.... [<i>Approaching</i> <span class="smcap">Luke</span>.] And you, my dear friend, are
+going to present me the opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Yes, I reckon you'll get your wish now.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Good ... if you only knew how I've tried to get killed.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Well, why didn't you kill yerself?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I was afraid.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Afreed o' what&mdash;hurtin' yourself?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. No, afraid of the consequences.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Whad d'ye mean?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Do you believe in another life after this one?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I kan't say ez I ever give it much thought.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Well, don't&mdash;because if you do you'll never kill another Crosby
+... not even a revenue officer.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. 'Tain't that bad, is it?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Worse. Twenty times I've had a revolver to my head&mdash;crazy to
+die&mdash;and then as my finger pressed the trigger I'd get a terrible
+dread&mdash;a dread that I was plunging into worse terrors than this world
+ever knew. If killing were the end it would be easy, but what if it's
+only the beginning of something worse?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Well, you gotta take some chances.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I'll not take that one. You know, Mr. Luke, life was given to
+us by some one who probably never intended that we should take it, and
+that some one has something ready for people who destroy his property.
+That's what frightens me.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. You do too much worryin' to be a regular suicide.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Yes, I do. That's why I changed my plan.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. What plan?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. My plan for dying.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Oh, then you didn't give up the idea?<a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. No, indeed&mdash;I'm still determined to die, but I'm going to make
+some one else responsible.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Oh&mdash;so you hain't willing to pay fer yer own funeral music?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. No, sir. I'll furnish the passenger, but some one else must buy
+the ticket. You see, when I finally decided I'd be killed, I immediately
+exposed myself to every danger I knew.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. How?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. In a thousand ways.... [<i>Pause.</i>] Did you ever see an
+automobile?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. No.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. They go faster than steam engines, and they don't <i>stay</i> on
+tracks. Did you ever hear of Fifth Avenue, New York?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. No.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Fifth Avenue is jammed with automobiles, eight deep all day
+long. People being killed every day. I crossed Fifth Avenue a thousand
+times a day, every day for weeks, never once trying to get out of the
+way, and always praying I'd be hit.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. And couldn't yu git hit?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>In disgust.</i>] No. Automobiles only hit people who try to get
+out of the way. [<i>Pause.</i>] When that failed, I frequented the lowest
+dives on the Bowery, flashing a roll of money and wearing diamonds,
+hoping they'd kill me for them. They stole the money and diamonds, but
+never touched me.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Couldn't you pick a fight?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I'm coming to that. You know up North they believe that a man
+can be killed in the South for calling another man a liar.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. That's right.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. It is, is it? Well, I've called men liars from Washington to
+Atlanta, and I'm here to tell you about it.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. They must a took pity on ye.<a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Do you know Two Gun Jake that keeps the dive down in Henderson?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I should think I do.... Jake's killed enough of 'em.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. He's a bad man, ain't he?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. He's no trifler.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I wound up in Jake's place two nights ago, pretending to be
+drunk. Jake was cursing niggers.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. He's allus doin' that.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. So I elbowed my way up to the bar and announced that I was an
+expert in the discovery of nigger blood ... could tell a nigger who was
+63-64ths white.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Ye kin?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. No, I can't, but I made them believe it. I then offered to look
+them over and tell them if they had any nigger blood in them. A few of
+them sneaked away, but the rest stood for it. I passed them all until I
+got to Two Gun Jake. I examined his eyeballs, looked at his
+finger-nails, and said, "You're a nigger."</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. An' what did Jake do?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. He turned pale, took me into the back room. He said: "Honest to
+God, mister, can ye see nigger blood in me?" I said: "Yes." "There's no
+mistake about it?" "Not a bit," I answered. "Good God," he said, "I
+always suspected it." Then he pulled out his gun&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Eh ... eh?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. And shot <i>himself</i>.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Jake shot hisself!... Is he dead?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I don't know&mdash;I was too disgusted to wait. I wandered around
+until I thought of you moonshiners ... scrambled around in the mountains
+until I found your still. I <i>sat</i> on it and waited until you boys showed
+up, and here I am, and you're going to kill me.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Pause.</i>] Ah, so ye want us to do yer killin' fer ye, do ye?<a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. You're my last hope. If I fail this time I may as well give it
+up.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. [<i>Takes out revolver, turns sidewise and secretly removes
+cartridges from chamber. Rises.</i>] What wuz that noise?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Lays revolver on table and steps outside of door.</i> <span class="smcap">Revenue</span> <i>looks
+at revolver, apparently without interest</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>cautiously enters doorway and expresses surprise at seeing</i>
+<span class="smcap">Revenue</span> <i>making no attempt to secure revolver. Feigning excitement,
+goes to table, picks up gun.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I reckon I'm gettin' careless, leavin' a gun layin' around here
+that-a-way. Didn't you see it?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Yes.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Well, why didn't ye grab it?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. What for?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. To git the drop on me.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Can't you understand what I've been telling you, mister? I
+don't <i>want</i> the drop on you.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Well, doggone if I don't believe yer tellin' me the truth. Thought
+I'd just see what ye'd do. Ye see, I emptied it first.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Opens up gun.</i></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. That wasn't necessary.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Well, I reckon ye better git along out o' here, mister.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. You don't mean you're weakening?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I ain't got no call to do your killin' fer you. If ye hain't sport
+enough to do it yerself, I reckon ye kin go on sufferin'.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. But I told you why I don't want to do it. One murder more or
+less means nothing to you. You don't care anything about the hereafter.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Mebbe I don't, but there ain't no use my takin' any more chances
+than I have to. And what's more, mister, from what you been tellin' me I
+reckon there's a charm on you, and I ain't goin' to take no chances
+goin' agin charms.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. So <i>you're</i> going to go back on me?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Yes, siree.<a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a></p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Well, maybe some of the other boys will be willing. I'll wait
+till they come.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. The other boys ain't goin' to see you. You're a leavin' this yer
+place right now&mdash;now! It won't do no good. You may as well go peaceable;
+ye ain't got no right to expect us to bear yer burdens.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Damn it all! I've spoiled it again.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. I reckon you better make up yer mind to go on livin'.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. That looks like the only way out.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Come on, I'll let you ride my horse to town. It's the only one we
+got, so yu can leave it at Two Gun Jake's, and one o' the boys'll go git
+it, or I reckon I'll go over myself and see if Jake made a job of it.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. I suppose it's no use arguing with you.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Not a bit. Come on, you.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Well, I'd like to leave my address so if you ever come to New
+York you can look me up.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. 'Tain't likely I'll ever come to New York.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Well, I'll leave it, anyhow. Have you a piece of paper?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Paper what you write on? Never had none, mister.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. [<i>Looking about room, sees</i> <span class="smcap">Jim Dunn</span>'s <i>picture on wall, goes
+to it, takes it down</i>.] If you don't mind, I'll put it on the back of
+Jim Dunn's picture. [<i>Placing picture on table, begins to print.</i>] I'll
+print it for you, so it'll be easy to read. My address is here, so if
+you change your mind you can send for me.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. 'Tain't likely&mdash;come on. [<i>Both go to doorway</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>extends
+hand</i>, <span class="smcap">Revenue</span> <i>takes it</i>.] Good-by, mister&mdash;cheer up ... there's the
+horse.</p>
+
+<p>R<small>EVENUE</small>. Good-by. [<i>Shaking</i> <span class="smcap">Luke's</span> <i>hand</i>.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Don't be so glum, mister. Lemme hear you laff jist onct before yu
+go. [<span class="smcap">Revenue</span> <i>begins to laugh weakly</i>.] Aw, come on, laff out with it
+hearty. [<span class="smcap">Revenue</span> <i>laughs louder</i>.] Heartier yit.<a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Revenue</span> <i>is now shouting his laughter, and is heard laughing until
+hoof-beats of his horse die down in the distance</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Luke</span> <i>watches for a moment, then returns to table&mdash;takes a
+drink&mdash;picks up picture&mdash;turns it around several times before
+getting it right&mdash;then begins to study. In attempting to make out
+the name he slowly traces in the air with his index finger a
+capital "J"&mdash;then mutters "J-J-J," then describes a letter
+"I"&mdash;mutters "I-I-I," then a letter "M"&mdash;muttering "M-M-M,
+J-I-M&mdash;J-I-M&mdash;JIM." In the same way describes and mutters D-U-N-N.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>UKE</small>. Jim Dunn! By God! [<i>He rushes to corner, grabs shot-gun, runs to
+doorway, raises gun in direction stranger has gone&mdash;looks intently&mdash;then
+slowly lets gun fall to his side, and scans the distance with his hand
+shadowing his eyes&mdash;steps inside&mdash;slowly puts gun in corner&mdash;seats
+himself at table.</i>] Jim Dunn!&mdash;and he begged me to kill 'im!!</p>
+
+<p><a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+MODESTY<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+PAUL HERVIEU</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>Modesty</i> is reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark, the
+translator of the play from the French, and of Samuel French, publisher,
+New York City. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address
+Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="PAUL_HERVIEU" id="PAUL_HERVIEU"></a>PAUL HERVIEU</p>
+
+<p>Paul Hervieu, one of the foremost of contemporary French dramatists, was
+born in 1857 at Neuilly, near Paris. Although he prepared for the bar,
+having passed the examination at twenty, and practised his profession
+for a few years, he soon set to writing short stories and novels which
+appeared in the early eighties. <i>The Nippers</i>, in 1890, established his
+reputation as a dramatist. The remainder of his life was given to
+writing for the stage. In 1900 he was elected to the French Academy. He
+died October 15, 1915.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to <i>The Nippers</i>, Hervieu's best-known long plays are <i>The
+Passing of the Torch</i>, <i>The Labyrinth</i>, and <i>Know Thyself</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Modesty</i> is his well-known one-act play. In subtlety of technic and in
+delicacy of touch it is one of the finest examples of French one-act
+plays. Its humor and light, graceful satire are noteworthy.<a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">PERSONS IN THE PLAY</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Henriette</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Jacques</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center"><span class="smcap">Albert</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a></p>
+
+<h2><a name="MODESTY" id="MODESTY"></a>MODESTY</h2>
+
+<p class="hang">TIME: <i>The present.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>A drawing-room. Entrance</i>, C; <i>sofa, chairs, writing-desk.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Henriette</span> <i>enter</i> C, <i>from dinner</i>. <span class="smcap">Henriette</span> <i>in
+ball costume</i>, <span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>in evening dress. They come down</i> C.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. What is it? Is it so terribly embarrassing?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. You can easily guess.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. You're so long-winded. You make me weary&mdash;come to the point.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I'll risk all at a stroke&mdash;My dear Henriette, we are cousins. I
+am unmarried, you&mdash;a widow. Will you&mdash;will you be my wife?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Oh, my dear Jacques, what <i>are</i> you thinking of? We were such
+good friends! And now you're going to be angry.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Why?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Because I'm not going to give you the sort of answer you'd
+like.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. You don't&mdash;you don't think I'd make a good husband?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Frankly, no.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I don't please you?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. As a cousin you are charming; as a husband you would be quite
+impossible.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. What have you against me?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Nothing that you're to blame for. It is merely the fault of
+my character; <i>that</i> forces me to refuse you.<a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a></p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. But I can't see why you&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>With an air of great importance.</i>] A great change is taking
+place in the hearts of us women. We have resolved henceforward not to be
+treated as dolls, but as creatures of reason. As for me, I am most
+unfortunate, for nobody ever did anything but flatter me. I have always
+been too self-satisfied, too&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. You have always been the most charming of women, the most&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Stop! It's exactly that sort of exaggeration that's begun to
+make me so unsure of myself. I want you to understand once for all,
+Jacques, I have a conscience, and, furthermore, it is beginning to
+develop. I have taken some important resolutions.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. What <i>do</i> you mean?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I have resolved to better myself, to raise my moral and
+intellectual standards, and to do that I must be guided, criticised&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. But you already possess every imaginable quality! You are
+charitable, cultured, refined&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Annoyed.</i>] Please!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Turns away and sits on settee.</i> <span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>addresses her from
+behind chair</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. You are discreet, witty&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. The same old compliments! Everybody tells me that. I want to
+be preached to, contradicted, scolded&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. You could never stand <i>that</i>.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Yes, I could. I should be happy to profit by the criticism.
+It would inspire me.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I'd like to see the man who has the audacity to criticise you
+to your face&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. That is enough! I trust you are aware that you are not the
+person fit to exercise this influence over me?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. How could I? Everything about you pleases me. It can never be
+otherwise.<a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. How interesting! That's the very reason I rejected your
+proposal. I sha'n't marry until I am certain that I shall not be
+continually pestered with compliments and flattery and submission. The
+man who marries me shall make it his business to remind me of my
+shortcomings, to correct all my mistakes. He must give me the assurance
+that I am continually bettering myself.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. And this&mdash;husband&mdash;have you found him already?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. What&mdash;? Oh, who knows?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Perhaps it's&mdash;Albert?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Perhaps it is&mdash;what of it?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Really!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. You want me to speak frankly?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Of course.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Then&mdash;you wouldn't be annoyed if I said something nice about
+Albert?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>brings down</i> <span class="smcap">C.</span> <i>chair which is by desk, facing</i>
+<span class="smcap">Henriette</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Why, he's your friend!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Oh! So you, too, have a good opinion of him?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Certainly.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Well, what would you say of him?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>Trying to be fair.</i>] I'd trust him with money&mdash;I've never
+heard he was a thief.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. But in other ways?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>Still conscientious.</i>] I believe him to be
+somewhat&mdash;somewhat&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Wilful? Headstrong?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Um&mdash;uncultured, let us say.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. As you like&mdash;but for my part, I find that that air of his
+inspires absolute confidence. He knows how to be severe at times&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. You're mistaken about that; that's only simple brute force. Go
+to the Zoo: the ostrich, the boa constrictor, the rhinoceros, all
+produce the same effect on you as your Albert&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. My Albert? My Albert? Oh, I don't appropriate him so quickly
+as all that. His qualifications as censor are not yet entirely
+demonstrated.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>rises and approaches</i> <span class="smcap">Henriette</span>, <i>who maintains an air of
+cold dignity</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. For heaven's sake, Henriette, stop this nonsense!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. What nonsense?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Tell me you are only playing with me. That you only wanted to
+put my love to the test! To make me jealous! To torture me! You have
+succeeded. Stop it, for heaven's sake&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. My dear friend, I'm very sorry for you. I wish I could help
+you, but I cannot. I have given you a perfect description of the husband
+I want, and I am heart-broken that you bear so remote a resemblance to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Only promise you will think over your decision.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. It is better to stop right now.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Don't send me away like this. Don't&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I might give you false hopes. I have only to tell you that I
+shall never consent to be the wife of a man who cannot be the severest
+of censors.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>Kneeling.</i>] I beg you!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. No, no, no, Jacques! Spare me that. [<i>A telephone rings in
+the next room.</i>] There's the 'phone&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Don't go!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Henriette</span> <i>rises hastily and goes to door</i>. <span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>tries for a
+moment to stop her</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I must go. Go away, I tell you. I'll be furious if I find you
+here when I come back.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Henriette!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Coming down</i> L. <i>to table</i>.] Not now! Please, Jacques.
+[<i>Exit.</i>]</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I can't leave it that way. I am the husband who<a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a> will make her
+happy. But how? That is the question. [<i>Pause.</i>] Ah, Albert!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Albert</span>. <i>He shakes hands with</i> <span class="smcap">Jacques</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. How are you, rival?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>Gravely.</i>] My friend, we are no longer rivals.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. How's that?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I have just had a talk with Henriette; she refuses to marry
+either one of us.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Did she mention me?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Casually.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Both sit down</i>, <span class="smcap">Albert</span> <i>on sofa</i>, <span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>on chair near it</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. What did she say?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Oh, I wouldn't repeat it; it wouldn't be friendly.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. I <i>must</i> know.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Very well, then&mdash;she said that you had not succeeded&mdash;nor had
+I&mdash;to find the way to her heart. Between you and me, we've got a
+high-minded woman to deal with, a philosopher who detests flattery. It
+seems you have been in the habit of paying her compliments&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. I never pay compliments.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Whatever you did, she didn't like it. Moreover&mdash;since you want
+the whole truth&mdash;you seem to her a bit&mdash;ridiculous.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Pardon?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. The very word: ridiculous. She wants a husband who will act as
+a sort of conscience pilot. Evidently, you haven't appealed to her in
+that capacity.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Sometimes I used to be rather sharp with her&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. You did it too daintily, perhaps; you lacked severity. I'll
+wager you smiled, instead of scowled&mdash;that would have been fatal!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. I don't understand.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Henriette is a singular woman; to get her, you<a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a> have to tell
+her that you don't like her&mdash;her pride demands it. Tell her all her bad
+qualities, straight from the shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. [<i>Feeling himself equal to the task.</i>] Don't worry about that!
+[<i>Rises and walks about.</i>] I know women love to be told things straight
+out.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I'm not the man for that; nor are you, I suppose?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. No? Jacques, I'm awfully obliged to you; you've done me a good
+turn&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>, Don't mention it&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. You want to do me one more favor?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>Devotedly.</i>] Anything you like!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Promise me you'll never let Henrietta know that you told me
+this?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I promise; but why?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. You know she has to understand that my behavior toward her is in
+character. Natural, you see.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Oh, you're going at it strenuously.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. I am.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Your decision honors you.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Let's not have Henriette find us together. Would you mind
+disappearing?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. With pleasure. I'll look in later and get the news.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>rises</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Thanks, Jacques.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Good-by, Albert.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Exits after shaking hands cordially with</i> <span class="smcap">Albert</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Re-entering as</i> <span class="smcap">Albert</span> <i>assumes a rather severe attitude</i>.]
+How are you? [<i>Pause.</i>] Have you seen Jacques?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. [<i>With a determined air.</i>] No, Henriette. Thank God!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Why?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Because it pains me to see men in your presence whom you care
+nothing for.<a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Delighted.</i>] You don't like that?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Sitting down on sofa.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. No, I don't. And I'd like to tell you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. About my relations with Jacques?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Oh, he's not the only one.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Heaps of others, I suppose?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. [<i>Sits on chair near sofa.</i>] You suppose correctly; heaps.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Really?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. You are a coquette.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. You think so?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. I am positive.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I suppose I displease you in other ways, too?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. In a great many other ways.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Really delighted.</i>] How confidently you say that!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. So much the worse if you don't like it!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Quite the contrary, my dear Albert; you can't imagine how you
+please me when you talk like that. It's perfectly adorable.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. It makes very little difference to me whether I please you or
+not. I speak according to my temperament. Perhaps it is a bit
+authoritative, but I can't help <i>that</i>.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. You are superb.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Oh, no. I'm just myself.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Oh, if you were only the&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. I haven't the slightest idea what you were about to say, but
+I'll guarantee that there's not a more inflexible temper than mine in
+Paris.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I can easily believe it. [<i>Pause.</i>] Now tell me in what way
+you think I'm coquettish.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Sitting on edge of sofa in an interested attitude.</i> <span class="smcap">Albert</span> <i>takes
+out cigarette, lights and smokes it</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. That's easy; for instance, when you go to the theatre, to a
+reception, to the races. As soon as you arrive the men flock about in
+dozens; those who don't know you come to be introduced. You're the
+talking-stock of society. Now I should be greatly obliged if you would
+tell me to what you attribute this notoriety?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Modestly.</i>] Well, I should attribute it to the fact that I
+am&mdash;agreeable, and pleasant&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. There are many women no less so.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Summoning up all her modesty to reply.</i>] You force me to
+recognize the fact&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. And I know many women fully as pleasant as you who don't flaunt
+their favors in the face of everybody; <i>they</i> preserve some semblance of
+dignity, a certain air of aloof distinction that it would do you no harm
+to acquire.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>With a gratitude that is conscious of its bounds.</i>] Thanks,
+thanks so much. [<i>Drawing back to a corner of the sofa.</i>] I am deeply
+obliged to you&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Not at all.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. In the future I shall try to behave more decorously.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Another thing&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>The first signs of impatience begin to appear.</i>] What?
+Another thing to criticise?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. A thousand! [<i>Settling himself comfortably.</i></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Well, hurry up.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. You must rid yourself of your excessive and ridiculous
+school-girl sentimentality.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I wonder just on what you base your statement. Would you
+oblige me so far as to explain that?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. With pleasure. I remember one day in the country you were in
+tears because a <i>poor</i> little mouse had fallen into the claws of a
+<i>wretched</i> cat; two minutes later you were sobbing because the <i>poor</i>
+cat choked in swallowing the <i>wretched</i> little mouse.<a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. That was only my kindness to dumb animals. Is it wrong to be
+kind to dumb animals?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She is about to rise when</i> <span class="smcap">Albert</span> <i>stops her with a gesture</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. That would be of no consequence, if it weren't that you were of
+so contradictory a nature that you engage in the emptiest, most
+frivolous conversations, the most&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Slightly disdainful.</i>] Ah, you are going too far! You make
+me doubt your power of analysis. I am interested only in noble and high
+things&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. And yet as soon as the conversation takes a serious turn, it's
+appalling to see you; you yawn and look bored to extinction.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. There you are right&mdash;partly.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. You see!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Sharp and even antagonistic.</i>] Yes, I have that unfortunate
+gift of understanding things before people have finished explaining
+them. While the others are waiting for the explanation, I can't wait,
+and I fly on miles ahead&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Hm&mdash;that sounds probable; I sha'n't say anything more about that
+just now. But while I'm on the subject, I have more than once noticed
+that you are guilty of the worst vice woman ever possessed&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. And what, if you please?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Vanity.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I vain? Oh, you're going too far!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. [<i>Unruffled.</i>] Not a word! Every time I tell you a fault, you
+twist it round to your own advantage. Whereas you are really worse&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Rising and gathering her skirts about her with virtuous
+indignation.</i>] You are rude! I suppose you would find fault with me if I
+considered myself more polite than the person whom I have the honor to
+address?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. I hope you don't intend that remark as personal.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I certainly do.<a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She crosses to the other side of the stage and sits down.</i> <span class="smcap">Albert</span>
+<i>rises and goes up to her</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Henriette! No! [<i>Laughing.</i>] I see your trick.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. What do you mean?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. You can't deceive me by pretending to be angry. You wanted to
+see whether I could withstand your temper. Let us now proceed to the
+next chapter: your manner of dressing.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Now really outraged.</i>] My manner of dressing? You dare!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Henriette</span> <i>crosses</i> L. <i>Front</i>, <span class="smcap">Albert</span> <i>following her</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Yes, that will be enough for to-day&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. And then you'll begin again to-morrow!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Yes.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. And do you think for one minute that I'll listen to you while
+you insult me to my face? <i>You</i> are the vain one, to think you can come
+to that! <i>You</i> are the frivolous one, <i>you</i> are the&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. [<i>Slightly perturbed.</i>] Be careful what you say!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I'll take care of that. Let me tell you that you are a
+detestable cynic. You are disgustingly personal; always dwelling on
+details, on the least&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Which is as much as calling me a fool?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Just about. You would be if you didn't read your morning
+paper regularly; so regularly that I know in advance exactly what you
+are going to say to me during the day.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Why not call me a parrot?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. That would flatter you, for you don't speak as well as a
+parrot; a parrot's memory never gets clouded, a parrot has at least the
+common politeness to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. [<i>Between his teeth.</i>] I won't stand for this. I wonder how you
+could have endured me so long if you thought me such a fool.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I believed you harmless.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Are you aware that you have wounded me cruelly?<a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. <i>You</i> have wounded <i>me</i>. Thank heaven, though, we had this
+discussion! Now I'll know how to conduct myself toward you in the
+future.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Thank heaven for the same thing! It was high time! I grieve to
+think that only last night I had fully made up my mind to ask you to be
+my wife!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. My dear friend, if you ever do so, I shall show you the door
+immediately.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>hurriedly</i>. <span class="smcap">Henriette</span> <i>runs to him as for
+protection</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. What's all this noise? What's the matter?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Oh, Jacques&mdash;I'm so glad you've come.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Just in time! You put an end to our pleasant little tête-à-tête.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. But what's happened?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Well, monsieur here&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. No, it was mademoiselle who&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Henriette</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Albert</span> <i>each take an arm of</i> <span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>and bring
+him down-stage</i> C. <i>His attention is constantly shifting from one
+to the other, as they address him in turn.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Just think, Jacques&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Jacques, she had the audacity to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Stop! I'm going to tell him first&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. You're both too excited to explain anything. Albert, you take a
+little stroll and cool off.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. [<i>Retreating toward the door.</i>] Charmed.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Then I can draw a free breath.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Albert</span>.] I'll fix up things while you're away.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. [<i>To both.</i>] I won't give in.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Neither will I.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Tut, tut!</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LBERT</small>. Good-day, mademoiselle.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Good-day.<a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a></p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Good-day, Albert.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Albert</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Thank goodness, we're rid of him!</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>Sympathetically.</i>] Tell me all about it.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>Sits down on sofa, inviting</i> <span class="smcap">Jacques</span> <i>by a gesture to do
+the same. He sits beside her.</i>] That man invented the most abominable
+things about me; criticised me to my face!</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. He did!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. It was so ridiculous&mdash;makes me sick to think about it.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. My dear Henriette, don't think about it. Albert must have
+behaved like a brute to make you so angry.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Yes, don't you think so? <i>You</i> think I'm right?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>Loyally.</i>] Of course I do.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>At her ease once more.</i>] You encourage me, Jacques.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. When I saw you were angry I said to myself at once: "Henriette
+is right."</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Really?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I said it because I knew you were by nature peace-loving and
+considerate&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>With profound conviction.</i>] Well, I think that's the least
+that could be said of me.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. In any event, you are always tactful, you always&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. <i>You</i> know me, Jacques!</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I flatter myself. I felt instinctively you couldn't be wrong.
+You have always been so admirably poised, so unfailingly considerate.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>With perfect simplicity.</i>] Frankly now, do I ever lose my
+temper with you?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>In good faith.</i>] Never. With me you are always patient,
+gracious, modest&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. But I remember, a little while ago, I made you suffer&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Yes, I was unhappy. But "if after every storm comes such a
+calm"&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. It was all my fault. You understand me; you are truly a
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Nothing more?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Rising, but standing near her.</i> <span class="smcap">Henriette</span> <i>blushingly looks down
+at her shoe</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Oh&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Prove that you mean that sincerely.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. What have I to do? [<i>Same business.</i></p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Place your future in my hands; marry me.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. [<i>With downcast eyes.</i>] I was just thinking about it. [<i>Same
+business, but with repressed joy.</i></p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>About to embrace her.</i>] Ah!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Wait!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Complete metamorphosis. Her joy is still present, but it has
+taken on a playful, serio-comic aspect. Rising and putting her hand
+in his.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Why do you hesitate?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Jacques, do you remember what I told you not long ago?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Yes.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. In spite of that, are you quite sure that I am not vain or
+coquettish?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I am certain.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. You are also firmly resolved to be my moral guide, critic,
+helper?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>Stolid as ever.</i>] I am.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. I make one condition.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. Name it.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. On your word of honor?</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. On my word of honor. Tell me.<a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Will you swear to tell me, without pity, every time you find
+me at fault? Swear.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. I swear.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ENRIETTE</small>. Then you have my promise.</p>
+
+<p>J<small>ACQUES</small>. [<i>As they embrace.</i>] Dearest!</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+THE DEACON'S HAT<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+JEANNETTE MARKS</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>The Deacon's Hat</i> is reprinted by special arrangement with Miss
+Jeannette Marks and with Little, Brown and Company, Boston, the
+publisher of <i>Three Welsh Plays</i>, from which this play is taken. All
+rights reserved. For permission to perform address the author in care of
+the publisher.</p></div>
+
+<p><a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="JEANNETTE_MARKS" id="JEANNETTE_MARKS"></a>JEANNETTE MARKS</p>
+
+<p>Jeannette Marks, well-known essayist, poet, and playwright, was born in
+1875 at Chattanooga, Tennessee, but spent her early life in
+Philadelphia, where her father, the late William Dennis Marks, was
+professor of dynamics in the University of Pennsylvania and president of
+the Edison Electric Light Company. She attended school in Dresden, and
+in 1900 was graduated from Wellesley College. She obtained her master's
+degree from Wellesley in 1903. Her graduate studies were continued at
+the Bodleian Library and at the British Museum. Since 1901 she has been
+on the staff of the English Department at Mount Holyoke College, South
+Hadley, Massachusetts. Her chief courses are Nineteenth Century Poetry
+and Play-writing.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Marks's interest in Welsh life is the result of her hiking several
+summers among the Welsh hills and valleys. She became intimately
+acquainted with Welsh peasant life. It is said that Edward Knobloch,
+well-known dramatist, on one of her homeward voyages from one of her
+summer outings in Wales, pointed out to Miss Marks the dramatic
+possibilities of the material she had thus acquired. <i>Three Welsh Plays</i>
+was the result. Two of these plays, without the author's knowledge, were
+entered in 1911 for the Welsh National Theatre prize contest. To her
+credit, the plays won the prize. The complete volume appeared in 1917.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Deacon's Hat</i> is a fine study of the life of the common folk of
+Wales.<a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">CHARACTERS</td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Deacon Roberts</span>, <i>a stout, oldish Welshman</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Hugh Williams</span>, <i>an earnest, visionary young man who owns Y Gegin</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Neli Williams</span>, <i>his capable wife</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Jones</span>, <i>the Wash, a stout, kindly woman who wishes to buy soap</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Jenkins</span>, <i>the Midwife, after pins for her latest baby</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Tom Morris</span>, <i>the Sheep, who comes to buy tobacco and remains to pray</i><a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_DEACONS_HATI" id="THE_DEACONS_HATI"></a>THE DEACON'S HAT<a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size:50%;">[I]</span></a></h2>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>A little shop called Y Gegin (The Kitchen), in Bala, North
+Wales.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang">TIME: <i>Monday morning at half-past eleven.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>To the right is the counter of Y Gegin, set out with a bountiful
+supply of groceries; behind the counter are grocery-stocked
+shelves. Upon the counter is a good-sized enamel-ware bowl filled
+with herring pickled in brine and leek, also a basket of fresh
+eggs, a jar of pickles, some packages of codfish, a half dozen
+loaves of bread, a big round cheese, several pounds of butter
+wrapped in print paper, etc., etc.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>To the left are a cheerful glowing fire and ingle.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>At the back center is a door; between the door and the fire stands
+a grandfather's clock with a shining brass face. Between the clock
+and the door, back centre, is a small tridarn [Welsh dresser] and a
+chair. From the rafters hang flitches of bacon, hams, bunches of
+onions, herbs, etc. On either side of the fireplace are latticed
+windows, showing a glimpse of the street. Before the fire is a
+small, round, three-legged table; beside it a tall, straight-backed
+chair.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Between the table and left is a door which is the entrance to Y
+Gegin and from which, on a metal elbow, dangles a large bell.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>At rise of curtain Hugh Williams enters at back centre, absorbed
+in reading a volume of Welsh theological essays. He is dressed in a
+brightly striped vest, a short, heavy cloth coat, cut away in front
+and with lapels trimmed with brass buttons, swallowtails<a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a> behind,
+also trimmed with brass buttons, stock wound around his neck, and
+tight trousers down to his boot-tops.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Neli Williams, his wife, a comely, capable young woman, busy with
+her knitting every instant she talks, is clad in her market
+costume, a scarlet cloak, and a tall black Welsh beaver. Over her
+arm is an immense basket.</i></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Commandingly.</i>] Hughie, put down that book!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Still going on reading.</i>] Haven't I just said a man is his own
+master, whatever!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Hughie, ye're to mind the shop while I'm gone!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Patiently.</i>] Yiss, yiss.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. I don't think ye hear a word I am sayin' whatever.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Yiss, I hear every word ye're sayin'.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. What is it, then?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Weakly.</i>] 'Tis all about&mdash;about&mdash;the&mdash;the weather whatever!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Ye've not heard a word, an' ye're plannin' to read that book from
+cover to cover, I can see.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>A little too quickly.</i>] Nay, I have no plans....</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He tucks book away in back coat pocket over-hastily.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Hugh!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Weakly.</i>] Nay, I <i>have</i> no plans whatever!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Reproachfully.</i>] Hugh&mdash;<i>ie</i>! 'Twould be the end of sellin'
+anythin' to anybody if I leave ye with a book whatever! Give me that
+book!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Obstinately.</i>] Nay, I'll no read the book.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Give me that book!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Rising a little.</i>] Nay. I say a man is his own master whatever!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Finding the book hidden in his coat-tail pocket.</i>] Is he? Well,
+I'll no leave ye with any masterful temptations to be readin'.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Ye've no cause to take this book away from me.<a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a></p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Opens book and starts with delight.</i>] 'Tis Deacon Roberts's new
+book on "The Flamin' Wickedness of Babylon." Where did ye get it?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Reassured by her interest.</i>] He lent it to me this morning.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Resolutely.</i>] Well, I will take it away from ye this noon till I
+am home again whatever!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Sulkily.</i>] Sellin' groceries is not salvation. They sold
+groceries in Babylon; Deacon Roberts says so.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Looking at book with ill-disguised eagerness.</i>] I dunno as
+anybody ever found salvation by givin' away all he had for nothin'! 'Tis
+certain Deacon Roberts has not followed that way.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Still sulkily.</i>] A man is his own master, I say.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Absent-mindedly, her nose in the book.</i>] Is he? Well, indeed!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Crossly.</i>] Aye, he is. [<i>Pointedly.</i>] An' I was not plannin' to
+give away the book whatever.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Closing volume with a little sigh, as for stolen delights, and
+speaking hastily.</i>] An' I am not talkin' about acceptin' books, but
+about butter an' eggs an' cheese an' all the other groceries!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Aye, ye'll get no blessin' from such worldliness.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Absent-mindedly.</i>] Maybe not, but ye will get a dinner from that
+unblessed worldliness an' find no fault, I'm thinkin'. [<i>Her hand
+lingering on the book, which she opens.</i>] But such wonderful theology!
+An' such eloquence! Such an understandin' of sin! Such glowin' pictures
+of Babylon!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Aye, hot! I tell ye, Neli, there's no man in the parish has such a
+gift of eloquence as Deacon Roberts or such theology. In all Wales ye'll
+not find stronger theology than his.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Ye have no need to tell me that! [<i>Looking for a place in which to
+hide the book until she returns.</i>] Have I not a deep an' proper
+admiration for theology? Have I not had one minister<a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a> an' five deacons
+an' a revivalist in my family, to say nothin' at all of one composer of
+hymns?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Yiss, yiss. Aye, 'tis a celebrated family. I am no sayin' anythin'
+against your family.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Then what?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Pleadingly.</i>] Deacon Roberts has great fire with which to save
+souls. We're needin' that book on Babylon's wickedness. Give it back to
+me, Neli!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Oh, aye! [<i>Looks at husband.</i>] I'm not sayin' but that ye are
+wicked, Hugh, an' needin' these essays, for ye have no ministers and
+deacons and hymn composers among your kin.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Triumphantly.</i>] Aye, aye, that's it! That's it! An' the more
+need have I to read till my nostrils are full of the smoke of&mdash;of
+Babylon.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Absent-mindedly tucking book away on shelf as she talks.</i>] Aye,
+but there has been some smoke about Deacon Roberts's reputation which
+has come from some fire less far away than Babylon.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. What smoke?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Evasively.</i>] Well, I am thinkin' about my eggs which vanished
+one week ago to-day. There was no one in that mornin' but Deacon
+Roberts. Mrs. Jones the Wash had come for her soap an' gone before I
+filled that basket with eggs.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Watching her covertly, standing on tiptoe and craning his neck
+as she stows away book.</i>] Yiss, yiss!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Slyly.</i>] Ask Deacon Roberts if cats steal eggs whatever?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Repeating.</i>] If cats steal eggs, if cats steal eggs.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Aye, not if eggs steal cats.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Craning neck.</i>] Yiss, yiss, if eggs steal cats!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Hugh&mdash;<i>ie</i>! Now ye'll never get it correct again! 'Tis if cats
+steal eggs.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Sulkily.</i>] Well, I'm no carin' about cats with heaven starin' me
+in the face.<a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>turns about swiftly with the quick, sudden motions
+characteristic of her, and</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>shrinks into himself. She shakes
+her finger at him and goes over to kiss him.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Hughie, lad, ye're not to touch the book while I am gone to
+market.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Nay, nay, certainly not!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. And ye're to be on the lookout for Mrs. Jones the Wash, for Mrs.
+Jenkins the Midwife&mdash;Jane Elin has a new baby, an' it'll be needin'
+somethin'. [<i>Pointing to counter.</i>] Here is everythin' plainly marked.
+Ye're no to undersell or give away anythin.' D'ye hear?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Aye, I hear!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. An' remember where the tobacco is, for this is the day Tom Morris
+the Sheep comes in.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Aye, in the glass jar.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Good-by. I will return soon.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Indifferently.</i>] Good-by.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>leaves by door at back centre. Immediately</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>steals
+toward the shelves where she hid the book</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Thrusting head back in.</i>] Mind, Hughie lad, no readin'&mdash;nay, not
+even any theology!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Stepping quickly away from shelves and repeating parrotlike.</i>]
+Nay, nay, no readin', no sermons, not even any theology!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. An' no salvation till I come back!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She smiles, withdraws head, and is gone.</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>starts forward,
+collides clumsily with the counter in his eagerness, knocks the
+basket of eggs with his elbow, upsetting it. Several eggs break. He
+shakes his head ruefully at the mess and as ruefully at the
+counter. He finds book and hugs it greedily to him.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Mournfully.</i>] Look at this! What did I say but that there was no
+salvation sellin' groceries! If Neli could but see those eggs! [<i>He goes
+behind counter and gets out a box of<a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a> eggs, from which he refills the
+basket. The broken eggs he leaves untouched upon the floor. He opens his
+volume of sermons and seats himself by a little three-legged table near
+the fire. He sighs in happy anticipation. Hearing a slight noise, he
+looks suspiciously at door, gets up, tiptoes across floor to street
+door, and locks it quietly. An expression of triumph overspreads his
+face.</i>] Da, if customers come, they will think no one is at home
+whatever, an' I can read on! [<i>He seats himself at little three-legged
+table, opens volume, smooths over its pages lovingly, and begins to read
+slowly and halting over syllables.</i>] The smoke of Ba-by-lon was
+hot&mdash;scorchin' hot. An' 'twas filled with Ba-ba-ba-baal stones, slimy
+an' scorchin' hot also&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>There is the sound of feet coming up the shop steps, followed by
+a hand trying the door-knob.</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>looks up from his sermons, an
+expression of innocent triumph on his face. The door-knob is tried
+again, the door rattled.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Then some one rings the shop door-bell.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Calling.</i>] Mrs. Williams, mum, have ye any soap?
+[<i>No answer. Calling.</i>] Mrs. Williams! Mrs. Williams!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>nods approvingly and lifts his volume to read</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. Where are they all whatever? I will just look in at
+the window, [<i>A large, kindly face is anxiously flattened against the
+window. At that</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>drops in consternation under the three-legged
+table</i>.] Uch, what's that shadow skippin' under the table? No doubt a
+rat after the groceries. Mrs. Williams, mum, Mrs. Williams! Well,
+indeed, they're out.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She pounds once more on the door with a heavy fist, rings, and
+then goes. Suddenly the door back centre opens, and</i> <span class="smcap">Neli Williams</span>
+<i>appears</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>She does not see</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>and peers around for him</i>.] What is all
+that bell-ringing about?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>crawls out from under the table</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Hush, she's gone!<a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a></p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Amazed, and whispering to herself.</i>] Under the table!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Rising and putting up his hand as a sign for her to keep
+silent.</i>] Nay, 'twas Mrs. Jones the Wash come to buy her soap whatever!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Aye, well, why didn't she come in whatever?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Whispering.</i>] I locked the door, Neli, so I could finish readin'
+those essays whatever! An' then she looked in at the window, an' I had
+to get under the table.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Indignantly.</i>] Locked the door against a customer, an' after all
+I said! An' crawled under a table! Hugh Williams, your wits are goin'
+quite on the downfall!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>In a whisper.</i>] Aye, but Neli, those essays&mdash;an' I thought ye
+had gone to market.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. I had started, but I came back for my purse. Put down that book!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Aye, but, Neli&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Angrily.</i>] Much less of heaven an' much more of earth is what I
+need in a husband! Ye have sent away a customer; very like Mrs. Jones
+the Wash after soap will go elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Aye, but Neli....</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Steps are heard approaching.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Get up! Some one is coming.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>gets up very unwillingly</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Whispering still.</i>] Aye, but Neli....</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Angrily.</i>] Put down that book, I say! [<i>She crunches over some
+eggshells.</i>] Eggs? Broken?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Putting down book.</i>] Aye, Neli, my elbow an' the eggs in
+Babylon....</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Sarcastically.</i>] Aye, I see beasts in Babylon here
+together&mdash;doleful creatures smearin' one an' sixpence worth of eggs all
+over the floor. An' a half-dozen eggs gone last week. [<i>Wiping up
+eggs.</i>] An' I'm to suppose Babylon had something to do with that
+half-dozen eggs, too? They were put in the<a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a> basket after Mrs. Jones the
+Wash had left whatever, an' before Deacon Roberts came.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Neli, I did not say&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Still angrily.</i>] Well, indeed, unlock that door!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Going to unlock door.</i>] But, Neli....</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Disappearing through door back centre.</i>] Not a word! Your mind
+has gone quite on the downfall&mdash;lockin' doors against your own bread and
+butter an' soap.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Unlocking door sullenly.</i>] But, Neli, salvation an' soap....</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Snappily.</i>] Salvation an' soap are as thick as thieves.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. But, Neli, a man is his own master.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Yiss, I see he is!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>goes out, slamming door noisily</i>.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Dear anwyl, she seems angry!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>opens street door left just as</i> <span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>goes out through
+kitchen, by door back centre</i>. <span class="smcap">Deacon Roberts</span> <i>enters the door</i>
+<span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>has unlocked. He looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>, <i>smiles, and goes over to
+counter in a businesslike way. He is a stout man, dressed in a
+black broadcloth cutaway coat, tight trousers, a drab vest, high
+collar and stock, woollen gloves, a muffler wound about his neck
+and face, and a tall Welsh beaver hat. Under his arm he carries a
+book.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Speaking affectionately, pulling off his gloves,
+putting down book on counter, and beginning eagerly to touch the various
+groceries.</i>] Essays on Babylon to-day, Hughie lad?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Looking about for</i> <span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>and speaking fretfully</i>.] Nay.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Unwinding his muffler.</i>] Ye look as if ye had been in
+spiritual struggle.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Drearily.</i>] I have.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. Well, indeed, Hughie, 'tis neither the angel nor the
+archfiend here now, nor for me any struggle except the struggle to both
+live an' eat well&mdash;ho! ho! <i>an'</i> eat well, I say<a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a>&mdash;in Bala. [<i>Laughs
+jovially.</i>] Ho! ho! not bad, Hughie lad&mdash;live <i>an'</i> eat in Bala!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Patiently.</i>] With that muffler around your head, deacon, ye are
+enough to frighten the devil out of Babylon.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Unwinding last lap of muffler.</i>] Yiss, yiss, Hughie
+lad. But I dunno but ye will understand better if I call myself, let us
+say the angel with the sickle&mdash;ho! ho!&mdash;not the angel of fire, Hughie,
+but the angel with the sharp sickle gatherin' the clusters of the vines
+of the earth. [<i>Sudden change of subject.</i>] Where is Neli?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Vacantly.</i>] I dunno&mdash;yiss, yiss, at market.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Chuckling.</i>] Dear, dear, at market&mdash;a fine day for
+marketing! An' my essays on the Flamin' Wickedness of Babylon, Hughie
+lad, how are they? Have ye finished them?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Nay, not yet.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Looking over counter, touching one article after
+another as he mentions it.</i>] Pickled herrin'&mdash;grand but wet!
+Pickles&mdash;dear me, yiss, Neli's&mdash;an' good! Butter from
+Hafod-y-Porth&mdash;sweet as honey! [<i>He picks up a pat of butter and sniffs
+it, drawing in his breath loudly. He smiles with delight and lays down
+the butter. He takes off his hat and dusts it out inside. He puts his
+hat back on his head, smiles, chuckles, picks up butter, taps it
+thoughtfully with two fingers, smells it and puts down the pat
+lingeringly. He lifts up a loaf of</i> <span class="smcap">Neli Williams's</span> <i>bread, glancing
+from it to the butter</i>.] Bread! Dear me! [<i>His eyes glance on to
+codfish.</i>] American codfish [<i>picks up package and smacks his lips
+loudly</i>], dear <i>anwyl</i>, with potatoes&mdash;[<i>reads</i>] "Gloucester." [<i>Reaches
+out and touches eggs affectionately.</i>] Eggs&mdash;are they fresh, Hugh?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Dreamily.</i>] I dunno. But I broke some of them. They might be!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Looks at floor.</i></p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. <i>Were</i> they fresh?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. I dunno.<a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a></p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Sharply.</i>] Dunno? About <i>eggs</i>?</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Picks up egg.</i></p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Troubled.</i>] Neli's hens laid them.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. I see, Neli's hens laid 'em, an' you broke 'em!
+Admirable arrangement! [<i>Putting down the egg and turning toward the
+cheese, speaks on impatiently.</i>] Well, indeed then, were the hens fresh?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>More cheerful.</i>] Yiss, I think. Last week the basket was grand
+an' full of fresh eggs, but they disappeared, aye, they did indeed.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Starts.</i>] Where did they go to?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Injured.</i>] How can I say? I was here, an' I would have told her
+if I had seen, but I did not whatever. Neli reproves me for too great
+attention to visions an' too little to the groceries.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Chuckling.</i>] Aye, Hughie lad, such is married life!
+Let a man marry his thoughts or a wife, for he cannot have both. I have
+chosen my thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. But the cat&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Briskly.</i>] Aye, a man can keep a cat without risk.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Nay, nay, I mean the cat took 'em. I dunno. That's
+it&mdash; [<span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>clutches his head, trying to recall something</i>.] Uch,
+that's it! Neli told me to remember to ask ye if ye thought eggs could
+steal a cat whatever.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Puzzled.</i>] Eggs steal a cat?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Troubled.</i>] Nay, nay, cats steal an egg?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Startled and looking suspiciously at</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>.] Cats?
+What cats?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>With solemnity.</i>] Aye, but I told Neli I'm no carin' about cats
+with heaven starin' me in the face. Deacon Roberts, those essays are
+grand an' wonderful.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Relieved.</i>] Yiss, yiss! Hughie lad, theology is a
+means to salvation an' sometimes to other ends, too. But there's no
+money in theology. [<i>Sighs.</i>] And a man must<a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a> live! [<i>Points to corroded
+dish of pickled herring, sniffing greedily.</i>] Dear people, what
+beautiful herrin'! [<i>Wipes moisture away from corners of his mouth and
+picks up a fish from dish, holding it, dripping, by tail.</i>] Pickled?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Looking at corroded dish.</i>] Tuppence.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Shortly.</i>] Dear to-day.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Eyeing dish dreamily.</i>] I dunno. Neli&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Eyes glittering, cutting straight through sentence and
+pointing to cheese.</i>] Cheese?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. A shillin', I'm thinkin'.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. A shillin', Hugh? [<span class="smcap">Deacon Roberts</span> <i>lifts knife and drops
+it lightly on edge of cheese. The leaf it pares off he picks up and
+thrusts into his mouth, greedily pushing in the crumbs. Then he pauses
+and looks slyly at</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh.</span>] Was it sixpence ye said, Hugh?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Gazing toward the fire and the volume of essays.</i>] Yiss,
+sixpence, I think.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Sarcastically.</i>] Still too dear, Hugh!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Sighing.</i>] I dunno, it might be dear. [<i>With more animation.</i>]
+Deacon, when Babylon fell&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Wipes his mouth and, interrupting</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>, <i>speaks
+decisively</i>.] No cheese. [<i>He removes his tall Welsh beaver hat, mops
+off his bald white head, and, pointing up to the shelves, begins to dust
+out inside of hatband again, but with a deliberate air of preparation.</i>]
+What is that up there, Hughie lad?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Trying to follow the direction of the big red wavering
+forefinger.</i>] Ye mean that? A B C In-fants' Food, I think.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Giving his hat a final wipe.</i>] Nay, nay, not for me,
+Hughie lad! Come, come, brush the smoke of burnin' Babylon from your
+eyes! In a minute I must be goin' back to my study, whatever. An' I have
+need of food!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>takes a chair and mounts it. The</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span> <i>looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh's</span>
+<i>back, puts his hand down on the counter, and picks up an egg from
+the basket. He holds it to the light and squints through it to see
+whether it is fresh. Then he<a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a> turns it lovingly over in his fat
+palm, makes a dexterous backward motion and slides it into his
+coat-tail pocket. This he follows with two more eggs for same
+coat-tail and three for other&mdash;in all half a dozen.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Dreamily pointing to tin.</i>] Is it Yankee corn?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>To Hugh's back, and slipping in second egg.</i>] Nay,
+nay, not that, Hughie lad, that tin above!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Absent-mindedly touching tin.</i>] Is it ox tongue?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Slipping in third egg and not even looking up.</i>] Ox
+tongue, lad? Nay, nuthin' so large as that.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Dreamily reaching up higher.</i>] American condensed m-m-milk?
+Yiss, that's what it is.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Slipping in fourth egg.</i>] Condensed milk, Hughie? Back
+to infants' food again.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Stretching up almost to his full length and holding down tin
+with tips of long white finger.</i>] Kippert herrin'? Is it that?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Slipping in fifth egg.</i>] Nay, nay, a little further
+up, if you please.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Gasping, but still reaching up and reading.</i>] Uto&mdash;U-to-pi-an
+Tinned Sausage. Is it that?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Slipping in sixth egg with an air of finality and
+triumph, and lifting his hat from the counter.</i>] Nay, nay, not that,
+Hughie lad. Why do ye not begin by askin' me what I want? Ye've no gift
+for sellin' groceries whatever.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Surprised.</i>] Did I not ask ye?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. Nay.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. What would Neli say whatever? She would never forgive me.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Amiably.</i>] Well, I forgive ye, Hughie lad. 'Tis a
+relish I'm needin'!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Relieved.</i>] Well, indeed, a relish! We have relishes on that
+shelf above, I think. [<i>Reaches up but pauses helplessly.</i>] I must tell
+Neli that these shelves are not straight.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Dizzy and clinging to the shelves, his back to the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Picking up a pound of butter wrapped in print paper.</i>]
+Is it up there?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. No, I think, an' the shelves are not fast whatever. I must tell
+Neli. They go up like wings. [<i>Trying to reach to a bottle just above
+him.</i>] Was it English or American?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Putting the pound of butter in his hat and his hat on
+his head.</i>] American, Hughie lad.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>At that instant there is a noise from the inner kitchen, and</i>
+<span class="smcap">Neli Williams</span> <i>opens the door. The</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span> <i>turns, and their
+glances meet and cross. Each understands perfectly what the other
+has seen.</i> <span class="smcap">Neli Williams</span> <i>has thrown off her red cloak and taken
+off her Welsh beaver hat. She is dressed in a short full skirt,
+white stockings, clogs on her feet, a striped apron, tight bodice,
+fichu, short sleeves, and white cap on dark hair.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Slowly.</i>] Uch! The deacon has what he came for whatever!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Turning to contradict his wife.</i>] Nay, Neli&mdash; [<i>Losing his
+balance on chair, tumbles off, and, with arm flung out to save himself,
+strikes dish of pickled herring. The herring and brine fly in every
+direction, spraying the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Hughie</span>; <i>the bowl spins madly,
+dipping and revolving on the floor. For a few seconds nothing is audible
+except the bowl revolving on the flagstones and</i> <span class="smcap">Hughie</span> <i>picking himself
+up and sneezing behind the counter</i>.] Achoo! Achoo! Dear me,
+Neli&mdash;Achoo!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Going quickly to husband and beginning to wipe brine from
+husband's forehead and cheeks; at the same time has her back to the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Deacon</span> <i>and forming soundless letters with her lips, she jerks her head
+toward the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>.] B-U-T-T-E-R!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Drearily.</i>] Better? Aye, I'm better. It did not hurt me
+whatever.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Jerking head backwards toward</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon Roberts</span> <i>and again forming
+letters with lips</i>.] B-U-T-T-E-R!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. What, water? Nay, I don't want any water.<a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a></p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Coughing, ill at ease and glancing suspiciously at
+bowl that has come to rest near his leg.</i>] Ahem! 'Tis cold here, Mrs.
+Williams, mum, an' I must be movin' on.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Savagely to</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>.] Stay where ye are whatever!</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Unaccustomed to being spoken to this way by a woman.</i>]
+Well, indeed, mum, I could stay, but I'm thinkin' 'tis cold an'&mdash;I'd
+better go.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Again savagely.</i>] Nay, stay! Stay for&mdash;for what ye came for
+whatever!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>looks challengingly at the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>. <i>Then she goes on wiping
+brine carefully from husband's hair and from behind his ears. The</i>
+<span class="smcap">Deacon</span> <i>coughs and pushes bowl away with the toe of his boot</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Smiling.</i>] 'Tis unnecessary to remain then, mum.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>.] What did he get?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Sneezing.</i>] N&mdash;n&mdash;Achoo!&mdash;nothin'!</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>With sudden interest, looking at the floor.</i>] Well,
+indeed!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Suspiciously.</i>] What is it?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He reaches down with difficulty to a small thick puddle on the
+floor just beneath his left coat-tail. He aims a red forefinger at
+it, lifts himself, and sucks fingertip.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Smiling.</i>] Ahem, Mrs. Williams, mum, 'tis excellent
+herrin' brine! [<i>From the basket on the counter he picks up an egg,
+which he tosses lightly and replaces in basket.</i>] A beautiful fresh egg,
+Mrs. Williams, mum. I must be steppin' homewards.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Struggling to speak just as</i> <span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>reaches his nose, wringing it
+vigorously at she wipes it</i>.] Aye, but Neli, I was just tellin' ye when
+I fell that I could not find the deacon's relish&mdash;uch, achoo! achoo!</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>With finality, tossing the egg in air,<a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a> catching it
+and putting it back in basket.</i>] Well, indeed, mum, I must be steppin'
+homewards now.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Neli's</span> <i>glance rests on fire burning on other side of room</i>. <i>She
+puts down wet cloth. She turns squarely on the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. What is your haste, Mr. Roberts? Please to go to the fire an'
+wait! I can find the relish.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Hastily.</i>] Nay, nay, mum. I have no need any
+more&mdash;[<i>Coughs.</i>] Excellent herrin' brine.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Goes toward door.</i></p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>.] Take him to the fire, Hugh. 'Tis a cold day whatever!
+[<i>Insinuatingly to</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>.] Have ye a reason for wantin' to go, Mr.
+Roberts?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Going.</i>] Nay, nay, mum, none at all! But, I must not
+trouble ye. 'Tis too much to ask, an' I have no time to spare an'&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Interrupting and not without acerbity.</i>] Indeed, Mr. Roberts,
+sellin' what we <i>can</i> is our profit. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>, <i>who obediently takes</i>
+<span class="smcap">Deacon</span> <i>by arm and pulls him toward fire</i>.] Take him to the fire, lad.
+[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>.] What kind of a relish was it, did ye say, Mr. Roberts?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Having a tug of war with</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>.] 'Tis an Indian
+relish, mum, but I cannot wait.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Pulling harder.</i>] American, ye said.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Hastily.</i>] Yiss, yiss, American Indian relish, that
+is.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Tut, 'tis our specialty, these American Indian relishes! We have
+several. Sit down by the fire while I look them up. [<i>Wickedly.</i>] As ye
+said. Mr. Roberts, 'tis cold here this morning.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. There, Hughie lad, I must not trouble ye. [<i>Looks at
+clock.</i>] 'Tis ten minutes before twelve, an' my dinner will be ready at
+twelve.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Pulls harder.</i></p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>.] Keep him by the fire, lad.<a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a></p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. There, Hughie lad, let me go!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>But</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>holds on, and the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon's</span> <i>coat begins to come off</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Sarcastically.</i>] The relish&mdash;American Indian, ye said, I
+think&mdash;will make your dinner taste fine and grand!</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Finding that without leaving his coat behind he is
+unable to go, he glowers at</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span> <i>and speaks sweetly to</i> <span class="smcap">Neli</span>.] 'Tis a
+beautiful clock, Mrs. Williams, mum. But I haven't five minutes to
+spare.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Keeping a sharp lookout on the rim of the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon's</span> <i>hat</i>.]
+Well, indeed, I can find the relish in just one minute. An' ye'll have
+abundance of time left.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Trapped, and gazing at clock with fine air of
+indifference.</i>] 'Tis a clever, shinin' lookin' clock whatever, Mrs.
+Williams, mum.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Have ye any recollection of the name of the maker of the relish,
+Mr. Roberts?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Putting his hands behind him anxiously and parting his
+freighted coat-tails with care; then, revolving, presenting his back and
+one large, well-set, bright-colored patch to the fire.</i>] Nay, I have
+forgotten it, Mrs. Williams, mum.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Too bad, but I'm sure to find it. [<i>She mounts upon chair. At this
+moment the shop door-bell rings violently, and there enters</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Jones
+the Wash</span>, <i>very fat and very jolly. She is dressed in short skirt, very
+full, clogs on her feet, a bodice made of striped Welsh flannel, a
+shabby kerchief, a cap on her head, and over this a shawl.</i> <span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>turns
+her head a little</i>.] Aye, Mrs. Jones the Wash, in a minute, if you
+please. Sit down until I find Deacon Roberts's relish whatever.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Sits down on chair by door back centre and folds
+her hands over her stomach.</i>] Yiss, yiss, mum, thank you. I've come for
+soap. I came once before, but no one was in.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Too bad!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. An' I looked in at the window an'<a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a> saw nothin' but
+a skippin' shadow looked like a rat. Have ye any rats, Mrs. Williams,
+mum, do ye think?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Have I any rats? Well, indeed, 'tis that I'm wantin' to know, Mrs.
+Jones the Wash!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. Well, I came back, for the water is eatin' the soap
+to-day as if 'twere sweets&mdash;aye, 'tis a very meltin' day for soap!
+[<i>Laughs.</i></p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. 'Tis sweet to be clean, Mrs. Jones the Wash.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Laughing.</i>] Yiss, yiss, Deacon Roberts, there has
+many a chapel been built out of a washtub, an' many a prayer risen up
+from the suds!</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Solemnly.</i>] Aye, Mrs. Jones the Wash, 'tis holy work,
+washin' is very holy work.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Touched.</i>] Yiss, yiss, I thank ye, Deacon
+Roberts.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. Well, I must be steppin' homeward now.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Firmly.</i>] Nay, Mr. Roberts. I am searchin' on the shelf where I
+think that American Indian relish is. Ye act as if ye had some cause to
+hurry, Mr. Roberts. Wait a moment, if you please.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. Well, indeed, but I am keepin' Mrs. Jones the Wash
+waitin'!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Jones</span>.] Ye are in no haste?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Thoroughly comfortable and happy.</i>] Nay, mum, no
+haste at all. I am havin' a rest, an' 'tis grand an' warm here whatever.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Maliciously to</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>.] Does it feel hot by the fire?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Experiencing novel sensations on the crown of his bald
+head.</i>] Mrs. Williams, mum, 'tis hot in Y Gegin, but as with Llanycil
+Churchyard, Y Gegin is only the portal to a hotter an' a bigger place
+where scorchin' flames burn forever an' forever. Proverbs saith, "Hell
+an' destruction are never full." What, then, shall be the fate of women
+who have no wisdom, Mrs. Williams, mum?<a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a></p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Searching for relish.</i>] Aye, what? Well, indeed, the men must
+know.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Nodding her head appreciatively at</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>.] Such
+eloquence, Mr. Williams! Aye, who in chapel has such grand theology as
+Deacon Roberts!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She sighs. The bell rings violently again, and</i> <span class="smcap">Tom Morris the
+Sheep</span> <i>enters. He is dressed in gaiters, a shepherd's cloak, etc.,
+etc. He carries a crook in his hand. He is a grizzle-haired,
+rosy-faced old man, raw-boned, strong, and awkward, with a
+half-earnest, half-foolish look.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Looking around.</i>] Aye, Tom Morris the Sheep, come in an' sit
+down. I am lookin' out an American Indian relish for the deacon.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Yiss, mum. I am wantin' to buy a little tobacco,
+mum. 'Tis lonely upon the hillsides with the sheep, whatever.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Hastily.</i>] I must go now, Mrs. Williams, mum, an' ye
+can wait on Tom Morris.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Nay, nay, Mr. Roberts, sir, there is no haste.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Tom Morris</span>.] Sit down there by the door, if you please.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Tom Morris</span> <i>seats himself on other side of door by back centre</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Yiss, mum. [<i>Touches his forelock to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Jones
+the Wash</span>.] A grand day for the clothes, Mrs. Jones, mum.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. Yiss, yiss, an' as I was just sayin' 'tis a meltin'
+day for the soap!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Significantly.</i>] An' perhaps 'tis a meltin' day for somethin'
+besides soap!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>She looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Earnestly.</i>] Yiss, yiss, for souls, meltin' for souls, I am
+hopin'. [<i>Picking up the book from the little three-legged table, and
+speaking to the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>.] They are enlargin' the burial ground in
+Llanycil Churchyard&mdash;achoo! achoo!<a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a></p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Slyly moving a step away from fire.</i>] They're only
+enlargin' hell, Hughie lad, an' in that place they always make room for
+all. [<i>He casts a stabbing look at</i> <span class="smcap">Neli</span>.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Nodding head.</i>] True, true, room for all!
+[<i>Chuckling.</i>] But 'twould be a grand place to dry the clothes in!</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Severely.</i>] Mrs. Jones, mum, hell is paved with words
+of lightness.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Looking up from book, his face expressing delight.</i>] Deacon
+Roberts, I have searched for the place of hell, but one book sayeth one
+thing, an' another another. Where is hell?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Aye, where is hell?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The bell rings violently. All start except</i> <span class="smcap">Neli. Mrs. Jenkins
+the Midwife</span> <i>enters. She is an old woman, white-haired, and with a
+commanding, somewhat disagreeable expression on her face. She wears
+a cloak and black Welsh beaver and walks with a stick.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Yiss, yiss, Mrs. Jenkins the Midwife, I am just lookin' out a
+relish for the Deacon. Sit down by the fire, please.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. [<i>Seating herself on other side of fire.</i>]
+Aye, mum, I've come for pins; I'm in no haste.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. is it Jane Elin's baby?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. Aye, Jane Elin's, an' 'tis my sixth hundredth
+birth.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. We're discussing the place of hell, Mrs. Jenkins, mum.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. Well, indeed, I have seen the place of hell
+six hundred times then. [<i>Coughs and nods her head up and down over
+stick.</i>] Heaven an' hell I'm thinkin' we have with us here.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Nay, nay, how could that be? Tell us where is the place of hell,
+Deacon Roberts.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>All listen with the most intense interest.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Nodding.</i>] Aye, the place of hell&mdash;[<i>stopping
+suddenly, a terrified look on his face, as the butter slides<a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a> against
+the forward rim of his hat, almost knocking it off, then going on with
+neck rigid and head straight up</i>] to me is known where is that
+place&mdash;their way is dark an' slippery; they go down into the depths, an'
+their soul is melted because of trouble.</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Pausing sceptically.</i>] Aye, 'tis my idea of hell whatever with
+souls meltin', Mr. Roberts!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Tense with expectation.</i>] Tell us where is that place!</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Neck rigid, head unmoved, and voice querulous.</i>] Yiss,
+yiss. [<i>Putting his hand up and letting it down quickly.</i>] Ahem! Ye
+believe that it rains in Bala?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Eyes on</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span>, <i>in childlike faith</i>.] I do.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. Yiss, yiss, before an' after every birth
+whatever!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. Yiss, yiss, who would know better than I that it
+rains in Bala?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Aye, amen, it rains in Bala upon the hills an' in
+the valleys.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. Ye believe that it can rain in Bala both when the moon
+is full an' when 'tis new?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Earnestly.</i>] I do.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Wearily.</i>] Yiss, any time.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Aye, all the time.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>.. Yiss, yiss, it rains ever an' forever!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Forgetting the relish search.</i>] Well, indeed, 'tis true it can
+rain in Bala at any time an' at all times.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Paying no attention to Neli.</i>] Ye believe that
+Tomen-y-Bala is Ararat?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Clutching his book more tightly and speaking in a whisper.</i>]
+Yiss.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. Aye, 'tis true.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>.. Yiss, the Hill of Bala is Ararat.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Yiss, I have driven the sheep over it whatever
+more than a hundred times.<a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a></p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Both hands on counter, leaning forward, listening to</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon's</span>
+<i>words</i>.] Aye, Charles-y-Bala said so.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Still ignoring</i> <span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>and lowering his coat-tails
+carefully</i>.] Ye believe, good people, that the Druids called Noah
+"Tegid," an' that those who were saved were cast up on Tomen-y-Bala?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Amen, I do!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. [<i>Nodding her old head.</i>] Aye, 'tis true.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. Yiss, yiss.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Amen, 'tis so.</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Moving a few steps away from the fire, standing
+sidewise, and lifting hand to head, checking it in midair.</i>] An' ye know
+that Bala has been a lake, an' Bala will become a lake?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. Amen, I do!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Assenting for the first time.</i>] Yiss, 'tis true&mdash;that is.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. Dear anwyl, yiss!</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>With warning gesture toward window.</i>] Hell is out
+there&mdash;movin' beneath Bala Lake to meet all at their comin'. [<i>Raises
+his voice suddenly.</i>] Red-hot Baal stones will fall upon your
+heads&mdash;Baal stones. Howl ye! [<i>Shouting loudly.</i>] Meltin' stones
+smellin' of the bullocks. Howl, ye sinners! [<i>Clasping his hands
+together desperately.</i>] Scorchin' hot&mdash;Oo&mdash;o&mdash;o&mdash;Howl ye!&mdash;howl ye!
+[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon's</span> <i>hat sways, and he jams it down more tightly on his
+head. Unclasping his hands and as if stirring up the contents of a
+pudding-dish.</i>] 'Round an' round like this! Howl, ye sinners, howl!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>All moan and sway to and fro except</i> <span class="smcap">Neli</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Sceptically.</i>] What is there to fear?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. [<i>Groaning.</i>] Nay, but what is there not to
+fear?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. Aye, outermost darkness. Och! Och!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Have mercy!<a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a></p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Shouting again.</i>] Get ready! Lift up your eyes!
+[<i>Welsh beaver almost falls off and is set straight in a twinkling.</i>]
+Beg for mercy before the stones of darkness burn thee, an' there is no
+water to cool thy tongue, an' a great gulf is fixed between thee an'
+those who might help thee!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Spellbound by the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon's</span> <i>eloquence and now oblivious to hat,
+etc.</i>] Yiss, yiss, 'tis true, 'tis very true!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She steps down from chair and places hands on counter.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>His face convulsed, shouting directly at her.</i>]
+Sister, hast thou two eyes to be cast into hell fire?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Terrified and swept along by his eloquence.</i>] Two eyes to be
+burned?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>All lower their heads, groaning and rocking to and fro.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>The butter trickling down his face, yelling with
+sudden violence.</i>] Hell is here an' now. Here in Bala, here in Y Gegin,
+here with us! Howl ye! Howl, ye sinners!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>All moan together.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Whispering.</i>] Uch, here!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. Yiss, here!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. Yiss.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. [<i>Terrified.</i>] Aye. Amen! Yiss!</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Whispering.</i>] Here in Y Gegin!</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Clapping his hands to his face.</i>] Stones of Baal,
+stones of darkness, slimy with ooze, red-hot ooze, thick vapors! Howl
+ye, howl, ye sinners! [<i>All moan and groan. Takes a glance at clock,
+passes hand over face and runs on madly, neck rigid, eyes staring, fat
+red cheeks turning to purple.</i>] Midday, not midnight, is the hour of
+hell; its sun never sets! But who knows when comes that hour of hell?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>Taking hands from counter and crossing them as she whispers.</i>]
+Who knows?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. [<i>Groaning.</i>] Who knows?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Voice quavering and lifting his Welsh essays.</i>] Who knows?</p>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Big yellow drops pouring down his face,<a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a> his voice
+full of anguish.</i>] I will tell ye when is the hour of hell. [<i>He points
+to the clock.</i>] Is one the hour of hell? Nay. Two? Nay. Three? No, not
+three. Four? Four might be the hour of hell, but 'tis not. Five? Nor
+five, indeed. Six? Nay. Seven? Is seven the hour, the awful hour? Nay,
+not yet. Eight? Is eight the hour&mdash;an hour bright as this bright hour?
+Nay, eight is not. [<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span> <i>shouts in a mighty voice and points
+with a red finger at the clock</i>.] 'Tis comin'! 'Tis comin', I say! Howl
+ye, howl! Only one minute more! Sinners, sinners, lift up your eyes! Cry
+for mercy! [<i>All groan.</i>] Cry for mercy! When the clock strikes twelve,
+'twill be the hour of hell! Fix your eyes upon the clock! Watch! Count!
+Listen! 'Tis strikin'. The stroke! The hour is here!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>All dropped on their knees and turned toward the clock, their
+backs to the street door, are awaiting the awful stroke. The book
+has fallen from</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh's</span> <i>hands</i>. <span class="smcap">Neli's</span> <i>hands are clenched</i>. <span class="smcap">Mrs.
+Jenkins the Midwife</span> <i>is nodding her old head</i>. <span class="smcap">Mrs. Jones the Wash</span>
+<i>on her knees, her face upturned to the clock, is rubbing up and
+down her thighs, as if at the business of washing</i>. <span class="smcap">Tom Morris The
+Sheep</span> <i>is prostrate and making a strange buzzing sound between his
+lips. The wheels of the clever old timepiece whir and turn. Then in
+the silent noonday the harsh striking begins: One, Two, Three,
+Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>D<small>EACON</small> R<small>OBERTS</small>. [<i>Yelling suddenly in a loud and terrible voice.</i>] Hell
+let loose! Howl ye! Howl, ye sinners! [<i>All cover their eyes. All groan
+or moan. The clock ticks, the flame in the grate flutters</i>, <span class="smcap">Neli's</span>
+<i>bosom rises and falls heavily</i>.] Lest worse happen to ye, sin no more!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span> <i>looks at them all quietly. Then he lifts his hands
+in sign of blessing, smiles and vanishes silently through street
+door. All remain stationary in their terror. Nothing happens. But
+at last</i> <span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>fearfully, still spellbound by the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon's</span>
+<i>eloquence, lifts her eyes to<a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a> the clock. Then cautiously she turns
+a little toward the fire and the place of</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon Roberts</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Uch! [<i>She stands on her feet and cries out.</i>] The Deacon is gone!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Raising his eyes.</i>] Uch, what is it? Babylon&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. Babylon nothing! [<i>She wrings her hands.</i></p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. [<i>Groaning.</i>] Is he dead? Is he dead?</p>
+
+<p>N<small>ELI</small>. [<i>With sudden plunge toward the door.</i>] Uch, ye old hypocrite, ye
+villain! Uch, my butter an' my eggs, my butter an' my eggs!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Neli</span> <i>throws open the door and slams it to after her as she
+pursues the</i> <span class="smcap">Deacon</span> <i>out into the bright midday sunshine</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. Well, indeed, what is it? Has she been taken?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Getting up heavily.</i>] Such movin' eloquence! A
+saintly man is Deacon Roberts!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Aye, a saintly man is Deacon Roberts!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>UGH</small>. [<i>Picking up his book and speaking slowly.</i>] Aye, eloquence that
+knoweth the place of hell even better than it knoweth Bala whatever!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ENKINS THE</small> M<small>IDWIFE</small>. [<i>Very businesslike.</i>] Aye, 'twas a treat&mdash;a
+rare treat! But where's my pins now?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. J<small>ONES THE</small> W<small>ASH</small>. [<i>Very businesslike.</i>] Yiss, yiss, 'twas a grand
+an' fine treat. But I'm wantin' my soap now.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>OM</small> M<small>ORRIS THE</small> S<small>HEEP</small>. Have ye any tobacco, Hughie lad?</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="r"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+WHERE BUT IN AMERICA<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+OSCAR M. WOLFF</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>Where But In America</i> is reprinted by special permission of the author
+and of the <i>Smart Set Magazine</i>, in which this play was first printed.
+For permission to perform address the author at Room 1211, 105 Monroe
+Street, Chicago, Illinois.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="OSCAR_M_WOLFF" id="OSCAR_M_WOLFF"></a>OSCAR M. WOLFF</p>
+
+<p>Oscar M. Wolff was born July 13, 1876. After graduation from Cornell
+University he completed his law course in the University of Chicago. In
+addition to his interest in law, which he has practised and taught, he
+has done considerable writing and editing. He has published a legal
+text-book, and his articles on legal subjects have appeared both in law
+journals and in magazines of general interest. During the war he was
+connected with the United States Food Administration at Washington. At
+present he lives in Chicago, Illinois.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to some stories, he has written several one-act plays:
+<i>Where But in America</i>, <i>The Claim for Exemption</i>, and <i>The
+Money-Lenders</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Where But in America</i> is an excellent play of situation, as well as a
+delicate satire on a certain aspect of American social life.<a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">CAST</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Espenhayne</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mr. Espenhayne</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Hilda</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a></p>
+
+<h2><a name="WHERE_BUT_IN_AMERICAJ" id="WHERE_BUT_IN_AMERICAJ"></a>WHERE BUT IN AMERICA<a name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">
+<span style="font-size:50%;">[J]</span></a></h2>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>The Espenhayne dining-room.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The curtain rises on the Espenhayne dining-room. It is furnished
+with modest taste and refinement. There is a door, centre, leading
+to the living-room, and a swinging door, left, leading to the
+kitchen.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The table is set, and</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie Espenhayne</span> <i>are
+discovered at their evening meal. They are educated, well-bred
+young Americans.</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>is a pleasing, energetic business man of
+thirty</i>; <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>an attractive woman of twenty-five. The bouillon
+cups are before them as the curtain rises.</i></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Mollie, I heard from the man who owns that house in Kenilworth. He
+wants to sell the house. He won't rent.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. I really don't care, Bob. That house was too far from the
+station, and it had only one sleeping-porch, and you know I want
+white-enamelled woodwork in the bedrooms. But, Bob, I've been terribly
+stupid!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. How so, Mollie?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. You remember the Russells moved to Highland Park last spring?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Yes; Ed Russell rented a house that had just been built.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. A perfectly darling little house! And Fanny Russell once told me
+that the man who built it will put up a house for any one who will take
+a five-year lease. And she says that<a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a> the man is very competent and they
+are simply delighted with their place.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Why don't we get in touch with the man?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. Wasn't it stupid of me not to think about it? It just flashed
+into my mind this morning, and I sat down at once and sent a
+special-delivery letter to Fanny Russell. I asked her to tell me his
+name at once, and where we can find him.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Good! You ought to have an answer by to-morrow or Thursday and
+we'll go up north and have a talk with him on Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>With enthusiasm.</i>] Wouldn't it be wonderful if he'd build just
+what we want! Fanny Russell says every detail of their house is perfect.
+Even the garage; they use it&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Mollie, that's the one thing I'm afraid of about
+the North Shore plan. I've said repeatedly that I don't want to buy a
+car for another year or two. But here you are, talking about a garage
+already.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. But you didn't let me finish what I was saying. The Russells
+have fitted up their garage as a playroom for the children. If we had a
+garage we could do the same thing.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Well, let's keep temptation behind us and not even talk to the man
+about a garage. If we move up north it must be on an economy basis for a
+few years; just a half-way step between the apartment and the house we
+used to plan. You mustn't get your heart set on a car.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. I haven't even thought of one, dear. [<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>have now
+both finished the bouillon course and lay down their spoons. Reaching
+out her hand to touch the table button, and at the same time leaning
+across the table and speaking very impressively.</i>] Bob, I'm about to
+ring for Hilda!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. What of it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Decidedly and with a touch of impatience.</i>] You know very
+well, what of it. I don't want Hilda to hear us say one word about
+moving away from the South Side!<a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Protesting.</i>] But Mollie&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Interrupting hurriedly and holding her finger to her lips in
+warning.</i>] Psst!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The next instant</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>enters, left. She is a tall, blonde
+Swedish girl, about twenty-five years old. She is very pretty and
+carries herself well and looks particularly charming in a maid's
+dress, with white collars and cuffs and a dainty waitress's apron.
+Every detail of her dress is immaculate.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Speaking the instant that</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>appears and talking very
+rapidly all the time that</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>remains in the room. While she speaks</i>
+<span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>watches</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>rather than</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span>, <i>whom she pretends to be
+addressing</i>.] In the last game Gert Jones was my partner. It was frame
+apiece and I dealt and I bid one no trump. I had a very weak no trump.
+I'll admit that, but I didn't want them to win the rubber. Mrs. Stone
+bid two spades and Gert Jones doubled her. Mrs. Green passed and I
+simply couldn't go to three of anything. Mrs. Stone played two spades,
+doubled, and she made them. Of course, that put them out and gave them
+the rubber. I think that was a very foolish double of Gert Jones, and
+then she said it was my fault, because I bid one no trump.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>begins her flow of words</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>first looks at her in
+open-mouthed astonishment. Then as he gradually comprehends that</i>
+<span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>is merely talking against time he too turns his eyes to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>and watches her closely in her movements around the table.
+Meanwhile</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>moves quietly and quickly and pays no attention
+to anything except the work she has in hand. She carries a small
+serving-tray, and, as</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>speaks</i>, <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>first takes the
+bouillon cups from the table, then brings the carving-knife and
+fork from the sideboard and places them before</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span>, <i>and then,
+with the empty bouillon cups, exits left</i>. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>are
+both watching</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>as<a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a> she goes out. The instant the door swings
+shut behind her</i>, <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>relaxes with a sigh, and</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>leans
+across the table to speak</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Mollie, why not be sensible about this thing! Have a talk with
+Hilda and find out if she will move north with us.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. That's just like a man! Then we might not find a house to please
+us and Hilda would be dissatisfied and suspicious. She might even leave.
+[<i>Thoughtfully.</i>] Of course, I must speak to her before we sign a lease,
+because I really don't know what I'd do if Hilda refused to leave the
+South side. [<i>More cheerfully.</i>] But there, we won't think about the
+disagreeable things until everything is settled.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. That's good American doctrine.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Warningly and again touching her finger to her lips.</i>] Psst!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>enters, left, carrying the meat plates, with a heavy napkin
+under them</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Immediately resuming her monologue.</i>] I think my last year's
+hat will do very nicely. You know it rained all last summer and I really
+only wore the hat a half a dozen times. Perhaps not that often. I can
+make a few changes on it; put on some new ribbons, you know, and it will
+do very nicely for another year. You remember that hat, don't you dear?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>starts to answer, but</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>rushes right on</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>Of course you do, you remember you said it was so becoming. That's
+another reason why I want to wear it this summer.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hilda</span>, <i>meanwhile, puts the plates on the table in front of</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>,
+<i>and goes out, left</i>. <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>at once stops speaking</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Holding his hands over the plates as over a fire and rubbing them
+together in genial warmth.</i>] Ah, the good hot plates! She never forgets
+them. She <i>is</i> a gem, Mollie.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>In great self-satisfaction.</i>] If you are finally convinced of
+that, after three years, I wish you would be a little bit<a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a> more careful
+what you say the next time Hilda comes in the room.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>In open-mouthed astonishment.</i>] What!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. Well, I don't want Hilda to think we are making plans behind her
+back.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Reflectively.</i>] "A man's home is his castle." [<i>Pauses.</i>] It's
+very evident that the Englishman who first said that didn't keep any
+servants.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Telephone bell rings off stage.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. Answer that, Bob.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Won't Hilda answer it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Standing up quickly and speaking impatiently.</i>] Very well, I
+shall answer it myself. I can't ask Hilda to run to the telephone while
+she is serving the meal.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Sullenly, as he gets up.</i>] All right! All right!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>exits, centre. As he does so</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>appears at the door,
+left, hurrying to answer the telephone</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. Mr. Espenhayne will answer it, Hilda.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>makes the slightest possible bow of acquiescence, withdraws
+left, and in a moment reappears with vegetable dishes and small
+side dishes, which she puts before</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Espenhayne</span>. <i>She is
+arranging these when</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>re-enters, centre</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Somebody for you, Hilda.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. [<i>Surprised.</i>] For me? Oh! But I cannot answer eet now. Please
+ask the party to call later.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>speaks excellent English, but with some Swedish accent. The
+noticeable feature of her speech is the precision and great care
+with which she enunciates every syllable.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. Just take the number yourself, Hilda, and tell the party you
+will call back after dinner.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Thank you, Messes Aispenhayne.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>exits, centre</i>. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>stands watching</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span>, <i>as she<a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a>
+leaves the room, and then turns and looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>with a
+bewildered expression</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Standing at his chair.</i>] But I thought Hilda couldn't be running
+to the telephone while she serves the dinner?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. But this call is for Hilda, herself. That's quite different, you
+see.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Slowly and thoughtfully.</i>] Oh, yes! Of course; I see! [<i>Sits down
+in his chair.</i>] That is&mdash;I don't quite see!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Immediately leaning across the table and speaking in a
+cautious whisper.</i>] Do you know who it is?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>closes his lips very tightly and nods yes in a very important
+manner</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>In the same whisper and very impatiently.</i>] Who?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Looking around the room as if to see if any one is in hiding, and
+then putting his hand to his mouth and exaggerating the whisper.</i>] The
+Terrible Swede.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>In her ordinary tone and very much exasperated.</i>] Robert, I've
+told you a hundred times that you shouldn't refer to&mdash;to&mdash;the man in
+that way.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. And I've told you a hundred times to ask Hilda his name. If I knew
+his name I'd announce him with as much ceremony as if he were the
+Swedish Ambassador.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Disgusted.</i>] Oh, don't try to be funny! Suppose some day Hilda
+hears you speak of him in that manner?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. You know that's mild compared to what you think of him. Suppose
+some day Hilda learns what you think of him?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. I think very well of him and you know it. Of course, I dread the
+time when she marries him, but I wouldn't for the world have her think
+that we speak disrespectfully of her or her friends.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. "A man's home is his castle."</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mollie's</span> <i>only answer is a gesture of impatience</i>. <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>and</i>
+<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>sit back in their chairs to await</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda's</span> <i>return. Both sit
+with fingers interlaced, hands resting on the edge<a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a> of the table in
+the attitude of school children at attention. A long pause.</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span>
+<i>unclasps her hands and shifts uneasily</i>. <span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>does the same</i>.
+<span class="smcap">Mollie</span>, <i>seeing this, hastily resumes her former attitude of quiet
+waiting</i>. <span class="smcap">Robert</span>, <i>however, grows increasingly restless. His
+restlessness makes</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>nervous and she watches</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span>, <i>and
+when he is not observing her she darts quick, anxious glances at
+the door, centre</i>. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>drains and refills his glass</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>She has been watching</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>and every time he shifts or
+moves she unconsciously does the same, and finally she breaks out
+nervously</i>.] I don't understand this at all! Isn't to-day Tuesday?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. What of it?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. He usually calls up on Wednesdays and comes to see her on
+Saturdays.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. And takes her to the theatre on Thursdays and to dances on Sundays.
+He's merely extending his line of attack.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Another long pause&mdash;then Bob begins to experiment to learn
+whether the plates are still hot. He gingerly touches the edges of
+the upper plate in two or three places. It seems safe to handle. He
+takes hold of upper and lower plates boldly, muttering, as he does
+so, "Cold as&mdash;" Drops the plates with a clatter and a smothered
+oath. Shakes his fingers and blows on them. Meanwhile</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>is
+sitting very rigid, regarding</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>with a fixed stare and beating
+a vigorous tattoo on the tablecloth with her fingers. Bob catches
+her eye and cringes under her gaze. He drains and refills his
+glass. He studies the walls and the ceiling of the room, meanwhile
+still nursing his fingers.</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>steals a sidelong glance at</i>
+<span class="smcap">Mollie.</span> <i>She is still staring at him. He turns to his water goblet.
+Picks it up and holds it to the light. He rolls the stem between
+his fingers, squinting at the light through the water. Reciting
+slowly as he continues to gaze at the light.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Starlight! Starbright! Will Hilda talk to him all night!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>In utter disgust.</i>] Oh, stop that singing.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>puts down his glass, then drinks the water and refills the
+glass. He then turns his attention to the silverware and cutlery
+before him. He examines it critically, then lays a teaspoon
+carefully on the cloth before him, and attempts the trick of
+picking it up with the first finger in the bowl and the thumb at
+the point of the handle. After one or two attempts the spoon shoots
+on the floor, far behind him.</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>jumps at the noise</i>. <span class="smcap">Bob</span>
+<i>turns slowly and looks at the spoon with an injured air, then
+turns back to</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>with a silly, vacuous smile. He now lays all
+the remaining cutlery in a straight row before him.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Slowly counting the cutlery and silver, back and forth.</i>] Eeny,
+meeny, miney, mo. Catch a&mdash;[<i>Stops suddenly as an idea comes to him.
+Gazes thoughtfully at</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>for a moment, then begins to count over
+again</i>.] Eeny, meeny, miney, mo; Hilda's talking to her beau. If we
+holler, she may go. Eeny, mee&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Interrupting and exasperated to the verge of tears.</i>] Bob, if
+you don't stop all that nonsense, I shall scream! [<i>In a very tense
+tone.</i>] I believe I'm going to have one of my sick headaches! [<i>Puts her
+hand to her forehead.</i>] I know it; I can feel it coming on!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>In a soothing tone.</i>] Hunger, my dear, hunger! When you have a
+good warm meal you'll feel better.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>In despair.</i>] What do you suppose I ought to do?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Go out in the kitchen and fry a couple of eggs.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. Oh! be serious! I'm at my wits' end! Hilda never did anything
+like this before.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Suddenly quite serious.</i>] What does that fellow do for a living,
+anyhow?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. How should I know?<a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Didn't you ever ask Hilda?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. Certainly not. Hilda doesn't ask me about your business; why
+should I pry into her affairs?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Taking out his cigarette case and lighting a cigarette.</i>] Mollie,
+I see you're strong for the Constitution of the United States.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Suspiciously.</i>] What do you mean by that?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. The Constitution says: "Whereas it is a self-evident truth that all
+men are born equal"&mdash;[<i>With a wave of the hand.</i>] Hilda and you, and the
+Terrible Swede and I and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Bob, you're such a <i>heathen</i>! <i>That's not in
+the Constitution.</i> That's in the Bible!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Well, wherever it is, until this evening I never realized what a
+personage Hilda is.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. You can make fun of me all you please, but I know what's right!
+Your remarks don't influence me in the least&mdash;not in the least!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Murmurs thoughtfully and feelingly.</i>] How true! [<i>Abruptly.</i>] Why
+don't they get married? Do you know that?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. All I know is that they are waiting until his business is
+entirely successful, so that Hilda won't have to work.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Well, the Swedes are pretty careful of their money. The chances are
+Hilda has a neat little nest-egg laid by.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Hesitating and doubtfully.</i>] That's one thing that worries me
+a little. I think Hilda puts money&mdash;into&mdash;into&mdash;into the young man's
+business.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Indignantly.</i>] Do you mean to tell me that this girl gives her
+money to that fellow and you don't try to find out a thing about him?
+Who he is or what he does? I suppose she supports the loafer.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>With dignity.</i>] He's not a loafer. I've seen him and I've
+talked with him, and I know he's a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Mollie, I'm getting tired of all that kind of drivel. I<a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a> believe
+nowadays women give a good deal more thought to pleasing their maids
+than they do to pleasing their husbands.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Demurely.</i>] Well, you know, Bob, your maid can leave you much
+easier than your husband can&mdash;[<i>pauses thoughtfully</i>] and I'm sure she's
+much harder to replace.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Very angry, looking at his watch, throwing his napkin on the
+table and standing up.</i>] Mollie, our dinner has been interrupted for
+fifteen minutes while Hilda entertains her [<i>with sarcasm</i>] gentleman
+friend. If you won't stop it, I will.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Steps toward the door, centre.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Sternly, pointing to</i> <span class="smcap">Bob's</span> <i>chair</i>.] Robert, sit down!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>pauses, momentarily, and at the instant</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>enters,
+centre, meeting</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>, <i>face to face. Both are startled.</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>, <i>in a
+surly manner, walks back to his place at the table</i>. <span class="smcap">Hilda</span>
+<i>follows, excited and eager</i>. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>sits down and</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>stands for
+a moment at the table, smiling from one to the other and evidently
+anxious to say something</i>. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>are severe and
+unfriendly. They gaze at</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>coldly. Slowly</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda's</span>
+<i>enthusiasm cools, and she becomes again the impassive servant</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Aixcuse me, Meeses Aispenhayne, I am very sorry. I bring the
+dinner right in.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Hilda exits left.</i></p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. It's all nonsense. [<i>Touches the plates again, but this time even
+more cautiously than before. This time he finds they are entirely safe
+to handle.</i>] These plates are stone cold now.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>enters, left, with meat platter. Places it before</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>. <i>He
+serves the meat and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>starts to serve the vegetables</i>. <span class="smcap">Hilda</span>
+<i>hands</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>her meat plate</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. Vegetables? [<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>is chewing on his meat and does not answer</i>.
+<span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>looks at him inquiringly. But his eyes are on his plate.
+Repeating.</i>] Vegetables? [<i>Still no answer from</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>. <i>Very softly,
+under her breath.</i>] H'mm.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>helps herself to vegetables and then dishes out a<a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a> portion
+which she hands to</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span>, <i>who in turn places the dish beside</i>
+<span class="smcap">Bob</span>. <i>When both are served</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>stands for a moment back of the
+table. She clasps and unclasps her hands in a nervous manner, seems
+about to speak, but as</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>pay no attention to her
+she slowly and reluctantly turns, and exits left</i>. <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>takes
+one or two bites of the meat and then gives a quick glance at</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>.
+<i>He is busy chewing at his meat, and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>quietly lays down her
+knife and fork and turns to the vegetables</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Chewing desperately on his meat.</i>] Tenderloin, I believe?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Sweetly.</i>] Yes, dear.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Imitating</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>a moment back</i>.] H'mm! [<i>He takes one or two
+more hard bites.</i>] Mollie, I have an idea.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. I'm relieved.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Savagely.</i>] Yes, you will be when you hear it. When we get that
+builder's name from Fanny Russell, we'll tell him that instead of a
+garage, which we don't need, he can build a special telephone booth off
+the kitchen. Then while Hilda serves the dinner&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>stops short, as</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>bursts in abruptly, left, and comes
+to the table</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Aixcuse me, Meeses Aispenhayne, I am so excited.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Anxiously.</i>] Is anything wrong, Hilda?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. [<i>Explosively.</i>] Meeses Aispenhayne, Meester Leendquist he say
+you want to move to Highland Park.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>simultaneously drop their knives and forks and
+look at</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>in astonishment and wonder</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. What?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Who?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. [<i>Repeats very rapidly.</i>] Meester Leendquist, he say you look for
+house on North Shore!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Utterly overcome at</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda's</span> <i>knowledge and at a loss<a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a> for
+words of denial</i>.] We move to the North Shore? How ridiculous! Hilda,
+where did you get such an idea? [<i>Turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span>.] Robert, did you
+ever hear anything so laughable? [<i>She forces a strained laugh.</i>] Ha!
+Ha! Ha! [<span class="smcap">Robert</span> <i>has been looking at</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>in dumb wonder. At</i>
+<span class="smcap">Mollie's</span> <i>question he turns to her in startled surprise. He starts to
+answer, gulps, swallows hard, and then coughs violently. Very sharply,
+after waiting a moment for</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>to answer</i>.] Robert Espenhayne, will
+you stop that coughing and answer me!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Between coughs, and drinking a glass of water.</i>] Egh! Egh! Excuse
+me! Something, eh! egh! stuck in my throat.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Turning to</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span>.] Some day we might want to move north,
+Hilda, but not now! Oh, no, not now!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Who told you that, Hilda?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Meester Leendquist.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Puzzled.</i>] Who is Mr. Lindquist?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. [<i>Surprised.</i>] Meester Leendquist&mdash;[<i>Pauses, a trifle
+embarrassed.</i>] Meester Leendquist ees young man who just speak to me on
+telephone. He come to see me every Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. Oh, Mr. Lindquist, the&mdash;the&mdash;Ter&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Interrupting frantically, and waving her hands at</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>.] Yes,
+yes, of course. You know&mdash;Mr. Lindquist! [<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>catches himself just in
+time and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>settles back with a sigh of relief, then turns to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>with a puzzled air</i>.] But where did Mr. Lindquist get such an
+idea?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Mrs. Russell tell heem so.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>Now entirely bewildered.</i>] What Mrs. Russell?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Meeses Russell&mdash;your friend.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>More and more at sea.</i>] Mrs. Edwin Russell, who comes to see
+me&mdash;every now and then?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Yes.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. But how does Mrs. Russell know Mr. Lindquist and why should she
+tell Mr. Lindquist that we expected to move to the North Shore?<a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Meester Leendquist, he build Meeses Russell's house. That ees
+hees business. He build houses on North Shore and he sell them and rent
+them.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>look at each other and at</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span>, <i>in wonder and
+astonishment as the situation slowly filters into their brains. A
+long pause.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>In awe and astonishment.</i>] You mean that Mr. Lindquist, the young
+man who comes to see you every&mdash;every&mdash;every now and then&mdash;is the same
+man who put up the Russell house?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Yes, Meester Aispenhayne.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Slowly.</i>] And when Mrs. Espenhayne [<i>points to</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span>] wrote to
+Mrs. Russell [<i>jerks his thumb to indicate the north</i>], Mrs. Russell
+told Mr. Lindquist [<i>jerks his thumb in opposite direction</i>] and Mr.
+Lindquist telephoned to you?</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Points to</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span>.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Yes, Meester Aispenhayne.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Nodding.</i></p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Very thoughtfully and slowly.</i>] H'mm! [<i>Then slowly resuming his
+meal and speaking in mock seriousness, in subtle jest at</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span>, <i>and
+imitating her tone of a moment or two back</i>.] But of course, you
+understand, Hilda, we don't want to move to the North Shore now! Oh, no,
+not now!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. [<i>Somewhat crestfallen.</i>] Yes, Meester Aispenhayne.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Reflectively.</i>] But, of course, if Mr. Lindquist builds houses,
+we might look. Yes, we might look.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. [<i>In growing confidence and enthusiasm.</i>] Yes, Meester
+Aispenhayne, and he build such beautiful houses and so cheap. He do so
+much heemself. Hees father was carpenter and he work hees way through
+Uneeversity of Mennesota and study architecture and then he go to
+Uneeversity of Eelenois and study landscape gardening and now he been in
+business for heemself sex years. And oh, Meeses Aispenhayne, you must
+see hees own home! You will love eet, eet ees so beautiful. A little
+house, far back from the road. You can hardly see eet for the<a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a> trees and
+the shrubs, and een the summer the roses grow all around eet. Eet is
+just like the picture book!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. [<i>In the most perfunctory tone, utterly without interest or
+enthusiasm.</i>] How charming! [<i>Pauses thoughtfully, then turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Hilda</span>,
+<i>anxiously</i>.] Then I suppose, Hilda, if we should decide to move up to
+the North Shore you would go with us?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. [<i>Hesitatingly.</i>] Yes, Meeses Aispenhayne. [<i>Pauses.</i>] But I
+theenk I must tell you thees spring Meester Leendquist and I aixpect to
+get married. Meester Leendquist's business ees very good. [<i>With a quick
+smile and a glance from one to the other.</i>] You know, I am partner with
+heem. I put all my money een Meester Leendquist's business too.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>gaze at each other in complete resignation and
+surrender</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>OB</small>. [<i>Quite seriously after a long pause.</i>] Hilda, I don't know whether
+we will move north or not, but the next time Mr. Lindquist comes here I
+want you to introduce me to him. I'd like to know him. You ought to be
+very proud of a man like that.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. [<i>Radiant with pleasure.</i>] Thank you, Meester Aispenhayne.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. Yes, indeed, Hilda, Mr. Espenhayne has often said what a fine
+young man Mr. Lindquist seems to be. We want to meet him, and Mr.
+Espenhayne and I will talk about the house, and then we will speak to
+Mr. Lindquist. [<i>Then weakly.</i>] Of course, we didn't expect to move
+north for a long time, but, of course, if you expect to get married, and
+Mr. Lindquist builds houses&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Her voice dies out. Long pause.</i></p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Thank you, Meeses Aispenhayne, I tell Mr. Leendquist.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>stands at the table a moment longer, then slowly turns and
+moves toward door, left</i>. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span> <i>watch her and as she
+moves away from the table</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Mollie</span>. <i>At this moment</i>
+<span class="smcap">Hilda</span> <i>stops, turns suddenly and returns to the table</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Oh, Meeses Aispenhayne, I forget one theeng!</p>
+
+<p>M<small>OLLIE</small>. What now, Hilda?</p>
+
+<p>H<small>ILDA</small>. Meester Leendquist say eef you and Meester Aispenhayne want to
+look at property on North Shore, I shall let heem know and he meet you
+at station weeth hees automobile.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="r"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><a name="A_DOLLAR" id="A_DOLLAR"></a>A DOLLAR<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+DAVID PINSKI</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>A Dollar</i> is reprinted by special permission of David Pinski and of B.
+W. Huebach, New York City, the publisher of David Pinski's <i>Ten Plays</i>,
+from which this play is taken. All rights reserved. For permission to
+perform address the publisher.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="DAVID_PINSKI" id="DAVID_PINSKI"></a>DAVID PINSKI</p>
+
+<p>David Pinski, perhaps the most notable dramatist of the Yiddish Theatre,
+was born of Jewish parentage April 5, 1872, in Mohilev, on the Dnieper,
+White Russia. Because his parents had rabbinical aspirations for him he
+was well educated in Hebrew studies (Bible and Talmud) by his fourteenth
+year, when he moved to Moscow, where he was further trained in classical
+and secular studies. In 1891 he planned to study medicine in Vienna, but
+soon returned to Warsaw, where he began his literary work as a
+short-story writer. In 1896 he took up the study of philosophy and
+literature, and in 1899 wrote his first plays. In 1899 he came to New
+York City, where he is now editor of the Jewish daily, <i>Die Zeit</i>. In
+1911 he revisited Germany to see a production of his well-known comedy,
+<i>The Treasure</i>, by Max Reinhart.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pinski is zealous in his interests in literature, drama, socialism,
+and Zionism. Drama is to him an interpretation of life, and a guide and
+leader, as were the words of the old poets and prophets. "The dramatic
+technique," says he, "changes with each plot, as each plot brings with
+it its own technique. One thing, however, must be common to all the
+different forms of the dramatic technique&mdash;avoidance of tediousness."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pinski has written a goodly number of plays, most of which are on
+Yiddish themes. <i>Forgotten Souls</i>, <i>The Stranger</i>, <i>Sufferings</i>, <i>The
+Treasure</i>, <i>The Phonograph</i>, and <i>A Dollar</i> may be mentioned. Most of
+his plays have been produced many times; <i>The Stranger</i> played the third
+season in Moscow.</p>
+
+<p>"I wrote <i>A Dollar</i>," says he, "in the summer of 1913, when I was hard
+pressed financially. I relieved myself of my feelings by a hearty laugh
+at the almighty dollar and the race for it. Just as I did many summers
+before, in 1906, when I entertained myself by ridiculing the mad money
+joy in the bigger comedy, <i>The Treasure</i>."<a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">PERSONS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center">The Characters are given in the order of their appearance.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Comedian</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Villain</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Tragedian</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Actor</span> <i>who plays</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>" <i>rôle</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Heroine</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Ingenue</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Actress</span> <i>who plays</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>" <i>rôle</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Stranger</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a></p>
+
+<h2>A DOLLAR</h2>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>A cross-roads at the edge of a forest. One road extends from left
+to right; the other crosses the first diagonally, disappearing into
+the forest. The roadside is bordered with grass. On the right, at
+the crossing, stands a sign-post, to which are nailed two boards,
+giving directions and distances.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The afternoon of a summer day. A troupe of stranded strolling
+players enters from the left. They are ragged and weary. The</i>
+<span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>walks first, holding a valise in each hand, followed by
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span> <i>carrying over his arms two huge bundles wrapped in
+bed-sheets. Immediately behind these the</i> <span class="smcap">Tragedian</span> <i>and the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old
+Man</span>" <i>carrying together a large, heavy trunk</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Stepping toward the sign-post, reading the directions on the
+boards, and explaining to the approaching fellow-actors.</i>] That way
+[<i>pointing to right and swinging the valise to indicate the direction</i>]
+is thirty miles. This way [<i>pointing to left</i>] is forty-five&mdash;and that
+way it is thirty-six. Now choose for yourself the town that you'll never
+reach to-day. The nearest way for us is back to where we came from,
+whence we were escorted with the most splendid catcalls that ever
+crowned our histrionic successes.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. [<i>Exhausted.</i>] Who will lend me a hand to wipe off my
+perspiration? It has a nasty way of streaming into my mouth.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Stand on your head, then, and let your perspiration water a
+more fruitful soil.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Oh!<a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He drops his arms, the bundles fall down. He then sinks down onto
+one of them and wipes off the perspiration, moving his hand wearily
+over his face. The</i> <span class="smcap">Tragedian</span> <i>and the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>" <i>approach the
+post and read the signs</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>In a deep, dramatic voice.</i>] It's hopeless! It's hopeless!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>He lets go his end of the trunk.</i></p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" [<i>Lets go his end of the trunk.</i>] Mm. Another stop.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Tragedian</span> <i>sits himself down on the trunk in a tragico-heroic
+pose, knees wide apart, right elbow on right knee, left hand on
+left leg, head slightly bent toward the right</i>. <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>puts down
+the valises and rolls a cigarette</i>. The "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>" <i>also sits down
+upon the trunk, head sunk upon his breast</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Thirty miles to the nearest town! Thirty miles!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. It's an outrage how far people move their towns away from us.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. We won't strike a town until the day after to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Hurrah! That's luck for you! There's yet a day-after-to-morrow
+for us.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. And the old women are still far behind us. Crawling!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" They want the vote and they can't even walk.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. We won't give them votes, that's settled. Down with votes for
+women!</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. It seems the devil himself can't take you! Neither your tongue
+nor your feet ever get tired. You get on my nerves. Sit down and shut up
+for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. <i>Me?</i> Ha&mdash;ha! I'm going back there to the lady of my heart.
+I'll meet her and fetch her hither in my arms.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He spits on his hands, turns up his sleeves, and strides rapidly
+off toward the left.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Clown!<a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a></p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" How can he laugh and play his pranks even now? We haven't a
+cent to our souls, our supply of food is running low and our shoes are
+dilapidated.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>With an outburst.</i>] Stop it! No reckoning! The number of
+our sins is great and the tale of our misfortunes is even greater. Holy
+Father! Our flasks are empty; I'd give what is left of our soles
+[<i>displaying his ragged shoes</i>] for just a smell of whiskey.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>From the left is heard the laughter of a woman. Enter the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>carrying in his arms the</i> <span class="smcap">Heroine</span>, <i>who has her hands
+around his neck and holds a satchel in both hands behind his back</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Letting his burden down upon the grass.</i>] Sit down, my love,
+and rest up. We go no further to-day. Your feet, your tender little feet
+must ache you. How unhappy that makes me! At the first opportunity I
+shall buy you an automobile.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. And in the meantime you may carry me oftener.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. The beast of burden hears and obeys.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>and the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>," <i>each carrying a small
+satchel</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>NGENUE</small>. [<i>Weary and pouting.</i>] Ah! No one carried <i>me</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She sits on the grass to the right of the</i> <span class="smcap">Heroine</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. We have only one ass with us.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>stretches himself out at the feet of the</i> <span class="smcap">Heroine</span> <i>and
+emits the bray of a donkey</i>. "<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>" <i>sits down on the grass to
+the left of the</i> <span class="smcap">Heroine</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Woman.</span>" And are we to pass the night here?</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" No, we shall stop at "Hotel Neverwas."</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Don't you like our night's lodgings? [<i>Turning over toward
+the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>."] See, the bed is broad and wide, and certainly without
+vermin. Just feel the high grass. Such a soft bed you never slept in.
+And you shall have a cover embroidered with the moon and stars, a cover
+such as no royal bride ever possessed.<a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a></p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Woman.</span>" You're laughing, and I feel like crying.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Crying? You should be ashamed of the sun which favors you with
+its setting splendor. Look, and be inspired!</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Yes, look and expire.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Look, and shout with ecstasy!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" Look, and burst!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>starts sobbing</i>. <span class="smcap">Tragedian</span> <i>laughs heavily</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Turning over to the</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span>.] What! You are crying? Aren't
+you ashamed of yourself?</p>
+
+<p>I<small>NGENUE</small>. I'm sad.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Woman.</span>" [<i>Sniffling.</i>] I can't stand it any longer.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. Stop it! Or I'll start bawling, too.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>springs to his knees and looks quickly from one woman to
+the other</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Ha&mdash;ha! Cheer them up, clown!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Jumps up abruptly without the aid of his hands.</i>] Ladies and
+gentlemen, I have it! [<i>In a measured and singing voice.</i>] Ladies and
+gentlemen, I have it!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. What have you?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Go bury yourself, clown.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>As before.</i>] Ho-ho-ho!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" P-o-o-h!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The women weep all the louder.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. I have&mdash;a bottle of whiskey!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>General commotion. The women stop crying and look up to the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>in amazement; the</i> <span class="smcap">Tragedian</span> <i>straightens himself out and
+casts a surprised look at the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span>; the "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>," <i>rubbing
+his hands, jumps to his feet; the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span> <i>looks suspiciously at
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. A bottle of whiskey?</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" He-he-he&mdash;A bottle of whiskey.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Hum&mdash;whiskey.<a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a></p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. You bet! A bottle of whiskey, hidden and preserved for such
+moments as this, a moment of masculine depression and feminine tears.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Taking the flask from his hip pocket. The expression on the faces
+of all changes from hope to disappointment.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. You call that a bottle. I call it a flask.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>Explosively.</i>] A thimble!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" A dropper!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Woman.</span>" For seven of us! Oh!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Letting the flash sparkle in the sun.</i>] But it's whiskey, my
+children. [<i>Opening the flask and smelling it.</i>] U&mdash;u&mdash;u&mdash;m! That's
+whiskey for you. The saloonkeeper from whom I hooked it will become a
+teetotaler from sheer despair.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Tragedian</span> <i>rising heavily and slowly proceeding toward the flask</i>.
+<span class="smcap">Villain</span> <i>still skeptical and rising as if unwilling. The</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>"
+<i>chuckling and rubbing his hands. The</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>" <i>getting up
+indifferently and moving apathetically toward the flask. The</i>
+<span class="smcap">Heroine</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>hold each other by the hand and take ballet
+steps in waltz time. All approach the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>with necks eagerly
+stretched out and smell the flask, which the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>holds
+firmly in both hands</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. Ho&mdash;ho&mdash;ho&mdash;Fine!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" He&mdash;he&mdash;Small quantity, but excellent quality!</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Seems to be good whiskey.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. [<i>Dancing and singing.</i>] My comedian, my comedian. His head is
+in the right place. But why didn't you nab a larger bottle?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. My beloved one, I had to take in consideration both the
+quality of the whiskey and the size of my pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Woman.</span>" If only there's enough of it to go round.</p>
+
+<p>I<small>NGENUE</small>. Oh, I'm feeling sad again.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Cheer up, there will be enough for us all. Cheer up. Here,
+smell it again.<a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They smell again and cheerfulness reappears. They join hands and
+dance and sing, forming a circle, the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>applauding</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Good! If you are so cheered after a mere smell of it, what
+won't you feel like after a drink. Wait, I'll join you. [<i>He hides the
+whiskey flask in his pocket.</i>] I'll show you a new roundel which we will
+perform in our next presentation of Hamlet, to the great edification of
+our esteemed audience. [<i>Kicking the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain's</span> <i>bundles out of the
+way</i>.] The place is clear, now for dance and play. Join hands and form a
+circle, but you, Villain, stay on the outside of it. You are to try to
+get in and we dance and are not to let you in, without getting out of
+step. Understand? Now then!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The circle is formed in the following order</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Comedian</span>, <span class="smcap">Heroine</span>,
+<span class="smcap">Tragedian</span>, "<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>," "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>," <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p class="hangg"><span class="smcap">Comedian.</span> [<i>Singing.</i>]</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">To be or not to be, that is the question.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">That is the question, that is the question.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">He who would enter in,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Climb he must over us,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">If over he cannot,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">He must get under us.</span><br /</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center">REFRAIN</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp; &nbsp; Over us, under us.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp; &nbsp; Under us, over us.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Now we are jolly, jolly are we.</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>sings the refrain alone at first and the others
+repeat it together with him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">To be or not to be, that is the question,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">That is the question, that is the question.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">In life to win success,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Elbow your way through,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">Jostle the next one,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Else <i>you</i> will be jostled.</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<p class="c">REFRAIN</p>
+
+<p class="c">[<i>Same as before.</i>]</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>On the last word of the refrain they flop as if dumbfounded, and
+stand transfixed, with eyes directed on one spot inside of the
+ring. The</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span> <i>leans over the arms of the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>and the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Heroine</span>; <i>gradually the circle draws closer till their heads almost
+touch. They attempt to free their handy but each holds on to the
+other and all seven whisper in great astonishment.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. A dollar!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The circle opens up again, they look each at the other and shout
+in wonder.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. A dollar!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Once more they close in and the struggle to free their hands
+grows wilder; the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span> <i>tries to climb over and then under the
+hands into the circle and stretches out his hand toward the dollar,
+but instinctively he is stopped by the couple he tries to pass
+between, even when he is not seen but only felt. Again all lean
+their heads over the dollar, quite lost in the contemplation of it,
+and whispering, enraptured.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. A dollar!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Separating once again they look at each other with exultation and
+at the same time try to free their hands, once more exclaiming in
+ecstasy.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. A dollar!<a name="page_332" id="page_332"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Then the struggle to get free grows wilder and wilder. The hand
+that is perchance freed is quickly grasped again by the one who
+held it.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>NGENUE</small>. [<i>In pain.</i>] Oh, my hands, my hands! You'll break them. Let go
+of my hands!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Woman.</span>" If you don't let go of my hands I'll bite.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Attempting to bite the hands of the</i> <span class="smcap">Tragedian</span> <i>and the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old
+Man</span>," <i>while they try to prevent it</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" [<i>Trying to free his hands from the hold of the</i> <span class="smcap">Heroine</span> <i>and
+the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>."] Let go of me. [<i>Pulling at both his hands.</i>] These
+women's hands that&mdash;seem so frail, just look at them now.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span>.] But you let go my hands.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. I think it's you who are holding fast to mine.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. Why should I be holding you? If you pick up the dollar, what is
+yours is mine, you know.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Then let go of my hand and I'll pick it up.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. No, I'd rather pick it up myself.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. I expected something like that from you.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. [<i>Angrily.</i>] Let go of my hands, that's all.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Ha-ha-ha&mdash;It's a huge joke. [<i>In a tone of command.</i>] Be
+quiet. [<i>They become still.</i>] We must contemplate the dollar with
+religious reverence. [<i>Commotion.</i>] Keep quiet, I say! A dollar is
+spread out before us. A real dollar in the midst of our circle, and
+everything within us draws us toward it, draws us on irresistibly. Be
+quiet! Remember you are before the Ruler, before the Almighty. On your
+knees before him and pray. On your knees.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Sinks down on his knees and drags with him the</i> <span class="smcap">Heroine</span> <i>and</i>
+<span class="smcap">Ingenue</span>. "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>" <i>dropping on his knees and dragging the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old
+Woman</span>" <i>with him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" He-he-he!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. Ho-ho-ho, clown!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Tragedian</span>.] You are not worthy of the<a name="page_333" id="page_333"></a> serious mask you
+wear. You don't appreciate true Divine Majesty. On your knees, or you'll
+get no whiskey. [<span class="smcap">Tragedian</span> <i>sinks heavily on his knees</i>.] O holy dollar,
+O almighty ruler of the universe, before thee we kneel in the dust and
+send toward thee our most tearful and heartfelt prayers. Our hands are
+bound, but our hearts strive toward thee and our souls yearn for thee. O
+great king of kings, thou who bringest together those who are separated,
+and separatest those who are near, thou who&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>, <i>who is standing aside, takes a full jump, clears
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>and grasps the dollar. All let go of one another and
+fall upon him, shouting, screaming, pushing, and fighting. Finally
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span> <i>manages to free himself, holding the dollar in his
+right fist. The others follow him with clenched fists, glaring
+eyes, and foaming mouths, wildly shouting.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. The dollar! The dollar! The dollar! Return the dollar!</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. [<i>Retreating.</i>] You can't take it away from me; it's mine. It
+was lying under my bundle.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. Give up the dollar! Give up the dollar!</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. [<i>In great rage.</i>] No, no. [<i>A moment during which the opposing
+sides look at each other in hatred. Quietly but with malice.</i>] Moreover,
+whom should I give it to? To you&mdash;you&mdash;you&mdash;you?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Ha-ha-ha-ha! He is right, the dollar is his. He has it,
+therefore it is his. Ha-ha-ha-ha, and I wanted to crawl on my knees
+toward the dollar and pick it up with my teeth. Ha-ha-ha-ha, but he got
+ahead of me. Ha-ha-ha-ha.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. [<i>Whispering in rage.</i>] That's because you would not let go of
+me.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Ha-ha-ha-ha!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>Shaking his fist in the face of the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>.] Heaven and
+hell, I feel like crushing you!<a name="page_334" id="page_334"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He steps aside toward the trunk and sits down in his former
+pose.</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span>, <i>lying down on the grass, starts to cry</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Ha-ha-ha! Now we will drink, and the first drink is the
+Villain's.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>His proposition is accepted in gloom; the</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span>, <i>however,
+stops crying; the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>" <i>and the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>" <i>have been
+standing by the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span> <i>looking at the dollar in his hand as if
+waiting for the proper moment to snatch it from, him. Finally the</i>
+"<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>" <i>makes a contemptuous gesture and both turn aside from
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>. <i>The latter, left in peace, smooths out the dollar,
+with a serious expression on his face. The</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>hands him a
+small glass of whiskey</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Drink, lucky one.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>, <i>shutting the dollar in his fist, takes the whiskey
+glass gravely and quickly drinks the contents, returning the glass.
+He then starts to smooth and caress the dollar again. The</i>
+<span class="smcap">Comedian</span>, <i>still laughing, passes the whiskey glass from one to the
+other of the company, who drink sullenly. The whiskey fails to
+cheer them. After drinking, the</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>begins to sob again. The</i>
+<span class="smcap">Heroine</span>, <i>who is served last, throws the empty whiskey glass toward
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Good shot. Now I'll drink up all that's left in the bottle.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He puts the flask to his lips and drinks. The</i> <span class="smcap">Heroine</span> <i>tries to
+knock it away from him, but he skilfully evades her. The</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>
+<i>continues to smooth and caress the dollar</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Ha-ha-ha!...</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Singing and dancing.</i></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left">He who would enter in,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp; &nbsp; <i>Jump</i> he must over us.</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Ho-ho-ho! O Holy Dollar! O Almighty Ruler of the World!... O King of
+Kings! Ha-ha-ha!... Don't you<a name="page_335" id="page_335"></a> all think if I have the dollar and you
+have it not that I partake a bit of its majesty? That means that I am
+now a part of its majesty. That means that I am the Almighty Dollar's
+plenipotentiary, and therefore I am the Almighty Ruler himself. On your
+knees before me!... He-he-he!...</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>After throwing away the empty flask, lies down on the
+grass.</i>] Well roared, lion, but you forgot to hide your jack-ass's ears.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. It is one's consciousness of power. He-he-he. I know and you
+know that if I have the money I have the say. Remember, none of you has
+a cent to his name. The whiskey is gone.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Picking up the flask and
+examining it.</i></p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. I did my job well. Drank it to the last drop.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Yes, to the last drop. This evening you shall have bread and
+sausage. Very small portions, too, for to-morrow is another day.
+[<span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>sobbing more frequently</i>.] Not till the day after to-morrow
+shall we reach town, and that doesn't mean that you get anything to eat
+there, either, but I&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;he-he-he. O Holy Dollar, Almighty Dollar!
+[<i>Gravely.</i>] He who does my bidding shall not be without food.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>With wide-open eyes.</i>] What? Ha-ha-ha!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>gets up and throws herself on the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain's</span> <i>bosom</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I<small>NGENUE</small>. Oh, my dear beloved one.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Ha-ha, my power already makes itself felt.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. [<i>Pushing the</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>away</i>.] Let go of him, you. He sought
+my love for a long time and now he shall have it.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. What? You!</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span>.] I hate you, traitor. [<i>To the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>.] I
+have always loved&mdash;genius. You are now the wisest of the wise. I adore
+you.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. [<i>Holding</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>in one arm</i>.] Come into my other arm.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Heroine</span>, <i>throwing herself into his arms, kissing and embracing
+him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Half rising on his knees.</i>] Stop, I protest. [<i>Throwing
+himself on the grass.</i>] "O frailty, thy name is woman."</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Woman.</span>" [<i>Approaching the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span> <i>from behind and embracing
+him</i>.] Find a little spot on your bosom for me. I play the "Old Woman,"
+but you know I'm not really old.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Now I have all of power and all of love.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Don't call it love. Call it servility.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. [<i>Freeing himself from the women.</i>] But now I have something
+more important to carry out. My vassals&mdash;I mean you all&mdash;I have decided
+we will not stay here over night. We will proceed further.</p>
+
+<p>W<small>OMEN</small>. How so?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. We go forward to-night.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. You have so decided?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. I have so decided, and that in itself should be enough for you;
+but due to an old habit I shall explain to you why I have so decided.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Keep your explanation to yourself and better not disturb my
+contemplation of the sunset.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. I'll put you down on the blacklist. It will go ill with you for
+your speeches against me. Now, then, <i>without</i> an explanation, we will
+go&mdash;and at once. [<i>Nobody stirs.</i>] Very well, then, I go alone.</p>
+
+<p>W<small>OMEN</small>. No, no.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. What do you mean?</p>
+
+<p>I<small>NGENUE</small>. I go with you.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. And I.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Woman.</span>" And I.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Your loyalty gratifies me very much.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" [<i>Who is sitting apathetically upon the trunk.</i>] What the
+deuce is urging you to go?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. I wanted to explain to you, but now no more. I owe you no
+explanations. I have decided&mdash;I wish to go, and that is sufficient.<a name="page_337" id="page_337"></a></p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. He plays his comedy wonderfully. Would you ever have suspected
+that there was so much wit in his cabbage head?</p>
+
+<p>W<small>OMEN</small>. [<i>Making love to the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>.] Oh, you darling.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>Majestically.</i>] I wouldn't give him even a single glance.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Still another on the blacklist. I'll tell you this much&mdash;I have
+decided&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Ha-ha-ha! How long will you keep this up?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. We start at once, but if I am to pay for your food I will not
+carry any baggage. You shall divide my bundles among you and of course
+those who are on the blacklist will get the heaviest share. You heard
+me. Now move on. I'm going now. We will proceed to the nearest town,
+which is thirty miles away. Now, then, I am off.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Bon voyage.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. And with me fares His Majesty the Dollar and your meals for
+to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>W<small>OMEN</small>. We are coming, we are coming.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" I'll go along.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>To the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>.] You're a scoundrel and a mean fellow.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. I am no fellow of yours. I am master and bread-giver.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. I'll crush you in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. What? You threaten me! Let's go.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Turns to right. The women take their satchels and follow him.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" [<i>To the</i> <span class="smcap">Tragedian</span>.] Get up and take the trunk. We will
+settle the score with him some other time. It is he who has the dollar
+now.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>Rising and shaking his fist.</i>] I'll get him yet.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>He takes his side of the trunk.</i></p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Tragedian</span>.] First put one of my bundles on your back.<a name="page_338" id="page_338"></a></p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>In rage.</i>] One of your bundles on my back?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Oh, for all I care you can put it on your head, or between your
+teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" We will put the bundle on the trunk.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Sitting up.</i>] Look here, are you joking or are you in
+earnest?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. [<i>Contemptuously.</i>] I never joke.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Then you are in earnest?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. I'll make no explanations.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Do you really think that because you have the dollar&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. The holy dollar, the almighty dollar, the king of kings.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Continuing.</i>] That therefore you are the master&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Bread-giver and provider.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. And that we must&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Do what I bid you to.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. So you are in earnest?</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. You must get up, take the baggage and follow me.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Rising.</i>] Then I declare a revolution.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. What? A revolution!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. A bloody one, if need be.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>Dropping his end of the trunk and advancing with a
+bellicose attitude toward the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>.] And I shall be the first to let
+your blood, you scoundrel.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. If that's the case I have nothing to say to you. Those who
+wish, come along.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Getting in his way.</i>] No, you shall not go until you give up
+the dollar.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Ha-ha. It is to laugh!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. The dollar, please, or&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. He-he-he!</p>
+
+<p><a name="page_339" id="page_339"></a><span class="smcap">Comedian.</span> Then let there be blood. [<i>Turns up his sleeves.</i></p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. [<i>Taking off his coat.</i>] Ah! Blood, blood!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" [<i>Dropping his end of the trunk.</i>] I'm not going to keep out
+of a fight.</p>
+
+<p>W<small>OMEN</small>. [<i>Dropping his satchels.</i>] Nor we. Nor we.</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. [<i>Shouting.</i>] To whom shall I give up the dollar?
+You&mdash;you&mdash;you&mdash;you?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. This argument will not work any more. You are to give the
+dollar up to all of us. At the first opportunity we'll get change and
+divide it into equal parts.</p>
+
+<p>W<small>OMEN</small>. Hurrah, hurrah! Divide it, divide it!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>.] And I will even be so good as to give you a
+share.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. I'd rather give him a sound thrashing.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. It shall be as I say. Give up the dollar.</p>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. [<i>Throwing herself on the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian's</span> <i>breast</i>.] My comedian!
+My comedian!</p>
+
+<p>I<small>NGENUE</small>. [<i>To the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>.] I'm sick of you. Give up the dollar.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Pushing the</i> <span class="smcap">Heroine</span> <i>aside</i>.] You better step aside or else
+you may get the punch I aim at the master and bread-giver. [<i>To the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Villain</span>.] Come up with the dollar!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. Give up the dollar to him, do you hear?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>LL</small>. The dollar, the dollar!</p>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. I'll tear it to pieces.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. Then we shall tear out what little hair you have left on your
+head. The dollar, quick!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They surround the</i> <span class="smcap">Villain</span>; <i>the women pull his hair; the</i>
+<span class="smcap">Tragedian</span> <i>grabs him by the collar and shakes him; the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>"
+<i>strikes him on his bald pate; the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>struggles with him
+and finally grasps the dollar</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Holding up the dollar.</i>] I have it!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The women dance and sing.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>V<small>ILLAIN</small>. Bandits! Thieves!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>RAGEDIAN</small>. Silence, or I'll shut your mouth.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Goes back to the trunk and assumes his heroic pose.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Putting the dollar into his pocket.</i>] That's what I call a
+successful and a bloodless revolution, except for a little fright and
+heart palpitation on the part of the late master and bread-giver.
+Listen, some one is coming. Perhaps he'll be able to change the dollar
+and then we can divide it at once.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" I am puzzled how we can change it into equal parts.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Starts to calculate with the</i> <span class="smcap">Ingenue</span> <i>and the</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Woman</span>."</p></div>
+
+<p>H<small>EROINE</small>. [<i>Tenderly attentive to the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span>.] You are angry with me,
+but I was only playing with him so as to wheedle the dollar out of him.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. And now you want to trick me out of my share of it.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Old Man.</span>" It is impossible to divide it into equal parts. It is
+absolutely impossible. If it were ninety-eight cents or one hundred and
+five cents or&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Stranger</span> <i>enters from the right, perceives the company,
+greets it, and continues his way to left</i>. <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>stops him</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. I beg your pardon, sir; perhaps you have change of a dollar in
+dimes, nickels, and pennies.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Showing the dollar. The</i> "<span class="smcap">Old Man</span>" <i>and women step forward</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>TRANGER</small>. [<i>Getting slightly nervous, starts somewhat, makes a quick
+movement for his pistol-pocket, looks at the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian</span> <i>and the others
+and says slowly</i>.] Change of a dollar? [<i>Moving from the circle to
+left.</i>] I believe I have.</p>
+
+<p>W<small>OMEN</small>. Hurrah!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRANGER</small>. [<i>Turns so that no one is behind him and pulls his revolver.</i>]
+Hands up!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>In a gentle tone of voice.</i>] My dear sir, we are altogether
+peaceful folk.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRANGER</small>. [<i>Takes the dollar from the</i> <span class="smcap">Comedian's</span> <i>hand and<a name="page_341" id="page_341"></a> walks
+backwards to left with the pistol pointed at the group</i>.] Good-night,
+everybody.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He disappears, the actors remain dumb with fear, with their hands
+up, mouths wide open, and staring into space.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OMEDIAN</small>. [<i>Finally breaks out into thunderous laughter.</i>]
+Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c">CURTAIN</p>
+
+<p><a name="page_342" id="page_342"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_343" id="page_343"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+THE DIABOLICAL CIRCLE<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+BEULAH BORNSTEAD</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>The Diabolical Circle</i> is reprinted by special permission of Professor
+Franz Rickaby, in whose course in dramatic composition (English 36) in
+the University of North Dakota this play was written. For permission to
+perform, address Professor Franz Rickaby, University of North Dakota,
+University, North Dakota.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_344" id="page_344"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_345" id="page_345"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="BEULAH_BORNSTEAD" id="BEULAH_BORNSTEAD"></a>BEULAH BORNSTEAD</p>
+
+<p>Beulah Bornstead, one of the promising young playwrights of the
+Northwest, was born in Grand Forks, North Dakota, May 5, 1896. She has
+had her academic training at the University of North Dakota, from which
+she received her B.A. in 1921. At present Miss Bornstead is principal of
+the Cavalier High School, North Dakota. Before attempting drama she
+tried her hand at journalism and at short-story writing.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Bornstead was introduced into playwriting by Professor Franz
+Rickaby, in whose course in dramatic composition at the University of
+North Dakota <i>The Diabolical Circle</i> was written. In speaking of this
+play Miss Bornstead writes: "<i>The Diabolical Circle</i> is the first play I
+have ever written. I never enjoyed doing anything so much in my life.
+The characters were so real to me that if I had bumped into one going
+round the corner I should not have been surprised in the least. <span class="smcap">Betty</span>
+and <span class="smcap">Charles</span> and <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> and even <span class="smcap">Cotton Mather</span> himself worked that play
+out. All the humble author did was to set it down on paper." <i>The
+Diabolical Circle</i> was produced May 5, 1921, by the Dakota Playmakers in
+their Little Theatre at the University of North Dakota.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Diabolical Circle</i> is one of the best contemporary plays dealing
+with American historical material. Its characterization is one of its
+noteworthy elements.<a name="page_346" id="page_346"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">CHARACTERS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Cotton Mather</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Betty</span>, <i>his daughter</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Adonijah Wigglesworth</span>, <i>a suitor, and</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton's</span> <i>choice</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Charles Manning</span>, <i>likewise a suitor, but</i> <span class="smcap">Betty's</span> <i>choice</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Clock</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_347" id="page_347"></a></p>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_DIABOLICAL_CIRCLE" id="THE_DIABOLICAL_CIRCLE"></a>THE DIABOLICAL CIRCLE</h2>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>The living-room in the Mather home in Boston.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang">TIME: <i>About 1700, an evening in early autumn.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The stage represents the living-room of the Mather home. A large
+colonial fireplace is seen down-stage left, within which stand huge
+brass andirons. To one side hangs the bellows, with the tongs near
+by, while above, underneath the mantelpiece, is suspended an old
+flint-lock rifle. On both ends of the mantel are brass
+candlesticks, and hanging directly above is an old-fashioned
+portrait of Betty's mother. There are two doors, one leading into
+the hall at centre left, the other, communicating with the rest of
+the house, up-stage right. A straight high-backed settee is
+down-stage right, while in the centre back towers an old
+grandfather's clock.<a name="FNanchor_K_11" id="FNanchor_K_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_11" class="fnanchor">[K]</a> To the left of the clock is the window,
+cross-barred and draped with flowered chintz. An old-fashioned
+table occupies the corner between the window and the hall door.
+Here and there are various straight-backed chairs of Dutch origin.
+Rag rugs cover the floor.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>As the curtain rises</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton Mather</span> <i>is seated in a large armchair
+by the fire, with</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>on a stool at his feet, with her
+knitting</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Cotton</span>, <i>his hair already touched with the whitening frost of many
+a severe New England winter, is grave and sedate. Very much
+exercised with the perils of this life, and serenely contemplative
+of the life to come, he takes himself and the world about him very
+seriously.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Not so with</i> <span class="smcap">Mistress Betty</span>. <i>Outwardly demure, yet inwardly<a name="page_348" id="page_348"></a>
+rebellious against the straitened conventions of the times, she
+dimples over with roguish merriment upon the slightest
+provocation.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>As we first see them</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton</span> <i>is giving</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>some timely
+advice</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. But you must understand that marriage, my daughter, is a most
+reverend and serious matter which should be approached in a manner
+fittingly considerate of its grave responsibility.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Thoughtfully.</i>] Truly reverend and most serious, father
+[<i>looking up roguishly</i>], but I like not so much of the grave about it.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Continuing.</i>] I fear thou lookest upon the matter too lightly.
+It is not seemly to treat such a momentous occasion thus flippantly.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Protesting.</i>] Nay, father, why consider it at all? Marriage is
+yet a great way off. Mayhap I shall never leave thee.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Thou little thinkest that I may be suddenly called on to leave
+<i>thee</i>. The Good Word cautions us to boast not ourselves of the morrow,
+for we know not what a day may bring forth.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Dropping her knitting.</i>] Father, thou art not feeling well.
+Perhaps&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Nay, child, be not alarmed. 'Tis but a most necessary lesson to
+be learned and laid up in the heart. I will not always be with thee and
+I would like to be comfortably assured of thy future welfare before I
+go.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Picking her knitting up.</i>] Be comfortably assured, then, I
+prithee; I have no fears.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Bringing his arm down forcibly on the arm of the chair.</i>] Aye!
+There it is. Thou hast no fears. Would that thou had'st some! [<i>Looks up
+at the portrait.</i>] Had thy prudent and virtuous mother only lived to
+point the way, I might be<a name="page_349" id="page_349"></a> spared this anxiety; but, beset by diverse
+difficulties in establishing the kingdom of God in this country, and
+sorely harassed by many hardships and by evil men, I fear me I have not
+propounded to thee much that I ought.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. In what then is mine education lacking? Have I not all that is
+fitting and proper for a maiden to know?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Perplexed.</i>] I know not. I have done my best, but thou hast
+not the proper attitude of mind befitting a maiden about to enter the
+married estate.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Protesting.</i>] Nay, but I am not about to enter the married
+estate.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. It is time.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Mockingly pleading.</i>] Entreat me not to leave thee, father, nor
+forsake thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and whither&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Interrupting sternly.</i>] Betty! It ill befitteth a daughter of
+mine to quote the Scriptures with such seeming irreverence.&mdash;I would not
+be parted from thee, yet I would that thou wert promised to some godly
+and upright soul that would guide thee yet more surely in the paths of
+righteousness. There be many such.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Yea, too many.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. What meanest thou?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. One were one too many when I would have none.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Shaking his head.</i>] Ah. Betty, Betty! When wilt thou be
+serious? There is a goodly youth among the friends surrounding thee whom
+I have often marked, both on account of his godly demeanor and simple
+wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Nodding.</i>] Yea, simple.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. I speak of Adonijah Wigglesworth, a most estimable young
+gentleman, an acquaintance whom thou would'st do well to cultivate.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Yea, cultivate.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. What thinkest thou?<a name="page_350" id="page_350"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. A sod too dense for any ploughshare. My wit would break in the
+turning.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. His is a strong nature, born to drive and not be driven. There
+is not such another, nay, not in the whole of Boston.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Nay. I have lately heard there be many such!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Testily.</i>] Mayhap thou wouldst name a few.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Musingly, holds up her left hand with fingers outspread.</i>] Aye,
+that I can. [<i>Checks off one on the little finger.</i>] There be Marcus
+Ainslee&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. A goodly youth that hath an eye for books.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. One eye, sayest thou? Nay, four; and since I am neither morocco
+bound nor edged with gilt, let us consign him to the shelf wherein he
+findeth fullest compensation.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. How now? A man of action, then, should appeal to thy brash
+tastes. What sayest thou to Jeremiah Wadsworth?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Too brash and rash for me [<i>checking off that candidate on the
+next finger</i>], and I'll have none of him. There's Percy Wayne.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Of the bluest blood in Boston.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Yet that be not everything [<i>checks off another finger</i>]&mdash;and
+Jonas Appleby&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. He hath an eye to worldly goods&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Quickly.</i>] Especially the larder. To marry him would be an
+everlasting round between the tankard and the kettle. [<i>Checks him
+off.</i>] Nay, let me look yet farther&mdash;James Endicott. [<i>Checking.</i>]</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Aye, there might be a lad for thee; birth, breeding, a
+well-favored countenance, and most agreeable.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Yea, most agreeable&mdash;unto himself. 'Twere a pity to disturb such
+unanimity. Therefore, let us pass on. Take Charles Manning, an you
+please&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. It pleaseth me not! I know the ilk; his father before<a name="page_351" id="page_351"></a> him a
+devoted servant of the devil and King Charles. With others of his kind
+he hath brought dissension among the young men of Harvard, many of whom
+are dedicated to the service of the Lord, with his wicked apparel and
+ungodly fashion of wearing long hair after the manner of Russians and
+barbarous Indians. Many there be with him brought up in such pride as
+doth in no ways become the service of the Lord. The devil himself hath
+laid hold on our young men, so that they do evaporate senseless,
+useless, noisy impertinency wherever they may be; and now it has e'en
+got out in the pulpits of the land, to the great grief and fear of many
+godly hearts.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>He starts to his feet and paces the floor.</i></p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Standing upright.</i>] But Charles&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Mention not that scapegrace in my hearing.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Still persisting.</i>] But, father, truly thou knowest not&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Almost savagely, while</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>retreats to a safe distance</i>.]
+Name him not. I will not have it. Compared with Adonijah he is a reed
+shaken in the winds, whereas Adonijah resembleth a tree planted by the
+river of waters.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Who has been looking out of the window.</i>] Converse of the devil
+and thou wilt behold his horns. Even now he approacheth the knocker.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The knocker sounds.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Sternly.</i>] Betake thyself to thine own chamber with thine
+unseemly tongue, which so ill befitteth a maid.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>is very demure, with head slightly bent and downcast eyes;
+but the moment</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton</span> <i>turns she glances roguishly after his
+retreating form; then while her glance revolves about the room, she
+starts slightly as her gaze falls upon the clock. A smile of
+mischievous delight flits over her countenance as she tiptoes in</i>
+<span class="smcap">Cotton's</span> <i>wake until the clock is reached</i>. <span class="smcap">Cotton</span>, <i>unsuspecting,
+meanwhile, proceeds<a name="page_352" id="page_352"></a> to do his duty as host, with never a backward
+glance. While he is out in the hall</i> <span class="smcap">Betty,</span> <i>with a lingering smile
+of triumph, climbs into the clock and cautiously peeks forth as her
+father opens the door and ushers in</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>, <i>whereupon the door
+softly closes</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. Good-morrow, reverend sir.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Enter, and doubly welcome.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. I would inquire whether thy daughter Betty is within.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. We were but speaking of thee as thy knock sounded. Betty will be
+here presently; she hath but retired for the moment. Remove thy wraps
+and make thyself in comfort.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>is a lean, lank, lantern-jawed individual, clad in the
+conventional sober gray of the Puritan, with high-crowned hat, and
+a fur tippet wound about his neck up to his ears. He removes the
+hat and tippet and hands them to</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton</span>, <i>who carefully places
+them upon the table; meanwhile</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>looks appraisingly about
+him and judiciously selects the armchair by the fire. He pauses a
+moment to rub his hands before the blaze, and then gingerly relaxes
+into the depths of the armchair, as though fearful his comfort
+would give way ere fully attained.</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton</span> <i>places a chair on the
+other side of</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>and is seated</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. And how is it with thee since I have seen thee last?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. My business prospereth [<i>mournfully</i>], but not so finely as it
+might well do.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The clock strikes four, but is unnoticed by the two men.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Thou hast suffered some great loss?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. But yes&mdash;and no&mdash;this matter of lending money hath many and
+grievous complications, not the least of which is the duplicity of the
+borrower. I but insist on the thirty pounds to the hundred as my due
+recompense, and when I demand it<a name="page_353" id="page_353"></a> they respond not, but let my kindness
+lie under the clods of ingratitude. [<i>Straightening up, and speaking
+with conviction.</i>] They shall come before the council. I will have what
+is mine own.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Righteously.</i>] And it is not unbecoming of thee to demand it.
+I wist not what the present generation is coming to.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. They have no sense of the value of money. They know not how to
+demean themselves properly in due proportion to their worldly goods, as
+the Lord hath prospered them. There be many that have nothing and do
+hold their heads above us that be worthy of our possessions.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. The wicked stand in slippery places. It will not always be thus.
+Judgment shall come upon them.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. Aye, let them fall. I for one have upheld them too far. They
+squander their means in riotous living, and walk not in the ways of
+their fathers.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. There be many such&mdash;many such&mdash;but thou, my lad, thou art not
+one of the multitude. As I have often observed to my Betty, thou
+standest out as a most upright and God-fearing young man.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Brimming over with self-satisfaction.</i>] That have I ever
+sought to be.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. An example that others would do well to imitate.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>All puffed up.</i>] Nay, others value it not. They be envious
+of my good fortune.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. A most prudent young man! Nay, be not so over-blushingly timid.
+Thou'rt too modest.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>His face falling.</i>] But Betty&mdash;doth she regard me thus?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. The ways of a maid are past finding out; but despair not. I
+think she hath thee much to heart, but, as the perverse heart of woman
+dictateth, behaveth much to the contrary.<a name="page_354" id="page_354"></a></p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Brightening up as one with new hopes.</i>] Thou thinkest&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Nay, lad, I am sure of it. Betty was ever a
+dutiful daughter.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>All unseen</i>, <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>peeks out mischievously</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. But I mistrust me her heart is elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Thou referr'st to young Manning without doubt. It can never be.
+'Tis but a passing fancy.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. Nay, but I fear Charles thinketh not so. I have been told in
+secret [<i>leaning forward confidentially</i>] by one that hath every
+opportunity to know, that he hath enjoined Goodman Shrewsbury to send
+for&mdash;[<i>impressively</i>] a ring!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Angered.</i>] A ring, sayest thou?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Nodding.</i>] Aye, even so.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. But he hath not signified such intention here to me.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. Then there are no grounds for his rash presumption?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Humph! Grounds! For a ring! Aye, there'll be no diabolical
+circle here for the devil to daunce in. I will question Betty thereon.
+[<i>Rises.</i>] Do thou remain here and I will send her to thee. Oh, that he
+should offer daughter of mine a ring!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Cotton</span> <i>leaves the room</i>. <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>leans back in his chair in
+supreme contentment at the turn affairs have taken. The clamorous
+knocker arouses him from his reverie. He gazes stupidly around. The
+continued imperious tattoo on the knocker finally brings him to his
+feet. He goes into the hall and opens the door. His voice is
+heard.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Frostily.</i>] Good-afternoon, Sir Charles, mine host is
+absent.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Stepping in.</i>] My mission has rather to do with Mistress
+Betty. Is she in?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Closing the hall door, and turning to</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span>,<a name="page_355" id="page_355"></a> <i>replies in
+grandiose hauteur</i>.] Mistress Betty is otherwise engaged, I would have
+thee know.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Engaged? [<i>Bowing.</i>] Your humble servant, I trust, hath the
+supreme pleasure of that engagement.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He glances inquiringly about the room, and places the hat on the
+table beside that of</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>. <i>The two hats are as different as
+the two men</i>: <span class="smcap">Adonijah's</span> <i>prim, Puritanic, severe</i>; <span class="smcap">Charles's</span>
+<i>three-cornered, with a flowing plume</i>.</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>is a handsome chap of goodly proportions, with a
+straightforward air and a pleasant smile. He is dressed more after
+the fashion of the cavaliers of Virginia, and wears a long wig with
+flowing curls. The two men size each other up.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Meaningly.</i>] Her father will shortly arrive.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Impatiently striding forth.</i>] Devil take her father. 'Tis
+Mistress Betty I would see. Where is she?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>continues pacing the floor</i>. <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>, <i>shocked beyond
+measure, turns his back on the offending</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span>, <i>and with folded
+arms and bowed head stands aside in profound meditation. The clock
+door slowly opens and</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>cautiously peeks out</i>. <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>stops
+short and is about to begin a decided demonstration, when</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span>,
+<i>with a warning glance toward</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>, <i>checks him with upraised
+hand. The clock door closes and</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>subsides into the
+armchair with a comprehending grin of delight</i>. <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>slowly
+turns and faces</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>with a melancholy air</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Prithee, why so sad?</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>The grin becomes a chuckle.</i></p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. I do discern no cause for such unrighteous merriment.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. 'Tis none the less for all of that. I take life as I find it,
+and for that matter so do they all, even thou. The difference <a name="page_356" id="page_356"></a>be in the
+finding.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Whistles.</i></p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Uneasily.</i>] It is time her father did arrive.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Where then hath he been?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. He but went in search of Betty.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Ah, then we'll wait.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He whistles, while</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>moves uneasily about the room,
+glancing every now and then at this disturbing element of his
+peace, as if he would send him to kingdom come, if he only could</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>After considerable toleration.</i>] Waiting may avail thee
+naught.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. And thee? Nevertheless we'll wait.</p>
+
+<p class="r"> [<i>Whistles.</i></p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Takes another turn or two and fetches up a counterfeit
+sigh.</i>] Methinks, her father's quest be fruitless.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Starting up.</i>] Ah, then, let us go.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Adonijah.</span>, <i>visibly relieved, sits down in the chair opposite</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Amused.</i>] Nay? [<i>Sits down and relaxes.</i>] Ah, then, we'll
+wait. [<i>Whistles.</i></p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Troubled.</i>] 'Tis certain Mistress Betty be not here.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Nay, if she be not here, then I am neither here nor there. I
+would wager ten pounds to a farthing she be revealed in time if she but
+will it. Wilt take me up?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. It be not seemly so to stake thy fortune on a woman's whim.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Laughs.</i>] Thou'rt right on it. If she will, say I, for if she
+will she won't, and if she won't she will.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. False jargon! A woman has no will but e'en her father's as a
+maid, her husband's later still.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton</span>, <i>who stops short on seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span>, <i>rallies
+quickly, and proceeds</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Stiffly.</i>] Good-day to you, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Bowing; he has risen.</i>] And to you, sire.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>.] I am deeply grieved to report that Mistress
+Betty is not to be found.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Adonijah.</span> <i>steals a sly look of triumph at</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>In mock solemnity.</i>] I prithee present my deep regrets to
+Mistress Betty. I will call again.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. God speed thee! [<i>And as</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>takes his leave</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton</span>
+<i>places his hand affectionately upon</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah's</span> <i>shoulder, saying
+reassuringly</i>.] Come again, my son; Betty may not be afar off. I fain
+would have her soon persuaded of thy worth. Improve thy time.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Beaming.</i>] Good morrow, sir; I will.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>As the door closes behind them</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton</span> <i>slowly walks toward the
+fire, where he stands in complete revery. Still absorbed in thought
+he walks slowly out the door at the right.</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>peeks cautiously
+out, but hearing footsteps quickly withdraws</i>. <span class="smcap">Cotton</span> <i>re-enters
+with hat on. He is talking to himself, reflectively.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Where can she be? Mayhap at Neighbor Ainslee's.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>He goes hurriedly out through the hall door. The banging of the
+outside door is heard. The clock door once more slowly opens and</i>
+<span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>peers forth, listening. The sound of a door opening causes
+her to draw back. As the noise is further emphasized by approaching
+footsteps, she pulls the clock door quickly to.</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>enters.
+He looks inquiringly about, tosses his hat on the table, and goes
+for the clock. He opens it with a gay laugh.</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>steps forth
+out of the clock, very much assisted by</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Blessed relief! Thou art in very truth, then, flesh and blood?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. And what else should I be, forsooth?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Laughing.</i>] I marked thee for a mummy there entombed.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Disengaging her hand.</i>] What? Darest thou?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. A lively mummy now thou art come to, whilst I [<i>sighs</i>]&mdash;I
+waited through the ages!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Laughingly.</i>] A veritable monument of patient grief.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. And Adonijah&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_358" id="page_358"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Yea, verily, old Father Time but come to life. [<i>Mimics.</i>] Thy
+waiting may avail thee naught.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. In truth, it may avail me naught; thy father may be back at any
+time, while I have much to say, sweet Betty&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Interrupting.</i>] Nay, sweet Betty call me not.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Dear Betty, then, the dearest&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Quickly.</i>] Yea, call me dearest mummy, Hottentot, or what you
+will, just so it be not <i>sweet</i>, like Adonijah. It sickens me beyond
+expressing.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Then, <i>sweet</i> Betty thou art <i>not</i>, say rather sour Betty,
+cross Betty, mean Betty, bad Betty, mad Betty, sad Betty.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Suddenly dimpling.</i>] Nay, glad Betty!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Art then so glad? Wilt tell me why? In sooth, I know not
+whither to be glad, or sad, or mad. Sometimes I am but one, sometimes I
+am all three.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Wilt tell me why?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Stepping closer and imprisoning her left hand.</i>] Thou wilt
+not now escape it, for I will tell thee why, and mayhap this will aid
+me. [<i>Slips ring, which he has had concealed in his pocket, on her
+finger.</i>] Hath this no meaning for thee?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Her eyes sparkling with mischief.</i>] Aye, 'tis a diabolical
+circle for the devil to daunce in!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>In astonishment.</i>] A what?</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Slowly.</i>] A diabolical circle for the devil to daunce in&mdash;so
+father saith. Likewise Adonijah.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Weakly endeavoring to comprehend.</i>] A diabolical circle&mdash;but
+what!&mdash;say it again, Betty.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Repeats slowly, emphasizing it with pointed finger.</i>] A
+diabolical circle for the devil to daunce in.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Throws back his head and laughs.</i>] May I be the devil!<a name="page_359" id="page_359"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Shaking her finger at him.</i>] Then daunce!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They take position, as though for a minuet. The knocker sounds.</i>
+<span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>runs to the window</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Aye, there's <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> at the knocker. Into the clock&mdash;hie
+thee&mdash;quick, quick!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Reproachfully.</i>] And would'st thou incarcerate me through the
+ages? [<i>Turns to the clock.</i>] O timely sarcophagus!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>is smuggled into the clock, and</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>has barely enough
+time to make a dash for the hat and conceal it behind her before
+the door opens and in stalks</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>. <i>He looks about
+suspiciously.</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>faces him with the hat held behind her. He
+removes his hat and tippet and lays them on the table.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. Methought I heard a sound of many feet.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Looking down.</i>] Two feet have I; no more, no less.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Dryly.</i>] Aye, two be quite sufficient.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. An thou sayest the word, they yet can beat as loud a retreat as
+an whole regiment.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. Thou dost my meaning misconstrue.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Construe it then, I prithee.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. I came not here to vex&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Then get thee hence. [<i>He steps forward.</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>steps back</i>.]
+But not behind me, Satan.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Coming closer.</i>] And yet thou driv'st me to it.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Backing off.</i>] Indeed, thou hast a nature born to <i>drive</i> and
+not be driven.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Highly complimented.</i>] So be it, yet I scarce had hoped that
+thou would'st notice. [<i>Advancing.</i>] Born to drive, thou sayest, not be
+driven.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Retreating.</i>] Thou hast said it, born to <i>drive</i>. But what to
+drive I have not said. That knowledge hath my father yet concealed.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Eagerly.</i>] Thy father, then, hath told thee&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_360" id="page_360"></a></p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Who is retreating steadily across the room.</i>] Thou wert born to
+<i>drive</i>!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Strikes settee and goes down on the hat.</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>seats himself
+beside</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span>. <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>is of necessity forced to remain&mdash;on the
+hat</i>. <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>slides arm along the back of the settee. The clock
+door strikes erratically. He jerks his arm back and gazes in the
+direction of the clock. The clock hands wigwag.</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>stares
+abstractedly and passes his hand over his forehead in a dazed
+manner</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Solicitously.</i>] What aileth thee?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Still staring.</i>] The time!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Stifles a yawn.</i>] It doth grow late.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. But not consistently; it changeth.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. 'Twas ever so with time.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Reminiscently.</i>] Of a certainty they moved.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Yea, verily, 'tis not uncommon.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. But backwards!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Joyfully.</i>] Why, then, my prayers are answered. How often I
+have prayed them thus to move! Yet hath it never come to pass.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. Nay, had'st thou seen&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Prithee calm thyself. Thou'rt ill.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Steals his arm along the back of the settee and moves over
+closer.</i>] Sweet Betty! [<span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>looks away with a wry face</i>.] Thy
+indifference in no wise blinds me to thy conception of my true value.
+[<span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>sits up, round-eyed</i>.] There was a time when I despaired&mdash;[<i>The
+clock again strikes wildly. The hands drop and rise as before.</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>
+<i>excitedly points at the clock</i>.] Again! Did'st mark it? Something doth
+ail the clock!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Yea, truly thou art ill. The clock behaveth much more to the
+point than thou.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Tearing his gaze from the clock.</i>] As I was on the point of
+saying&mdash;[<i>glances at the clock</i>] thy father hath given&mdash;[<i>another
+glance</i>] me to understand&mdash;[<i>with eye on the clock he hitches up
+closer</i>] that thou art not averse to mine affections&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_361" id="page_361"></a></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>As he attempts to put his arm around</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>the clock strikes a
+tattoo and startles him excitedly to his feet, as the hands travel
+all the way round</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Pointing.</i>] Now look! Mark the time!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Cotton</span> <i>enters</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Tarry yet awhile, my son, the time doth not prevent thee.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. Tarry? Time doth not prevent? Little knowest thou! [<i>Gazes
+abstractedly about. Sights the ring on</i> <span class="smcap">Betty's</span> <i>finger, who in
+excitement has forgotten to keep her hands behind her back</i>.] Aye, there
+it is, the diabolical circle. It is a charm. It harms her not, while all
+about me is askew. Whence came she here? [<i>Points at</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span>.] She
+neither came nor went, and yet she was not there and now she is. A manly
+form did enter. Yet hath vanished into thin air. Yea, verily, it was
+none other than the devil himself in one of his divers forms, of which
+he hath aplenty. The very clock indulgeth in unseemly pranks. A strange
+influence hangs over me. I cannot now abide. I must depart from hence.
+My conscience bids me go.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Striving to detain him.</i>] Hold! Thou'rt mad!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Nay, father, he is ill.</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Wildly.</i>] Aye, if I be mad, thy daughter be to blame. The
+spell did come upon me. I have seen strange things.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. What meanest thou?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. [<i>Pointing at</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span>, <i>who regards him wonderingly</i>.] Thy
+daughter is a witch!</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Runs to</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton</span>.] Oh, father!</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Consoles</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span>; <i>thunders at</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>.] What? Darest thou to
+being forth such an accusation?</p>
+
+<p>A<small>DONIJAH</small>. Aye, while I yet have strength to order mine own will. We
+shall see what we shall see when the fires leap round the stake. All the
+diabolical circles the devil may invent or his helpmeets acquire will be
+of small avail when the leaping tongues<a name="page_362" id="page_362"></a> of flame curl round you, false
+servant of the devil. I can delay no longer. I will repair to the
+council at once, and report what I have seen.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>faints away</i>. <span class="smcap">Cotton</span> <i>is at once all paternal solicitude</i>.
+<span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>gazes in stupefaction. All unobserved</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>slips out
+of the clock. Finally</i> <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span>, <i>as</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span> <i>shows signs of
+reviving, turns himself away, only to find himself face to face
+with</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span>. <span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>stops dead in his tracks, absolutely
+nonplussed</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Thou goest to the council? Thou lackest evidence. Behold the
+devil an' thou wilt.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Adonijah's</span> <i>jaw drops. He stares unbelievingly.</i> <span class="smcap">Cotton</span> <i>looks up
+in surprise as</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>continues</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. An' thou goest to the council with such a message, the devil
+will dog thy very footsteps. And match word of thine with word of truth
+in such a light that thine own words shall imprison thee in the stocks
+over Sunday.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Adonijah</span> <i>recovers from his temporary abstraction, and seizing his
+hat and tippet, tears out the door as if a whole legion of imps
+were in full pursuit</i>. <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>contemptuously turns on his heel
+and goes over to</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span>, <i>who is now clinging to her father's arm</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Faintly.</i>] They will not burn me for a witch?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Savagely.</i>] Aye, let them try it an they will.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Hotly.</i>] Aye&mdash;let them! [<i>Then starting suddenly with a new
+thought.</i>] But how cam'st thou here? Yea, verily, it seemeth to me thou
+did'st materialize out of thin air.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Surveys</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>with piercing scrutiny</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Nay, see through me an thou can'st. Thou wilt find me a most
+material shadow, the like of which no eye hath ever pierced. 'Twas not
+out of the air, but out of yonder clock that I materialized.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Yea, father, I put him there.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. [<i>Going to the clock and opening it.</i>] Of a truth, the<a name="page_363" id="page_363"></a>
+evidence, all told, is here. Thou wert of a certainty in the clock.
+[<i>Takes out the detached pendulum. Steps back and surveys the timepiece,
+whose hands clearly indicate a time long passed or not yet come.</i>] And
+as far as pendulums are concerned [<i>looking ruefully at the one in his
+hand</i>], thou certainly wert no improve&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Aye, that I'll warrant. And may I never more be called to
+fulfil such position; the requirements be far too exacting for one of my
+build and constitution.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. But what extremity hath induced thee to take up thine abode in
+such a place?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Lays the pendulum aside and gives</i> <span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>his entire
+attention</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Why, that came all in the course of events as I take it. When I
+returned a short time ago, hard upon mine heels came Adonijah; and,
+being loath either to leave the field or share it, I hid within the
+clock. Once there, the temptation to help time in covering its course
+grew strong upon me in the hope that Adonijah, misled by the lateness of
+the hour, would soon depart. Only I looked not for such a departure.
+Judge me not too harshly, sire, for I love thy daughter, and if thou
+wilt give thy consent to our marriage I will do all that becometh a man
+to deserve such treasure.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. I like not thy frivolous manner of wearing hair that is not
+thine own; it becomes thee not. And I strongly mistrust thine attitude
+toward the more serious things of life.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. If my wig standeth between me and my heart's desire, why, I'll
+have no wig at all. [<i>He pulls the wig off and tosses it aside.</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span>,
+<i>with a little cry, picks it up and smooths its disarranged curls</i>.] And
+as for mine outlook on life, I promise thee that hath but matched the
+outer trappings, and can be doffed as quickly. I am as serious beneath
+all outward levity as any sober-minded judge, and can act accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. See to it that thou suit the action to those words. My heart is
+strangely moved toward thee, yet I would ponder<a name="page_364" id="page_364"></a> the matter more deeply.
+[<i>Turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span>, <i>who has been absent-mindedly twirling the curls on
+the wig</i>.] And where is thy voice, my daughter? Thou art strangely
+silent&mdash;[<i>as an afterthought</i>] for the once. But it is of small wonder,
+since thou hast had enough excitement for one evening. Methinks that
+scoundrel, Adonijah, needeth following up. Do thou remain with Betty,
+Charles, and I will hasten after him.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Nay, thou need'st not trouble thyself regarding Adonijah. He
+hath much too wholesome a regard for the ducking-stool to cause further
+mischief.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>OTTON</small>. Nevertheless, I will away to the council and make sure. [<i>He
+plants his hat on his head and departs.</i></p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Turning to</i> <span class="smcap">Betty</span>, <i>who has dropped the wig on the settee,
+and who is now gazing demurely at the floor</i>.] And now to finish up
+where we left off. The devil hath led us a merrier dance than we
+suspected. Thou hast not truly given answer to the question I have asked
+of thee.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. What more of an answer would'st thou yet require?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Why, I have yet had none at all.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. Must tell thee further?</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. [<i>Gravely.</i>] Thou must.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Mischievously.</i>] Then&mdash;put the question once again.</p>
+
+<p>C<small>HARLES</small>. Thou knowest the question, an thou wilt.</p>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. An' thou knowest the answer.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>takes her in his arms</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>B<small>ETTY</small>. [<i>Holding up her hand so that the ring sparkles.</i>] Look,
+Charles&mdash;the diabolical circle!</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_365" id="page_365"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+THE FAR-AWAY PRINCESS<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+HERMANN SUDERMANN</small></h2>
+
+<div class="copyr">
+<p><i>The Far-Away Princess</i> is reprinted by special arrangement with Charles
+Scribner's Sons, the publishers of <i>Roses</i>, from which this play is
+taken. For permission to perform address the publishers.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="page_366" id="page_366"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_367" id="page_367"></a></p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="HERMANN_SUDERMANN" id="HERMANN_SUDERMANN"></a>HERMANN SUDERMANN</p>
+
+<p>Hermann Sudermann, one of the foremost of the Continental European
+dramatists, was born at Matziken, in East Prussia, Germany, September
+30, 1857. He attended school at Elbing and Tilsit, and then at fourteen
+became a druggist's apprentice. He received his university training at
+Königsberg and Berlin. Soon he devoted his energies to literary work.</p>
+
+<p>His greatest literary work is in the field of the drama, in which he
+became successful almost instantly. His strength is not in poetic beauty
+and in deep insight into human character, as in the instance of a number
+of other German dramatists. He is essentially a man of the theatre, a
+dramatist, and a technician by instinct. He is a dramatic craftsman of
+the first order.</p>
+
+<p>His chief one-act plays are in two volumes: <i>Morituri</i>, which contains
+<i>Teja</i>, <i>Fritchen</i>, and <i>The Eternal Masculine</i>; and <i>Roses</i>, which
+contains <i>Streaks of Light</i>, <i>Margot</i>, <i>The Last Visit</i>, and <i>The
+Far-Away Princess</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Far-Away Princess</i> is one of the most subtle and most delicate of
+Sudermann's plays. Its technic is exemplary.<a name="page_368" id="page_368"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">CHARACTERS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Princess von Geldern</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Baroness von Brook</span>, <i>her maid of honor</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Frau von Halldorf</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Liddy</span> }<i>her daughters</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Milly</span> }</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Fritz Strübel</span>, <i>a student</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Frau Lindemann</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Rosa</span>, <i>a waitress</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Lackey</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_369" id="page_369"></a></p>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_FAR-AWAY_PRINCESSL" id="THE_FAR-AWAY_PRINCESSL"></a>THE FAR-AWAY PRINCESS<a name="FNanchor_L_12" id="FNanchor_L_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_L_12" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size:50%;">[L]</span></a></h2>
+
+<p class="hang">THE PRESENT DAY: <i>The scene is laid at an inn situated above a
+watering-place in central Germany.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The veranda of an inn. The right side of the stage and half of the
+background represent a framework of glass enclosing the veranda.
+The left side and the other half of the background represent the
+stone walls of the house. To the left, in the foreground, a door;
+another door in the background, at the left. On the left, back, a
+buffet and serving-table. Neat little tables and small iron chairs
+for visitors are placed about the veranda. On the right, in the
+centre, a large telescope, standing on a tripod, is directed
+through an open window.</i> <span class="smcap">Rosa</span>, <i>dressed in the costume of the
+country, is arranging flowers on the small tables</i>. <span class="smcap">Frau Lindemann</span>,
+<i>a handsome, stoutish woman in the thirties, hurries in excitedly
+from the left</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. There! Now she can come&mdash;curtains, bedding&mdash;everything
+fresh and clean as new! No, this honor, this unexpected honor&mdash;! Barons
+and counts have been here often enough. Even the Russian princes
+sometimes come up from the Springs. I don't bother my head about
+them&mdash;they're just like&mdash;that!&mdash;But a princess&mdash;a real princess!</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. Perhaps it isn't a real princess after all.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. [<i>Indignantly.</i>] What? What do you mean by that!</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. I was only thinking that a real princess wouldn't be coming to an
+inn like this. Real princesses won't lie on anything but silks and
+velvets. You just wait and see; it's a trick!<a name="page_370" id="page_370"></a></p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. Are you going to pretend that the letter isn't genuine;
+that the letter is a forgery?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. Maybe one of the regular customers is playing a joke. That
+student, Herr Strübel, he's always joking. [<i>Giggles.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. When Herr Strübel makes a joke he makes a decent joke, a
+real, genuine joke. Oh, of course one has to pretend to be angry
+sometimes&mdash;but as for writing a forged letter&mdash;My land!&mdash;a letter with a
+gold crown on it&mdash;there! [<i>She takes a letter from her waist and
+reads.</i>] "This afternoon Her Highness, the Princess von Geldern, will
+stop at the Fairview Inn, to rest an hour or so before making the
+descent to the Springs. You are requested to have ready a quiet and
+comfortable room, to guard Her Highness from any annoying advances, and,
+above all, to maintain the strictest secrecy regarding this event, as
+otherwise the royal visit will not be repeated. Baroness von Brook, maid
+of honor to Her Highness." Now, what have you got to say?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. Herr Strübel lent me a book once. A maid of honor came into that,
+too. I'm sure it's a trick!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. [<i>Looking out toward the back.</i>] Dear, dear, isn't that
+Herr Strübel now, coming up the hill? To-day of all days! What on earth
+does he always want up here?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. [<i>Pointedly.</i>] He's in such favor at the Inn. He won't be leaving
+here all day.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. That won't do at all. He's got to be sent off. If I only
+knew how I could&mdash;Oh, ho! I'll be disagreeable to him&mdash;that's the only
+way to manage it!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Strübel</span> <i>enters. He is a handsome young fellow without much
+polish, but cheerful, unaffected, entirely at his ease, and
+invariably good-natured.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Good day, everybody.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. [<i>Sarcastically.</i>] Charming day.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Surprised at her coolness.</i>] I say! What's up? Who's been
+rubbing you the wrong way? May I have a glass<a name="page_371" id="page_371"></a> of beer, anyway? Glass of
+beer, if you please! Several glasses of beer, if you please. [<i>Sits
+down.</i>] Pestiferously hot this afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. [<i>After a pause.</i>] H'm, H'm.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Landlady Linda, dear, why so quiet to-day?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. In the first place, Herr Strübel, I would have you know
+that my name is Frau Lindemann.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Just so.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. And, secondly, if you don't stop your familiarity&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Singing, as</i> <span class="smcap">Rosa</span> <i>brings him a glass of beer</i>.]
+"Beer&mdash;beer!"&mdash;Heavens and earth, how hot it is! [<i>Drinks.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. If you find it so hot, why don't you stay quietly down
+there at the Springs?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Ah, my soul thirsts for the heights&mdash;my soul thirsts for the
+heights every afternoon. Just as soon as ever my sallow-faced pupil has
+thrown himself down on the couch to give his red corpuscles a chance to
+grow, "I gayly grasp my Alpine staff and mount to my beloved."</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. [<i>Scornfully.</i>] Bah!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Oh, you're thinking that <i>you</i> are my beloved? No, dearest; my
+beloved stays down there. But to get nearer to her, I have to come up
+here&mdash;up to your telescope. With the aid of your telescope I can look
+right into her window&mdash;see?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. [<i>Laughing.</i>] Oh, so that's why&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. Perhaps you think I'm interested in all that? Besides,
+I've no more time for you. Moreover, I'm going to have this place
+cleaned right away. Good-by, Herr Strübel. [<i>Goes out.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Laughing.</i>] I certainly caught it that time! See here, Rosa,
+what's got into her head?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. [<i>Mysteriously.</i>] Ahem, there are crowned heads and other
+heads&mdash;and&mdash;ahem&mdash;there are letters <i>with</i> crowns and letters <i>without</i>
+crowns.<a name="page_372" id="page_372"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Letters&mdash;? Are you&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. There are maids of honor&mdash;and other maids! [<i>Giggles.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Permit me. [<i>Tapping her forehead lightly with his finger.</i>]
+Ow! Ow!</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. What's the matter?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Why, your head's on fire. Blow! Blow! And while you are getting
+some salve for my burns, I'll just&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Goes to the telescope.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Frau von Halldorf</span>, <span class="smcap">Liddy</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Milly</span>. <span class="smcap">Frau von Halldorf</span>
+<i>is an aristocratic woman, somewhat supercilious and affected</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. Here's the telescope, mother. Now you can see for yourself.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. What a pity that it's in use just now.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Stepping back.</i>] Oh, I beg of you, ladies&mdash;I have plenty of
+time. I can wait.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. [<i>Condescendingly.</i>] Ah, thanks so much. [<i>She goes up
+to the telescope, while</i> <span class="smcap">Strübel</span> <i>returns to his former place</i>.]
+Waitress! Bring us three glasses of milk.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Milly</span> <i>languidly drops into a chair</i>.] Beyond to the right
+is the road, mother.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Oh, I have found the road, but I see no
+carriage&mdash;neither a royal carriage nor any other sort.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. Let me look.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Please do.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. It has disappeared now.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Are you quite sure that it was a royal carriage?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. Oh, one has an instinct for that sort of thing, mother. It comes
+to one in the cradle.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Milly</span> <i>yawns and sighs aloud</i>.] Are you sleepy,
+dear?</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ILLY</small>. No, only tired. I'm always tired.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Well, that's just why we are at the<a name="page_373" id="page_373"></a> Springs. Do as
+the princess does: take the waters religiously.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ILLY</small>. The princess oughtn't to be climbing up such a steep hill either
+on a hot day like this.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. [<i>More softly.</i>] Well, you know why we are taking all
+this trouble. If, by good luck, we should happen to meet the
+princess&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. [<i>Who has been looking through the telescope.</i>] Oh, there it is
+again!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. [<i>Eagerly.</i>] Where? Where?</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Takes</i> <span class="smcap">Liddy's</span> <i>place</i>.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. It's just coming around the turn at the top.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Oh, now I see it! Why, there's no one inside!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. Well, then she's coming up on foot.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Milly</span>.] See, the princess is coming up on foot,
+too. And she is just as anæmic as you are.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ILLY</small>. If I were going to marry a grand-duke, and if I could have my own
+carriage driven along beside me, I wouldn't complain of having to walk
+either.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. I can't see a thing now.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. You have to turn the screw, mother.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. I have been turning it right along, but the telescope
+won't move.</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. Let me try.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Who has been throwing little wads of paper at</i> <span class="smcap">Rosa</span> <i>during
+the preceding conversation</i>.] What are they up to?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. It seems to me that you've turned the screw too far, mother.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Well, what shall we do about it?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Rising.</i>] Permit me to come to your aid, ladies. I've had
+some experience with these old screws.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Very kind&mdash;indeed.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Strübel</span> <i>busies himself with the instrument</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. Listen, mother. If the carriage has almost reached<a name="page_374" id="page_374"></a> the top the
+princess can't be far off. Wouldn't it be best, then, to watch for them
+on the road?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Certainly, if you think that would be best, dear
+Liddy.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. This is not only an old screw, but it's a regular perverted old
+screw.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Ah, really? [<i>Aside to her daughters.</i>] And if she
+should actually speak to us at this accidental meeting&mdash;and if we could
+present ourselves as the subjects of her noble fiancé, and tell her that
+we live at her future home&mdash;just imagine what an advantage that would
+give us over the other women of the court!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. There, ladies! We have now rescued the useful instrument to
+which the far-sightedness of mankind is indebted.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. Thanks, so much. Pardon me, sir, but have you heard
+anything about the report that the princess is going to make the journey
+up here to-day?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. The princess? The princess of the Springs? The princess of the
+lonely villa? The princess who is expected at the iron spring every
+morning, but who has never been seen by a living soul? Why, I am
+enormously interested. You wouldn't believe how much interested I am!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. [<i>Who has looked out, back.</i>] There&mdash;there&mdash;there&mdash;it is!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. The carriage?</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY</small>. It's reached the top already. It is stopping over there at the
+edge of the woods.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. She will surely enter it there, then. Come quickly, my
+dear children, so that it will look quite accidental. Here is your
+money. [<i>She throws a coin to</i> <span class="smcap">Rosa</span> <i>and unwraps a small package done up
+in tissue-paper, which she has brought with her</i>.] Here is a bouquet for
+you&mdash;and here's one for you. You are to present these to the princess.</p>
+
+<p>M<small>ILLY</small>. So that it will look quite accidental&mdash;oh, yes!</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>All three go out.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Good heavens! Could I&mdash;? I don't believe it! Surely she
+sits&mdash;well, I'll make sure right away&mdash;[<i>Goes up to the telescope and
+stops.</i>] Oh, I'll go along with them, anyhow.</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Exit after them.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. [<i>Entering.</i>] Have they all gone&mdash;all of them?</p>
+
+<p>R<small>OSA</small>. All of them.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. [<i>Looking toward the right.</i>] There&mdash;there&mdash;two ladies
+and a lackey are coming up the footpath. Mercy me! How my heart is
+beating!&mdash;If I had only had the sofa recovered last spring!&mdash;What am I
+going to say to them?&mdash;Rosa, don't you know a poem by heart which you
+could speak to the princess? [<span class="smcap">Rosa</span> <i>shrugs her shoulders</i>.] They're
+coming through the court now!&mdash;Stop putting your arms under your apron
+that way, you stupid thing!&mdash;oh dear, oh dear&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>The door opens.</i> <span class="smcap">A Lackey</span> <i>in plain black livery enters, and
+remains standing at the door. He precedes</i> <span class="smcap">The Princess</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Frau
+v. Brook</span>. <span class="smcap">The Princess</span> <i>is a pale, sickly, unassuming young girl,
+wearing a very simple walking costume and a medium-sized leghorn
+hat trimmed with roses</i>. <span class="smcap">Frau v. Brook</span> <i>is a handsome, stately,
+stern-looking woman, in the thirties. She is well-dressed, but in
+accordance with the simple tastes of the North German nobility.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Who is the proprietor of this place?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. At your command, your Highness.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. [<i>Reprovingly.</i>] I am the maid of honor. Where is the
+room that has been ordered?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. [<i>Opens the door, left.</i>] Here&mdash;at the head of the
+stairs&mdash;my lady.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Would your Highness care to remain here for a few
+moments?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Very much, dear Frau von Brook.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Edward, order what is needed for Her Highness, and see
+that a room next to Her Highness is prepared<a name="page_376" id="page_376"></a> for me. I may assume that
+these are Your Highness's wishes?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Why certainly, dear Frau von Brook.</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">The Lackey</span>, <i>who is carrying shawls and pillows, goes out with</i> <span class="smcap">Rosa</span>,
+<i>left</i>.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Mais puisque je te dis, Eugénie, que je n'ai pas sommeil.
+M'envoyer coucher comme une enfant, c'est abominable.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Mais je t'implore, chérie, sois sage! Tu sais, que c'est
+le médecin, qui&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Ah, ton médecin! Toujours cette corvée. Et si je te
+dis&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Chut! My dear woman, wouldn't it be best for you to
+superintend the preparations?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. I am entirely at your service.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>About to go out, left.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. One thing more. This veranda, leading from the house to
+the grounds&mdash;would it be possible to close it to the public?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. Oh, certainly. The guests as often as not sit out under
+the trees.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Very well, then do so, please. [<span class="smcap">Frau Lindemann</span> <i>locks the
+door</i>.] We may be assured that no one will enter this place?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. If it is desired, none of us belonging to the house will
+come in here either.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. We should like that.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU</small> L<small>INDEMANN</small>. Very well. [<i>Exit.</i></p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Really, you must be more careful, darling. If that woman
+had understood French&mdash; You must be careful!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. What would have been so dreadful about it?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Oh, my dear child! This mood of yours, which is due to
+nothing but your illness&mdash;that reminds me, you haven't taken your
+peptonized milk yet&mdash;this is a secret which we must keep from every one,
+above all from your fiancé. If the Grand Duke should discover&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_377" id="page_377"></a></p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Shrugging her shoulders.</i>] Well, what of it?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. A bride's duty is to be a happy bride. Otherwise&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Otherwise?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. She will be a lonely and an unloved woman.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>With a little smile of resignation.</i>] Ah!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. What is it, dear? [<span class="smcap">The Princess</span> <i>shakes her head</i>.] And
+then think of the strain of those formal presentations awaiting you in
+the autumn! You must grow strong. Remember that you must be equal to the
+most exacting demands of life.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Of life? Whose life?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. What do you mean by that?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Ah, what good does it do to talk about it?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Yes, you are right. In my soul, too, there are unhappy
+and unholy thoughts that I would rather not utter. From my own
+experience I know that it is best to keep strictly within the narrow
+path of duty.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. And to go to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Ah, it isn't only that.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Look out there! See the woods! Ah, to lie down on the
+moss, to cover oneself with leaves, to watch the clouds pass by high
+above&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. [<i>Softening.</i>] We can do that, too, some-time.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Laughing aloud.</i>] Sometime!</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">The Lackey</span> <i>appears at the door</i>.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Is everything ready?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">The Lackey</span> <i>bows</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Frau v. Brook</span>.] But I simply cannot sleep.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Try to, for my sake. [<i>Aloud.</i>] Does Your Highness
+command&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Smiling and sighing.</i>] Yes, I command.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>They go out, left.</i><a name="page_378" id="page_378"></a></p>
+
+<p>[<i>The stage remains empty for several moments. Then</i> <span class="smcap">Strübel</span> <i>is
+heard trying the latch of the back door</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL'S </small>V<small>OICE</small>. Hullo! What's up! Why is this locked all of a sudden?
+Rosa! Open up! I've got to look through the telescope! Rosa! Won't you?
+Oh, well, I know how to help myself. [<i>He is seen walking outside of the
+glass-covered veranda. Then he puts his head through the open window at
+the right.</i>] Not a soul inside? [<i>Climbs over.</i>] Well, here we are. What
+on earth has happened to these people? [<i>Unlocks the back door and looks
+out.</i>] Everything deserted. Well, it's all the same to me. [<i>Locks the
+door again.</i>] But let's find out right away what the carriage has to do
+with the case.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Prepares to look through the telescope.</i> <span class="smcap">The Princess</span> <i>enters
+cautiously through the door at the left, her hat in her hand.
+Without noticing</i> <span class="smcap">Strübel</span>, <i>who is standing motionless before the
+telescope, she goes hurriedly to the door at the back and unlocks
+it</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Startled at the sound of the key, turns around.</i>] Why, how do
+you do? [<span class="smcap">The Princess</span>, <i>not venturing to move, glances back at the door
+through which she has entered</i>.] Wouldn't you like to look through the
+telescope a while? Please do. [<span class="smcap">The Princess</span>, <i>undecided as to whether or
+not she should answer him, takes a few steps back toward the door at the
+left</i>.] Why are you going away? I won't do anything to you.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Reassured.</i>] Oh, I'm not going away.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. That's right. But&mdash;where have you come from? The door was
+locked. Surely you didn't climb through the window as I did?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Frightened.</i>] What? You came&mdash;through the window?&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Of course I did.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Frightened anew.</i>] Then I had rather&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>About to go back.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Oh, my dear young lady, you just stay right here.<a name="page_379" id="page_379"></a> Why, before
+I'd drive you away I'd pitch myself headlong over a precipice!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Smiling, reassured.</i>] I only wanted to go out into the
+woods for half an hour.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Oh, then you're a regular guest here at the Inn?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Quickly.</i>] Yes&mdash;yes, of course.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. And of course you drink the waters down below?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>In a friendly way.</i>] Oh, yes, I drink the waters. And
+I'm taking the baths, too.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Two hundred metres up and down every time! Isn't that very hard
+on you? Heavens! And you look so pale! See here, my dear young lady,
+don't you do it. It would be better for you to go down there&mdash;that
+is&mdash; Oh, forgive me! I've been talking without thinking. Of
+course, you have your own reasons&mdash; It's decidedly cheaper up
+here. <i>I</i> know how to value a thing of that sort. I've never had any
+money in all my life!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Trying to seem practical.</i>] But when one comes to a
+watering-place, one must have money.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Slapping himself on the chest.</i>] Do I look to you as if I
+drank iron? Thank Heaven, I can't afford such luxuries! No; I'm only a
+poor fellow who earns his miserable pittance during vacation by acting
+as a private tutor&mdash;that's to say, "miserable" is only a figure of
+speech, for in the morning I lie abed until nine, at noon I eat five and
+at night seven courses; and as for work, I really haven't a thing to do!
+My pupil is so anæmic&mdash;why, compared to him, <i>you're</i> fit for a circus
+rider!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Laughing unrestrainedly.</i>] Oh, well, I'm rather glad I'm
+not one.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Dear me, it's a business like any other.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Like any other? Really, I didn't think that.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. And pray, what did you think then?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, I thought that they were&mdash;an entirely different sort
+of people.<a name="page_380" id="page_380"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. My dear young lady, all people are "an entirely different
+sort." Of course <i>we</i> two aren't. We get along real well together, don't
+we? As poor as church mice, both of us!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Smiling reflectively.</i>] Who knows? Perhaps that's true.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Kindly.</i>] Do you know what? If you want to stay down
+there&mdash;I'll tell you how one can live cheaply. I have a friend, a
+student like myself. He's here to mend up as you are. I feed him up at
+the house where I'm staying. [<i>Frightened at a peculiar look of</i> <span class="smcap">The
+Princess's</span>.] Oh, but you mustn't be&mdash;No, I shouldn't have said it. It
+wasn't decent of me. Only, let me tell you, I'm so glad to be able to
+help the poor fellow out of my unexpected earnings, that I'd like to be
+shouting it from the housetops all the time! Of course, you understand
+that, don't you?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. You like to help people, then?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Surely&mdash;don't you?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Reflecting.</i>] No. There's always so much talk about it,
+and the whole thing immediately appears in the newspapers.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. What? If you help some one, that appears&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Quietly correcting herself.</i>] I only mean if one takes
+part in entertainments for charity&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Oh, yes, naturally. In those things they always get some woman
+of rank to act as patroness, if they can, and she sees to it, you may be
+sure, that the newspapers make a fuss over it.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Demurely.</i>] Oh, not every&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Just try to teach me something I don't know about these titled
+women! Besides, my dear young lady, where is your home&mdash;in one of the
+large cities, or&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, no. In quite a small town&mdash;really more like the
+country.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Then I'm going to show you something that you probably never
+saw before in all your life.<a name="page_381" id="page_381"></a></p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh do! What is it?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. A princess! H'm&mdash;not a make-believe, but a real, true-blue
+princess!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, really?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Yes. Our Princess of the Springs.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. And who may that be?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Why, Princess Marie Louise.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Of Geldern?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Of course.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Do you know her?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Why, certainly.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Really? I thought that she lived in great retirement.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Well, that doesn't do her any good. Not a bit of it. And
+because you are such a jolly good fellow I'm going to tell you my
+secret. I'm in love with this princess!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. You can't imagine what a comfort it is. The fact is, every
+young poet has got to have a princess to love.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Are you a poet?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Can't you tell that by looking at me?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. I never saw a poet before.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Never saw a poet&mdash;never saw a princess! Why, you're learning a
+heap of things to-day!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Assenting.</i>] H'm&mdash;and have you written poems to her?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Why, that goes without saying! Quantities of 'em!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, please recite some little thing&mdash;won't you?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. No, not yet. Everything at the proper time.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Ah, yes, first I should like to see the princess.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. No, first I am going to tell you the whole story.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, yes, yes. Please do. [<i>Sits down.</i></p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Well, then&mdash;I had hardly heard that she was here<a name="page_382" id="page_382"></a> before I was
+dead in love with her. It was just as quick as a shot, I tell you. Just
+as if I had waited all my life long to fall in love with her. Besides, I
+also heard about her beauty&mdash;and her sorrow. You see, she had an early
+love affair.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Disconcerted.</i>] What? Are they saying that?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Yes. It was a young officer who went to Africa because of
+her&mdash;and died there.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. And they know that, too?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. What don't they know? But that's a mere detail&mdash;it doesn't
+concern me. Even the fact that in six months she will become the bride
+of a grand-duke&mdash;even that can make no difference to me. For the present
+she is <i>my</i> princess. But you're not listening to me!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, yes, I am!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Do you know what that means&mdash;<i>my</i> princess! I'll not give up
+<i>my</i> princess&mdash;not for anything in all the world!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. But&mdash;if you don't even know her&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. I don't know her? Why, I know her as well as I know myself!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Have you ever met her, then?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. I don't know of any one who has ever met her. And there's not a
+soul that can tell what she looks like. It is said that there were
+pictures of her in the shop-windows when she first came, but they were
+removed immediately. In the morning a great many people are always
+lurking around the Springs trying to catch a glimpse of her. I, myself,
+have gotten up at six o'clock a couple of times&mdash;on the same errand&mdash;and
+if you knew me better, you'd realize what that meant. But not a sign of
+her! Either she has the stuff brought to her house or she has the power
+of making herself invisible. [<span class="smcap">The Princess</span> <i>turns aside to conceal a
+smile</i>.] After that, I used to hang around her garden&mdash;every day, for
+hours at a time. Until one day the policeman, whom the managers of the
+Springs have stationed at<a name="page_383" id="page_383"></a> the gates, came up to me and asked me what on
+earth I was doing there. Well, that was the end of those methods of
+approach! Suddenly, however, a happy thought struck me. Now I can see
+her and have her near to me as often as I wish.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Why, that's very interesting. How?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Yes, that's just the point. H'm, should I risk it? Should I
+take you into my confidence?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. You promised me some time ago that you would show her to
+me.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Wait a second. [<i>Looks through the telescope.</i>] There she is.
+Please look for yourself.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. But I am&mdash;[<i>She, too, looks through the telescope.</i>]
+Actually, there is the garden as plain as if one were in it.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. And at the corner window on the left&mdash;with the
+embroidery-frame&mdash;that's she.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Are you absolutely certain that that is the princess?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Why, who else could it be?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, 'round about a princess like that&mdash;there are such a
+lot of people. For instance, there is her waiting-woman, there's the
+seamstress and her assistants, there's&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. But, my dear young lady, if you only understood anything about
+these matters, you would have been certain at the very first glance that
+it was she&mdash;and no one else. Observe the nobility in every motion&mdash;the
+queenly grace with which she bends over the embroidery-frame&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. How do you know that it's an embroidery-frame?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Why, what should a princess be bending over if not an
+embroidery-frame? Do you expect her to be darning stockings?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. It wouldn't hurt her at all!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Now, that's just one of those petty, bourgeois notions<a name="page_384" id="page_384"></a> which
+we ought to suppress. It's not enough that <i>we</i> have to stick in this
+misery, but we'd like to drag her down, too&mdash;that being far above all
+earthly care&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, dear me!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. What are you sighing about so terribly?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Tell me, wouldn't you like to have a closer acquaintance
+with your princess, some time?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Closer? Why should I? Isn't she close enough to me, my far-away
+princess?&mdash;for that's what I call her when I talk to myself about her.
+And to have her <i>still</i> closer?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Why, so that you could talk to her and know what she
+really was like?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Terrified.</i>] Talk to her! Heaven forbid! Goodness gracious,
+no! Just see here&mdash;how am I to face a princess? I'm an ordinary fellow,
+the son of poor folks. I haven't polished manners&mdash;I haven't even a
+decent tailor. A lady like that&mdash;why, she'd measure me from top to toe
+in one glance. I've had my lessons in the fine houses where I've applied
+as tutor. A glance from boots to cravat&mdash;and you're dismissed!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. And you think that I&mdash;[<i>correcting herself</i>] that this
+girl is as superficial as that?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. "This girl"! Dear me, how that sounds! But, how should I ever
+succeed in showing her my real self? And even if I should, what would
+she care? Oh, yes, if she were like you&mdash;so nice and simple&mdash;and with
+such a kindhearted, roguish little twinkle in her eye&mdash;&mdash;!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Roguish&mdash;I? Why so?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Because you are laughing at me in your sleeve. And really I
+deserve nothing better.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. But your princess deserves something better than your
+opinion of her.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. How do you know that?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. You really ought to try to become acquainted with her some
+time.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. No, no, no&mdash;and again no! As long as she remains<a name="page_385" id="page_385"></a> my far-away
+princess she is everything that I want her to be&mdash;modest, gracious,
+loving. She smiles upon me dreamily. Yes, she even listens when I recite
+my poems to her&mdash;and that can't be said of many people! And as soon as I
+have finished she sighs, takes a rose from her breast, and casts it down
+to the poet. I wrote a few verses yesterday about that rose, that flower
+which represents the pinnacle of my desires, as it were.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Eagerly.</i>] Oh, yes. Oh, please, please!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Well, then, here goes. H'm&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="c">"Twenty roses nestling close&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. What? Are there twenty now?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Severely.</i>] My princess would not have interrupted me.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, please&mdash;forgive me.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. I shall begin again.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">"Twenty roses nestling close</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gleam upon thy breast,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .25em;">Twenty years of rose-red love</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Upon thy fair cheeks rest.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">"Twenty years would I gladly give</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Out of life's brief reign,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .25em;">Could I but ask a rose of thee</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">And ask it not in vain.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">"Twenty roses thou dost not need&mdash;</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Why, pearls and rubies are thine!</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .25em;">With nineteen thou'dst be just as fair,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">And <i>one</i> would then be <i>mine</i>!</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 0em;">"And twenty years of rose-wreathed joy</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Would spring to life for me&mdash;</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: .25em;">Yet twenty years could ne'er suffice</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">To worship it&mdash;and thee!"</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_386" id="page_386"></a></p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. How nice that is! I've never had any verses written to me
+b&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Ah, my dear young lady, ordinary folks like us have to do their
+own verse-making!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. And all for one rose! Dear me, how soon it fades! And then
+what is left you?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. No, my dear friend, a rose like that never fades&mdash;even as my
+love for the gracious giver can never die.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. But you haven't even got it yet!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. That makes no difference in the end. I'm entirely independent
+of such externals. When some day I shall be explaining Ovid to the
+beginners, or perhaps even reading Horace with the more advanced
+classes&mdash;no, it's better for the present not to think of reaching any
+such dizzy heights of greatness&mdash;well, then I shall always be saying to
+myself with a smile of satisfaction: "You, too, were one of those
+confounded artist fellows&mdash;why, you once went so far as to love a
+princess!"</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. And that will make you happy?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Enormously! For what makes us happy, after all? A bit of
+happiness? Great heavens, no! Happiness wears out like an old glove.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Well, then, what does?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Ah, how should I know! Any kind of a dream&mdash;a fancy&mdash;a wish
+unfulfilled&mdash;a sorrow that we coddle&mdash;some nothing which suddenly
+becomes everything to us. I shall always say to my pupils: "Young men,
+if you want to be happy as long as you live, create gods for yourselves
+in your own image; these gods will take care of your happiness."</p>
+
+<p>The Princess. And what would the god be like that you would create?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. <i>Would be?</i> <i>Is</i>, my dear young lady, <i>is!</i> A man of the world,
+a gentleman, well-bred, smiling, enjoying life&mdash;who looks out upon
+mankind from under bushy eyebrows, who knows Nietzsche and Stendhal by
+heart, and&mdash;[<i>pointing to his shoes</i>] who<a name="page_387" id="page_387"></a> isn't down at the heels&mdash;a
+god, in short, worthy of my princess. I know perfectly well that all my
+life long I shall never do anything but crawl around on the ground like
+an industrious ant, but I know, too, that the god of my fancy will
+always take me by the collar when the proper moment comes and pull me up
+again into the clouds. Yes, up there I'm safe. And your god, or rather
+your goddess&mdash;what would she look like?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Thoughtfully.</i>] That's not easy to say. My goddess would
+be&mdash;a quiet, peaceful woman who would treasure a secret little joy like
+the apple of her eye, who would know nothing of the world except what
+she wanted to know, and who would have the strength to make her own
+choice when it pleased her.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. But that doesn't seem to me a particularly lofty aspiration, my
+dear young lady.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Lofty as the heavens, my friend.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. My princess would be of a different opinion.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Do you think so?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. For that's merely the ideal of every little country girl.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Not her ideal&mdash;her daily life which she counts as naught.
+It is my ideal because I can never attain it.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Oh, I say, my dear young girl! It can't be as bad as that! A
+young girl like you&mdash;so charming and&mdash;I don't want to be forward, but if
+I could only help you a bit!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Have you got to be helping all the time? Before, it was
+only a cheap lunch, now it's actually&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Yes, yes, I'm an awful donkey, I know, but&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Smiling.</i>] Don't say any more about it, dear friend! I
+like you that way.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Feeling oppressed by her superiority.</i>] Really, you are an
+awfully strange person! There's something about you that&mdash;that&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Well?<a name="page_388" id="page_388"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. I can't exactly define it. Tell me, weren't you wanting to go
+into the woods before? It's so&mdash;so oppressive in here.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oppressive? I don't find it so at all&mdash;quite the contrary.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. No, no&mdash;I'm restless. I don't know what&mdash;at all events, may I
+not escort you&mdash;? One can chat more freely, one can express himself more
+openly&mdash;if one&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Takes a deep breath.</i></p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Smiling.</i>] And you are leaving your far-away princess
+with such a light heart?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Carelessly.</i>] Oh, she! She won't run away. She'll be sitting
+there to-morrow again&mdash;and the day after, too!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. And so that is your great, undying love?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Yes, but when a girl like you comes across one's path&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. [<i>Hurrying in and then drawing back in feigned
+astonishment.</i>] Oh!</p>
+
+<p>L<small>IDDY AND</small> M<small>ILLY</small>. [<i>Similarly.</i>] Oh!</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Well, ladies, didn't I tell you that you wouldn't find her?
+Princesses don't grow along the roadside like weeds!</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. [<i>Disregarding him&mdash;ceremoniously.</i>] The infinite
+happiness with which this glorious event fills our hearts must excuse in
+some measure the extraordinary breach of good manners which we are
+committing in daring to address Your Highness. But, as the fortunate
+subjects of Your Highness's most noble fiancé, we could not refrain
+from&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Well, well! What's all this?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>.&mdash;from offering to our eagerly awaited sovereign a
+slight token of our future loyalty. Liddy! Milly! [<span class="smcap">Liddy</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Milly</span>
+<i>come forward, and, with low court bows, offer their bouquets</i>.] My
+daughters respectfully present these few flowers to the illustrious
+princess&mdash;&mdash;<a name="page_389" id="page_389"></a></p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. I beg your pardon, but who is doing the joking here, you
+or&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Frau v. Brook</span> <i>enters</i>. <span class="smcap">The Princess</span>, <i>taken unawares, has
+retreated more and more helplessly toward the door at the left,
+undecided whether to take flight or remain. She greets the arrival
+of</i> <span class="smcap">Frau v. Brook</span> <i>with a happy sigh of relief</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. [<i>Severely.</i>] Pardon me, ladies. Apparently you have not
+taken the proper steps toward being presented to Her Highness. In
+matters of this sort one must first apply to me. I may be addressed
+every morning from eleven to twelve, and I shall be happy to consider
+your desires.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. H<small>ALLDORF</small>. [<i>With dignity.</i>] I and my children, madame, were
+aware of the fact that we were acting contrary to the usual procedure;
+but the impulse of loyal hearts is guided by no rule. I shall be glad to
+avail myself of your&mdash;very kind invitation.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>All three go out with low curtsies to</i> <span class="smcap">The Princess.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. What forwardness! But how could you come down without me?
+And what is that young man over there doing? Does he belong to those
+people?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">The Princess</span> <i>shakes her head</i>. <span class="smcap">Strübel</span>, <i>without a word, goes to
+get his hat, which has been lying on a chair, bows abruptly, and is
+about to leave</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Oh, no! That wouldn't be nice. Not that way&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. [<i>Amazed.</i>] What? What! Why, Your Highness&mdash;&mdash;!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Let me be, Eugenie. This young man and I have become far
+too good friends to part in such an unfriendly, yes, almost hostile
+fashion.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Your Highness, I am <i>very</i> much&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Strübel</span>.] You and I will certainly remember<a name="page_390" id="page_390"></a> this
+hour with great pleasure, and I thank you for it with all my heart. If I
+only had a rose with me, so as to give you your dear wish! Eugenie,
+haven't we any roses with us?</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Your Highness, I am <i>very</i> much&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Examining herself and searching among the vases.</i>] Well,
+how are we going to manage it?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. I most humbly thank&mdash;your Highness&mdash;for the kind intention.</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. No, no&mdash;wait! [<i>Her glance falls upon the hat which she is
+holding in her hand&mdash;with a sudden thought.</i>] I have it! But don't think
+that I'm joking. And we'll have to do without scissors! [<i>She tears one
+of the roses from the hat.</i>] I don't know whether there are just
+twenty&mdash;[<i>Holding out one of the roses to him.</i>] Well? This rose has the
+merit of being just as real as the sentiment of which we were speaking
+before&mdash;and just as unfading.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. Is this&mdash;to be&mdash;my punishment? [<span class="smcap">The Princess</span> <i>smilingly shakes
+her head</i>.] Or does your Highness mean by it that only the Unreal never
+fades?</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. That's exactly what I mean&mdash;because the Unreal must always
+dwell in the imagination.</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. So that's it! Just as it is only the <i>far-away</i> princesses who
+are always near to us.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Permit me to remark, Your Highness&mdash;that it is <i>high</i>
+time&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. As you see, those who are near must hurry away. [<i>Offering
+him the rose again.</i>] Well?</p>
+
+<p>S<small>TRÜBEL</small>. [<i>Is about to take it, but lets his hand fall.</i>] With the
+far-away princess there&mdash;[<i>pointing down</i>] it would have been in
+harmony, but with the&mdash;[<i>Shakes his head, then softly and with
+emotion.</i>] No, thanks&mdash;I'd rather not.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>He bows and goes out.</i></p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. [<i>Smiling pensively, throws away the artificial<a name="page_391" id="page_391"></a> flower.</i>]
+I'm going to ask my fiancé to let me send him a rose.</p>
+
+<p>F<small>RAU V</small>. B<small>ROOK</small>. Your Highness, I am <i>very</i> much&mdash;surprised!</p>
+
+<p>T<small>HE</small> P<small>RINCESS</small>. Well, I told you that I wasn't sleepy.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_392" id="page_392"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_393" id="page_393"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>
+THE STRONGER<br />
+<br />
+<small>BY<br />
+AUGUST STRINDBERG</small></h2>
+
+<p><a name="page_394" id="page_394"></a></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_395" id="page_395"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="AUGUST_STRINDBERG" id="AUGUST_STRINDBERG"></a>AUGUST STRINDBERG</p>
+
+<p>August Strindberg, Sweden's foremost dramatist, was born at Stockholm in
+1849. He attended the University of Upsala but did not graduate. In 1872
+he wrote <i>Master Olaf</i>, which was for six years steadily refused by
+managers. When it did appear it inaugurated the Swedish dramatic
+renascence. By turns Strindberg was schoolmaster, journalist, dramatist,
+writer of scientific and political treatises, and writer of short
+stories. In 1883 he left Sweden and travelled extensively in Denmark,
+Germany, France, and Italy. He died in 1912.</p>
+
+<p>As a dramatist Strindberg's chief strength lies not so much in dramatic
+technique as it does in his trenchant and searching power of analysis of
+the human mind. His chief plays are very exact and narrow views of the
+feminine soul. Some of his own domestic bitterness finds expression in
+the feminine studies in his plays. He is very fond of showing the power
+of one character over another.</p>
+
+<p>His important one-act plays are <i>The Outlaw</i>, <i>Countess Julie</i>,
+<i>Creditors</i>, <i>Pariah</i>, <i>Facing Death</i>, and <i>The Stronger</i>. <i>The
+Stronger</i> has a dramatic intensity that few plays possess. Though but
+one character speaks, the souls of three are skilfully laid bare.<a name="page_396" id="page_396"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align="center">PERSONS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. X.</span>, <i>an actress, married</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span>, <i>an actress, unmarried</i></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a name="page_397" id="page_397"></a></p>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_STRONGERM" id="THE_STRONGERM"></a>THE STRONGER<a name="FNanchor_M_13" id="FNanchor_M_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_M_13" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size:50%;">[M]</span></a></h2>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE: <i>A corner of a ladies' restaurant; two small tables of
+cast-iron, a sofa covered with red plush, and a few chairs.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Mrs. X.</span> <i>enters, dressed in hat and winter coat, and carrying a
+pretty Japanese basket on her arm</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <i>has in front of her a partly emptied bottle of beer; she
+is reading an illustrated weekly, and every now and then, she
+exchanges it for a new one</i>.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. Well, how do, Millie! Here you are sitting on Christmas Eve, as
+lonely as a poor bachelor.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <i>looks up from the paper for a moment, nods, and resumes
+her reading</i>.]</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. Really, I feel sorry to find you like this&mdash;alone&mdash;alone in a
+restaurant, and on Christmas Eve of all times. It makes me as sad as
+when I saw a wedding party at Paris once in a restaurant&mdash;the bride was
+reading a comic paper and the groom was playing billiards with the
+witnesses. Ugh, when it begins that way, I thought, how will it end?
+Think of it, playing billiards on his wedding day! Yes, and you're going
+to say that she was reading a comic paper&mdash;- that's a different case, my
+dear.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>A waitress brings a cup of chocolate, places it before</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. X.</span>,
+<i>and disappears again</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. [<i>Sips a few spoonfuls; opens the basket and displays a number
+of Christmas presents.</i>] See what I've bought for my<a name="page_398" id="page_398"></a> tots. [<i>Picks up a
+doll.</i>] What do you think of this? Lisa is to have it. She can roll her
+eyes and twist her head, do you see? Fine, is it not? And here's a cork
+pistol for Carl.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Loads the pistol and pops it at</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <i>starts as if
+frightened</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. Did I scare you? Why, you didn't fear I was going to shoot you,
+did you? Really, I didn't think you could believe that of me. If you
+were to shoot <i>me</i>&mdash;well, that wouldn't surprise me the least. I've got
+in your way once, and I know you'll never forget it&mdash;but I couldn't help
+it. You still think I intrigued you away from the Royal Theatre, and I
+didn't do anything of the kind&mdash;although you think so. But it doesn't
+matter what I say, of course&mdash;you believe it was I just the same.
+[<i>Pulls out a pair of embroidered slippers.</i>] Well, these are for my
+hubby&mdash;tulips&mdash;I've embroidered them myself. H'm!&mdash;I hate tulips&mdash;and he
+must have them on everything.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <i>looks up from the paper with an expression of mingled
+sarcasm and curiosity</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. [<i>Puts a hand in each slipper.</i>] Just see what small feet Bob
+has. See? And you should see him walk&mdash;elegant! Of course, you've never
+seen him in slippers.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <i>laughs aloud</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. Look here&mdash;here he comes.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Makes the slippers walk across the table.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <i>laughs
+again</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. Then he gets angry, and he stamps his foot just like this:
+"Blame that cook who can't learn how to make coffee." Or: "The
+idiot&mdash;now that girl has forgotten to fix my study lamp again." Then
+there is a draught through the floor and his feet get cold. "Gee, but
+it's freezing, and those blanked idiots don't even know enough to keep
+the house warm."</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>She rubs the sole of one slipper against the instep of the
+other.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <i>breaks into prolonged laughter</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. And then he comes home and has to hunt for his<a name="page_399" id="page_399"></a> slippers&mdash;Mary
+has pushed them under the bureau. Well, perhaps it is not right to be
+making fun of one's own husband. He's pretty good for all that&mdash;a real
+dear little hubby, that's what he is. You should have such a
+husband&mdash;what are you laughing at? Can't you tell? Then, you see, I know
+he is faithful. Yes, I know, for he has told me himself&mdash;what in the
+world makes you giggle like that? That nasty Betty tried to get him away
+from me while I was on the road. Can you think of anything more
+infamous? [<i>Pause.</i>] But I'd have scratched the eyes out of her face,
+that's what I'd have done, if I had been at home when she tried it.
+[<i>Pause.</i>] I'm glad Bob told me all about it, so I didn't have to hear
+it first from somebody else. [<i>Pause.</i>] And, just think of it, Betty was
+not the only one! I don't know why it is, but all women seem to be crazy
+after my husband. It must be because they imagine his government
+position gives him something to say about the engagements. Perhaps
+you've tried it yourself&mdash;you may have set your traps for him, too? Yes,
+I don't trust you very far&mdash;but I know he never cared for you&mdash;and then
+I have been thinking you rather had a grudge against him.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Pause. They look at each other in an embarrassed manner.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. Amelia, spend the evening with us, won't you? Just to show that
+you are not angry&mdash;not with me, at least. I cannot tell exactly why, but
+it seems so awfully unpleasant to have you&mdash;you&mdash;for an enemy. Perhaps
+because I got in your way that time [<i>rallentando</i>] or&mdash;I don't
+know&mdash;really, I don't know at all&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<i>Pause.</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <i>gazes searchingly at</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. X.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. [<i>Thoughtfully.</i>] It was so peculiar, the way our
+acquaintance&mdash;why, I was afraid of you when I first met you; so afraid
+that I did not dare to let you out of sight. It didn't matter where I
+tried to go&mdash;I always found myself near you. I didn't have the courage
+to be your enemy&mdash;and so I became your friend. But there was always
+something discordant in the air<a name="page_400" id="page_400"></a> when you called at our home, for I saw
+that my husband didn't like you&mdash;and it annoyed me&mdash;just as it does when
+a dress won't fit. I've tried my very best to make him appear friendly
+to you at least, but I couldn't move him&mdash;not until you were engaged.
+Then you two became such fast friends that it almost looked as if you
+had not dared to show your real feelings before, when it was not
+safe&mdash;and later&mdash;let me see, now! I didn't get jealous&mdash;strange, was it
+not? And I remember the baptism&mdash;you were acting as godmother, and I
+made him kiss you&mdash;and he did, but both of you looked terribly
+embarrassed&mdash;that is, I didn't think of it then&mdash;or afterwards, even&mdash;I
+never thought of it&mdash;till&mdash;<i>now</i>! [<i>Rises impulsively.</i>] Why don't you
+say something? You have not uttered a single word all this time. You've
+just let me go on talking. You've been sitting there staring at me only,
+and your eyes have drawn out of me all these thoughts which were lying
+in me like silk in a cocoon&mdash;thoughts&mdash;bad thoughts maybe&mdash;let me think.
+Why did you break your engagement? Why have you never called on us
+afterward? Why don't you want to be with us to-night?</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>[<span class="smcap">Miss Y.</span> <i>makes a motion as if intending to speak</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p>M<small>RS</small>. X</small>. No, you don't need to say anything at all. All is clear to me
+now. So, that's the reason of it all. Yes, yes! Everything fits together
+now. Shame on you! I don't want to sit at the same table with you.
+[<i>Moves her things to another table.</i>] That's why I must put those
+hateful tulips on his slippers&mdash;because you love them. [<i>Throws the
+slippers on the floor.</i>] That's why we have to spend the summer in the
+mountains&mdash;because you can't bear the salt smell of the ocean; that's
+why my boy had to be called Eskil&mdash;because that was your father's name;
+that's why I had to wear your color, and read your books, and eat your
+favorite dishes, and drink your drinks&mdash;this chocolate, for instance;
+that's why&mdash;great heavens!&mdash;it's terrible to think of it&mdash;it's terrible!
+Everything was forced on me by you&mdash;even your passions. Your soul bored
+itself into mine as a worm into<a name="page_401" id="page_401"></a> an apple, and it ate and ate and
+burrowed and burrowed, till nothing was left but the outside shell and a
+little black dust. I wanted to run away from you, but I couldn't. You
+were always on hand like a snake, with your black eyes, to charm me&mdash;I
+felt how my wings beat the air only to drag me down&mdash;I was in the water
+with my feet tied together, and the harder I worked with my arms, the
+further down I went&mdash;down, down, till I sank to the bottom, where you
+lay in wait like a monster crab to catch me with your claws&mdash;and now I'm
+there! Shame on you! How I hate you, hate you, hate you! But you, you
+just sit there, silent and calm and indifferent, whether the moon is new
+or full; whether it's Christmas or mid-summer; whether other people are
+happy or unhappy. You are incapable of hatred and you don't know how to
+love. As a cat in front of a mouse-hole, you are sitting there. You
+can't drag your prey out, and you can't pursue it, but you can outwait
+it. Here you sit in this comer&mdash;do you know they've nicknamed it "the
+mousetrap" on your account? Here you read the papers to see if anybody
+is in trouble, or if anybody is about to be discharged from the theatre.
+Here you watch your victims and calculate your chances and take your
+tributes. Poor Amelia! Do you know, I pity you all the same, for I know
+you are unhappy&mdash;unhappy as one who has been wounded, and malicious
+because you are wounded. I ought to be angry with you, but really I
+can't&mdash;you are so small, after all&mdash;and as to Bob, why, that does not
+bother me in the least. What does it matter to me, anyhow? If you or
+somebody else taught me to drink chocolate&mdash;what of that? [<i>Takes a
+spoonful of chocolate; then, sententiously.</i>] They say chocolate is very
+wholesome. And if I have learned from you how to dress&mdash;<i>tant
+mieux!</i>&mdash;it has only given me a stronger hold on my husband&mdash;and you
+have lost where I have gained. Yes, judging by several signs, I think
+you have lost him already. Of course, you meant me to break with him&mdash;as
+you did, and as you are now regretting&mdash;but, you see, <i>I</i><a name="page_402" id="page_402"></a> never would
+do that. It wouldn't do to be narrow-minded, you know. And why should I
+take only what nobody else wants? Perhaps, after all, I am the stronger
+now. You never got anything from me; you merely gave&mdash;and thus happened
+to me what happened to the thief&mdash;I had what you missed when you woke
+up. How explain in any other way that, in your hand, everything proved
+worthless and useless? You were never able to keep a man's love, in
+spite of your tulips and your passions&mdash;and I could; you could never
+learn the art of living from the books&mdash;as I learned it; you bore no
+little Eskil, although that was your father's name. And why do you keep
+silent always and everywhere&mdash;silent, ever silent? I used to think it
+was because you were so strong; and maybe the simple truth was you never
+had anything to say&mdash;because you were unable to think! [<i>Rises and picks
+up the slippers.</i>] I'm going home now&mdash;I'll take the tulips with
+me&mdash;your tulips. You couldn't learn anything from others; you couldn't
+bend&mdash;and so you broke like a dry stem&mdash;and I didn't. Thank you, Amelia,
+for all your instructions. I thank you that you have taught me how to
+love my husband. Now I'm going home&mdash;to him!</p>
+
+<p class="r">[<i>Exit.</i></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="c"><small>CURTAIN</small></p>
+
+<p><a name="page_403" id="page_403"></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>BIBLIOGRAPHIES</h2>
+
+<p><a name="page_404" id="page_404"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a name="page_405" id="page_405"></a></p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="COLLECTIONS_OF_ONE-ACT_PLAYS" id="COLLECTIONS_OF_ONE-ACT_PLAYS"></a>COLLECTIONS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays.</i> The Atlantic Monthly Press,
+Boston, 1921.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Baker, Geo. Pierce. <i>Plays of the 47 Workship</i> (two volumes) and
+<i>Plays of the Harvard Dramatic Club</i> (two volumes). Brentano's, New
+York City, 1918-20.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Clark, Barrett H., <i>Representative One-Act Plays by British and
+Irish Authors</i>. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1921.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Cohen, Helen Louise, <i>One-Act Plays by Modern Authors</i>. Harcourt,
+Brace and Company, New York, 1921.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Eliot, Samuel A., <i>Little Theatre Classics</i>, one-act versions of
+standard plays from the modern and the classic plays. Four volumes
+now issued. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1918.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Mayorga, Margaret Gardner, <i>Representative One-Act Plays by
+American Authors</i>. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1919.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Moses, Montrose J., <i>Representative One-Act Plays by Continental
+European Authors</i>. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1922.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Shay, Frank, and Loving, Pierre, <i>Fifty Contemporary One-Act
+Plays</i>. Stewart and Kidd Company, Cincinnati, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Wisconsin Plays</i>, First and Second Series. B. W. Huebsch, New York
+City, 1914, 1918.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Smith, Alice M., <i>Short Plays by Representative Authors</i>. The
+Macmillan Company, New York City, 1921.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>A Volume of Plays from the Drama</i>, 59 East Van Buren Street,
+Chicago, is announced for 1922.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>A Volume of One-Act Plays</i> from the work of Professor Franz
+Rickaby, of the University of North Dakota, is under way.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>A Volume of One-Act Plays</i>, from the work of Professor Frederick
+H. Koch, of the University of North Carolina, is under way.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br /><a name="page_406" id="page_406"></a>
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="LISTS_OF_ONE-ACT_PLAYS" id="LISTS_OF_ONE-ACT_PLAYS"></a>LISTS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Bibliography of Published Plays Available in English.</i> World Drama
+Promoters, La Jolla, California.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Cheney, Sheldon, <i>The Art Theatre</i>. (Appendix: <i>Plays Produced at
+the Arts and Crafts Theatre, Detroit</i>.) Alfred A. Knopf, New York,
+1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Clapp, John Mantel, <i>Plays for Amateurs</i>. <i>Bulletin of The Drama
+League of America</i>, Chicago, 1915.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Clark, Barrett Harper, <i>How to Produce Amateur Plays</i>. Little,
+Brown and Company, Boston, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Dickinson, Thomas H., <i>The Insurgent Theatre</i>. (Appendix: <i>List of
+Plays Produced by Little Theatres</i>.) B. W. Huebsch, New York, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Drummond, Alex. M., <i>Fifty One-Act Plays</i>. <i>Quarterly Journal of
+Public Speaking</i>, Vol. I, p. 234, 1915.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Drummond, Alex. M., <i>One-Act Plays for Schools and Colleges</i>.
+<i>Education</i>, Vol. 4, p. 372, 1918.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Faxon, F. W., <i>Dramatic Index</i>. Published from year to year,
+Boston.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">French, Samuel, <i>Guide to Selecting Plays</i>. Catalogues, etc. Samuel
+French, publisher, New York.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Johnson, Gertrude, <i>Choosing a Play</i>. Lists of various types of
+one-act plays in the Appendix. The Century Company, New York, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Kaplan, Samuel, <i>Actable One-Act Plays</i>. Chicago Public Library,
+Chicago, 1916.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Koch, Frederick H., <i>Community Drama Service</i>. A select list of
+one-act plays. Extension Series, Number 36, in <i>University of North
+Carolina Record</i>, Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Lewis, B. Roland, <i>The Technique of the One-Act Play</i> (Appendix:
+<i>Contemporary One-Act Plays</i>). John W. Luce and Company, Boston,
+1918.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Lewis, B. Roland, <i>The One-Act Play in Colleges and High Schools</i>.
+A select list of fifty one-act plays. <i>Bulletin of Extension
+Division of University of Utah</i>, Series No. 2, Vol. 10, No. 16,
+Salt Lake City, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Lewis, B. Roland, <i>One Hundred Representative One-Act Plays</i>, in
+<i>The Drama</i>, April, 1921, Vol. 11, No. 7, Chicago.<a name="page_407" id="page_407"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hang">Lewis, B. Roland. <i>Bulletin on the One-Act Play</i>, prepared for The
+Drama League of America. Contains a selected list of one hundred
+and fifty one-act plays, with analyses, etc. The Drama League of
+America, Chicago, Illinois, 1921.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">McFadden, E. A., <i>Selected List of Plays for Amateurs</i>, 113 Lake
+View Avenue, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, <i>The Little Theatre in the United States</i>
+(Appendix: <i>List of Plays Produced in Little Theatres</i>). Henry Holt
+&amp; Company, New York, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Mayorga, Margaret Gardner, <i>Representative One-Act Plays by
+American Authors</i> (Appendix: <i>Selective List of One-Act Plays by
+American Authors</i>). Little, Brown &amp; Company, Boston, 1919.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Merry, Glenn Newton, <i>College Plays</i>. University of Iowa, Iowa
+City, Iowa, 1919.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Riley, Alice C. D., <i>The One-Act Play&mdash;Study Course</i>. Three issues
+(February, March, April) of <i>The Drama League Bulletin</i>, 1918,
+Washington, D. C.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Riley, Ruth, <i>Plays and Recitations, Extension Division Record</i>,
+Vol. 2, No. 2, November, 1920. University of Florida, Gainesville,
+Florida.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Selected List of Christmas Plays.</i> Drama League Calendar, November
+15, 1918, New York.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Selected List of Patriotic Plays and Pageants Suitable for
+Amateurs.</i> Drama League Calendar, October 1, 1918, New York.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Selected List of Plays for Amateurs.</i> The Drama League, Boston.
+Also Doubleday, Page &amp; Company, New York, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Shay, Frank, <i>Play List, Winter, 1921.</i> Frank Shay, 4 Christopher
+Street, New York.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Shay, Frank, and Loving, Pierre, <i>Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays</i>
+(Appendix: <i>The Plays of the Little Theatre</i>). Stewart &amp; Kidd
+Company, Cincinnati, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Stratton, Clarence, <i>Two Hundred Plays Suitable for Amateurs</i>. One
+hundred of them are one-act plays. St. Louis, Missouri, 1920. The
+Drama Shop, 7 East 42d Street, New York.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Stratton, Clarence, <i>Producing in Little Theatres</i> (Appendix
+contains a revised list of one-act plays). Henry Holt &amp; Company,
+New York City, 1921.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Swartout, Norman Lee, <i>One Hundred and One Good Plays</i>. Summit, New
+Jersey, 1920.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+<br /><a name="page_408" id="page_408"></a>
+</p>
+
+<p class="cb"><a name="BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_REFERENCE_ON_THE_ONE-ACT_PLAY" id="BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_REFERENCE_ON_THE_ONE-ACT_PLAY"></a>BIBLIOGRAPHY OF REFERENCE ON THE ONE-ACT PLAY</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Andrews, Charlton, <i>The Technique of Play Writing</i>, Chapter XVIII.
+Home Correspondence School, Springfield, Massachusetts.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Cannon, Fanny, <i>Writing and Selling a Play</i>, Chapter XXII. Henry
+Holt &amp; Company, New York, 1915.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Cohen, Helen Louise, <i>One-Act Plays by Modern Authors</i>,
+Introduction. Harcourt, Brace and Company, New York, 1921.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Corbin, John, <i>The One-Act Play</i>, in the New York <i>Times</i>, May,
+1918. Vol. IV, p. 8, col. 1.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Eaton, Walter P., <i>Washington Square Plays</i>, Introduction.
+Doubleday, Page &amp; Company, Garden City, New York, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Gibbs, Clayton E., <i>The One-Act Play</i>, in <i>The Theatre</i>, Vol.
+XXIII, pp. 143-156, March, 1916.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Goodman, Edward, <i>Why the One-Act Play</i>?, in <i>The Theatre</i>, Vol.
+XXV, p. 327, June, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Gregory, Lady Augusta, <i>Our Irish Theatre</i>. G. P. Putnam's Sons,
+New York, 1913.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Hamilton, Clayton, <i>The One-Act Play in America</i>, in <i>The Bookman</i>,
+April, 1913. Appears as Chapter XXII in <i>Studies in Stagecraft</i>,
+Henry Holt &amp; Company, New York, 1914.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Johnson, Gertrude, <i>Choosing a Play</i>, Chapter III, <i>Why the One-Act
+Play?</i>?The Century Company, New York, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Lewis, B. Roland, <i>The Technique of the One-Act Play</i>. John W. Luce
+&amp; Company, Boston, 1918.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Lewis, B. Roland, <i>The One-Act Play in Colleges and High Schools,
+Bulletin of the University of Utah</i>, Extension Series No. 2, Vol.
+X, No. 16, 1920. Extension Division, University of Utah, Salt Lake
+City.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, <i>The Little Theatre in the United
+States</i>, some interesting comments on various one-act plays. Henry
+Holt &amp; Company, New York, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Middleton, George, <i>Tradition and Other One-Act Plays</i>,
+Introduction, 1913; <i>Embers, Etc.</i>, Introduction, 1911;
+<i>Possession, Etc.</i>, Introduction, 1915. All published by Henry Holt
+&amp; Company, New York.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Middleton, George, <i>The Neglected One-Act Play</i>, in <i>The Dramatic
+Mirror</i>, January 31, 1913, pp. 13-14, New York.<a name="page_409" id="page_409"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hang">Moses, Montrose J., <i>The American Dramatist</i>, comment on the
+one-act play. Little, Brown &amp; Company, Boston, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Neal, Robert Wilson, <i>Short Stories in the Making</i>, Chapter I.
+Oxford University Press, New York, 1914.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Page, Brett, <i>Writing for Vaudeville</i>. Home Correspondence School,
+Springfield, Massachusetts, 1915.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Poole's Index</i>, for articles on the one-act play in the magazines.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>The Reader's Guide to Periodical Literature</i> for articles on the
+one-act play in the magazines.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Schitzler, Arthur, <i>Comedies of Words</i>, Introduction by Pierre
+Loving. Stewart &amp; Kidd Company, Cincinnati, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Underhill, John Garrett, <i>The One-Art Play in Spain</i>, in <i>The
+Drama: A Quarterly Review</i>, February, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Wilde, Percival, <i>Confessional, and Other One-Act Plays</i>, Preface.
+Henry Holt &amp; Company, New York, 1916.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">The several volumes dealing with the short story are suggested as
+collateral study: Pitkin, Neal, Williams, Grabo, Baker, Esenwein,
+Notestein and Dunn, Canby, Albright, Smith, Cross, Barrett,
+Mathews, Pain, Gerwig.</p>
+
+<p>
+<br />
+<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="cb">BIBLIOGRAPHY ON HOW TO PRODUCE PLAYS</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Beegle, Mary Porter, and Crawford, Jack, <i>Community Drama and
+Pageantry</i>. The Appendices in this volume contain excellent
+bibliographies on almost every aspect of dramatic production. It is
+a most valuable work. Yale University Press, New Haven, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Chubb, Percival, <i>Festivals and Plays</i>. Harper and Brothers, New
+York, 1912.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Clark, Barrett H., <i>How to Produce Amateur Plays</i>. Little, Brown &amp;
+Company, Boston, 1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Crampton, C. Ward, <i>Folk Dance Book</i>. A. S. Barnes &amp; Company, New
+York, 1909.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Hughes, Talbot, <i>Dress Designs</i>. The Macmillan Company, New York,
+1913.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Johnson, Gertrude, <i>Choosing a Play</i>. The Century Company, New
+York, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, <i>Costumes and Scenery for Amateurs</i>.
+Henry Holt &amp; Company, New York, 1915.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, <i>How to Produce Children's Plays</i>. Henry
+Holt &amp; Company, New York, 1915.<a name="page_410" id="page_410"></a></p>
+
+<p class="hang">Rath, Emil, <i>Esthetic Dancing</i>. A. S. Barnes &amp; Company, New York,
+1914.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Rhead, G. N., <i>Chats on Costume, or Treatment of Draperies in Art</i>.
+F. A. Stokes Company, New York, 1906.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Stratton, Clarence, <i>Producing in the Little Theatres</i>. Henry Holt
+&amp; Company, New York, 1921.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Stratton, Clarence, <i>Public Speaking</i>, has a chapter on Dramatics.
+Henry Holt &amp; Company, New York, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Taylor, Emerson, <i>Practical Stage Directing for Amateurs</i>. E. P.
+Dutton &amp; Company, New York, 1916.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Waugh, Frank A., <i>Outdoor Theatres</i>. Richard G. Badger, Boston,
+1917.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">Young, James, <i>Making Up</i>. M. Witmark &amp; Sons, 114 West 37th Street,
+New York.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><p class="cb">FOOTNOTES:</p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Copyright, 1914, by Charles Scribner's Sons. All rights
+reserved.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Copyright, 1913, by George Middleton. All rights reserved.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Copyright, 1921. All rights reserved.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Copyright, 1912, 1921, by Percy Mackaye. All rights
+reserved.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> The head and face of the Figure are partly hidden by a
+beak-shaped cowl. Momentarily, however, when his head is turned toward
+the fire, enough of the face is discernible to reveal his narrow
+iron-gray beard, shaven upper lip, aquiline nose, and eyes that twinkle
+in the dimness.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> Copyright, 1919, by <i>The Stratford Journal</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> Copyright, 1914, by Bosworth Crocker. All rights reserved.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> Pronounced <i>niece</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> Copyright, 1917, by Little, Brown &amp; Co. All rights
+reserved.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_J_10" id="Footnote_J_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J_10"><span class="label">[J]</span></a> Copyright, 1917, by Oscar M. Wolff. All rights reserved.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_K_11" id="Footnote_K_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K_11"><span class="label">[K]</span></a> Plans for this clock may be had by addressing Professor N.
+B. Knapp, of the Manual Training Department, University of North Dakota,
+University, North Dakota.
+</p><p>
+Copyright, 1922, by the Dakota Playmakers.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_L_12" id="Footnote_L_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L_12"><span class="label">[L]</span></a> Copyright, 1909, by Charles Scribner's Sons. All rights
+reserved.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_M_13" id="Footnote_M_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_M_13"><span class="label">[M]</span></a> Copyright, 1912, by Charles Scribner's Sons. All rights
+reserved.</p></div>
+
+</div>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Contemporary One-Act Plays, by Various
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Contemporary One-Act Plays, by Various
+
+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
+
+
+Title: Contemporary One-Act Plays
+
+Compiler: B. Roland Lewis
+
+Author: Sir James M. Barrie
+        George Middleton
+        Althea Thurston
+        Percy Mackaye
+        Lady Augusta Gregor
+        Eugene Pillot
+        Anton Tchekov
+        Bosworth Crocker
+        Alfred Kreymborg
+        Paul Greene
+        Arthur Hopkins
+        Paul Hervieu
+        Jeannette Marks
+        Oscar M. Wolff
+        David Pinski
+        Beulah Bornstead
+        Hermann Sudermann
+        August Strindberg
+
+Release Date: November 10, 2011 [EBook #37970]
+[Last updated: January 23, 2012]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+
+
+
+CONTEMPORARY
+ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+WITH OUTLINE STUDY OF THE
+ONE-ACT PLAY AND BIBLIOGRAPHIES
+
+BY
+
+B. ROLAND LEWIS
+
+Professor and Head of the Department of English in the University of Utah;
+Author of "The Technique of the One-Act Play"
+
+CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+
+NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+The plays in this book are fully protected by copyright and the
+professional and amateur stage rights are reserved by the authors.
+Applications for their use should be made to the respective authors or
+publishers, as designated
+
+             TO
+     THE MEN AND WOMEN
+WHO SO KINDLY HAVE PERMITTED ME TO
+  REPRINT THESE ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+This collection of one-act plays appears because of an increasingly
+large demand for such a volume. The plays have been selected and the
+Introduction prepared to meet the need of the student or teacher who
+desires to acquaint himself with the one-act play as a specific dramatic
+form.
+
+The plays included have been selected with this need in mind.
+Accordingly, emphasis has been placed upon the wholesome and uplifting
+rather than upon the sordid and the ultra-realistic. The unduly
+sentimental, the strikingly melodramatic, and the play of questionable
+moral problems, has been consciously avoided. Comedies, tragedies,
+farces, and melodramas have been included; but the chief concern has
+been that each play should be good, dramatic art.
+
+The _Dramatic Analysis and Construction of the One-Act Play_, which
+appears in the Introduction, also has been prepared for the student or
+teacher. This outline-analysis and the plays in this volume are
+sufficient material, if carefully studied, for an understanding and
+appreciation of the one-act play.
+
+B. ROLAND LEWIS.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+INTRODUCTION                                                           3
+
+
+                 LIST OF PLAYS
+
+THE TWELVE-POUND LOOK      _Sir James M. Barrie_                      17
+
+TRADITION                  _George Middleton_                         43
+
+THE EXCHANGE               _Althea Thurston_                          61
+
+SAM AVERAGE                _Percy Mackaye_                            85
+
+HYACINTH HALVEY            _Lady Augusta Gregory_                    103
+
+THE GAZING GLOBE           _Eugene Pillot_                           139
+
+THE BOOR                   _Anton Tchekov_                           155
+
+THE LAST STRAW             _Bosworth Crocker_                        175
+
+MANIKIN AND MINIKIN        _Alfred Kreymborg_                        197
+
+WHITE DRESSES              _Paul Greene_                             215
+
+MOONSHINE                  _Arthur Hopkins_                          239
+
+MODESTY                    _Paul Hervieu_                            255
+
+THE DEACON'S HAT           _Jeannette Marks_                         273
+
+WHERE BUT IN AMERICA       _Oscar M. Wolff_                          301
+
+A DOLLAR                   _David Pinski_                            321
+
+THE DIABOLICAL CIRCLE      _Beulah Bornstead_                        343
+
+THE FAR-AWAY PRINCESS      _Hermann Sudermann_                       365
+
+THE STRONGER               _August Strindberg_                       393
+
+
+               BIBLIOGRAPHIES
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+COLLECTIONS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS                                         405
+
+LISTS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS                                               406
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY OF REFERENCE ON THE ONE-ACT PLAY                        408
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY ON HOW TO PRODUCE PLAYS                                 409
+
+
+
+
+CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+THE ONE-ACT PLAY AS A SPECIFIC DRAMATIC TYPE
+
+
+The one-act play is with us and is asking for consideration. It is
+challenging our attention whether we will or no. In both Europe and
+America it is one of the conspicuous factors in present-day dramatic
+activity. Theatre managers, stage designers, actors, playwrights, and
+professors in universities recognize its presence as a vital force.
+Professional theatre folk and amateurs especially are devoting zestful
+energy both to the writing and to the producing of this shorter form of
+drama.
+
+The one-act play is claiming recognition as a specific dramatic type. It
+may be said that, as an art form, it has achieved that distinction. The
+short story, as every one knows, was once an embryo and an experiment;
+but few nowadays would care to hold that it has not developed into a
+specific and worthy literary form. This shorter form of prose fiction
+was once apologetic, and that not so many years ago; but it has come
+into its own and now is recognized as a distinct type of prose
+narrative. The one-act play, like the short story, also has come into
+its own. No longer is it wholly an experiment. Indeed, it is succeeding
+in high places. The one-act play is taking its place among the
+significant types of dramatic and literary expression.
+
+Artistically and technically considered, the one-act play is quite as
+much a distinctive dramatic problem as the longer play. In writing
+either, the playwright aims so to handle his material that he will get
+his central intent to his audience and will provoke their interest and
+emotional response thereto. Both aim at a singleness of impression and
+dramatic effect; both aim to be a high order of art. Yet since the one
+is shorter and more condensed, it follows that the dramaturgy of the one
+is somewhat different from that of the other, just as the technic of the
+cameo is different from the technic of the full-sized statue. The
+one-act play must, as it were, be presented at a "single setting": it
+must start quickly at the beginning with certain definite dramatic
+elements and pass rapidly and effectively to a crucial movement without
+halt or digression. A careful analysis of any one of the plays in this
+volume, like Anton Tchekov's _The Boor_, or like Oscar M. Wolff's _Where
+But in America_, will reveal this fact. The shorter form of drama, like
+the short story, has a technical method characteristically its own.
+
+It is a truth that the one-act play is well made or it is nothing at
+all. A careful analysis of Sir James M. Barrie's _The Twelve-Pound
+Look_, Paul Hervieu's _Modesty_, Althea Thurston's _The Exchange_, will
+reveal that these representative one-act plays are well made and are
+real bits of dramatic art. A good one-act play is not a mere cheap
+mechanical _tour de force_; mechanics and artistry it has, of course,
+but it is also a high order of art product. A delicately finished cameo
+is quite as much a work of art as is the larger statue; both have
+mechanics and design in their structure, but those of the cameo are more
+deft and more highly specialized than those of the statue, because the
+work of the former is done under far more restricted conditions. The
+one-act play at its best is cunningly wrought.
+
+Naturally, the material of the one-act play is a bit episodical. It
+deals with but a single situation. A study of the plays in this volume
+will reveal that no whole life's story can be treated adequately in the
+short play, and that no complexity of plot can be employed. Unlike the
+longer play, the shorter form of drama shows not the whole man--except
+by passing hint--but a significant moment or experience, a significant
+character-trait. However vividly this chosen moment may be
+interpreted--and the one-act play must be vivid--much will still be
+left to the imagination. It is the aim of the one-act form to trace the
+causal relations of but _one_ circumstance so that the circumstance may
+be intensified. The writer of the one-act play deliberately isolates so
+that he may throw the strong flashlight more searchingly on some one
+significant event, on some fundamental element of character, on some
+moving emotion. He presents in a vigorous, compressed, and suggestive
+way a simplification and idealization of a particular part or aspect of
+life. Often he opens but a momentary little vista of life, but it is so
+clear-cut and so significant that a whole life is often revealed
+thereby.
+
+The student must not think that because the one-act play deals with but
+one crisis or but one simplified situation, it is therefore weak and
+inconsequential. On the contrary, since only one event or situation can
+be emphasized, it follows that the writer is obliged to choose the one
+determining crisis which makes or mars the supreme struggle of a soul,
+the one great change or turning-point or end of a life history. Often
+such moments are the really vital material for drama; nothing affords so
+much opportunity for striking analysis, for emotional stress, for the
+suggestion of a whole character sketched in the act of meeting its test.
+
+The one-act play is a vital literary product. To segregate a bit of
+significant experience and to present a finished picture of its aspects
+and effects; to dissect a motive so searchingly and skilfully that its
+very roots are laid bare; to detach a single figure from a dramatic
+sequence and portray the essence of its character; to bring a series of
+actions into the clear light of day in a sudden and brief human crisis;
+to tell a significant story briefly and with suggestion; to portray the
+humor of a person or an incident, or in a trice to reveal the touch of
+tragedy resting like the finger of fate on an experience or on a
+character--these are some of the possibilities of the one-act play when
+bandied by a master dramatist.
+
+
+THE PROPER APPROACH TO THE STUDY OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+To read a one-act play merely to get its story is not in itself an
+exercise of any extraordinary value. This sort of approach to any form
+of literature does not require much appreciation of literary art nor
+much intelligence. Almost any normal-minded person can read a play for
+its story with but little expenditure of mental effort. Proper
+appreciation of a one-act play requires more than a casual reading whose
+chief aim is no more than getting the plot.
+
+If the shorter form of drama is to be appreciated properly as a real
+literary form, it must be approached from the point of view of its
+artistry and technic. This means that the student should understand its
+organic construction and technic, just as he should understand the
+organic construction and technic of a short story, a ballad, or a
+perfect sonnet, if he is to appreciate them properly.
+
+The student should know _what_ the dramatist intends to get across the
+footlights to his audience, and should be able to detect _how_ he
+accomplishes the desired result.
+
+It must not be thought that the author urges a study of construction at
+the expense of the human values in a play. On the contrary, such a study
+is but the means whereby the human values are made the more manifest.
+Surely no one would argue that the less one knows about the technic of
+music the better able is one to appreciate music. Indeed, it is not too
+much to say that, within reasonable limits, no one can really appreciate
+a one-act play if one does not know at least the fundamentals of its
+dramatic organization.
+
+In fact, students of the one-act play recognize in its constructive
+regularity not a hindrance to its beauty but a genuine power. This but
+lends to it the charm of perfection. The sonnet and the cameo are
+admirable, if for no other reason than their superior workmanship. The
+one-act play does not lose by any reason of its technical requirements;
+indeed, this is one of its greatest assets. And the student who will
+take the pains to familiarize himself with the organic construction of a
+typical one-act play will have gone a long way in arriving at a proper
+appreciation of this shorter form of drama.
+
+
+DRAMATIC ANALYSIS AND CONSTRUCTION OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+I. THE THEME OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+The one-act play, like the short story, is a work of literary art, and
+must be approached as such. Just like a painting or a poem or a fine
+public building, the one-act play aims at making a _singleness of
+effect_ upon the reader or observer. One does not judge a statue, or a
+poem, or any other work of art, by the appearance of any isolated part
+of it, but by the sum-total effect of the whole. The fundamental aim of
+a one-act play is that it shall so present a singleness of effect to the
+reader or to the assembled group who have gathered to witness a
+performance of it, that the reader or observer will be provoked to
+emotional response thereto.
+
+Thus, when a student reads a play like George Middleton's _Tradition_,
+he is made to see and feel that the life of a daughter has been
+handicapped and the longings of a mother smothered because of the
+conventional narrowness of an otherwise loving father. This is the
+singleness of effect of the play; this is its theme. This is precisely
+what the author of the play wished his reader or observer to see and
+feel. When one reads Bosworth Crocker's _The Last Straw_, one feels that
+a reasonably good and worthy man, because of his sensitiveness to
+criticism, has been driven to despair and to a tragic end by the
+malicious gossip of neighbors. One's sense of pity at his misfortune is
+aroused. This is what the author intended to do. This idea and effect is
+the theme of the play. And when the student reads Paul Hervieu's
+_Modesty_, he feels that a woman, even though she may lead herself into
+thinking she prefers brutal frankness, instinctively likes affection and
+even flattery. This is the effect produced by the play; this is its
+intent; this is its theme.
+
+In approaching a one-act play, then, the very first consideration should
+be to determine what the purpose and intent of the play is--to determine
+its theme. This demands that the play be read through complete at one
+sitting and that no premature conclusions be drawn. Once the play is
+read, it is well to subject the play to certain leading questions. What
+has the author intended that his reader or hearer shall understand,
+think, or feel? What is the play about? What is its object and purpose?
+Is it a precept or an observation found in life, or is it a bit of
+fancy? Is it artificially didactic and moralizing? With what fundamental
+element in human nature does it have to do: Love? Patriotism? Fear?
+Egotism and self-centredness? Sacrifice? Faithfulness? Or what?
+
+A word of warning should be given. The student should not get the idea
+that by theme is meant the moral of the play. A good play may be
+thoroughly moral without its descending to commonplace moralizing. Good
+plays concern themselves with the presentation of the fundamentals of
+life rather than a creed of morals, theories, and propagandas. Art
+concerns itself with larger things than didactic and argumentative
+moralizing.
+
+
+II. THE TECHNIC OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+Once the student satisfies himself as to the singleness of effect or
+theme of the play, he will do well to set himself to the task of seeing
+just how the dramatist has achieved this effect. He should keep in mind
+that the playwright is a skilled workman; that he has predetermined for
+himself just what he wishes his audience to think, feel, or understand,
+and has marshalled all his materials to that end. The way by which he
+accomplishes that end is his technic. Technic is but the practical
+method by which an artist can most effectively convey his message to
+his public. In a play the materials that the dramatist uses to this end
+are character, plot, dialogue, and stage direction. If he is skilled he
+will use these elements in such a way that the result will be an
+artistic whole, a singleness of effect, an organized unit that will
+exemplify and express his theme.
+
+_A._ THE CHARACTERS IN THE ONE-ACT PLAY.--Generally speaking, drama
+grows out of character. Farce, melodrama, and extravaganza usually
+consist of situation rather than of character. In any event, the student
+should avail himself of every means to understand the characters in the
+play under discussion. His real appreciation of the play will be in
+direct ratio almost to his understanding of the persons in the drama.
+Any attention given to this end will be energy well spent. The student
+should get into the very heart of the characters, as it were.
+
+Thus, ADONIJAH, in Beulah Bornstead's _The Diabolical Circle_, is a
+narrow, self-centred, Puritan egotist who has little about his
+personality to appeal to the romantic and vivacious BETTY. LADY SIMS, in
+Sir James M. Barrie's _The Twelve-Pound Look_, is a woman who really is
+pathetic in her longing for some human independence in the presence of
+her self-centred husband, "SIR" HARRY SIMS. And MANIKIN and MINIKIN, in
+Alfred Kreymborg's _Manikin and Minikin_, are conventionalized puppets
+representing the light yet half-serious bickerings, jealousies, and
+quarrellings of human nature.
+
+The student will do well to characterize the _dramatis personae_
+deliberately and specifically. He should not now value himself for
+working fast; for things done in a hurry usually lack depth. He must not
+be content with vague and thin generalities. In analyzing a character it
+might be well to apply some specific questions similar to the following:
+Just what is the elemental human quality in the character? Loving?
+Trusting? Egotistic? Superstitious? Revengeful? Treacherous? Selfish?
+Discontented? Optimistic? Romantic? Or what? How does the dramatist
+characterize them: By action? By dialogue? By spirit of likes and
+dislikes? By racial trait? By religion? By peculiarity of manner,
+speech, appearance? Are the characters really dramatic: are they
+impelled to strong emotional reaction upon each other and upon
+situation? Do they provoke one's dramatic sympathy? Do they make one
+feel their own point of view and their own motives for conduct?
+
+_B._ THE PLOT OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY.--Plot and character are integrally
+interlinked. Plot is not merely story taken from every-day life, where
+seldom do events occur in a series of closely following minor crucial
+moments leading to a climax. The dramatist so constructs his material
+that there is a sequential and causal interplay of dramatic forces,
+ending in some major crisis or crucial moment. Plot may be said to be
+the framework and constructed story by which a dramatist exemplifies his
+theme. It does not exist for its own end, but is one of the fundamental
+means whereby the playwright gets his singleness of effect, or theme, to
+his reader or hearer. From the story material at his disposal the
+playwright constructs his plot to this very end.
+
+Careful attention should be given to the plot. The student should
+question it carefully. Do the plot materials seem to have been taken
+from actual life? Or do they seem to be invented? Is the plot well
+suited to exemplifying the theme? Reconstruct the story out of which the
+plot may have been built. Since the plot of a one-act play is highly
+simplified, determine whether there are any complexities, any
+irrelevancies, any digressions. Does the plot have a well-defined
+beginning, middle, and end?
+
+1. _The Beginning of the One-Act Play._--Having but a relatively short
+time at its disposal, usually about thirty minutes and seldom more than
+forty-five minutes, the beginning of a one-act play is very short. It is
+characterized by condensation, compactness, and brevity. Seldom is the
+beginning more than a half-page in length; often the play is got under
+way in two or three speeches. The student will do well to practise to
+the end that he will recognize instantly when the dramatic background of
+a one-act play has been laid.
+
+Whatever else may characterize the beginning, it must be dramatically
+effective. Instantly it must catch the powers of perception by making
+them aware of the initial situation out of which the subsequent dramatic
+action will develop. A good beginning makes one _feel_ that suddenly he
+has come face to face with a situation which cannot be solved without an
+interplay of dramatic forces to a given final result.
+
+Thus, when one reads Althea Thurston's _The Exchange_, one is made
+suddenly to feel that human beings are discontent with their
+shortcomings and possessed qualities, and that they always feel that
+they would be happier if they possessed something other than what they
+have. The JUDGE, who handles the cases as they come in for exchange, is
+disgusted with the vanities of humankind, and is ready to clear his
+hands of the whole matter. Here is a situation; it is the beginning of
+the play. In the beginning of Lady Gregory's _Hyacinth Halvey_ one is
+brought suddenly to the realization that HYACINTH HALVEY instinctively
+rebels against the highly colored and artificially created good name
+that has been unwittingly superimposed upon him. This situation,
+suddenly presented, is the beginning of the play. Out of this initial
+situation the subsequent dramatic action evolves.
+
+Is the beginning too short? Too long? Does it make the initial dramatic
+situation clear? How has the playwright made it clear and effective?
+Just where is the end of the beginning? Although the beginning and the
+subsequent plot development are well blended together, so that there is
+no halting where the beginning ends, usually one can detect where the
+one ends and the other begins. It is a good idea, for the purpose of
+developing a sense of the organic structure of the one-act play, to draw
+a line across the page of the play, just where the one ends and the
+other begins.
+
+The _setting_ of the play is a part of the beginning. Is the setting
+realistic? Romantic? Fantastic or bizarre? Are the details of stage
+design, properties, and especially the atmosphere and color scheme in
+harmony with the tone of the play itself? Is the setting really an
+organic part of the play or is it something apart from it? Note that the
+setting is usually written in the third person, present tense, and in
+italics.
+
+2. _The Middle of the One-Act Play._--The middle of a one-act play is
+concerned primarily with the main crucial moment or climax and the
+dramatic movement that from the beginning leads up to it. A good play
+consists of a series of minor crises leading up to a major crisis or
+crucial moment. It is for this crucial moment that the play exists; it
+is for this big scene precisely that the play has been written. Indeed,
+the play succeeds or fails as the crucial moment is strongly dramatic or
+flabbily weak. This is the part of the play that is strongest in
+dramatic tension, strongest in emotional functioning.
+
+A study of Sir James M. Barrie's _The Twelve-Pound Look_ shows that the
+crucial moment comes at the point where "SIR" HARRY SIMS in his
+self-centred egotism discovers that his wife's, LADY SIMS'S,
+heart-longing could easily be satisfied if she were permitted no other
+freedom than merely operating a typewriter. In Althea Thurston's _The
+Exchange_ the crucial moment comes when the several characters, who
+unwittingly had exchanged one ill for a worse one, find that they can
+never re-exchange, and that they must endure the torments and
+displeasure of the newly acquired ill throughout life.
+
+Just where is the crucial moment or climax in the play under
+consideration? Determine the several minor crises that lead up to the
+crucial moment. Is the crucial moment delayed too long for good dramatic
+effect? Or is it reached too soon, so that the play is too short and too
+sudden in reaching the climax? Does it make one _feel_ that some vital
+result has been attained in the plot movement? Is it characterized by
+strong situation and by strong emotional reactions of character on
+character or of character on situation?
+
+For purposes of impressing a sense the organic structure of a one-act
+play, it is a good plan to draw a horizontal line across the page at the
+close of the crucial moment. Keep in mind, however, that the crucial
+moment is _not_ the end of the play as it appears on the printed page or
+as it is acted on the stage.
+
+3. _The End of the One-Act Play._--The end of the one-act play is an
+important consideration. Too often it is entirely lost sight of. It is
+the part that frequently makes or mars a play. When the crucial moment
+or climax has been reached, the plot action of the play is completed,
+but the play is not yet completed. The play needs yet to be rounded out
+into an artistic and dramatic whole. In life the actual crisis in human
+affairs is not often our chiefest interest, but the reaction of
+characters immediately _after_ the crisis has occurred. Thus, in a play,
+the emotional reaction of the characters on the crucial moment and the
+more or less sudden readjustment between characters after the crucial
+moment must be presented. For this very purpose the end of the one-act
+play is constructed. The end is of need very short--usually even shorter
+than the beginning. Usually the end consists of but a speech or two, or
+sometimes only of pantomime that more effectively expresses the
+emotional reactions of the characters on the crucial moment than
+dialogue.
+
+Thus, in Sir James M. Barrie's _The Twelve-Pound Look_, the end consists
+of but pantomime, in which "SIR" HARRY expresses his emotional reaction
+upon his wife's longing for the human liberty that even the operating of
+a typewriter would provide her. The end of Bosworth Crocker's _The Last
+Straw_ comes immediately after the pistol-shot is heard in the adjoining
+room and MRS. BAUER'S voice is heard: "Fritz! Fritz! Speak to me! Look
+at me, Fritz! You didn't do it, Fritz! I know you didn't do it!" etc.
+
+Is the end of the play under consideration in terms of dialogue? In
+pantomime? Or both? Is it too long? Too short? Is it dramatic? Is it
+conclusive and satisfying?
+
+_C._ DIALOGUE OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY.--Dialogue, like plot and
+characterization, is another means whereby the theme of the play is got
+to the reader or audience. Good dramatic dialogue is constructed to this
+very end. It is not the commonplace, rambling, uncertain, and realistic
+question and answer of every-day life. Usually good dramatic dialogue is
+crisp, direct, condensed. It is the substance but not the form of
+ordinary conversation. Its chiefest characteristic is spontaneity.
+
+_The highest type of dramatic dialogue is that which expresses the ideas
+and emotions of characters at the points of highest emotional
+functioning._ It will readily be seen, then, that not all dialogue in a
+play is necessarily dramatic. In truth, the best dramatic dialogue
+occurs in conjunction with the series of minor crises and the crucial
+moment that go to make up the dramatic movement of the play. Often there
+is much dialogue in a play that essentially is not dramatic at all.
+
+In analyzing dramatic dialogue it is well to inquire whether in the play
+it serves (1) to express the ideas and emotions of characters at points
+of highest emotional functioning, (2) to advance the plot, (3) to reveal
+character, or (4) what. Is it brief, clear, direct, spontaneous? Or is
+it careless, loose, insipid? Wit, repartee? Didactic, moralizing?
+Satirical, cynical?
+
+_D._ STAGE-BUSINESS AND STAGE-DIRECTION IN THE ONE-ACT PLAY.--The
+stage-business and stage-direction, usually printed in italics, of a
+play are an essential part of a drama. They must not be ignored in
+either reading or staging a play. The novel or short story generally
+uses narration and description to achieve its desired result; a play, on
+the contrary, uses dialogue and concrete objective pantomime that may be
+seen readily with the eye. A play is not a story narrated in
+chronological order of events, but it is a story so handled and so
+constructed that it can be acted on a stage by actors before an
+audience. It is a series of minor crises leading to a major crisis,
+presented to a reader or to an audience by characters, dialogue, and
+stage-business and pantomime. For purposes of indicating the pantomimic
+action of the play, the dramatist resorts to stage-business and
+stage-direction.
+
+Does the stage-direction aid in making (1) the dialogue, (2) the plot,
+(3) the dramatic action, or (4) the character more clear? Does it
+shorten the play? Does it express idea, emotion, or situations more
+effectively than could dialogue, if it were used?
+
+And, finally, do not judge any play until all the evidence is in, until
+you have thoroughly mastered every detail and have fully conceived the
+_author's idea_ and _purpose_. It is not a question whether _you_ would
+have selected such a theme or whether _you_ would have handled it in the
+same way in which the author did; but the point is does the _author_ in
+_his_ way make _his_ theme clear to you. The author has conceived a
+dramatic problem in his _own mind_ and has set it forth in _his own
+way_. The question is, does he make you see his result and his method?
+
+Do you like the play? Or do you not like it? State your reason in either
+case. Is it because of the author? Is it because of the theme? Is it
+because of the technic--the way he gets his intent to his reader or
+audience? Is it because of your own likes or dislikes; preconceived
+notions or prejudices? Is it because of the acting? Of the staging or
+setting? Does it uplift or depress? Does it provoke you to emotional
+functioning?
+
+    "Though old the thought and oft expressed,
+    'Tis his at last who says it best."
+
+
+
+
+THE TWELVE-POUND LOOK
+
+BY
+
+SIR JAMES M. BARRIE
+
+
+_The Twelve-Pound Look_ is reprinted by permission of Charles Scribner's
+Sons, the publisher in America of the works of Sir James M. Barrie. For
+permission to perform, address the publisher.
+
+
+SIR JAMES M. BARRIE
+
+Sir James M. Barrie is rated as the foremost English dramatist of the
+day; and his plays, taken together, make the most significant
+contribution to English drama since Sheridan. Practically his entire
+life has been given to the writing of novels and plays, many of the
+latter having their heroines conceived especially for Maude Adams, one
+of America's greatest actresses. He was born in Kirriemuir, Scotland, in
+1860. He received his education at Dumfries and Edinburgh University.
+His first work in journalism and letters was done at Nottingham, but
+soon he took up his work in London, where he now resides.
+
+Sir James M. Barrie's literary labors have been very fruitful. His _The
+Professor's Love Story_, _The Little Minister_, _Quality Street_, _The
+Admirable Crichton_, _Peter Pan_, _What Every Woman Knows_, and _Alice
+Sit-by-the-Fire_ are well known to every one.
+
+In 1914 there appeared a volume of one-act plays, _Half Hours_, the most
+important of which is _The Twelve-Pound Look_. And in 1918 appeared a
+volume, _Echoes of the War_, the most important one-act play therein
+being _The Old Lady Shows Her Medals_.
+
+Barrie is a great playwright because he is so thoroughly human. All the
+little whimsicalities, sentiments, little loves, and heart-longings of
+human beings are ever present in his plays. He is no reformer, no
+propagandist. He appeals to the emotions rather than to the intellect.
+He continues the romantic tradition in English drama and gives us plays
+that are wholesome, tender, and human. And with all this, he has the
+added saving grace of a most absorbing humor.
+
+While Barrie is not a devotee of the well-made play, his _The
+Twelve-Pound Look_ is one of the most nearly perfect one-act plays of
+contemporary drama. His interest in human personalities is not more
+manifest in any of his plays than in LADY SIMS and "SIR" HARRY SIMS in
+this play.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+
+    "SIR" HARRY SIMS
+    LADY SIMS
+    KATE
+    TOMBES
+
+
+
+
+THE TWELVE-POUND LOOK[A]
+
+
+     _If quite convenient (as they say about checks) you are to conceive
+     that the scene is laid in your own house, and that_ HARRY SIMS _is
+     you. Perhaps the ornamentation of the house is a trifle
+     ostentatious, but if you cavil at that we are willing to
+     redecorate: you don't get out of being_ HARRY SIMS _on a mere
+     matter of plush and dados. It pleases us to make him a city man,
+     but (rather than lose you) he can be turned with a scrape of the
+     pen into a K.C., fashionable doctor, Secretary of State, or what
+     you will. We conceive him of a pleasant rotundity with a thick red
+     neck, but we shall waive that point if you know him to be thin._
+
+     _It is that day in your career when everything went wrong just when
+     everything seemed to be superlatively right._
+
+     _In_ HARRY'S _case it was a woman who did the mischief. She came to
+     him in his great hour and told him she did not admire him. Of
+     course he turned her out of the house and was soon himself again,
+     but it spoiled the morning for him. This is the subject of the
+     play, and quite enough too._
+
+     HARRY _is to receive the honor of knighthood in a few days, and we
+     discover him in the sumptuous "snuggery" of his home in Kensington
+     (or is it Westminster?), rehearsing the ceremony with his wife.
+     They have been at it all the morning, a pleasing occupation._ MRS.
+     SIMS _(as we may call her for the last time, as it were, and
+     strictly as a good-natured joke) is wearing her presentation gown,
+     and personates the august one who is about to dub her_ HARRY
+     _knight. She is seated regally. Her jewelled shoulders proclaim
+     aloud her husband's generosity. She must be an extraordinarily
+     proud and happy woman, yet she has a drawn face and shrinking ways,
+     as if there were some one near her of whom she is afraid. She claps
+     her hands, as the signal to_ HARRY. _He enters bowing, and with a
+     graceful swerve of the leg. He is only partly in costume, the sword
+     and the real stockings not having arrived yet. With a gliding
+     motion that is only delayed while one leg makes up on the other, he
+     reaches his wife, and, going on one knee, raises her hand superbly
+     to his lips. She taps him on the shoulder with a paper-knife and
+     says huskily: "Rise, Sir Harry." He rises, bows, and glides about
+     the room, going on his knees to various articles of furniture, and
+     rises from each a knight. It is a radiant domestic scene, and_
+     HARRY _is as dignified as if he knew that royalty was rehearsing it
+     at the other end_.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Complacently._] Did that seem all right, eh?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Much relieved._] I think perfect.
+
+SIR HARRY. But was it dignified?
+
+LADY SIMS. Oh, very. And it will be still more so when you have the
+sword.
+
+SIR HARRY. The sword will lend it an air. There are really the five
+moments--[_suiting the action to the word_]--the glide--the dip--the
+kiss--the tap--and you back out a knight. It's short, but it's a very
+beautiful ceremony. [_Kindly._] Anything you can suggest?
+
+LADY SIMS. No--oh, no. [_Nervously, seeing him pause to kiss the tassel
+of a cushion._] You don't think you have practised till you know what to
+do almost too well?
+
+     [_He has been in a blissful temper, but such niggling criticism
+     would try any man._
+
+SIR HARRY. I do not. Don't talk nonsense. Wait till your opinion is
+asked for.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Abashed._] I'm sorry, Harry. [_A perfect butler appears and
+presents a card._] "The Flora Typewriting Agency."
+
+SIR HARRY. Ah, yes. I telephoned them to send some one. A woman, I
+suppose, Tombes?
+
+TOMBES. Yes, Sir Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. Show her in here. [_He has very lately become a stickler for
+etiquette._] And, Tombes, strictly speaking, you know, I am not Sir
+Harry till Thursday.
+
+TOMBES. Beg pardon, sir, but it is such a satisfaction to us.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Good-naturedly._] Ah, they like it down-stairs, do they?
+
+TOMBES. [_Unbending._] Especially the females, Sir Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. Exactly. You can show her in, Tombes. [_The butler departs on
+his mighty task._] You can tell the woman what she is wanted for, Emmy,
+while I change. [_He is too modest to boast about himself, and prefers
+to keep a wife in the house for that purpose._] You can tell her the
+sort of things about me that will come better from you. [_Smiling
+happily._] You heard what Tombes said: "Especially the females." And he
+is right. Success! The women like it even better than the men. And
+rightly. For they share. _You_ share, _Lady_ Sims. Not a woman will see
+that gown without being sick with envy of it. I know them. Have all our
+lady friends in to see it. It will make them ill for a week.
+
+     [_These sentiments carry him off light-heartedly, and presently the
+     disturbing element is shown in. She is a mere typist, dressed in
+     uncommonly good taste, but at contemptibly small expense, and she
+     is carrying her typewriter in a friendly way rather than as a badge
+     of slavery, as of course it is. Her eye is clear; and in odd
+     contrast to_ LADY SIMS, _she is self-reliant and serene_.
+
+KATE. [_Respectfully, but she should have waited to be spoken to._] Good
+morning, madam.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_In her nervous way, and scarcely noticing that the typist
+is a little too ready with her tongue._] Good morning. [_As a first
+impression she rather likes the woman, and the woman, though it is
+scarcely worth mentioning, rather likes her._ LADY SIMS _has a maid for
+buttoning and unbuttoning her, and probably another for waiting on the
+maid, and she gazes with a little envy perhaps at a woman who does
+things for herself_.] Is that the typewriting machine?
+
+KATE. [_Who is getting it ready for use._] Yes. [_Not "Yes, madam" as it
+ought to be._] I suppose if I am to work here I may take this off. I get
+on better without it. [_She is referring to her hat._
+
+LADY SIMS. Certainly. [_But the hat is already off._] I ought to
+apologize for my gown. I am to be presented this week, and I was trying
+it on.
+
+     [_Her tone is not really apologetic. She is rather clinging to the
+     glory of her gown, wistfully, as if not absolutely certain, you
+     know, that it is a glory._
+
+KATE. It is beautiful, if I may presume to say so.
+
+     [_She frankly admires it. She probably has a best and a second best
+     of her own; that sort of thing._
+
+LADY SIMS. [_With a flush of pride in the gown._] Yes, it is very
+beautiful. [_The beauty of it gives her courage._] Sit down, please.
+
+KATE. [_The sort of woman who would have sat down in any case._] I
+suppose it is some copying you want done? I got no particulars. I was
+told to come to this address, but that was all.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Almost with the humility of a servant._] Oh, it is not work
+for me, it is for my husband, and what he needs is not exactly copying.
+[_Swelling, for she is proud of_ HARRY.] He wants a number of letters
+answered--hundreds of them--letters and telegrams of congratulation.
+
+KATE. [_As if it were all in the day's work._] Yes?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Remembering that_ HARRY _expects every wife to do her
+duty_.] My husband is a remarkable man. He is about to be knighted.
+[_Pause, but_ KATE _does not fall to the floor_.] He is to be knighted
+for his services to--[_on reflection_]--for his services. [_She is
+conscious that she is not doing_ HARRY _justice_.] He can explain it so
+much better than I can.
+
+KATE. [_In her businesslike way._] And I am to answer the
+congratulations?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Afraid that it will be a hard task._] Yes.
+
+KATE. [_Blithely_] It is work I have had some experience of. [_She
+proceeds to type._
+
+LADY SIMS. But you can't begin till you know what he wants to say.
+
+KATE. Only a specimen letter. Won't it be the usual thing?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_To whom this is a new idea._] Is there a usual thing?
+
+KATE. Oh, yes.
+
+     [_She continues to type, and_ LADY SIMS, _half-mesmerized, gazes at
+     her nimble fingers. The useless woman watches the useful one, and
+     she sighs, she could not tell why._
+
+LADY SIMS. How quickly you do it! It must be delightful to be able to do
+something, and to do it well.
+
+KATE. [_Thankfully._] Yes, it is delightful.
+
+LADY SIMS [_Again remembering the source of all her greatness._] But,
+excuse me, I don't think that will be any use. My husband wants me to
+explain to you that his is an exceptional case. He did not try to get
+this honor in any way. It was a complete surprise to him----
+
+KATE. [_Who is a practical_ KATE _and no dealer in sarcasm_.] That is
+what I have written.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_In whom sarcasm would meet a dead wall._] But how could you
+know?
+
+KATE. I only guessed.
+
+LADY SIMS. Is that the usual thing?
+
+KATE. Oh, yes.
+
+LADY SIMS. They don't try to get it?
+
+KATE. I don't know. That is what we are told to say in the letters.
+
+     [_To her at present the only important thing about the letters is
+     that they are ten shillings the hundred._
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Returning to surer ground._] I should explain that my
+husband is not a man who cares for honors. So long as he does his
+duty----
+
+KATE. Yes, I have been putting that in.
+
+LADY SIMS. Have you? But he particularly wants it to be known that he
+would have declined a title were it not----
+
+KATE. I have got it here.
+
+LADY SIMS. What have you got?
+
+KATE. [_Reading._] "Indeed, I would have asked to be allowed to decline
+had it not been that I want to please my wife."
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Heavily._] But how could you know it was that?
+
+KATE. Is it?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Who, after all, is the one with the right to ask
+questions._] Do they all accept it for that reason?
+
+KATE. That is what we are told to say in the letters.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Thoughtlessly._] It is quite as if you knew my husband.
+
+KATE. I assure you, I don't even know his name.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Suddenly showing that she knows him._] Oh, he wouldn't like
+that!
+
+     [_And it is here that_ HARRY _re-enters in his city garments,
+     looking so gay, feeling so jolly, that we bleed for him. However,
+     the annoying_ KATHERINE _is to get a shock also_.
+
+LADY SIMS. This is the lady, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Shooting his cuffs._] Yes, yes. Good morning, my dear.
+
+     [_Then they see each other, and their mouths open, but not for
+     words. After the first surprise_ KATE _seems to find some humor in
+     the situation, but_ HARRY _lowers like a thunder-cloud_.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Who has seen nothing._] I have been trying to explain to
+her----
+
+SIR HARRY. Eh--what? [_He controls himself._] Leave it to me, Emmy; I'll
+attend to her.
+
+     [LADY SIMS _goes, with a dread fear that somehow she has vexed her
+     lord, and then_ HARRY _attends to the intruder_.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With concentrated scorn._] You!
+
+KATE. [_As if agreeing with him._] Yes, it's funny.
+
+SIR HARRY. The shamelessness of your daring to come here.
+
+KATE. Believe me, it is not less a surprise to me than it is to you. I
+was sent here in the ordinary way of business. I was given only the
+number of the house. I was not told the name.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Withering her._] The ordinary way of business! This is what
+you have fallen to--a typist!
+
+KATE. [_Unwithered._] Think of it!
+
+SIR HARRY. After going through worse straits, I'll be bound.
+
+KATE. [_With some grim memories._] Much worse straits.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Alas, laughing coarsely._] My congratulations!
+
+KATE. Thank you, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who is annoyed, as any man would be, not to find her
+abject._] Eh? What was that you called me, madam?
+
+KATE. Isn't it Harry? On my soul, I almost forget.
+
+SIR HARRY. It isn't Harry to you. My name is Sims, if you please.
+
+KATE. Yes, I had not forgotten that. It was my name, too, you see.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In his best manner._] It was your name till you forfeited
+the right to bear it.
+
+KATE. Exactly.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Gloating._] I was furious to find you here, but on second
+thoughts it pleases me. [_From the depths of his moral nature._] There
+is a grim justice in this.
+
+KATE. [_Sympathetically._] Tell me?
+
+SIR HARRY. Do you know what you were brought here to do?
+
+KATE. I have just been learning. You have been made a knight, and I was
+summoned to answer the messages of congratulation.
+
+SIR HARRY. That's it, that's it. You come on this day as my servant!
+
+KATE. I, who might have been Lady Sims.
+
+SIR HARRY. And you are her typist instead. And she has four
+men-servants. Oh, I am glad you saw her in her presentation gown.
+
+KATE. I wonder if she would let me do her washing, Sir Harry? [_Her want
+of taste disgusts him._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With dignity._] You can go. The mere thought that only a
+few flights of stairs separates such as you from my innocent
+children----
+
+     [_He will never know why a new light has come into her face._
+
+KATE. [_Slowly._] You have children?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Inflated._] Two. [_He wonders why she is so long in
+answering._
+
+KATE. [_Resorting to impertinence._] Such a nice number.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With an extra turn of the screw._] Both boys.
+
+KATE. Successful in everything. Are they like you, Sir Harry?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Expanding._] They are very like me.
+
+KATE. That's nice. [_Even on such a subject as this she can be ribald._
+
+SIR HARRY. Will you please to go.
+
+KATE. Heigho! What shall I say to my employer?
+
+SIR HARRY. That is no affair of mine.
+
+KATE. What will you say to Lady Sims?
+
+SIR HARRY. I flatter myself that whatever I say, Lady Sims will accept
+without comment.
+
+     [_She smiles, heaven knows why, unless her next remark explains
+     it._
+
+KATE. Still the same Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. What do you mean?
+
+KATE. Only that you have the old confidence in your profound knowledge
+of the sex.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Beginning to think as little of her intellect as of her
+morals._] I suppose I know my wife.
+
+KATE. [_Hopelessly dense._] I suppose so. I was only remembering that
+you used to think you knew her in the days when I was the lady. [_He is
+merely wasting his time on her, and he indicates the door. She is not
+sufficiently the lady to retire worsted._] Well, good-by, Sir Harry.
+Won't you ring, and the four men-servants will show me out? [_But he
+hesitates._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In spite of himself._] As you are here, there is something
+I want to get out of you. [_Wishing he could ask it less eagerly._] Tell
+me, who was the man?
+
+     [_The strange woman--it is evident now that she has always been
+     strange to him--smiles tolerantly._
+
+KATE. You never found out?
+
+SIR HARRY. I could never be sure.
+
+KATE. [_Reflectively._] I thought that would worry you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Sneering._] It's plain that he soon left you.
+
+KATE. Very soon.
+
+SIR HARRY. As I could have told you. [_But still she surveys him with
+the smile of Mona Lisa. The badgered man has to entreat._] Who was he?
+It was fourteen years ago, and cannot matter to any of us now. Kate,
+tell me who he was?
+
+     [_It is his first youthful moment, and perhaps because of that she
+     does not wish to hurt him._
+
+KATE. [_Shaking a motherly head._] Better not ask.
+
+SIR HARRY. I do ask. Tell me.
+
+KATE. It is kinder not to tell you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Violently._] Then, by James, it was one of my own pals. Was
+it Bernard Roche? [_She shakes her head._] It may have been some one who
+comes to my house still.
+
+KATE. I think not. [_Reflecting._] Fourteen years! You found my letter
+that night when you went home?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Impatient._] Yes.
+
+KATE. I propped it against the decanters. I thought you would be sure to
+see it there. It was a room not unlike this, and the furniture was
+arranged in the same attractive way. How it all comes back to me. Don't
+you see me, Harry, in hat and cloak, putting the letter there, taking a
+last look round, and then stealing out into the night to meet----
+
+SIR HARRY. Whom?
+
+KATE. Him. Hours pass, no sound in the room but the tick-tack of the
+clock, and then about midnight you return alone. You take----
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Gruffly._] I wasn't alone.
+
+KATE. [_The picture spoiled._] No? Oh. [_Plaintively._] Here have I all
+these years been conceiving it wrongly. [_She studies his face._] I
+believe something interesting happened.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Growling._] Something confoundedly annoying.
+
+KATE. [_Coaxing._] Do tell me.
+
+SIR HARRY. We won't go into that. Who was the man? Surely a husband has
+a right to know with whom his wife bolted.
+
+KATE. [_Who is detestably ready with her tongue._] Surely the wife has a
+right to know how he took it. [_The woman's love of bargaining comes to
+her aid._] A fair exchange. You tell me what happened, and I will tell
+you who he was.
+
+SIR HARRY. You will? Very well.
+
+     [_It is the first point on which they have agreed, and, forgetting
+     himself, he takes a place beside her on the fire-seat. He is
+     thinking only of what he is to tell her, but she, womanlike, is
+     conscious of their proximity._
+
+KATE. [_Tastelessly._] Quite like old times. [_He moves away from her
+indignantly._] Go on, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who has a manful shrinking from saying anything that is to
+his disadvantage._] Well, as you know, I was dining at the club that
+night.
+
+KATE. Yes.
+
+SIR HARRY. Jack Lamb drove me home. Mabbett Green was with us, and I
+asked them to come in for a few minutes.
+
+KATE. Jack Lamb, Mabbett Green? I think I remember them. Jack was in
+Parliament.
+
+SIR HARRY. No, that was Mabbett. They came into the house with me
+and--[_with sudden horror_]--was it him?
+
+KATE. [_Bewildered._] Who?
+
+SIR HARRY. Mabbett?
+
+KATE. What?
+
+SIR HARRY. The man?
+
+KATE. What man? [_Understanding._] Oh, no. I thought you said he came
+into the house with you.
+
+SIR HARRY. It might have been a blind.
+
+KATE. Well, it wasn't. Go on.
+
+SIR HARRY. They came in to finish a talk we had been having at the club.
+
+KATE. An interesting talk, evidently.
+
+SIR HARRY. The papers had been full that evening of the elopement of
+some countess woman with a fiddler. What was her name?
+
+KATE. Does it matter?
+
+SIR HARRY. No. [_Thus ends the countess._] We had been discussing the
+thing and--[_he pulls a wry face_]--and I had been rather warm----
+
+KATE. [_With horrid relish._] I begin to see. You had been saying it
+served the husband right, that the man who could not look after his wife
+deserved to lose her. It was one of your favorite subjects. Oh, Harry,
+say it was that!
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Sourly._] It may have been something like that.
+
+KATE. And all the time the letter was there, waiting; and none of you
+knew except the clock. Harry, it is sweet of you to tell me. [_His face
+is not sweet. The illiterate woman has used the wrong adjective._] I
+forget what I said precisely in the letter.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Pulverizing her._] So do I. But I have it still.
+
+KATE. [_Not pulverized._] Do let me see it again.
+
+     [_She has observed his eye wandering to the desk._
+
+SIR HARRY. You are welcome to it as a gift.
+
+     [_The fateful letter, a poor little dead thing, is brought to light
+     from a locked drawer._
+
+KATE. [_Taking it._] Yes, this is it. Harry, how you did crumple it!
+[_She reads, not without curiosity._] "Dear husband--I call you that for
+the last time--I am off. I am what you call making a bolt of it. I won't
+try to excuse myself nor to explain, for you would not accept the
+excuses nor understand the explanation. It will be a little shock to
+you, but only to your pride; what will astound you is that any woman
+could be such a fool as to leave such a man as you. I am taking nothing
+with me that belongs to you. May you be very happy.--Your ungrateful
+KATE. _P.S._--You need not try to find out who he is. You will try, but
+you won't succeed." [_She folds the nasty little thing up._] I may
+really have it for my very own?
+
+SIR HARRY. You really may.
+
+KATE. [_Impudently._] If you would care for a typed copy----?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In a voice with which he used to frighten his
+grandmother_.] None of your sauce! [_Wincing._] I had to let them see it
+in the end.
+
+KATE. I can picture Jack Lamb eating it.
+
+SIR HARRY. A penniless parson's daughter.
+
+KATE. That is all I was.
+
+SIR HARRY. We searched for the two of you high and low.
+
+KATE. Private detectives?
+
+SIR HARRY. They couldn't get on the track of you.
+
+KATE. [_Smiling._] No?
+
+SIR HARRY. But at last the courts let me serve the papers by
+advertisement on a man unknown, and I got my freedom.
+
+KATE. So I saw. It was the last I heard of you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Each word a blow for her._] And I married again just as
+soon as ever I could.
+
+KATE. They say that is always a compliment to the first wife.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Violently._] I showed them.
+
+KATE. You soon let them see that if one woman was a fool, you still had
+the pick of the basket to choose from.
+
+SIR HARRY. By James, I did.
+
+KATE. [_Bringing him to earth again._] But still, you wondered who he
+was.
+
+SIR HARRY. I suspected everybody--even my pals. I felt like jumping at
+their throats and crying: "It's you!"
+
+KATE. You had been so admirable to me, an instinct told you that I was
+sure to choose another of the same.
+
+SIR HARRY. I thought, it can't be money, so it must be looks. Some dolly
+face. [_He stares at her in perplexity._] He must have had something
+wonderful about him to make you willing to give up all that you had with
+me.
+
+KATE. [_As if he was the stupid one._] Poor Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. And it couldn't have been going on for long, for I would have
+noticed the change in you.
+
+KATE. Would you?
+
+SIR HARRY. I knew you so well.
+
+KATE. You amazing man.
+
+SIR HARRY. So who was he? Out with it.
+
+KATE. You are determined to know?
+
+SIR HARRY. Your promise. You gave your word.
+
+KATE. If I must--[_She is the villain of the piece, but it must be
+conceded that in this matter she is reluctant to pain him._] I am sorry
+I promised. [_Looking at him steadily._] There was no one, Harry; no one
+at all.
+
+SIR HARRY.. [_Rising._] If you think you can play with me----
+
+KATE. I told you that you wouldn't like it.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Rasping._] It is unbelievable.
+
+KATE. I suppose it is; but it is true.
+
+SIR HARRY. Your letter itself gives you the lie.
+
+KATE. That was intentional. I saw that if the truth were known you might
+have a difficulty in getting your freedom; and as I was getting mine it
+seemed fair that you should have yours also. So I wrote my good-by in
+words that would be taken to mean what you thought they meant, and I
+knew the law would back you in your opinion. For the law, like you,
+Harry, has a profound understanding of women.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Trying to straighten, himself._] I don't believe you yet.
+
+KATE. [_Looking not unkindly into the soul of this man._] Perhaps that
+is the best way to take it. It is less unflattering than the truth. But
+you were the only one. [_Summing up her life._] You sufficed.
+
+SIR HARRY. Then what mad impulse----
+
+KATE. It was no impulse, Harry. I had thought it out for a year.
+
+SIR HARRY. A year? [_Dazed._] One would think to hear you that I hadn't
+been a good husband to you.
+
+KATE. [_With a sad smile._] You were a good husband according to your
+lights.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Stoutly._] _I_ think so.
+
+KATE. And a moral man, and chatty, and quite the philanthropist.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_On sure ground._] All women envied you.
+
+KATE. How you loved me to be envied.
+
+SIR HARRY. I swaddled you in luxury.
+
+KATE. [_Making her great revelation._] That was it.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Blankly._] What?
+
+KATE. [_Who can be serene because it is all over._] How you beamed at me
+when I sat at the head of your fat dinners in my fat jewelry, surrounded
+by our fat friends.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Aggrieved._] They weren't so fat.
+
+KATE. [_A side issue._] All except those who were so thin. Have you ever
+noticed, Harry, that many jewels make women either incredibly fat or
+incredibly thin?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Shouting._] I have not. [_Is it worth while to argue with
+her any longer?_] We had all the most interesting society of the day. It
+wasn't only business men. There were politicians, painters, writers----
+
+KATE. Only the glorious, dazzling successes. Oh, the fat talk while we
+ate too much--about who had made a hit and who was slipping back, and
+what the noo house cost and the noo motor and the gold soup-plates, and
+who was to be the noo knight.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who it will be observed is unanswerable from first to
+last._] Was anybody getting on better than me, and consequently you?
+
+KATE. Consequently me! Oh, Harry, you and your sublime religion.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Honest heart._] My religion? I never was one to talk about
+religion, but----
+
+KATE. Pooh, Harry, you don't even know what your religion was and is and
+will be till the day of your expensive funeral. [_And here is the lesson
+that life has taught her._] One's religion is whatever he is most
+interested in, and yours is Success.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Quoting from his morning paper._] Ambition--it is the last
+infirmity of noble minds.
+
+KATE. Noble minds!
+
+SIR HARRY. [_At last grasping what she is talking about._] You are not
+saying that you left me because of my success?
+
+KATE. Yes, that was it. [_And now she stands revealed to him._] I
+couldn't endure it. If a failure had come now and then--but your success
+was suffocating me. [_She is rigid with emotion._] The passionate
+craving I had to be done with it, to find myself among people who had
+not got on.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With proper spirit._] There are plenty of them.
+
+KATE. There were none in our set. When they began to go down-hill they
+rolled out of our sight.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Clenching it._] I tell you I am worth a quarter of a
+million.
+
+KATE [_Unabashed._] That is what you are worth to yourself. I'll tell
+you what you are worth to me: exactly twelve pounds. For I made up my
+mind that I could launch myself on the world alone if I first proved my
+mettle by earning twelve pounds; and as soon as I had earned it I left
+you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In the scales._] Twelve pounds!
+
+KATE. That is your value to a woman. If she can't make it she has to
+stick to you.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Remembering perhaps a rectory garden._] You valued me at
+more than that when you married me.
+
+KATE. [_Seeing it also._] Ah, I didn't know you then. If only you had
+been a man, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. A man? What do you mean by a man?
+
+KATE. [_Leaving the garden._] Haven't you heard of them? They are
+something fine; and every woman is loath to admit to herself that her
+husband is not one. When she marries, even though she has been a very
+trivial person, there is in her some vague stirring toward a worthy
+life, as well as a fear of her capacity for evil. She knows her chance
+lies in him. If there is something good in him, what is good in her
+finds it, and they join forces against the baser parts. So I didn't give
+you up willingly, Harry. I invented all sorts of theories to explain
+you. Your hardness--I said it was a fine want of mawkishness. Your
+coarseness--I said it goes with strength. Your contempt for the weak--I
+called it virility. Your want of ideals was clear-sightedness. Your
+ignoble views of women--I tried to think them funny. Oh, I clung to you
+to save myself. But I had to let go; you had only the one quality,
+Harry, success; you had it so strong that it swallowed all the others.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Not to be diverted from the main issue._] How did you earn
+that twelve pounds?
+
+KATE. It took me nearly six months; but I earned it fairly. [_She
+presses her hand on the typewriter as lovingly as many a woman has
+pressed a rose._] I learned this. I hired it and taught myself. I got
+some work through a friend, and with my first twelve pounds I paid for
+my machine. Then I considered that I was free to go, and I went.
+
+SIR HARRY. All this going on in my house while you were living in the
+lap of luxury! [_She nods._] By God, you were determined.
+
+KATE. [_Briefly._] By God, I was.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Staring._] How you must have hated me.
+
+KATE. [_Smiling at the childish word._] Not a bit--after I saw that
+there was a way out. From that hour you amused me, Harry; I was even
+sorry for you, for I saw that you couldn't help yourself. Success is
+just a fatal gift.
+
+SIR HARRY. Oh, thank you.
+
+KATE. [_Thinking, dear friends in front, of you and me perhaps._] Yes,
+and some of your most successful friends knew it. One or two of them
+used to look very sad at times, as if they thought they might have come
+to something if they hadn't got on.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who has a horror of sacrilege._] The battered crew you live
+among now--what are they but folk who have tried to succeed and failed?
+
+KATE. That's it; they try, but they fail.
+
+SIR HARRY. And always will fail.
+
+KATE. Always. Poor souls--I say of them. Poor soul--they say of me. It
+keeps us human. That is why I never tire of them.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Comprehensively._] Bah! Kate, I tell you I'll be worth half
+a million yet.
+
+KATE. I'm sure you will. You're getting stout, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. No, I'm not.
+
+KATE. What was the name of that fat old fellow who used to fall asleep
+at our dinner-parties?
+
+SIR HARRY. If you mean Sir William Crackley----
+
+KATE. That was the man. Sir William was to me a perfect picture of the
+grand success. He had got on so well that he was very, very stout, and
+when he sat on a chair it was thus [_her hands meeting in front of
+her_]--as if he were holding his success together. That is what you are
+working for, Harry. You will have that and the half million about the
+same time.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who has surely been very patient._] Will you please to
+leave my house?
+
+KATE. [_Putting on her gloves, soiled things._] But don't let us part in
+anger. How do you think I am looking, Harry, compared to the dull, inert
+thing that used to roll round in your padded carriages?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_In masterly fashion._] I forget what you were like. I'm
+very sure you never could have held a candle to the present Lady Sims.
+
+KATE. That is a picture of her, is it not?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Seizing his chance again._] In her wedding-gown. Painted by
+an R.A.
+
+KATE. [_Wickedly._] A knight?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Deceived._] Yes.
+
+KATE. [_Who likes_ LADY SIMS--_a piece of presumption on her part_.] It
+is a very pretty face.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With the pride of possession._] Acknowledged to be a beauty
+everywhere.
+
+KATE. There is a merry look in the eyes, and character in the chin.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Like an auctioneer._] Noted for her wit.
+
+KATE. All her life before her when that was painted. It is a
+_spirituelle_ face too. [_Suddenly she turns on him with anger, for the
+first and only time in the play._] Oh, Harry, you brute!
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Staggered._] Eh? What?
+
+KATE. That dear creature, capable of becoming a noble wife and
+mother--she is the spiritless woman of no account that I saw here a few
+minutes ago. I forgive you for myself, for I escaped, but that poor lost
+soul, oh, Harry, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Waving her to the door._] I'll thank you--If ever there
+was a woman proud of her husband and happy in her married life, that
+woman is Lady Sims.
+
+KATE. I wonder.
+
+SIR HARRY. Then you needn't wonder.
+
+KATE. [_Slowly._] If I was a husband--it is my advice to all of them--I
+would often watch my wife quietly to see whether the twelve-pound look
+was not coming into her eyes. Two boys, did you say, and both like you?
+
+SIR HARRY. What is that to you?
+
+KATE. [_With glistening eyes_.] I was only thinking that somewhere there
+are two little girls who, when they grow up--the dear, pretty girls who
+are all meant for the men that don't get on! Well, good-by, Sir Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Showing a little human weakness, it is to be feared._] Say
+first that you're sorry.
+
+KATE. For what?
+
+SIR HARRY. That you left me. Say you regret it bitterly. You know you
+do. [_She smiles and shakes her head. He is pettish. He makes a terrible
+announcement._] You have spoiled the day for me.
+
+KATE. [_To hearten him._] I am sorry for that; but it is only a
+pin-prick, Harry. I suppose it is a little jarring in the moment of your
+triumph to find that there is--one old friend--who does not think you a
+success; but you will soon forget it. Who cares what a typist thinks?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Heartened._] Nobody. A typist at eighteen shillings a week!
+
+KATE. [_Proudly._] Not a bit of it, Harry. I double that.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Neatly._] Magnificent!
+
+     [_There is a timid knock at the door._]
+
+LADY SIMS. May I come in?
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Rather appealingly._] It is Lady Sims.
+
+KATE. I won't tell. She is afraid to come into her husband's room
+without knocking!
+
+SIR HARRY. She is not. [_Uxoriously._] Come in, dearest.
+
+     [_Dearest enters, carrying the sword. She might have had the sense
+     not to bring it in while this annoying person is here._
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Thinking she has brought her welcome with her._] Harry, the
+sword has come.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Who will dote on it presently._] Oh, all right.
+
+LADY SIMS. But I thought you were so eager to practise with it.
+
+     [_The person smiles at this. He wishes he had not looked to see if
+     she was smiling._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Sharply._] Put it down.
+
+     [LADY SIMS _flushes a little as she lays the sword aside_.
+
+KATE. [_With her confounded courtesy._] It is a beautiful sword, if I
+may say so.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Helped._] Yes.
+
+     [_The person thinks she can put him in the wrong, does she? He'll
+     show her._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With one eye on_ KATE.] Emmy, the one thing your neck needs
+is more jewels.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Faltering._] More!
+
+SIR HARRY. Some ropes of pearls. I'll see to it. It's a bagatelle to me.
+[KATE _conceals her chagrin, so she had better be shown the door. He
+rings._] I won't detain you any longer, miss.
+
+KATE. Thank you.
+
+LADY SIMS. Going already? You have been very quick.
+
+SIR HARRY. The person doesn't suit, Emmy.
+
+LADY SIMS. I'm sorry.
+
+KATE. So am I, madam, but it can't be helped. Good-by, your
+ladyship--good-by, Sir Harry.
+
+     [_There is a suspicion of an impertinent courtesy, and she is
+     escorted off the premises by_ TOMBES. _The air of the room is
+     purified by her going._ SIR HARRY _notices it at once_.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Whose tendency is to say the wrong thing._] She seemed such
+a capable woman.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_On his hearth._] I don't like her style at all.
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Meekly._] Of course you know best.
+
+     [_This is the right kind of woman._
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Rather anxious for corroboration._] Lord, how she winced
+when I said I was to give you those ropes of pearls.
+
+LADY SIMS. Did she? I didn't notice. I suppose so.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Frowning._] Suppose? Surely I know enough about women to
+know that.
+
+LADY SIMS. Yes, oh yes.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Odd that so confident a man should ask this._] Emmy, I know
+you well, don't I? I can read you like a book, eh?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Nervously._] Yes, Harry.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Jovially, but with an inquiring eye._] What a different
+existence yours is from that poor lonely wretch's.
+
+LADY SIMS. Yes, but she has a very contented face.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_With a stamp of his foot._] All put on. What?
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Timidly._] I didn't say anything.
+
+SIR HARRY. [_Snapping._] One would think you envied her.
+
+LADY SIMS. Envied? Oh, no--but I thought she looked so alive. It was
+while she was working the machine.
+
+SIR HARRY. Alive! That's no life. It is you that are alive. [_Curtly._]
+I'm busy, Emmy. [_He sits at his writing-table._
+
+LADY SIMS. [_Dutifully._] I'm sorry; I'll go, Harry.
+[_Inconsequentially._] Are they very expensive?
+
+SIR HARRY. What?
+
+LADY SIMS. Those machines?
+
+     [_When she has gone the possible meaning of her question startles
+     him. The curtain hides him from us, but we may be sure that he will
+     soon be bland again. We have a comfortable feeling, you and I, that
+     there is nothing of_ HARRY SIMS _in us_.
+
+
+
+
+TRADITION
+
+BY
+
+GEORGE MIDDLETON
+
+
+_Tradition_ is reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher,
+Henry Holt & Company, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission
+to perform, address the author, in care of the publisher.
+
+The author and publisher of this play have permitted this reprinting of
+copyrighted material on the understanding that the play will be used
+only in classroom work. No other use of the play is authorized, and
+permission for any other use must be secured from the holder of the
+acting rights.
+
+
+GEORGE MIDDLETON
+
+George Middleton, one of the first to write and publish a volume of
+one-act plays in America, was born in Paterson, New Jersey, 1880. He was
+graduated from Columbia University in 1902. Since 1921 he has been
+literary editor of _La Follette's Weekly_, and, in addition, has been a
+frequent contributor to magazines and reviews on dramatic and literary
+subjects. During the last few years he has spent much of his time
+abroad.
+
+George Middleton's chiefest interest has been in the one-act play. He
+has been an ardent champion of the shorter form of drama. Among his
+three volumes of one-act plays are _Embers_ (including _The Failures_,
+_The Gargoyle_, _In His House_, _Madonna_, and _The Man Masterful_),
+_Tradition_ (including _On Bail_, _Their Wife_, _Waiting_, _The Cheat of
+Pity_, and _Mothers_), and _Possession_ (including _The Grove_, _A Good
+Woman_, _The Black Tie_, _Circles_, and _The Unborn_). Other one-act
+plays are _Criminals_ and _The Reason_. His longer plays are _Nowadays_
+and _The Road Together_. Mr. Middleton has lectured widely on the
+one-act play before colleges, in Little Theatres, and clubs. Perhaps his
+most notable article is _The Neglected One-Act Play_, which appeared in
+_The New York Dramatic Mirror_ in 1912.
+
+_Tradition_ is one of Mr. Middleton's best and most popular one-act
+plays; and it most nearly conforms to the organic technic of the one-act
+play.
+
+FIRST PERFORMANCE AT THE BERKELEY THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY, JANUARY 24,
+1913.
+
+(Produced under the personal direction of Mr. FRANK REICHER.)
+
+
+THE PEOPLE
+
+GEORGE OLLIVANT             MR. GEORGE W. WILSON
+
+EMILY, _his wife_      MISS ALICE LEIGH
+
+MARY, _his daughter, an actress_      MISS FOLA LA FOLLETTE
+
+
+
+
+TRADITION[B]
+
+
+     SCENE: _The sitting-room at the_ OLLIVANTS' _in a small town
+     up-State. It is an evening late in the spring._
+
+     _A simple room is disclosed, bearing the traces of another
+     generation. Old-fashioned window-doors at the right, overlooking
+     the garden, open on a porch; another door in back opening on the
+     hall-way. A large fire-place at the left, now concealed by an
+     embroidered screen; the horsehair furniture, several terra-cotta
+     statuettes, and a woodcut or two on the walls create the subtle
+     atmosphere of the past. There is a lamp on the table, and another
+     on a bracket by the door in back. Moonlight filters through the
+     window-doors._
+
+     _The_ OLLIVANTS _are discovered together_. MARY, _a rather plain
+     woman of about twenty-five, with a suggestion of quick
+     sensibilities, is standing, lost in thought, looking out into the
+     garden. Her mother_, EMILY, _nearing fifty, quiet and subdued in
+     manner, is seated at the table trimming a hat. Occasionally she
+     looks at_ MARY, _stops her work, glances at her husband, closes her
+     eyes as though tired, and then resumes. The silence continues for
+     some time, broken only by the rattle of the town paper which_
+     GEORGE OLLIVANT _is reading. He is well on in middle life, with a
+     strong, determined face not entirely without elements of kindness
+     and deep feeling. When he finishes, he folds the paper, puts it on
+     the table, knocks the ashes carefully from his pipe into his hand,
+     and throws them behind the screen; takes off his spectacles and
+     wipes them as he, too, looks over toward his daughter, still gazing
+     absently into the garden. Finally, after a slight hesitation, he
+     goes to her and puts his arm about her; she is startled but smiles
+     sweetly._
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Affectionately._] Glad to be home again, Mary?
+
+MARY. [_Evasively._] The garden is so pretty.
+
+OLLIVANT. Hasn't changed much, eh?
+
+MARY. It seems different; perhaps it's the night.
+
+OLLIVANT. I guess it isn't up to its usual standard. Haven't seen your
+mother there so often this spring.
+
+EMILY. [_Quietly._] This dry spell is not good for flowers.
+
+OLLIVANT. It's only the cultivated flowers that need care; can't help
+thinking that when I see the wild ones so hardy in my fields on the
+hill. [_Turning to_ EMILY _and patting her_.] Is there any of that spray
+mixture left, Emily, dear?
+
+EMILY. I haven't looked lately.
+
+OLLIVANT. I'll order some to-morrow. [_Taking up his pipe again and
+looking for the tobacco._] Think it would be a good idea, daughter, if
+you'd spray those rosebushes every couple of weeks. The bugs are a pest
+this spring. Where's my tobacco?
+
+EMILY. On the mantel.
+
+OLLIVANT. Wish you would always leave it on the table; you know how I
+hate to have things changed.
+
+     [OLLIVANT _goes to the mantel, filling his pipe, and while his back
+     is turned_, MARY _makes a quick questioning gesture to her mother,
+     who sighs helplessly_. MARY _ponders a moment_.]
+
+MARY. How's Ben been doing these two years, father?
+
+OLLIVANT. Hasn't your brother written you?
+
+MARY. Only once--when I left home; he disapproved, too.
+
+OLLIVANT. Had an older brother's feeling of wanting to take care of you,
+Mary.
+
+MARY. Yes; I know. How's he doing?
+
+OLLIVANT. He's commencing to get on his feet. Takes time and money for
+any one to get started these days.
+
+MARY. But he's still in partnership with Bert Taylor, isn't he?
+
+OLLIVANT. Yes. He'd have been somewhere if he'd worked in with me as I
+did with _my_ father. Things should be handed down. Offered him the
+chance, tried to make him take it, as your mother knows; but that
+college chum--nice enough fellow, I've heard--turned his head another
+way. [_Lighting his pipe and puffing slowly._] It's best to humor a
+young fellow's ideas if he sticks them out, but I'd like to have had us
+all here together now. The place is big enough even if he should want to
+marry. Your mother and I came here, you know, when your grandfather was
+still alive.
+
+MARY. Then Ben isn't making any money?
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Reluctantly._] Not yet--to speak of.
+
+EMILY. [_Quietly._] But he's promised to pay his father back, Mary.
+
+MARY. I see. [_Thoughtfully._] College and then more help to get
+started, because he's a man.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Complacently._] He'll have to support a family some day;
+I've had to keep that in mind.
+
+MARY. I'd like to have a real talk with him.
+
+OLLIVANT. When did his letter say he'd be coming for a visit, Emily?
+
+EMILY. The fifteenth.
+
+MARY. Not till then? That's too bad.
+
+OLLIVANT. Eh?
+
+MARY. [_After exchanging a quick glance with her mother and gaining
+courage._] Father, I hope you didn't misunderstand my coming back?
+
+OLLIVANT. Not at all. We all make mistakes--especially when we're young.
+Perhaps I was a bit hasty when you left home, but I knew you'd soon see
+I was right. I didn't think it would take you two years--but perhaps if
+I'd written you before you'd have come sooner. I told your mother I'd
+like to make it easy for you to come home.
+
+MARY. Mother suggested that you write me?
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, I suppose you might put it that way. I always felt she
+thought I was a bit hard on you, but I'm not one to back down easily.
+
+MARY. Don't blame me then, father, if I showed I was your daughter.
+
+OLLIVANT. Let's forget my feeling; but naturally I was set back.
+
+MARY. Because you didn't take my going seriously until I was actually
+leaving.
+
+OLLIVANT. I couldn't get it into my head then, and I can't now, how any
+girl would want to leave a home like this, where you have everything.
+You don't know how lucky you are--or maybe you have realized it. Look
+about you and see what other girls have. Is it like this? Trees,
+flowers, and a lake view that's the best in the county. Why, one can
+breathe here and even taste the air. Every time I come back from a
+business trip it makes a new man of me. Ask your mother. Eh, Emily? When
+I sit out there on the porch in the cool evenings it makes me feel at
+ease with the world to know that the place is _mine_ and that I've
+raised a family and can take care of them all. Ben had to go, I
+suppose--it's the way with sons; but I thought you, at least, would stay
+here, daughter, in this old house where you were born, where I was born,
+where all your early associations----
+
+MARY. [_Shuddering._] I hate associations.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Eying her._] Well, I'd like to know where you get _that_
+from. Not from your mother and me. _We_ like them, don't we, Emily? Why,
+your mother's hardly ever even left here--but you had to up and get out.
+
+MARY. Yes. That's right, father; I _had_ to.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_He stops smoking and looks at her sharply._] Had to? Who
+made you?
+
+MARY. [_Reluctantly._] It was something inside me.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_In spite of himself._] Tush--that foolishness.
+
+MARY. [_Quickly._] Don't make it hard for us again.
+
+OLLIVANT. I made it hard, Mary? Because I objected to your leaving your
+mother here alone?
+
+MARY. I remember; you said I was a foolish, "stage-struck" girl.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, you're over _that_, aren't you?
+
+MARY. That's just where you are mistaken, father. [_Slowly._] That's why
+I asked you if you hadn't misunderstood my coming back.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Suspiciously._] Then why did you come at all?
+
+MARY. I'm human; I wanted to see you and mother, so I came when you
+generously wrote me. I'm not going to stay and spray the roses.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_He eyes her tensely and controls himself with an effort._]
+So you are not going to stay with your mother and me?
+
+MARY. [_Affectionately._] I'll come see you as often as I can and----
+
+OLLIVANT.--and make a hotel of your home? [MARY _is silent_.] Don't you
+see your mother is getting older and needs somebody to be here?
+
+EMILY. [_With a quiet assurance._] I have never been so well and
+contented.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Tenderly._] I know better, Emily; can't I see you're getting
+thinner and older? [_Stopping her protests._] Now, let me manage this,
+dear. It's a girl's place to stay at home. You know my feelings about
+that. Suppose anything should happen to your mother, what would _I_ do?
+
+MARY. So it's not mother alone you are thinking of?
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Tersely._] I'm thinking of your place at home--doing a
+woman's work. I'm not proud of having my daughter off earning her own
+living as though I couldn't support her.
+
+EMILY. George!
+
+MARY. I thought it was only because I was on the stage.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, it's not the most heavenly place, is it? A lot of
+narrow-minded fools here in town thought I was crazy to _let_ you go; I
+knew how they felt; I grinned and bore it. You were my daughter and I
+loved you, and I didn't want them to think any less of you by their
+finding out you were leaving against my wish.
+
+MARY. [_Slowly, with comprehension._] That's what hurt you.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, I blamed myself a bit for taking you to plays and liking
+them myself.
+
+MARY. People here will soon forget about me and merely be sorry for you.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Persuasively._] Why, Mary. I've made it easy for you to
+stay. I told every one you were coming home for good. They'll think me a
+fool if----
+
+MARY. [_Tenderly._] You meant what was dear and good, father; but you
+had no right to say that. I'm sorry.
+
+OLLIVANT. I did it because I thought you had come to your senses.
+
+MARY. [_Firmly._] I never saw so clearly as I do now.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Bluntly._] Then you're stubborn--plain stubborn--not to
+admit failure.
+
+MARY. [_Startled._] Failure?
+
+OLLIVANT. I know what the newspapers said; Ben sent them to me.
+
+MARY. Which ones?
+
+OLLIVANT. Why, all of them, I guess.
+
+MARY. Did he send you the good ones?
+
+OLLIVANT. Were there any?
+
+MARY. Oh, I see. So Ben carefully picked out only those which would
+please you.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Sarcastically._] Please me?
+
+MARY. Yes; because you and he didn't want me to succeed; because you
+thought failure would bring me home. But don't you think I'll let some
+cub reporter settle things for me. I'll never come home through
+failure--never.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Kindly._] Ben and I only want to protect you, Mary.
+
+MARY. Why do men always want to protect women?
+
+OLLIVANT. Because we know the world.
+
+MARY. Yes; but you don't know _me_. Father, you still think I'm only a
+foolish, stage-struck girl, and want flowers and men and my name in big
+letters. It isn't that.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, what is it, then?
+
+MARY. Oh--I want to be an artist. I don't suppose you can understand it;
+I didn't, myself, at first. I was born with it, but didn't know what it
+was till that first time you took me to the theatre.
+
+OLLIVANT. So it was all my fault?
+
+MARY. It isn't anybody's fault; it's just a fact. I knew from that day
+what I wanted to do. I wanted to act--to create. I don't care whether I
+play a leading lady or a scrub-woman, if I can do it with truth and
+beauty.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, you haven't done much of either, have you? What have you
+got to show for our unhappiness? What have you got ahead of you?
+
+MARY. Nothing--definite.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Incredulously._] Yet, you're going to keep at it?
+
+MARY. Yes.
+
+OLLIVANT. What do you think of that, Emily?
+
+MARY. I am going to the city Monday.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Persistently._] But what will you do when you get there?
+
+MARY. What I've done before: hunt a job, tramp the streets, call at the
+offices, be snubbed and insulted by office-boys--keep at it till I get
+something to do.
+
+OLLIVANT. Come, come, Mary; don't make me lose patience. Put your pride
+in your pocket. You've had your fling. You've tried and failed. Give it
+all up and stay home here where you can be comfortable.
+
+MARY. [_With intense feeling._] Father, I can't give it up. It doesn't
+make any difference how they treat me, how many times I get my "notice"
+and don't even make good according to their standards. I can't give it
+up. I simply can't. It keeps gnawing inside me and driving me on. It's
+there--always there, and I know if I keep at work I will succeed. I know
+it; I know it.
+
+     [MARY _throws herself into the chair, much stirred_. EMILY'S _eyes
+     have eagerly followed her throughout this as though responding
+     sympathetically, but_ OLLIVANT _has stood in silence, watching her
+     apparently without comprehension_.]
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Not without kindness._] Something inside. Huh! Have you any
+clear idea what she's talking about, Emily?
+
+     [MARY _gives a short, hurt cry and goes quickly to the window,
+     looking out and controlling herself with an effort_.]
+
+EMILY. [_Softly, as she looks at_ MARY.] I think I understand.
+
+OLLIVANT. I don't. Something inside. I never had anything like that
+bothering me. What's it all mean?
+
+EMILY. [_Quietly._] So many people use the same words, but cannot
+understand each other.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, you seem to think it's mighty important Mary, whatever
+it is; but it's too much for me. If you had something to show for it I
+wouldn't mind. But you're just where you started and you might as well
+give up.
+
+EMILY. George!
+
+OLLIVANT. Now I don't know much about the stage, Emily, but Ben does. He
+says you're not made for an actress, Mary; you haven't got a chance.
+
+MARY. [_Turning._] Father!
+
+OLLIVANT. Can't you see your failure isn't your own fault? If you were a
+beauty like Helen Safford or some of those other "stars"--but you're
+not pretty, why, you're not even good-looking and----
+
+MARY. [_With bitter vehemence_.] Oh, don't go any further. I know all
+that. But I don't care how I look off the stage if only I can grow
+beautiful on it. I'll create with so much inner power and beauty that
+people will forget how I look and only see what I think and feel. I can
+do it; I have done it; I've made audiences feel and even got my "notice"
+because the stage-manager said I was "too natural." Helen
+Safford--what's she? A professional beauty with everything outside and
+nothing in. You think of her eyes, her mouth, and her profile; but does
+she touch you so you remember? I know her work. Wait till I get a chance
+to play a scene with her--which they may give me because I'm not
+good-looking--I'll make them forget she's on the stage the first ten
+minutes--yes, and you and Ben, too, if you'll come. Helen Safford? Huh!
+Why, people will remember me when she's only a lithograph.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, then, why haven't you had your chance?
+
+MARY. [_Quickly._] Because most managers feel the way you and Ben do.
+And not having a lovely profile and a fashion-plate figure stands
+between me and a chance even to read a part, let alone play it. That's
+what eats the heart out of me, mother; and makes me hate my face every
+time I sit down to put on the grease paint.
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, don't blame me for that.
+
+MARY. [_Going to her mother, who takes her hand._] You can laugh at me,
+father; you don't understand. It's foolish to talk. But, oh, mother, why
+is such beauty given to women like Helen Safford who have no inner need
+of it, and here am I, with a real creative gift, wrapped up in a
+nondescript package which stands between me and everything I want to do?
+[_With determination._] But I will--ultimately I will make good, in
+spite of my looks; others have. And what I've suffered will make me a
+greater artist.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_In a matter-of-fact tone._] Are you sure all this isn't
+overconfidence and vanity?
+
+MARY. I don't care what you call it. It's what keeps me working.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Quickly._] Working? But how can you work without an
+engagement?
+
+MARY. That _is_ the hard part of our life; waiting, waiting for a chance
+to work. But don't think I stand still when I haven't an engagement. I
+don't dare. That's why I keep at my voice work and dancing and----
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Suddenly interrupting._] Dancing and voice work when you
+have no engagements. Would you mind telling me who is paying the bills?
+
+MARY. [_Indignantly._] Father!
+
+OLLIVANT. I think I have the right to ask that.
+
+MARY. Have you?
+
+OLLIVANT. I am your father.
+
+MARY. [_With quiet dignity._] You thought you'd force me here at home to
+do as you wished because you paid for my food and clothes; when you took
+that from me you _ceased_ to have that right. Don't forget since I left
+you've not helped me with my work or given me a penny.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Suspiciously._] Mary.... No, that's not why you went away
+from home?
+
+MARY. No.
+
+OLLIVANT. Or you met some man _there_ and....
+
+MARY. No.
+
+OLLIVANT. There is some man.
+
+MARY. Why a _man_?
+
+OLLIVANT. Damn them; I know them. [_Breaking._] Good God, Mary, dear,
+you haven't...? Answer me, daughter.
+
+MARY. [_Calmly._] No, there's been no need of that.
+
+     [_He has been violently shaken at the thought, looks at her
+     intently, believes her, and then continues in a subdued manner._
+
+OLLIVANT. Then who helped you? Ben?
+
+MARY. How could he help me? Are men the only ones who help women?
+
+EMILY. [_Quietly._] Tell him, Mary; it's best now.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Turning slowly to her in surprise._] You knew and have kept
+it from me?
+
+EMILY. [_Calmly, as she puts down the hat she has been trimming._] I
+found I hadn't lost my old skill, though it's been a good many years
+since I held a brush--since before we were married, George. I had an
+idea I thought would sell: paper dolls with little hand-painted dresses
+on separate sheets; they were so much softer than the printed kind, and
+children like anything soft. I wrote to Mr. Aylwin--you remember--he was
+so kind to me years before. He had called here once before when you were
+away and asked after my work. He used to think I had such promise. He
+found an opportunity to use the dolls as a specialty, and when I
+explained he induced some other firms to use all I can paint, too. They
+pay me very well. I made enough each month to help Mary when she went
+behind.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Incredulously._] You! After you heard me say when she left I
+wouldn't give her a cent?
+
+EMILY. [_Looking fondly at_ MARY.] You were keeping Ben, weren't you?
+
+OLLIVANT. But--that's--that's different.
+
+EMILY. I didn't see why we shouldn't help _both_ our children.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Perplexed by this he turns to_ MARY.] And you took it?
+
+MARY. Yes.
+
+OLLIVANT. You knew how she got the money?
+
+MARY. Yes.
+
+OLLIVANT. Your mother working herself sick for you, and you took it?
+
+EMILY. I told you I've never been so happy.
+
+MARY. [_Simply._] I couldn't bargain with what I felt. I had to study.
+I'd have taken anything, gotten it anywhere. I had to live. You didn't
+help me. Ben and I both went against your will, but you helped him
+because he was your son. I was only your daughter.
+
+     [OLLIVANT _eyes her and seems to be struggling with himself. He is
+     silent a long while as they both watch him. Finally, after several
+     efforts he speaks with emotion._]
+
+OLLIVANT. Mary, I--I didn't realize how much you meant to me till--till
+I thought of what might have happened to you without my help.
+Would--would you have stayed on in the city if--if your mother hadn't
+helped you?
+
+MARY. [_Firmly._] Yes, father; I would have stayed on.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_After a pause._] Then I guess what you _feel_ is stronger
+than all your mother and I tried to teach you.... Are you too proud to
+take help from me--now?
+
+MARY. [_Simply._] No, father; till I succeed. Then I'll pay you back
+like Ben promised.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_Hurt._] You don't think it was the money, daughter? It would
+have cost to keep you here. It wasn't that.
+
+MARY. No; it was your father speaking and his father and his father.
+[_Looking away wistfully._] And perhaps I was speaking for those before
+me who were silent or couldn't be heard.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_With sincerity._] I don't exactly understand _that_ any more
+than the feeling you spoke of driving you from home. But I do see what
+you mean about brothers and sisters. You seem to think boys and girls
+are the same. But they're not. Men and women are different. You may not
+know it, but your mother had foolish ideas like you have when I first
+knew her. She was poor and didn't have a mother to support her, and she
+had to work for a living. She'd about given up when I met her--trying to
+work at night to feed herself in the day while studying. But she was
+sensible; when a good man came along who could support her she married
+him and settled down. Look how happy she's been here with a home of her
+own that is a home--with associations and children. Where would she be,
+struggling to-day trying to paint pictures for a living? Why, there's
+lots of men who can paint pictures, and too few good wives for
+hard-working, decent men who want a family--which is God's law. You'll
+find that out one of these days and you'll give yourself as she did.
+Some day a man will come and you'll want to marry him. How could you if
+you keep on with your work, going about the country?
+
+MARY. [_Quietly._] You leave mother at times, don't you?
+
+OLLIVANT. I've got to.
+
+MARY. So may I.
+
+OLLIVANT. And the children?
+
+MARY. They'd have a share of my life.
+
+OLLIVANT. A mighty big share if you're human, I tell you. Ask your
+mother if you think they're easy coming and bringing up.
+
+MARY. And now they've left her. Dear mother, what has she to do?
+
+OLLIVANT. Well, if you ever get a husband with those ideas of yours
+you'll see what a wife has to do. [_He goes to her._] Mary, it isn't
+easy, all this you've been saying. But your mother and I are left alone,
+and perhaps we _have_ got different views than you. But if ever you do
+see it our way, and give up or fail--- well, come back to us,
+understand?
+
+MARY. [_Going to him and kissing him._] I understand how hard it was for
+you to say that. And remember I may come back a success.
+
+OLLIVANT. Yes. I suppose they all think that; it's what keeps them
+going. But some day, when you're in love and marry, you'll see it all
+differently.
+
+MARY. Father, what if the man does not come--or the children?
+
+OLLIVANT. Why--[_He halts as though unable to answer her._] Nonsense.
+He'll come, never fear; they always do.
+
+MARY. I wonder.
+
+OLLIVANT. [_He goes affectionately to_ EMILY_, who has been staring
+before her during this_.] Emily, dear. No wonder the flowers have been
+neglected. Well, you'll have time to spray those roses yourself. I'll
+get the spray mixture to-morrow. [_Kisses her tenderly._] Painting paper
+dolls with a change of clothes! When I might have been sending her the
+money without ever feeling it. No more of that, dear; you don't have to
+now. I shan't let you get tired and sick. That's one thing I draw the
+line at. [_He pats her again, looks at his watch, and then goes slowly
+over to the window-doors._] Well, it's getting late. I'll lock up.
+[_Looking up at sky._] Paper says it will rain to-morrow.
+
+EMILY. [_Very quietly so only_ MARY _can hear_.] At the art school they
+said I had a lovely sense of color. Your father is so kind; but he
+doesn't know how much I enjoyed painting again--even those paper dolls.
+
+MARY. [_Comprehending in surprise._] Mother! You, _too_?
+
+EMILY. [_Fearing lest_ OLLIVANT _should hear_.] Sh!
+
+     [OLLIVANT _closes the doors and eyes the women thoughtfully_.]
+
+OLLIVANT. Better fasten the other windows when you come. Good-night.
+
+     [_He goes out slowly as mother and daughter sit there together._]
+
+
+THE CURTAIN FALLS
+
+
+
+
+THE EXCHANGE
+
+BY
+
+ALTHEA THURSTON
+
+_The Exchange_ is reprinted by permission of Althea Thurston. This play
+is one of the farces written in the Course in Dramatic Composition
+(English 109) in the University of Utah. For permission to perform,
+address B. Roland Lewis, Department of English, University of Utah, Salt
+Lake City, Utah.
+
+
+ALTHEA THURSTON
+
+Althea Cooms-Thurston, one of the promising writers of the younger set
+of American dramatists, was born in Iowa, but soon moved with her
+parents to Colorado, where she spent her girlhood. She was educated in
+the public schools of Colorado Springs and Denver. Her collegiate
+training was received in the University of Utah, Salt Lake City. In 1902
+she married Walter R. Thurston, a well-known engineer. At present she
+resides in Dallas, Texas.
+
+Mrs. Thurston has travelled widely and has resided for periods of time
+in Mexico City and Havana, Cuba. She is an able linguist and has made a
+special study of her native English tongue and of Spanish and French,
+all of which she uses fluently.
+
+From childhood she has shown dramatic ability. Her dramatic composition
+has been more or less directly associated with the courses in
+playwriting and the history of the drama which she completed in the
+University of Utah. Among her one-act plays are _When a Man's Hungry_,
+_And the Devil Laughs_, and _The Exchange_.
+
+Mrs. Thurston has an aptitude for delicate and satirical farce. _The
+Exchange_ is an excellent example of farce-comedy in the contemporary
+one-act play.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    JUDGE, _the exchanger of miseries_
+    IMP, _office boy to the_ JUDGE
+    A POOR MAN
+    A VAIN WOMAN
+    A RICH CITIZEN
+
+
+
+
+THE EXCHANGE[C]
+
+
+SCENE I
+
+     _The curtain rises upon an office scene. Seemingly there is nothing
+     unusual about this office: it has tables, chairs, a filing cabinet,
+     and a hat-rack. A portion of the office is railed off at the right.
+     Within this enclosed space is a commodious desk and swivel-chair;
+     and the filing cabinet stands against the wall. This railed-off
+     portion of the office belongs, exclusively, to the_ JUDGE. _Here he
+     is wont to spend many hours--sometimes to read or write, and again,
+     perhaps, he will just sit and ponder upon the vagaries of mankind.
+     The_ JUDGE _is a tall, spare man with rather long gray hair, which
+     shows beneath the skull-cap that he always wears. When we first see
+     him, he is reading a letter, and evidently he is not pleased, for
+     he is tapping with impatient fingers upon his desk._
+
+     _At the left of the stage is a heavily curtained door which leads
+     to an inner room. At centre rear is another door which evidently
+     leads to the street, as it is through this door that the_ POOR MAN,
+     _the_ VAIN WOMAN, _and the_ RICH CITIZEN _will presently enter,
+     each upon his special quest. The hat-rack stands near the street
+     door, and we glimpse a soft black hat and a long black overcoat
+     hanging upon it._
+
+     _Down stage to the left is a flat-topped desk, littered with papers
+     and letters. This desk has two large drawers, wherein a number of
+     miscellaneous articles might be kept. It is at this desk that we
+     catch our first glimpse of_ IMP. _He is busily writing in a huge
+     ledger, and he seems to be enjoying his work, for he chuckles the
+     while._ IMP _is a little rogue; he looks it and acts it, and we
+     feel that he has a Mephistophelian spirit. He wears a dark-green
+     tight-fitting uniform, trimmed with red braid. His saucy little
+     round cap is always cocked over one eye. He is ever chuckling
+     impishly, and we feel that he is slyly gleeful over the weaknesses
+     of mankind and the difficulties that beset them._
+
+IMP. [_Throws down his pen, chuckles, and half standing on the rungs of
+his chair and balancing himself against his desk, surveys the ledger._]
+Your honor, I've all the miseries listed to date and a fine lot there is
+to choose from. Everything from bunions to old wives for exchange.
+
+JUDGE. [_Scowls and impatiently taps the letter he is reading._] Here is
+another one. A woman suspects her husband of a misalliance. Wants to
+catch him, but is so crippled with rheumatism she can't get about. Wants
+us to exchange her rheumatism for something that won't interfere with
+either her walking or her eyesight.
+
+IMP. [_Referring to the ledger and running his finger along the lines._]
+We have a defective heart or a lazy liver that we could give her.
+
+JUDGE. [_Irritably tossing the letter over to_ IMP.] She would not be
+satisfied. People never are. They always want to change their miseries,
+but never their vices. Each thinks his own cross heavier than others
+have to bear, but he is very willing to make light of his own weaknesses
+and shortcomings. He thinks they are not half so bad as his neighbor's.
+I have tried for years to aid distressed humanity, but I can't satisfy
+them. I am growing tired of it all, Imp. People need a lesson and
+they're going to get it, too. I am going to----
+
+     [_Knock is heard at the street door._ JUDGE _sighs, turns to his
+     desk and begins to write_. IMP _sweeps the litter of papers on his
+     desk into a drawer, closes ledger, and goes to answer knock_.
+
+IMP. Here comes another misery.
+
+     [IMP _opens the door to admit the_ POOR MAN, _who is very shabbily
+     dressed. He hesitates, looks around the room as if he were in the
+     wrong place, and then addresses_ IMP _in a loud whisper_.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Indicating the_ JUDGE _with a motion of his head_.] Is that
+him?
+
+IMP. [_Whispering loudly his reply._] Yes, that is his honor.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Still whispering and showing signs of nervousness._] Do I
+dare speak to him?
+
+IMP. [_Enjoying the situation and still whispering._] Yes, but be
+careful what you say.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Takes off his hat, approaches slowly to the railing, and
+speaks humbly._] Your honor. I--[_Swallows hard, clears throat._] Your
+honor, I've a little favor--to ask of you.
+
+JUDGE. [_Looking coldly at the_ POOR MAN.] Well?
+
+POOR MAN. You see, your honor, I've been poor all my life. I've never
+had much fun. I don't ask for a lot of money, but--I would like enough
+so that I could have some swell clothes, and--so that I could eat,
+drink, and be merry with the boys. You know, I just want to have a good
+time. Do you think you could fix it for me, Judge?
+
+JUDGE. [_Gazes at him sternly for a moment._] So you just want to have a
+good time? Want me to take away your poverty? I suppose you have no
+moral weakness you want to change, no defects in your character that you
+want to better?
+
+POOR MAN. [_Stammering and twirling his hat._] Why, w-hy, Judge, I--I am
+not a bad man. Of--of course, I have my faults, but then--I've never
+committed any crimes. I guess I stack up pretty fair as men go. I'm just
+awful tired of being poor and never having any fun. Couldn't you help me
+out on that point, Judge?
+
+JUDGE. [_Sighs wearily and turns to_ IMP.] Bring me the ledger.
+
+     [IMP _gives him the ledger in which he has been writing_. JUDGE
+     _opens it, and then speaks sharply to the_ POOR MAN.
+
+JUDGE. You understand, do you, my good man, that if I take away your
+poverty and give you enough money for your good time, you will have to
+accept another misery?
+
+POOR MAN. [_Eagerly._] Yes, your honor, that's all right. I'm willing.
+
+JUDGE. [_Scanning ledger._] Very well. Let us see. Here is paralysis.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Hesitatingly._] Well. I--I couldn't have a--very good time,
+if--if I was paralyzed.
+
+JUDGE. [_Shortly._] No. I suppose not. How about a glass eye?
+
+POOR MAN. [_Anxiously._] Please, your honor, if I'm going to have a good
+time I need two good eyes. I don't want to miss anything.
+
+JUDGE. [_Wearily turning over the leaves of the ledger._] A man left his
+wife here for exchange, perhaps you would like her.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Shifting from one foot to the other and nervously twirling
+his hat._] Oh, Judge, oh, no, please, no. I don't want anybody's old
+cast-off wife.
+
+JUDGE. [_Becoming exasperated._] Well, choose something, and be quick
+about it. Here is lumbago, gout, fatness, old age, and----
+
+IMP. [_Interrupting, and walking quickly over to the railing._] Excuse
+me, Judge, but maybe the gentleman would like the indigestion that Mr.
+Potter left when he took old Mrs. Pratt's fallen arches.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Eagerly._] Indigestion? Sure! That will be fine! I won't
+mind a little thing like indigestion if I can get rid of my poverty.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sternly._] Very well. Raise your right hand. Repeat after me:
+"I swear to accept indigestion for better or for worse as my portion of
+the world's miseries, so help me God."
+
+POOR MAN. [_Solemnly._] "I swear to accept indigestion for better or for
+worse as my portion of the world's miseries, so help me God."
+
+JUDGE. [_To_ IMP.] Show this gentleman to the changing-room.
+
+     [POOR MAN _follows_ IMP, _who conducts him to the heavily curtained
+     door. The_ POOR MAN _throws out his chest and swaggers a bit, as a
+     man might who had suddenly come into a fortune_. IMP _swaggers
+     along with him_.
+
+IMP. Won't you have a grand time, though. I'll get you a menu card, so
+that you can be picking out your dinner.
+
+POOR MAN. [_Joyfully slapping_ IMP _on the back_.] Good idea, and I'll
+pick out a regular banquet.
+
+     [_Pausing a moment before he passes through the curtains, he smiles
+     and smacks his lips in anticipation. Exit._
+
+JUDGE. [_Speaks disgustedly to_ IMP.] There you are! He's perfectly
+satisfied with his morals. Has no defects in his character. Just wants
+to have a good time.
+
+     [_Sighs heavily and turns back to his writing._ IMP _nods his head
+     in agreement and chuckles slyly_.
+
+     [_The street door opens slowly and the_ VAIN WOMAN _stands upon the
+     threshold. She does not enter at once, but stands
+     posing--presumably she desires to attract attention, and she is
+     worthy of it. She has a superb figure, and her rich gowning
+     enhances it. Her fair face reveals a shallow prettiness, but the
+     wrinkles of age are beginning to leave telltale lines upon its
+     smoothness. As_ IMP _hurries forward to usher her in, she sweeps
+     grandly past him to the centre of the stage_. IMP _stops near the
+     door, with his hands on his hips, staring after her, then takes a
+     few steps in imitation of her. She turns around slowly and,
+     sauntering over to the railing, coughs affectedly, and as the_
+     JUDGE _rises and bows curtly, she speaks in a coaxing manner_.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. Judge, I have heard that you are very kind, and I have been
+told that you help people out of their troubles, so I have a little
+favor to ask of you.
+
+JUDGE. [_Coldly._] Yes, I supposed so; go on.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Archly._] Well, you know that I am a famous beauty; in
+fact, both my face and my form are considered very lovely. [_She turns
+around slowly that he may see for himself._] Great and celebrated men
+have worshipped at my feet. I simply cannot live without admiration. It
+is my very life. But, Judge [_plaintively_], horrid wrinkles are
+beginning to show in my face. [_Intensely._] Oh, I would give anything,
+do anything, to have a smooth, youthful face once more. Please, oh,
+please, won't you take away these wrinkles [_touching her face with her
+fingers_] and give me something in their stead.
+
+JUDGE. [_Looking directly at her and speaking coldly._] Are you
+satisfied with yourself in other ways? Is your character as beautiful as
+your face? Have you no faults or weaknesses that you want exchanged?
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Uncertainly._] Why, I--don't know what you mean. I am just
+as good as any other woman and lots better than some I know. I go to
+church, and I subscribe to the charities, and I belong to the best
+clubs. [_Anxiously._] Oh, please, Judge, it's these wrinkles that make
+me so unhappy. Won't you exchange them? You don't want me to be unhappy,
+do you? Please take them away.
+
+JUDGE. [_Wearily looking over the ledger._] Oh, very well, I'll see what
+I can do for you. [_To_ IMP.] Fetch a chair for this lady.
+
+     [IMP _gives her a chair and she sits facing front_. IMP _returns to
+     his desk, perches himself upon it and watches the_ VAIN WOMAN
+     _interestedly_. JUDGE _turns over the leaves of the ledger_.
+
+JUDGE. I have a goitre that I could exchange for your wrinkles.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Protestingly, clasping her hands to her throat._] Oh,
+heavens, no! That would ruin my beautiful throat. See. [_Throwing back
+her fur and exposing her neck in a low-cut gown._] I have a lovely neck.
+[IMP _makes an exaggerated attempt to see_.
+
+JUDGE. [_Glances coldly at her and then scans ledger again._] Well, how
+about hay-fever?
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Reproachfully._] Oh, Judge, how can you suggest such a
+thing! Watery eyes and a red nose, the worst enemy of beauty there is. I
+simply couldn't think of it. I want something that won't show.
+
+JUDGE. [_Disgustedly turns to filing cabinet and looks through a series
+of cards, withdraws one, and turns back to_ VAIN WOMAN.] Perhaps this
+will suit you. [_Refers to card._] A woman has grown very tired of her
+husband and wants to exchange him for some other burden.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Indignantly._] What! I accept a man that some other woman
+doesn't want! Certainly not! I prefer one that some other woman does
+want.
+
+JUDGE. [_Irritated, puts the card back in its place, and turns upon the_
+VAIN WOMAN _crossly_.] I fear that I cannot please you and I do not have
+time to----
+
+IMP. [_Interrupts and runs over to the railing, speaking soothingly to
+the_ JUDGE.] Excuse me, Judge, but maybe the lady would like deafness in
+exchange for her wrinkles. Deafness wouldn't show, so it couldn't spoil
+her face or her elegant figure.
+
+JUDGE. [_Wearily._] No, it won't show. Deafness ought to be a good thing
+for you.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Consideringly._] Why--yes--that might do. But--well, it
+wouldn't show. I've a notion to take it. [_Pause--she seems to consider
+and meditate. The_ JUDGE _stares at her coldly_. IMP _grins impudently.
+She rises leisurely, sighs._] All right. I'll accept it.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sharply._] Hold up your right hand. [_She raises hand._] Do you
+swear to accept deafness for better or for worse, as your portion of the
+world's miseries, so help you God?
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Sweetly._] Oh, yes. I do, Judge.
+
+JUDGE. [_To_ IMP.] Show the lady to the changing-room.
+
+IMP. [_Escorts her to the curtained door with rather mock deference._]
+No, deafness won't show at all, and you'll have 'em all crazy about you.
+[_Draws aside curtains for her to pass._] Take second booth to your
+right.
+
+     [VAIN WOMAN _stands posing a moment. She smiles radiantly and pats
+     her cheeks softly with her hands, then with a long-drawn sigh of
+     happiness, she exits._ IMP _bows low and mockingly after her
+     vanishing form, his hand on his heart_.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sarcastically._] Do her faults or shortcomings trouble her? Not
+at all! Perfectly satisfied with herself, except for a few wrinkles in
+her face. Vain women! Bah!
+
+IMP. Yes, sir; women have queer notions.
+
+     [_An imperative rap at the street-door, immediately followed by the
+     rapper's abrupt entrance. We see an important-appearing personage.
+     His arrogant bearing and commanding pose lead us to believe that he
+     is accustomed to prompt attention. It is the_ RICH CITIZEN,
+     _exceedingly well groomed. His manner is lordly, but he addresses
+     the_ JUDGE _in a bored tone. When_ IMP _scampers to meet him, the_
+     RICH CITIZEN _hands him his hat and cane and turns at once to the_
+     JUDGE. IMP _examines the hat and cane critically, hangs them on the
+     hat-rack, and returns to his desk, where he again perches to watch
+     the_ RICH CITIZEN.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Lighting a cigarette._] I am addressing the Judge, am I
+not?
+
+JUDGE. [_Shortly._] You are.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Languidly, between puffs of his cigarette._] Well,
+Judge, life has become rather boresome, so I thought I would drop in and
+ask you to do me a small favor.
+
+JUDGE. [_Wearily._] Yes? We--What is your grievance?
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Nonchalantly._] Oh, I wouldn't say grievance exactly.
+You see, my dear Judge, it is this way. I am a very rich and influential
+citizen, a prominent member of society, and I am very much sought after.
+
+JUDGE. [_Frigidly._] Oh, indeed!
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_In a very bored manner._] Yes. Women run after me day
+and night. Ambitious mothers throw their marriageable daughters at my
+head. Men seek my advice on all matters. I am compelled to head this and
+that committee. [_Smokes languidly._
+
+JUDGE. [_Sharply._] Well, go on.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. Really, Judge, my prestige has become a burden. I want to
+get away from it all. I would like to become a plain, ordinary man with
+an humble vocation, the humbler the better, so that people will cease
+bothering me.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sarcastically._] Is your prestige all that troubles you? Don't
+worry about your morals, I suppose. Satisfied with your habits and
+character?
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Coldly._] What have my habits or morals got to do with
+my request? [_Scornfully._] Certainly I am not one of your saintly men.
+I live as a man of my station should live, and I think I measure up very
+well with the best of them. I am simply bored and I would like a change.
+I would like to be a plain man with an humble calling.
+
+JUDGE. [_Ironically._] I'll see what we have in humble callings. [_He
+looks at the ledger, turning the leaves over slowly._] We have several
+bartenders' vocations.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Wearily smoking._] No. Too many people about all the
+time, and too much noise.
+
+JUDGE. Well, here's a janitor's job open to you.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Impatiently throwing away his cigarette._] No. I don't
+like that, either. Too confining. Too many people bickering at you all
+the time. I want to get out in the open, away from crowds.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sighing, and turning over the leaves of the ledger, then
+hopefully._] Here's the very thing for you, then--postman in a rural
+district.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Showing vexation._] No, no, _no_. Too many old women
+that want to gossip. I tell you, I want to get away from women. Haven't
+you something peaceful and quiet; something that would take me out in
+the quiet of the early morning, when the birds are singing?
+
+JUDGE. [_Closing ledger with a bang, and rising._] Well, you're too
+particular, and I have not time to bother with you. I bid you good
+after----
+
+IMP. [_Slides from his desk, runs to railing, and speaks suavely._]
+Excuse me, Judge, but maybe the gentleman would like the vocation of
+milkman. That is early-morning work. And, you remember, a milkman left
+his job here when he took that old, worn-out senator's position.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sharply, to_ RICH CITIZEN.] Well, how about it? Does a
+milkman's vocation suit you? It's early-morning hours, fresh air, and no
+people about.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Musingly._] Well, the very simplicity and quietness of
+it is its charm. It rather appeals to me. [_He ponders a moment._] Yes,
+by Jove, I'll take it.
+
+JUDGE. [_Sternly._] Hold up your right hand. "Do you solemnly swear to
+accept, for better or for worse, the vocation of milkman as your lot in
+life, so help you God?"
+
+RICH CITIZEN. I do.
+
+JUDGE. [_To_ IMP.] Show this gentleman to the changing-room.
+
+IMP. [_While escorting him to the curtained door._] Yes, sir, you will
+lead the simple life. Fresh air, fresh milk, no people, just cows--and
+they can't talk. [_Holding aside the curtains._] Third booth, sir.
+
+RICH CITIZEN. [_Musingly._] The simple life--peace and quietness.
+
+     [_Exit._
+
+JUDGE. [I_n disgust._] It's no use, Imp. They all cling to their vices,
+but they are very keen to change some little cross or condition that
+vexes them--or think vexes them.
+
+IMP. It's strange that people always want something different from what
+they have.
+
+     [IMP _opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a bottle, evidently
+     filled with tablets, which he holds up, shaking it and chuckling.
+     He hunts in the drawer again, and this time brings forth a huge
+     ear-trumpet, which he chucklingly places an his table beside the
+     bottle of tablets._
+
+JUDGE. Don't let any more in, Imp. I can't stand another one to-day. I
+am going to write a letter and then go home.
+
+IMP. All right, sir.
+
+JUDGE. I am feeling very tired; what I really need is a vacation. A
+sea-trip would put me right. By the way, Imp, where is that
+transatlantic folder that I told you to get?
+
+     [IMP _picks up the folder from his desk and takes it to the_ JUDGE,
+     _who studies it attentively_. IMP _returns to his own desk, where
+     he again looks in a drawer and brings forth a menu card, which he
+     glances over, grinning mischievously_.
+
+     [_The former_ POOR MAN _re-enters from the changing-room. He is
+     well dressed, and taking a well-filled wallet from his pocket, he
+     looks at it gloatingly. However, from time to time, a shade of
+     annoyance passes over his face, and he puts his hand to the pit of
+     his stomach._ IMP _runs to meet him, and hands him the menu that he
+     has been reading_.
+
+IMP. Here's a menu from the Gargoyle. Say, you sure do look swell!
+[_Looking him over admiringly._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Grinning happily._] Some class to me now, eh!
+[_Looking at menu._] And you watch me pick out a real dinner. [_Sits
+down at left front._] First, I'll have a cocktail, then--let's see--I'll
+have--another cocktail. Next, oysters, and [_he frowns and presses his
+hand to the pit of his stomach, keeping up a massaging
+motion_]--green-turtle soup, sand dabs--chicken breasts--
+
+     [_They become absorbed over the menu._
+
+     [_The_ VAIN WOMAN _re-enters from the changing-room. She now has a
+     smooth face, and she is looking at herself in a hand-glass,
+     smiling and touching her face delightedly, She walks over to the
+     railing, and leans over it to the_ JUDGE. _He looks up
+     questioningly._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Smiling._] Oh, I am so happy again. Am I not beautiful?
+
+JUDGE. [_Pityingly._] You are a vain, foolish woman.
+
+     [_Since she is deaf, she does not hear his words, but thinks he is
+     complimenting her. She smiles at him coyly._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. Ah, Judge, you too are susceptible to my charms.
+
+     [_The_ JUDGE, _in great exasperation, puts away his papers, thrusts
+     the transatlantic folder in his pocket, hastily closes his desk,
+     and hurries to the hat-rack, puts on his overcoat, slips his
+     skull-cap into his pocket and puts on his soft black hat. Then,
+     with a shrug of his shoulders and a wave of his hand indicative of
+     disgust, he slips quietly out._
+
+     [_The_ VAIN WOMAN _saunters past the_ FORMER POOR MAN, _stops near
+     him, posing, and begins to put on her gloves. He looks at her
+     admiringly, then, getting to his feet, makes an elaborate but
+     awkward bow._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. Excuse me, lady, but I've had a big piece of luck
+to-day, and I want to celebrate, so I am having a big dinner. Won't you
+join me and help me have a good time?
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Looking at him blankly, and trying to fathom what he has
+said._] Oh--why, what did you say?
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Hesitating, and a bit surprised._] Why--er--I said
+that I had a big piece of luck to-day, and I am going to celebrate. I am
+having a fine dinner, and I just asked if--if--you wouldn't have dinner
+with me.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Still looking blank and a little confused, then smiling
+archly and acting as though she had been hearing compliments, she speaks
+affectedly._] Really, do you think so? [_Looking down and smoothing her
+dress._] But, then, every one tells me that I am.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Puzzled, turns to_ IMP _for help_.] Just what is her
+trouble, Nut?
+
+IMP. [_Secretly gleeful._] She is stone-deaf. You had better write it.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. Never! No deaf ones for me.
+
+     [_Turns away and consults menu again._ VAIN WOMAN _poses and
+     frequently looks in hand-glass to reassure herself_.
+
+     [FORMER RICH CITIZEN _re-enters from the changing-room. He is
+     dressed in shabby overalls, jumper, and an old hat. He has a pipe
+     in his mouth. He walks arrogantly over to the_ FORMER POOR MAN _and
+     addresses him_.
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. Give me a light.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Trying to live up to his fine clothes and wallet full
+of money, looks the_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _over snubbingly_.] Say, who do
+you think you are? You light out, see?
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Very much surprised, stands nonplussed a
+moment._] Well, upon my word, I--I----
+
+     [_He stops short in his speech, walks haughtily over to the
+     railing, where he stands glowering at the_ FORMER POOR MAN. _The_
+     FORMER POOR MAN _starts for the street door, but_ IMP _runs after
+     him, waving the bottle of tablets_.
+
+IMP. I'll sell you these for two bits.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. What is that?
+
+IMP. [_Grinning._] Indigestion tablets.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Puts his hand to his stomach and laughs a little
+lamely._] Keep 'em; I don't need 'em.
+
+     [VAIN WOMAN _fastens her fur and starts for the street-door, giving
+     the_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _a snubbing look as she passes him_. IMP
+     _stops her and offers the ear-trumpet_.
+
+IMP. You might need this; I'll sell it for a dollar.
+
+     [_She does not hear what he says, but she looks her scorn at the
+     ear-trumpet and walks proudly out._
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Fumbling at his pocket, as if to find a watch._]
+Boy, what time is it? I haven't my watch.
+
+IMP. [_Grinning mischievously._] Time to milk the cows.
+
+     [_The_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _starts angrily toward_ IMP, _then
+     evidently thinking better of it, shrugs his shoulders and stalks
+     majestically to the street-door. He pauses with it partly open,
+     turns as if to speak to_ IMP, _drawing himself up haughtily--a
+     ludicrous figure in his shabby outfit--then he goes abruptly out,
+     slamming the door_.
+
+     [IMP _doubles himself up in a paroxysm of glee as the curtain
+     falls_.
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+     _A fortnight has passed. The curtain rises upon the same
+     stage-setting. The_ JUDGE _is not about, but we see_ IMP _asleep in
+     a chair. All seems quiet and serene. But suddenly the street-door
+     opens noisily, and the_ FORMER POOR MAN _bursts into the room. He
+     is panting, as though he had been running. He is haggard and seems
+     in great pain, for occasionally he moans. He looks wildly about the
+     room, and seeing_ IMP _asleep in the chair, he rushes to him and
+     shakes him roughly_. IMP _wakes slowly, yawning and rubbing his
+     eyes_.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Frantically._] The Judge, where is he? I must see him
+at once.
+
+IMP. [_Yawning._] You're too early. He isn't down yet.
+
+     [_Settles himself to go to sleep again._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Walking the floor, and holding his hands to his
+stomach._] Don't go to sleep again. I'm nearly crazy. What time does the
+Judge get here? Where does he live? Can't we send for him?
+
+IMP. [_Indifferently._] Oh, he is liable to come any minute--and then he
+may not come for an hour or two.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Pacing the floor, moaning and rubbing his stomach_.]
+Oh, I can't stand it much longer. It's driving me wild, I tell you. I do
+wish the Judge would come.
+
+IMP. [_Getting up from his chair and keeping step with the_ FORMER POOR
+MAN.] What's the matter? I thought all you wanted was to eat, drink, and
+be merry.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Frantically waving his arms._] Eat, drink, and be
+merry be----! Everything I eat gives me indigestion something awful;
+everything I drink gives it to me worse. How can I be merry when I am in
+this torment all the time? I tell you this pain is driving me mad. I
+want to get rid of it quick. Oh, why doesn't the Judge come?
+
+IMP. What's the Judge got to do with it?
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Pathetically._] I am going to beg him to take back
+this indigestion and give me back my poverty. It was not so bad, after
+all; not nearly so bad as this pain in my stomach.
+
+     [_The street-door opens slowly, and a sorrowful woman enters. She
+     is weeping softly. It is the_ VAIN WOMAN. _Gone is her posing and
+     her proud manner. She walks humbly to the railing, and not seeing
+     the_ JUDGE, she turns to IMP. _The_ FORMER POOR MAN _looks at the_
+     VAIN WOMAN, _frowningly muttering: "What's she here for?" Then he
+     sits down at the left and rocks back and forth in misery._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Tearfully._] I must see the Judge right away, please.
+
+IMP. [Languidly.] He isn't down yet. You're too earl----
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Interrupting._] Tell him that it is very important, that I
+am in great distress and that he must see me at once.
+
+IMP. [_Loudly._] I said that he was not down yet.
+
+     [_Seeing that she does not understand, he takes a writing-pad from
+     his desk, scribbles a few words, and standing in front of her,
+     holds it up for her to read._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_After reading._] Oh, when will he be here? Can't you get
+him to come right away? Oh, I am so unhappy. [_She walks the floor in
+agitation._
+
+     [_The_ FORMER POOR MAN _grunts in irritation and turns his back on
+     her_.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. I cannot hear a word that is said to me. No one seems to
+want me around, and I am not invited out any more. I have the feeling
+that people are making fun of me instead of praising my beauty. Oh, it
+is dreadful to be deaf. [_Getting hysterical._] I want the Judge to take
+away this deafness. I would rather have my wrinkles.
+
+     [IMP _shakes his head in pretended sympathy, saying: "Too bad, too
+     bad."_
+
+     [_She misunderstands and cries out._
+
+VAIN WOMAN. Has the Judge given away my wrinkles? I want them back. I
+want my very own wrinkles, too. Wrinkles are distinguished-looking.
+[_Beginning to sob._] I don't want to be deaf any longer.
+
+IMP. [_Running over to the_ FORMER POOR MAN.] Say, this lady feels very
+bad. Can't you cheer her up a little?
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Who is still rocking back and forth with his own
+misery, looks up at_ IMP _in disgust_.] Cheer--her--up! Me? What's the
+joke?
+
+     [_The_ VAIN WOMAN _walks to the curtained door, looks in as if
+     seeking something, then returns to a chair, where she sits, weeping
+     softly_.
+
+     [_A peculiar thumping is heard at the street-door. The_ FORMER POOR
+     MAN _jumps to his feet in expectancy, hoping it is the_ JUDGE. IMP,
+     _also, stands waiting. The door opens as though the person that
+     opened it did so with difficulty. The_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _hobbles
+     in. He is ragged and dirty, and one foot is bandaged, which causes
+     him to use a crutch. He carries a large milk-can. He hobbles
+     painfully to the centre of the stage. The_ FORMER POOR MAN _grunts
+     with disappointment, and sits down again, rubbing away at his
+     stomach. The_ VAIN WOMAN _sits with bowed head, silently weeping.
+     The_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _looks about, then addresses_ IMP _in a
+     rather husky voice_.
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. I wish to see the Judge at once. It is most urgent.
+
+IMP. [_With an ill-concealed smile._] You can't see the Judge at once.
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Impatiently._] Why not? I told you it was most
+urgent.
+
+IMP. [_Grinning openly._] Because he isn't here. He hasn't come in yet.
+What's your trouble?
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Vehemently._] Trouble! Everything's the trouble!
+I have been abused, insulted, overworked--even the cows have kicked me.
+[_Looking down at his bandaged foot._] I can't stand it. I won't stand
+it. I want back my proper place in the world, where I am respected, and
+where I can rest and sleep and mingle with my kind. [_He hobbles to a
+chair and sits down wearily._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Getting up from his chair, walks over to the_ FORMER
+RICH CITIZEN, _waggles his finger in his face and speaks fretfully_.]
+What cause have you to squeal so? If you had indigestion like I have all
+the time, you might be entitled to raise a holler. Why, I can't eat a
+thing without having the most awful pain right here [_puts his hand to
+the pit of his stomach_], and when I take a drink, oh, heavens, it----
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Interrupting contemptuously._] You big baby,
+howling about the stomachache. If you had a man-sized trouble, there
+might be some excuse for you. Now I, who have been used to wealth and
+respect, have been subjected to the most gruelling ordeals; why, in that
+dairy there were a million cows, and they kicked me, and horned me, and
+I----
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_Walks over to them, interrupting their talk, and speaks in
+a voice punctuated with sniffing sobs._] Have--[_sniff_] either of you
+gentlemen [_sniff_] ever been deaf? [_Sniff, sniff._] It is a terrible
+thing [_sniff_] for a beautiful woman like I am [_sniff_] to have such
+an affliction. [_Sniff, sniff, sniff._
+
+     [FORMER RICH CITIZEN _shrugs his shoulders indifferently and limps
+     to the other side of the stage, where he sits_.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Stalks over to the railing, where he leans limply._]
+Lord deliver me from a sniffling woman.
+
+     [IMP, _who is perched on his desk, chuckles wickedly of their
+     sufferings_. VAIN WOMAN _sinks dejectedly into the chair vacated by
+     the_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN.
+
+     [_A knock is heard at the street-door. The_ FORMER POOR MAN _and
+     the_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _start forward eagerly, expecting the_
+     JUDGE. _Even the_ VAIN WOMAN, _seeing the others rise, gets to her
+     feet hopefully_. IMP _hastily slides from his desk and, pulling
+     down his tight little jacket and cocking his round little cap a
+     little more over one eye, goes to see who knocks. A messenger hands
+     him a letter and silently departs._
+
+IMP. [_Importantly._] Letter for me from the Judge.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. A letter! Why doesn't he come himself?
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. Send for him, boy.
+
+IMP. [_Grins at_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _in an insolent manner_.] Well,
+well, I wonder what the Judge is writing to me for. It's queer he would
+send me a letter.
+
+     [_He looks the letter over carefully, both sides; holds it up to
+     the light, smells it, shakes it. The two men and the woman grow
+     more and more nervous._
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Extremely irritated._] For goodness' sake, open it
+and read it.
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. Yes, yes, and don't be so long about it.
+
+     [VAIN WOMAN _simply stands pathetically and waits_. IMP _walks over
+     to his desk, hunts for a knife, finally finds one; looks letter
+     over again, then slowly slits the envelope and draws out letter,
+     which he reads silently to himself. They are breathlessly waiting._
+     IMP _whistles softly to himself_.
+
+IMP. Well, what do you think of that!
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_Excitedly._] What is it--why don't you tell us?
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Pounding with his crutch on the floor._] Come,
+come, don't keep me waiting like this.
+
+IMP. [_Reads letter again, silently, chuckling._] All right. Here it is.
+[_Reads._]
+
+     "MY DEAR IMP:
+
+     "I have tried faithfully for years to aid distressed humanity, but
+     they are an ungrateful lot of fools, and I wash my hands of them.
+     When this letter reaches you I will be on the high seas, and I am
+     never coming back. So write 'Finis' in the big old ledger of
+     miseries, and shut up shop, for the Exchange is closed--forever.
+
+Yours in disgust, THE JUDGE."
+
+     [_They all stand dazed a moment. The_ VAIN WOMAN, _sensing that
+     something terrible has happened, rushes from one to the other,
+     saying: "What is it? What has happened?"_ IMP _gives her the letter
+     to read_.
+
+FORMER POOR MAN. [_In a perfect frenzy._] My God! Indigestion all the
+rest of my days.
+
+VAIN WOMAN. [_After reading letter collapses in a chair, hysterically
+sobbing out._] Deaf, always deaf! Oh, what shall I do!
+
+FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [_Leaning heavily on his crutch and shaking his
+free hand, clenched in anger._] This is an outrage. I am rich and have
+influence, and I shall take steps to--to----
+
+     [IMP _laughs mockingly. The man looks down at his milk-spattered
+     clothes, his bandaged foot, and, letting his crutch fall to the
+     floor, sinks dejectedly into a chair, burying his face in his
+     hands._
+
+     [IMP _dangles his keys and opens the street-door, as an invitation
+     for them to go. The_ FORMER POOR MAN _is the first to start, moving
+     dazedly and breathing hard_. IMP _offers him the bottle of
+     indigestion tablets; the man grasps them, eagerly, tipping_ IMP,
+     _who chuckles as he pockets the money. The_ FORMER POOR MAN _takes
+     a tablet as he exits. The_ VAIN WOMAN, _bowed with sorrow, moves
+     slowly toward the door_. IMP _touches her arm and offers the
+     ear-trumpet. She accepts it, with a wild sob, tipping_ IMP, _who
+     again chuckles as he pockets the money. The last we see of the_
+     VAIN WOMAN, _she is trying to hold the ear-trumpet to her ear, and
+     exits, sobbing. The_ FORMER RICH CITIZEN _still sits in his chair,
+     his head in his hands_. IMP _picks up the milk-can, and, tapping
+     the man not too gently on the shoulder, thrusts the milk-can at him
+     and makes a significant gesture, indicative of_--THIS WAY OUT. _The
+     man rises dejectedly, picks up his crutch, takes the milk-can, and
+     hobbles painfully toward the door._ IMP _doubles himself up in wild
+     Mephistophelian glee as the_
+
+
+CURTAIN FALLS
+
+
+
+
+SAM AVERAGE
+
+BY
+
+PERCY MACKAYE
+
+
+_Sam Average_ is reprinted by special permission of Percy Mackaye. This
+play first appeared in _Yankee Fantasies_, Duffield & Company, New York.
+
+_Special Notice_
+
+No public or private performance of this play--professional or
+amateur--and no public reading of it for money may be given without the
+written permission of the author and the payment of royalty. Persons who
+desire to obtain such permission should communicate direct with the
+author at his address, Harvard Club, 27 West 44th Street, New York
+City.
+
+
+PERCY MACKAYE
+
+Percy Mackaye, who was born in New York City in 1875, is one of the few
+Americans whose interest has been almost wholly in the theatre. As a
+lecturer, writer, and champion of real art in drama, he has had few if
+any equals. He inherited his interest in drama from his father, Steele
+Mackaye, author of _Hazel Kirke_. He was educated at Harvard, where he
+studied under Professor George Pierce Baker, and at Leipzig. He has
+travelled extensively in Europe and at various times has resided in
+Rome, Switzerland, and London. In 1914 Dartmouth conferred upon him the
+honorary Master of Arts degree. At present he holds a fellowship in
+dramatic literature in Miami University, Oxford, Ohio.
+
+Mr. Mackaye's efforts in the dramatic field have been varied. Masques,
+pageants, operas, and plays are to his credit. _The Canterbury
+Pilgrims_, _The Scarecrow_, _Jeanne D'Arc_, _Mater_, _Anti-Matrimony_,
+_Sanctuary_, _Saint Louis Masque_, and _Caliban_ are among his
+better-known works.
+
+In 1912 appeared his Yankee Fantasies, of which _Sam Average_ and
+_Gettysburg_ are the more noteworthy.
+
+In all of Mr. Mackaye's work he possesses what many dramatists lack--a
+definite ideal. He aims at an artistic and literary effect. His _Sam
+Average_ is a real contribution to American patriotic drama.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    ANDREW
+    JOEL
+    ELLEN
+    SAM AVERAGE
+
+
+SAM AVERAGE[D]
+
+     _An intrenchment in Canada, near Niagara Falls, in the year 1814.
+     Night, shortly before dawn._
+
+     _On the right, the dull glow of a smouldering wood fire ruddies the
+     earthen embankment, the low-stretched outline of which forms, with
+     darkness, the scenic background._
+
+     _Near the centre, left, against the dark, a flag with stars floats
+     from its standard._
+
+     _Beside the fire_, ANDREW, _reclined, gazes at a small frame in his
+     hand; near him is a knapsack, with contents emptied beside it_.
+
+     _On the embankment_, JOEL, _with a gun, paces back and forth, a
+     blanket thrown about his shoulders_.
+
+
+JOEL. [_With a singing call._] Four o'clock!--All's well!
+
+     [_Jumping down from the embankment, he approaches the fire._
+
+ANDREW. By God, Joel, it's bitter.
+
+JOEL. [_Rubbing his hands over the coals._] A mite sharpish.
+
+ANDREW. [_Looks up eagerly._] What?
+
+JOEL. Cuts sharp, for Thanksgivin'.
+
+ANDREW. [_Sinks back, gloomily._] Oh! [_A pause._] I wondered you should
+agree with me. You meant the weather. I meant--[_A pause again._
+
+JOEL. Well, Andy, what'd you mean?
+
+ANDREW. Life.
+
+JOEL. Shucks!
+
+ANDREW. [_To himself._] Living!
+
+JOEL. [_Sauntering over left, listens._] Hear a rooster crow?
+
+ANDREW. No. What are you doing?
+
+JOEL. Tiltin' the flag over crooked in the dirt. That's our signal.
+
+ANDREW. Nothing could be more appropriate, unless we buried it--buried
+it in the dirt!
+
+JOEL. She's to find us where the flag's turned down. I fixed that with
+the sergeant all right. The rooster crowin' 's _her_ watchword for us.
+
+ANDREW. An eagle screaming, Joel: that would have been better.
+[_Rising._] Ah! [_He laughs painfully._
+
+JOEL. Hush up, Andy! The nearest men ain't two rods away. You'll wake
+'em. Pitch it low.
+
+ANDREW. Don't be alarmed. I'm coward enough.
+
+JOEL. 'Course, though, there ain't much danger. I'm sentinel this end,
+and the sergeant has the tip at t'other. Besides, you may call it the
+reg'lar thing. There's been two thousand deserters already in this
+tuppenny-ha'penny war, and none on 'em the worse off. When a man don't
+get his pay for nine months--well, he ups and takes his vacation. Why
+not? When Nell joins us, we'll hike up the Niagara, cross over to
+Tonawanda, and take our breakfast in Buffalo. By that time the boys here
+will be marchin' away toward Lundy's Lane.
+
+ANDREW. [_Walks back and forth, shivering._] I'm afraid.
+
+JOEL. 'Fraid? Bosh!
+
+ANDREW. I'm afraid to face----
+
+JOEL. Face what? We won't get caught.
+
+ANDREW. Your sister--my wife.
+
+JOEL. Nell! Why, ain't she comin' here just a-purpose to get you? Ain't
+there reason enough, Lord knows? Ain't you made up your mind to light
+out home anyhow?
+
+ANDREW. Yes. That's just what she'll never forgive me for. In her heart
+she'll never think of me the same. For she knows as well as I what
+pledge I'll be breaking--what sacred pledge.
+
+JOEL. What you mean?
+
+ANDREW. No matter, no matter; this is gush.
+
+     [_He returns to the fire and begins to fumble over the contents of
+     his knapsack._ JOEL _watches him idly_.
+
+JOEL. One of _her_ curls?
+
+ANDREW. [_Looking at a lock of hair in the firelight._] No; the baby's,
+little Andy's. Some day they'll tell him how his father---- [_He winces,
+and puts the lock away._
+
+JOEL. [_Going toward the embankment._] Listen!
+
+ANDREW. [_Ties up the package, muttering._] Son of a traitor!
+
+JOEL. [_Tiptoeing back._] It's crowed--that's her.
+
+     [_Leaping to his feet_, ANDREW _stares toward the embankment where
+     the flag is dipped; then turns his back to it, closing his eyes and
+     gripping his hands_.
+
+     [_After a pause, silently the figure of a young woman emerges from
+     the dark and stands on the embankment. She is bareheaded and ill
+     clad._
+
+     [JOEL _touches_ ANDREW, _who turns and looks toward her. Silently
+     she steals down to him and they embrace_.
+
+ANDREW. My Nell!
+
+ELLEN. Nearly a year----
+
+ANDREW. Now, at last!
+
+ELLEN. Hold me close, Andy.
+
+ANDREW. You're better?
+
+ELLEN. Let's forget--just for now.
+
+ANDREW. Is he grown much?
+
+ELLEN. Grown? You should see him! But so ill! What could I do? You
+see----
+
+ANDREW. I know, I know.
+
+ELLEN. The money was all gone. They turned me out at the old place, and
+then----
+
+ANDREW. I know, dear.
+
+ELLEN. I got sewing, but when the smallpox----
+
+ANDREW. I have all your letters, Nell. Come, help me to pack.
+
+ELLEN. What! You're really decided----
+
+JOEL. [_Approaching._] Hello, Sis!
+
+ELLEN. [_Absently._] Ah, Joel; that you? [_Eagerly, following_ ANDREW
+_to the knapsack_.] But, my dear----
+
+ANDREW. Just these few things, and we're off.
+
+ELLEN. [_Agitated._] Wait, wait! You don't know yet why I've
+come--instead of writing.
+
+ANDREW. I can guess.
+
+ELLEN. But you can't; that's--what's so hard! I have to tell you
+something, and then---- [_Slowly._] I must know from your own eyes, from
+yourself, that you wish to do this, Andrew; that you think it is
+_right_.
+
+ANDREW. [_Gently._] I guessed that.
+
+ELLEN. This is what I must tell you. It's not just the sickness, it's
+not only the baby, not the money gone--and all that; it's--it's----
+
+ANDREW. [_Murmurs._] My God!
+
+ELLEN. It's what all that brings--the helplessness. I've been insulted.
+Andy--[_Her voice breaks._] I want a protector.
+
+ANDREW. [_Taking her in his arms, where she sobs._] There, dear!
+
+ELLEN. [_With a low moan._] You know.
+
+ANDREW. I know. Come, now; we'll go.
+
+ELLEN. [_Her face lighting up._] Oh! and you _dare_! It's _right_?
+
+ANDREW. [_Moving from her, with a hoarse laugh._] _Dare?_ Dare I be
+damned by God and all his angels? Ha! Come, we're slow.
+
+JOEL. Time enough.
+
+ELLEN. [_Sinking upon_ JOEL'S _knapsack as a seat, leans her head on her
+hands, and looks strangely at_ ANDREW.] I'd better have written, I'm
+afraid.
+
+ANDREW. [_Controlling his emotion._] Now, don't take it that way. I've
+considered it all.
+
+ELLEN. [_With deep quiet._] Blasphemously?
+
+ANDREW. Reasonably, my brave wife. When I enlisted, I did so in a dream.
+I dreamed I was called to love and serve our country. But that dream is
+shattered. This sordid war, this political murder, has not one single
+principle of humanity to excuse its bloody sacrilege. It doesn't deserve
+my loyalty--our loyalty.
+
+ELLEN. Are you saying this--for my sake? What of "God and his angels"?
+
+ANDREW. [_Not looking at her._] If we had a just cause--a cause of
+liberty like that in Seventy-six; if to serve one's country meant to
+serve God and his angels--then, yes; a man might put away wife and
+child. He might say: "I will not be a husband, a father; I will be a
+patriot." But now--like this--tangled in a web of spiders--caught in a
+grab-net of politicians--and you, you and our baby-boy, like this--hell
+let in on our home--no, Country be cursed!
+
+ELLEN. [_Slowly._] So, then, when little Andy grows up----
+
+ANDREW. [_Groaning._] I say that the only thing----
+
+ELLEN. I am to tell him----
+
+ANDREW. [_Defiantly._] Tell him his father deserted his country, and
+thanked God for the chance. [_Looking about him passionately._] Here!
+[_He tears a part of the flag from its standard, and reaches it toward
+her._] You're cold; put this round you.
+
+     [_As he is putting the strip of colored silk about her shoulders,
+     there rises, faint yet close by, a sound of fifes and flutes,
+     playing the merry march-strains of "Yankee Doodle."_
+
+     [_At the same time there enters along the embankment, dimly,
+     enveloped in a great cloak, a tall_ FIGURE, _which pauses beside
+     the standard of the torn flag, silhouetted against the first pale
+     streaks of the dawn_.
+
+
+ELLEN. [_Gazing at_ ANDREW.] What's the matter?
+
+ANDREW. [_Listening._] Who are they? Where is it?
+
+JOEL. [_Starts, alertly._] He hears something.
+
+ANDREW. Why should they play before daybreak?
+
+ELLEN. Andy----
+
+JOEL. [_Whispers._] Ssh! Look out! We're spied on!
+
+     [_He points to the embankment._ ANDREW _and_ ELLEN _draw back_.
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Straightening the flag-standard, and leaning on it._]
+Desartin'?
+
+ANDREW. [_Puts_ ELLEN _behind him_.] Who's there? The watchword!
+
+THE FIGURE. God save the smart folks!
+
+JOEL. [_To_ ANDREW.] He's on to us. Pickle him quiet, or it's court
+martial! [_Showing a long knife._] Shall I give him this?
+
+ANDREW. [_Taking it from him._] No. _I_ will.
+
+ELLEN. [_Seizing his arm._] Andrew!
+
+ANDREW. Let go.
+
+     [THE FIGURE, _descending into the intrenchment, approaches with
+     face muffled_. JOEL _draws_ ELLEN _away_. ANDREW _moves toward_ THE
+     FIGURE _slowly_. _They meet and pause._
+
+ANDREW. You're a spy!
+
+     [_With a quick flash,_ ANDREW _raises the knife to strike, but
+     pauses, staring_. THE FIGURE, _throwing up one arm to ward the
+     blow, reveals--through the parted cloak--a glint of stars in the
+     firelight_.[E]
+
+THE FIGURE. Steady, boys; I'm one of ye. The sergeant told me to drop
+round.
+
+JOEL. Oh, the sergeant! That's all right, then.
+
+ANDREW. [_Dropping the knife._] Who are you?
+
+THE FIGURE. Who be _I_? My name, ye mean? My name's Average--Sam
+Average. Univarsal Sam, some o' my prophetic friends calls me.
+
+ANDREW. What are you doing here--now?
+
+THE FIGURE. Oh, tendin' to business.
+
+JOEL. Tendin' to _other_ folks' business, eh?
+
+THE FIGURE. [_With a touch of weariness._] Ye-es; reckon that _is_ my
+business. Some other folks is me.
+
+JOEL. [_Grimacing to_ ELLEN.] Cracked!
+
+THE FIGURE. [_To_ ANDREW.] You're a mite back'ard in wages, ain't ye?
+
+ANDREW. Nine months. What of that?
+
+THE FIGURE. That's what I dropped round for. Seems like when a man's
+endoored and fit, like you have, for his country, and calc'lates he'll
+quit, he ought to be takin' a little suthin' hom' for Thanksgivin'. So I
+fetched round your pay.
+
+ANDREW. My pay! You?
+
+THE FIGURE. Yes; I'm the paymaster.
+
+ELLEN. [_Coming forward, eagerly._] Andy! The money, is it?
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Bows with a grave, old-fashioned stateliness._] Your
+sarvent, ma'am!
+
+ANDREW. [_Speaking low._] Keep back, Nell. [_To_ THE FIGURE.] You--you
+were saying----
+
+THE FIGURE. I were about to say how gold bein' scarce down to the
+Treasury, I fetched ye some s'curities instead; some national I.O.U.'s,
+as ye might say. [_He takes out an old powder-horn, and rattles it
+quietly._] That's them. [_Pouring from the horn into his palm some
+glistening, golden grains._] Here they be.
+
+ELLEN. [_Peering, with_ JOEL.] Gold, Andy!
+
+JOEL. [_With a snigger._] Gold--nothin'! That's corn--just Injun corn.
+Ha!
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Bowing gravely._] It's the quality, ma'am, what counts, as
+ye might say.
+
+JOEL. [_Behind his hand._] His top-loft leaks!
+
+THE FIGURE. These here karnels, now, were give' me down Plymouth way, in
+Massachusetts, the fust Thanksgivin' seems like I can remember. 'Twa'n't
+long after the famine we had thar. Me bein' some hungry, the red-folks
+fetched a hull-lot o' this round, with the compliments of their
+capting--what were his name now?--Massasoit. This here's the last
+handful on't left. Thought ye might like some, bein' Thanksgivin'.
+
+JOEL. [_In a low voice, to_ ELLEN.] His screws are droppin' out. Come
+and pack. We've got to mark time and skip.
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Without looking at_ JOEL.] Eight or ten minutes still to
+spare, boys. The sergeant said--wait till ye hear his jew's-harp playin'
+of that new war tune, _The Star-Spangled Banner_. Then ye'll know the
+coast's clear.
+
+JOEL. Gad, that's right, I remember now.
+
+     [_He draws_ ELLEN _away to the knapsack, which they begin to pack_.
+     ANDREW _has never removed his eyes from the tall form in the
+     cloak_.
+
+     [_Now, as_ THE FIGURE _pours back the yellow grains from his palm
+     into the powder-horn, he speaks, hesitatingly_.
+
+ANDREW. I think--I'd like some.
+
+THE FIGURE. Some o' what?
+
+ANDREW. Those--my pay.
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Cheerfully._] So. _Would_ ye? [_Handing him the horn._]
+Reckon that's enough?
+
+ANDREW. [_Not taking it._] That's what I want to make sure of--first.
+
+THE FIGURE. Oh! So ye're hesitatin'!
+
+ANDREW. Yes; but I want you to help me decide. Pardon me, sir. You're a
+stranger, yet somehow I feel I may ask your help. You've come just in
+time.
+
+THE FIGURE. Queer I should a-dropped round jest now, wa'n't it? S'posin'
+we take a turn.
+
+     [_Together they walk toward the embankment. By the knapsack_ ELLEN
+     _finds the little frame_.
+
+
+ELLEN. [_To herself._] My picture!
+
+     [_She looks toward_ ANDREW _affectionately_. JOEL, _lifting the
+     knapsack, beckons to her_.
+
+JOEL. There's more stuff over here.
+
+     [_He goes off, right_; ELLEN _follows him_.
+
+ANDREW. [_To_ THE FIGURE.] I should like the judgment of your
+experience, sir. I can't quite see your face, yet you appear to be one
+who has had a great deal of experience.
+
+THE FIGURE. Why, consid'able some.
+
+ANDREW. Did you--happen to fight in the late war for independence?
+
+THE FIGURE. Happen to? [_Laughing quietly._] N-no, not fight; ye see--I
+was paymaster.
+
+ANDREW. But you went through the war?
+
+THE FIGURE. Ye-es, oh, yes; I went through it. I took out my fust
+reg'lar papers down to Philadelphie, in '76, seems like 'twas the fourth
+day o' July. But I was paymaster afore that.
+
+ANDREW. Tell me: I've heard it said there were deserters even in those
+days, even from the roll-call of Washington. Is it true?
+
+THE FIGURE. True, boy? Have ye ever watched a prairie-fire rollin'
+toward ye, billowin' with flame and smoke, and seed all the midget
+cowerin' prairie-dogs scootin' for their holes? Wall, that's the way I
+watched Howe's army sweepin' crosst the Jarsey marshes, and seed the
+desartin' little patriots, with their chins over their shoulders,
+skedaddlin' home'ards.
+
+ANDREW. What--the Americans!
+
+THE FIGURE. All but a handful on 'em--them as weren't canines, ye might
+say, but men. _They_ set a back-fire goin' at Valley Forge. Most on 'em
+burnt their toes and fingers off, lightin' on't thar in the white frost,
+but they stuck it through and saved--wall, the prairie-dogs.
+
+ANDREW. But they--those others. What reason did they give to God and
+their own souls for deserting?
+
+THE FIGURE. To who?
+
+ANDREW. To their consciences. What was their reason? It must have been a
+noble one in '76. _Their_ reason _then_; don't you see, I must have it.
+I must know what reason real heroes gave for their acts. You were there.
+You can tell me.
+
+THE FIGURE. _Real_ heroes, eh? Look around ye, then. To-day's the heroic
+age, and the true brand o' hero is al'ays in the market. Look around ye!
+
+ANDREW. What, here--in this war of jobsters, this petty campaign of
+monstrous boodle?
+
+THE FIGURE. Thar we be!
+
+ANDREW. Why, here are only a lot of cowardly half-men, like me--lovers
+of their own folks--their wives and babies at home. They'll make
+sacrifices for them. But real men like our fathers in '76: they looked
+in the beautiful face of Liberty, and sacrificed to _her_!
+
+THE FIGURE. Our fathers, my boy, was jest as fond o' poetry as you be.
+They talked about the beautiful face o' Liberty same's you; but when the
+hom'made eyes and cheeks of their sweethearts and young uns took to
+cryin', they desarted their beautiful goddess and skun out hom'.
+
+ANDREW. But there were some----
+
+THE FIGURE. Thar was some as didn't--yes; and thar's some as don't
+to-day. Those be the folks on my pay-roll. Why, look a-here: I calc'late
+I wouldn't fetch much on the beauty counter. My talk ain't rhyme stuff,
+nor the Muse o' Grammar wa'n't my schoolma'am. Th' ain't painter nor
+clay-sculptor would pictur' me jest like I stand. For the axe has hewed
+me, and the plough has furrered; and the arnin' of gold by my own
+elbow-grease has give' me the shrewd eye at a bargain. I manure my crops
+this side o' Jordan, and as for t'other shore, I'd ruther swap jokes
+with the Lord than listen to his sarmons. And yet for the likes o' me,
+jest for to arn my wages--ha, the many, many boys and gals that's gone
+to their grave-beds, and when I a-closed their eyes, the love-light was
+shinin' thar.
+
+ANDREW. [_Who has listened with awe._] What _are_ you? What _are_ you?
+
+THE FIGURE. Me? I'm the paymaster.
+
+ANDREW. I want to serve you--like those others.
+
+THE FIGURE. Slow, slow, boy! Nobody sarves _me_.
+
+ANDREW. But they died for you--the others.
+
+THE FIGURE. No, 'twa'n't for me; 'twas for him as pays the wages; the
+one as works through me--the one higher up. I'm only the paymaster; kind
+of a needful makeshift--his obedient sarvant.
+
+ANDREW. [_With increasing curiosity, seeks to peer in_ THE FIGURE'S
+_face_.] But the one up higher--who is he?
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Turning his head away._] Would ye sarve him, think, if ye
+heerd his voice?
+
+ANDREW. [_Ardently, drawing closer._] And saw his face!
+
+     [_Drawing his cowl lower and taking_ ANDREW'S _arm_, THE FIGURE
+     _leads him up on the embankment, where they stand together_.
+
+THE FIGURE. Hark a-yonder!
+
+ANDREW. [_Listening._] Is it thunder?
+
+THE FIGURE. Have ye forgot?
+
+ANDREW. The voice! I remember now--Niagara!
+
+     [_With awe_, ANDREW _looks toward_ THE FIGURE, _who stands shrouded
+     and still, facing the dawn. From far off comes a sound as of
+     falling waters, and with that--a deep murmurous voice, which seems
+     to issue from_ THE FIGURE'S _cowl_.
+
+THE VOICE. I am the Voice that was heard of your fathers, and your
+fathers' fathers. Mightier--mightier, I shall be heard of your sons. I
+am the Million in whom the one is lost, and I am the One in whom the
+millions are saved. Their ears shall be shut to my thunders, their eyes
+to my blinding stars. In shallow streams they shall tap my life-blood
+for gold. With dregs of coal and of copper they shall pollute me. In
+the mystery of my mountains they shall assail me; in the majesty of my
+forests, strike me down; with engine and derrick and millstone, bind me
+their slave. Some for a lust, some for a love, shall desert me. One and
+one, for his own, shall fall away. Yet one and one and one shall return
+to me for life; the deserter and the destroyer shall re-create me.
+Primeval, their life-blood is mine. My pouring waters are passion, my
+lightnings are laughter of man. I am the One in whom the millions are
+saved, and I am the Million in whom the one is lost.
+
+ANDREW. [_Yearningly, to_ THE FIGURE.] Your face!
+
+     [THE FIGURE _turns majestically away_. ANDREW _clings to him_.
+
+ANDREW. Your face!
+
+     [_In the shadow of the flag_ THE FIGURE _unmuffles for an instant_.
+
+     [_Peering, dazzled_, ANDREW _staggers back, with a low cry, and,
+     covering his eyes, falls upon the embankment_.
+
+     [_From away, left, the thrumming of a jew's-harp is heard, playing
+     "The Star-Spangled Banner."_
+
+     [_From the right enter_ JOEL _and_ ELLEN.
+
+     [_Descending from the embankment_, THE FIGURE _stands apart_.
+
+JOEL. Well, Colonel Average, time's up.
+
+ELLEN. [_Seeing_ ANDREW'S _prostrate form, hastens to him_.] Andy!
+What's happened?
+
+ANDREW. [_Rising slowly._] Come here. I'll whisper it.
+
+     [_He leads her beside the embankment, beyond which the dawn is
+     beginning to redden._
+
+JOEL. Yonder's the sergeant's jew's-harp. That's our signal, Nell. So
+long, colonel.
+
+THE FIGURE. [_Nodding._] So long, sonny.
+
+ANDREW. [_Holding_ ELLEN'S _hands, passionately_.] You understand? You
+_do_?
+
+ELLEN. [_Looking in his eyes._] I understand, dear.
+
+     [_They kiss each other._
+
+JOEL. [_Calls low._] Come, you married turtles. The road's clear. Follow
+me now. Sneak.
+
+     [_Carrying his knapsack_, JOEL _climbs over the embankment and
+     disappears_.
+
+     [_The thrumming of the jew's-harp continues._
+
+     [ELLEN, _taking the strip of silk flag from her shoulders, ties it
+     to the standard_.
+
+ANDREW. [_Faintly._] God bless you!
+
+ELLEN. [_As they part hands._] Good-by!
+
+     [THE FIGURE _has remounted the embankment, where--in the distincter
+     glow of the red dawn--the gray folds of his cloak, hanging from his
+     shoulders, resemble the half-closed wings of an eagle, the beaked
+     cowl falling, as a kind of visor, before his face, concealing it_.
+
+THE FIGURE. Come, little gal.
+
+     [ELLEN _goes to him, and hides her face in the great cloak. As she
+     does so, he draws from it a paper, writes on it, and hands it to_
+     ANDREW, _with the powder-horn_.
+
+THE FIGURE. By the by, Andy, here's that s'curity. Them here's my
+initials; they're all what's needful. Jest file this in the right
+pigeonhole, and you'll draw your pay. Keep your upper lip, boy. I'll
+meet ye later, mebbe, at Lundy's Lane.
+
+ANDREW. [_Wistfully._] You'll take her home?
+
+THE FIGURE. Yes; reckon she'll housekeep for your uncle till you get
+back; won't ye, Nellie? Come, don't cry, little gal. We'll soon git
+'quainted. 'Tain't the fust time sweethearts has called me _Uncle_.
+
+     [_Flinging back his great cloak, he throws one wing of it, with his
+     arm, about her shoulders, thus with half its reverse side draping
+     her with shining stripes and stars. By the same action his own
+     figure is made partly visible--the legs clad in the tight,
+     instep-strapped trousers (blue and white) of the Napoleonic era.
+     Holding the girl gently to him--while her face turns back toward_
+     ANDREW--_he leads her, silhouetted against the sunrise, along the
+     embankment, and disappears_.
+
+     [_Meantime, the thrumming twang of the jew's-harp grows sweeter,
+     mellower, modulated with harmonies that, filling now the air with
+     elusive strains of the American war-hymn, mingle with the faint
+     dawn-twitterings of birds._
+
+     [ANDREW _stares silently after the departed forms; then, slowly
+     coming down into the intrenchment, lifts from the ground his gun
+     and ramrod, leans on the gun, and--reading the paper in his hand by
+     the growing light--mutters it aloud_:
+
+_U. S. A._
+
+     [_Smiling sternly, he crumples the paper in his fist, makes a wad
+     of it, and rams it into his gun-barrel._
+
+
+
+
+HYACINTH HALVEY
+
+BY
+
+LADY AUGUSTA GREGORY
+
+_Hyacinth Halvey_ is reprinted by special permission of G. P. Putnam's
+Sons, New York City, publishers of Lady Gregory's work in America. All
+rights reserved. For permission to perform, address the publisher.
+
+
+LADY AUGUSTA GREGORY
+
+Lady Augusta Gregory, one of the foremost figures in the Irish dramatic
+movement, was born at Roxborough, County Galway, Ireland, in 1859. "She
+was then a young woman," says one who has described her in her early
+married life, "very earnest, who divided her hair in the middle and wore
+it smooth on either side of a broad and handsome brow. Her eyes were
+always full of questions.... In her drawing-room were to be met men of
+assured reputation in literature and politics, and there was always the
+best reading of the times upon her tables." Lady Gregory has devoted her
+entire life to the cause of Irish literature. In 1911 she visited the
+United States and at a dinner given to her by _The Outlook_ in New York
+City she said:
+
+    "I will not cease from mental strife
+    Or let the sword fall from my hand
+    Till we have built Jerusalem
+    In--Ireland's--fair and lovely land."
+
+Lady Gregory, with William Butler Yeats and John Millington Synge, has
+been the very life of the Irish drama. The literary association of these
+three has been highly fruitful. She helped to found the Irish National
+Theatre Society, and for a number of years has been the managing force
+of the celebrated Abbey Theatre in Dublin.
+
+Lady Gregory's chief interest has been in peasant comedies and
+folk-plays. Her _Spreading the News_, _Hyacinth Halvey_, _The Rising of
+the Moon_, _The Workhouse Ward_, and _The Travelling Man_ are well-known
+contributions to contemporary drama.
+
+It is a noteworthy fact that most of the plays of the Irish dramatic
+movement are one-act plays. Much of Irish life lends itself admirably to
+one-act treatment. _Hyacinth Halvey_ is one of Lady Gregory's best
+productions. This play contains a universal idea: reputation is in great
+measure a matter of "a password or an emotion." Hyacinth, having a good
+reputation thrust upon him, may do as he likes--his good name clings to
+him notwithstanding.
+
+
+PERSONS
+
+     HYACINTH HALVEY
+     JAMES QUIRKE, _a butcher_
+     FARDY FARREL, _a telegraph boy_
+     SERGEANT CARDEN
+     MRS. DELANE, _postmistress at Cloon_
+     MISS JOYCE, _the priest's housekeeper_
+
+
+
+
+HYACINTH HALVEY
+
+     SCENE: _Outside the post-office at the little town of Cloon._ MRS.
+     DELANE _at post-office door_. MR. QUIRKE _sitting on a chair at
+     butcher's door. A dead sheep hanging beside it, and a thrush in a
+     cage above._ FARDY FARRELL _playing on a mouth-organ. Train-whistle
+     heard._
+
+
+MRS. DELANE. There is the four-o'clock train, Mr. Quirke.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is it now, Mrs. Delane, and I not long after rising? It
+makes a man drowsy to be doing the half of his work in the night-time.
+Going about the country, looking for little stags of sheep, striving to
+knock a few shillings together. That contract for the soldiers gives me
+a great deal to attend to.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I suppose so. It's hard enough on myself to be down ready
+for the mail-car in the morning, sorting letters in the half-dark. It's
+often I haven't time to look who are the letters from--or the cards.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It would be a pity you not to know any little news might be
+knocking about. If you did not have information of what is going on, who
+should have it? Was it you, ma'am, was telling me that the new
+sub-sanitary inspector would be arriving to-day?
+
+MRS. DELANE. To-day it is he is coming, and it's likely he was in that
+train. There was a card about him to Sergeant Carden this morning.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. A young chap from Carrow they were saying he was.
+
+MRS. DELANE. So he is, one Hyacinth Halvey; and indeed if all that is
+said of him is true, or if a quarter of it is true, he will be a credit
+to this town.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is that so?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Testimonials he has by the score. To Father Gregan they
+were sent. Registered they were coming and going. Would you believe me
+telling you that they weighed up to three pounds?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. There must be great bulk in them indeed.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is no wonder he to get the job. He must have a great
+character, so many persons to write for him as what there did.
+
+FARDY. It would be a great thing to have a character like that.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Indeed, I am thinking it will be long before you will get
+the like of it, Fardy Farrell.
+
+FARDY. If I had the like of that of a character it is not here carrying
+messages I would be. It's in Noonan's Hotel I would be, driving cars.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Here is the priest's housekeeper coming.
+
+MRS. DELANE. So she is; and there is the sergeant a little while after
+her.
+
+     [_Enter_ MISS JOYCE.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Good evening to you, Miss Joyce. What way is his reverence
+to-day? Did he get any ease from the cough?
+
+MISS JOYCE. He did not, indeed, Mrs. Delane. He has it sticking to him
+yet. Smothering he is in the night-time. The most thing he comes short
+in is the voice.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I am sorry, now, to hear that. He should mind himself well.
+
+MISS JOYCE. It's easy to say let him mind himself. What do you say to
+him going to the meeting to-night?
+
+     [SERGEANT _comes in_.
+
+MISS JOYCE. It's for his reverence's "Freeman" I am come, Mrs. Delane.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Here it is ready. I was just throwing an eye on it to see
+was there any news. Good evening, Sergeant.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Holding up a placard._] I brought this notice, Mrs. Delane,
+the announcement of the meeting to be held to-night in the court-house.
+You might put it up here convenient to the window. I hope you are coming
+to it yourself?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I will come, and welcome. I would do more than that for
+you, Sergeant.
+
+SERGEANT. And you, Mr. Quirke.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll come, to be sure. I forget what's this the meeting is
+about.
+
+SERGEANT. The Department of Agriculture is sending round a lecturer in
+furtherance of the moral development of the rural classes. [_Reads._] "A
+lecture will be given this evening in Cloon Court-House, illustrated by
+magic-lantern slides--" Those will not be in it; I am informed they were
+all broken in the first journey, the railway company taking them to be
+eggs. The subject of the lecture is "The Building of Character."
+
+MRS. DELANE. Very nice, indeed, I knew a girl lost her character, and
+she washed her feet in a blessed well after, and it dried up on the
+minute.
+
+SERGEANT. The arrangements have all been left to me, the archdeacon
+being away. He knows I have a good intellect for things of the sort. But
+the loss of those slides puts a man out. The thing people will not see
+it is not likely it is the thing they will believe. I saw what they call
+tableaux--standing pictures, you know--one time in Dundrum----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Miss Joyce was saying Father Gregan is supporting you.
+
+SERGEANT. I am accepting his assistance. No bigotry about me when there
+is a question of the welfare of any fellow creatures. Orange and green
+will stand together to-night, I, myself, and the station-master on the
+one side, your parish priest in the chair.
+
+MISS JOYCE. If his reverence would mind me he would not quit the house
+to-night. He is no more fit to go speak at a meeting than [_pointing to
+the one hanging outside_ QUIRKE'S _door_] that sheep.
+
+SERGEANT. I am willing to take the responsibility. He will have no
+speaking to do at all, unless it might be to bid them give the lecturer
+a hearing. The loss of those slides now is a great annoyance to me--and
+no time for anything. The lecturer will be coming by the next train.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Who is this coming up the street, Mrs. Delane?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I wouldn't doubt it to be the new sub-sanitary inspector.
+Was I telling you of the weight of the testimonials he got, Miss Joyce?
+
+MISS JOYCE. Sure, I heard the curate reading them to his reverence. He
+must be a wonder for principles.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Indeed, it is what I was saying to myself, he must be a
+very saintly young man.
+
+     [_Enter_ HYACINTH HALVEY. _He carries a small bag and a large
+     brown-paper parcel. He stops and nods bashfully._
+
+HYACINTH. Good evening to you. I was bid to come to the post-office----
+
+SERGEANT. I suppose you are Hyacinth Halvey? I had a letter about you
+from the resident magistrate.
+
+HYACINTH. I heard he was writing. It was my mother got a friend he deals
+with to ask him.
+
+SERGEANT. He gives you a very high character.
+
+HYACINTH. It is very kind of him, indeed, and he not knowing me at all.
+But, indeed, all the neighbors were very friendly. Anything any one
+could do to help me they did it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I'll engage it is the testimonials you have in your parcel?
+I know the wrapping-paper, but they grew in bulk since I handled them.
+
+HYACINTH. Indeed, I was getting them to the last. There was not one
+refused me. It is what my mother was saying, a good character is no
+burden.
+
+FARDY. I would believe that, indeed.
+
+SERGEANT. Let us have a look at the testimonials.
+
+     [HYACINTH HALVEY _opens a parcel, and a large number of envelopes
+     fall out_.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Opening and reading one by one._] "He possesses the fire of
+the Gael, the strength of the Norman, the vigor of the Dane, the
+stolidity of the Saxon----"
+
+HYACINTH. It was the chairman of the Poor Law Guardians wrote that.
+
+SERGEANT. "A magnificent example to old and young----"
+
+HYACINTH. That was the secretary of the De Wet Hurling Club----
+
+SERGEANT. "A shining example of the value conferred by an eminently
+careful and high-class education----"
+
+HYACINTH. That was the national schoolmaster.
+
+SERGEANT. "Devoted to the highest ideals of his motherland to such an
+extent as is compatible with a hitherto non-parliamentary career----"
+
+HYACINTH. That was the member for Carrow.
+
+SERGEANT. "A splendid exponent of the purity of the race----"
+
+HYACINTH. The editor of the "Carrow Champion."
+
+SERGEANT. "Admirably adapted for the efficient discharge of all possible
+duties that may in future be laid upon him----"
+
+HYACINTH. The new station-master.
+
+SERGEANT. "A champion of every cause that can legitimately benefit his
+fellow creatures--" Why, look here, my man, you are the very one to come
+to our assistance to-night.
+
+HYACINTH. I would be glad to do that. What way can I do it?
+
+SERGEANT. You are a newcomer--your example would carry weight--you must
+stand up as a living proof of the beneficial effect of a high character,
+moral fibre, temperance--there is something about it here I am
+sure--(_Looks._) I am sure I saw "unparalleled temperance" in some
+place----
+
+HYACINTH. It was my mother's cousin wrote that--I am no drinker, but I
+haven't the pledge taken----
+
+SERGEANT. You might take it for the purpose.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Eagerly._] Here is an antitreating button. I was made a
+present of it by one of my customers--I'll give it to you [_sticks it
+in_ HYACINTH'S _coat_] and welcome.
+
+SERGEANT. That is it. You can wear the button on the platform--or a bit
+of blue ribbon--hundreds will follow your example--I know the boys from
+the Workhouse will----
+
+HYACINTH. I am in no way wishful to be an example----
+
+SERGEANT. I will read extracts from the testimonials. "There he is," I
+will say, "an example of one in early life who by his own unaided
+efforts and his high character has obtained a profitable situation."
+[_Slaps his side._] I know what I'll do. I'll engage a few corner-boys
+from Noonan's bar, just as they are, greasy and sodden, to stand in a
+group--there will be the contrast--the sight will deter others from a
+similar fate--that's the way to do a tableau--I knew I could turn out a
+success.
+
+HYACINTH. I wouldn't like to be a contrast----
+
+SERGEANT. [_Puts testimonials in his pocket._] I will go now and engage
+those lads--sixpence each, and well worth it--nothing like an example
+for the rural classes.
+
+     [_Goes off_, HYACINTH _feebly trying to detain him_.
+
+MRS. DELANE. A very nice man, indeed. A little high up in himself,
+maybe. I'm not one that blames the police. Sure they have their own
+bread to earn like every other one. And indeed it is often they will let
+a thing pass.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Gloomily._] Sometimes they will, and more times they will
+not.
+
+MISS JOYCE. And where will you be finding a lodging, Mr. Halvey?
+
+HYACINTH. I was going to ask that myself, ma'am. I don't know the town.
+
+MISS JOYCE. I know of a good lodging, but it is only a very good man
+would be taken into it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Sure there could be no objection there to Mr. Halvey. There
+is no appearance on him but what is good, and the sergeant after taking
+him up the way he is doing.
+
+MISS JOYCE. You will be near to the sergeant in the lodging I speak of.
+The house is convenient to the barracks.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Doubtfully._] To the barracks?
+
+MISS JOYCE. Alongside of it, and the barrack-yard behind. And that's not
+all. It is opposite to the priest's house.
+
+HYACINTH. Opposite, is it?
+
+MISS JOYCE. A very respectable place, indeed, and a very clean room you
+will get. I know it well. The curate can see into it from his window.
+
+HYACINTH. Can he now?
+
+FARDY. There was a good many, I am thinking, went into that lodging and
+left it after.
+
+MISS JOYCE. [_Sharply._] It is a lodging you will never be let into or
+let stop in, Fardy. If they did go they were a good riddance.
+
+FARDY. John Hart, the plumber, left it----
+
+MISS JOYCE. If he did it was because he dared not pass the police coming
+in, as he used, with a rabbit he was after snaring in his hand.
+
+FARDY. The schoolmaster himself left it.
+
+MISS JOYCE. He needn't have left it if he hadn't taken to card-playing.
+What way could you say your prayers, and shadows shuffling and dealing
+before you on the blind?
+
+HYACINTH. I think maybe I'd best look around a bit before I'll settle in
+a lodging----
+
+MISS JOYCE. Not at all. You won't be wanting to pull down the blind.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is not likely _you_ will be snaring rabbits.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Or bringing in a bottle and taking an odd glass the way
+James Kelly did.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Or writing threatening notices, and the police taking a
+view of you from the rear.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Or going to roadside dances, or running after
+good-for-nothing young girls----
+
+HYACINTH. I give you my word I'm not so harmless as you think.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Would you be putting a lie on these, Mr. Halvey? [_Touching
+testimonials._] I know well the way you will be spending the evenings,
+writing letters to your relations----
+
+MISS JOYCE. Learning O'Growney's exercises----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Sticking post-cards in an album for the convent bazaar.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Reading the "Catholic Young Man"----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Playing the melodies on a melodeon----
+
+MISS JOYCE. Looking at the pictures in the "Lives of the Saints." I'll
+hurry on and engage the room for you.
+
+HYACINTH. Wait. Wait a minute----
+
+MISS JOYCE. No trouble at all. I told you it was just opposite. [_Goes._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose I must go up-stairs and ready myself for the
+meeting. If it wasn't for the contract I have for the soldiers' barracks
+and the sergeant's good word, I wouldn't go anear it. [_Goes into shop._
+
+MRS. DELANE. I should be making myself ready, too. I must be in good
+time to see you being made an example of, Mr. Halvey. It is I, myself,
+was the first to say it; you will be a credit to the town. [_Goes._
+
+HYACINTH. [_In a tone of agony._] I wish I had never seen Cloon.
+
+FARDY. What is on you?
+
+HYACINTH. I wish I had never left Carrow. I wish I had been drowned the
+first day I thought of it, and I'd be better off.
+
+FARDY. What is it ails you?
+
+HYACINTH. I wouldn't for the best pound ever I had be in this place
+to-day.
+
+FARDY. I don't know what you are talking about.
+
+HYACINTH. To have left Carrow, if it was a poor place, where I had my
+comrades, and an odd spree, and a game of cards--and a coursing-match
+coming on, and I promised a new greyhound from the city of Cork. I'll
+die in this place, the way I am, I'll be too much closed in.
+
+FARDY. Sure it mightn't be as bad as what you think.
+
+HYACINTH. Will you tell me, I ask you, what way can I undo it?
+
+FARDY. What is it you are wanting to undo?
+
+HYACINTH. Will you tell me what way can I get rid of my character?
+
+FARDY. To get rid of it, is it?
+
+HYACINTH. That is what I said. Aren't you after hearing the great
+character they are after putting on me?
+
+FARDY. That is a good thing to have.
+
+HYACINTH. It is not. It's the worst in the world. If I hadn't it, I
+wouldn't be like a prize marigold at a show, with every person praising
+me.
+
+FARDY. If I had it, I wouldn't be like a head in a barrel, with every
+person making hits at me.
+
+HYACINTH. If I hadn't it, I wouldn't be shoved into a room with all the
+clergy watching me and the police in the back yard.
+
+FARDY. If I had it, I wouldn't be but a message-carrier now, and a
+clapper scaring birds in the summer-time.
+
+HYACINTH. If I hadn't it, I wouldn't be wearing this button and brought
+up for an example at the meeting.
+
+FARDY. [_Whistles._] Maybe you're not so, what those papers make you out
+to be?
+
+HYACINTH. How would I be what they make me out to be? Was there ever any
+person of that sort since the world was a world, unless it might be
+Saint Antony of Padua looking down from the chapel wall? If it is like
+that I was, isn't it in Mount Melleray I would be, or with the friars at
+Esker? Why would I be living in the world at all, or doing the world's
+work?
+
+FARDY. [_Taking up parcel._] Who would think, now, there would be so
+much lies in a small place like Carrow?
+
+HYACINTH. It was my mother's cousin did it. He said I was not reared for
+laboring--he gave me a new suit and bid me never to come back again. I
+daren't go back to face him--the neighbors knew my mother had a long
+family--bad luck to them the day they gave me these. [_Tears letters and
+scatters them._] I'm done with testimonials. They won't be here to bear
+witness against me.
+
+FARDY. The sergeant thought them to be great. Sure he has the samples of
+them in his pocket. There's not one in the town but will know before
+morning that you are the next thing to an earthly saint.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Stamping._] I'll stop their mouths. I'll show them I can be
+a terror for badness. I'll do some injury. I'll commit some crime. The
+first thing I'll do I'll go and get drunk. If I never did it before I'll
+do it now. I'll get drunk--then I'll make an assault--I tell you I'd
+think as little of taking a life as of blowing out a candle.
+
+FARDY. If you get drunk you are done for. Sure that will be held up
+after as an excuse for any breaking of the law.
+
+HYACINTH. I will break the law. Drunk or sober, I'll break it. I'll do
+something that will have no excuse. What would you say is the worst
+crime that any man can do?
+
+FARDY. I don't know. I heard the sergeant saying one time it was to
+obstruct the police in the discharge of their duty----
+
+HYACINTH. That won't do. It's a patriot I would be then, worse than
+before, with my picture in the weeklies. It's a red crime I must commit
+that will make all respectable people quit minding me. What can I do?
+Search your mind now.
+
+FARDY. It's what I heard the old people saying there could be no worse
+crime than to steal a sheep----
+
+HYACINTH. I'll steal a sheep--or a cow--or a horse--if that will leave
+me the way I was before.
+
+FARDY. It's maybe in jail it will leave you.
+
+HYACINTH. I don't care--I'll confess--I'll tell why I did it--I give you
+my word I would as soon be picking oakum or breaking stones as to be
+perched in the daylight the same as that bird, and all the town
+chirruping to me or bidding me chirrup----
+
+FARDY. There is reason in that, now.
+
+HYACINTH. Help me, will you?
+
+FARDY. Well, if it is to steal a sheep you want, you haven't far to go.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Looking around wildly._] Where is it? I see no sheep.
+
+FARDY. Look around you.
+
+HYACINTH. I see no living thing but that thrush----
+
+FARDY. Did I say it was living? What is that hanging on Quirke's rack?
+
+HYACINTH. It's [_fingers it_] a sheep, sure enough----
+
+FARDY. Well, what ails you that you can't bring it away?
+
+HYACINTH. It's a dead one----
+
+FARDY. What matter if it is?
+
+HYACINTH. If it was living I could drive it before me----
+
+FARDY. You could. Is it to your own lodging you would drive it? Sure
+every one would take it to be a pet you brought from Carrow.
+
+HYACINTH. I suppose they might.
+
+FARDY. Miss Joyce sending in for news of it and it bleating behind the
+bed.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Distracted._] Stop! stop!
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_From upper window._] Fardy! Are you there, Fardy Farrell?
+
+FARDY. I am, ma'am.
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_From window._] Look and tell me is that the telegraph I
+hear ticking?
+
+FARDY. [_Looking in at door._] It is, ma'am.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Then botheration to it, and I not dressed or undressed.
+Wouldn't you say, now, it's to annoy me it is calling me down. I'm
+coming! I'm coming! [_Disappears._
+
+FARDY. Hurry on, now! Hurry! She'll be coming out on you. If you are
+going to do it, do it, and if you are not, let it alone.
+
+HYACINTH. I'll do it! I'll do it!
+
+FARDY. [_Lifting the sheep on his back._] I'll give you a hand with it.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Goes a step or two and turns round._] You told me no place
+where I could hide it.
+
+FARDY. You needn't go far. There is the church beyond at the side of the
+square. Go round to the ditch behind the wall--there's nettles in it.
+
+HYACINTH. That'll do.
+
+FARDY. She's coming out--run! run!
+
+HYACINTH. [_Runs a step or two._] It's slipping!
+
+FARDY. Hoist it up. I'll give it a hoist!
+
+[HALVEY _runs out_.
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Calling out._] What are you doing, Fardy Farrell? Is it
+idling you are?
+
+FARDY. Waiting I am, ma'am, for the message----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Never mind the message yet. Who said it was ready? [_Going
+to door._] Go ask for the loan of--no, but ask news of--Here, now go
+bring that bag of Mr. Halvey's to the lodging Miss Joyce has taken----
+
+FARDY. I will, ma'am. [_Takes bag and goes out._
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Coming out with a telegram in her hand._] Nobody here?
+[_Looks round and calls cautiously._] Mr. Quirke! Mr. Quirke! James
+Quirke!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Looking out of his upper window, with soap-suddy face._]
+What is it, Mrs. Delane?
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Beckoning._] Come down here till I tell you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I cannot do that. I'm not fully shaved.
+
+MRS. DELANE. You'd come if you knew the news I have.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Tell it to me now. I'm not so supple as I was.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Whisper now, have you an enemy in any place?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It's likely I may have. A man in business----
+
+MRS. DELANE. I was thinking you had one.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Why would you think that at this time more than any other
+time?
+
+MRS. DELANE. If you could know what is in this envelope you would know
+that, James Quirke.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is that so? And what, now, is there in it?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Who do you think now is it addressed to?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. How would I know that, and I not seeing it?
+
+MRS. DELANE. That is true. Well, it is a message from Dublin Castle to
+the sergeant of police!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. To Sergeant Carden, is it?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is. And it concerns yourself.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Myself, is it? What accusation can they be bringing against
+me? I'm a peaceable man.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Wait till you hear.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Maybe they think I was in that moonlighting case----
+
+MRS. DELANE. That is not it----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I was not in it--I was but in the neighboring field--cutting
+up a dead cow, that those never had a hand in----
+
+MRS. DELANE. You're out of it----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. They had their faces blackened. There is no man can say I
+recognized them.
+
+MRS. DELANE. That's not what they're saying----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll swear I did not hear their voices or know them if I did
+hear them.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I tell you it has nothing to do with that. It might be
+better for you if it had.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What is it, so?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is an order to the sergeant, bidding him immediately to
+seize all suspicious meat in your house. There is an officer coming
+down. There are complaints from the Shannon Fort Barracks.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll engage it was that pork.
+
+MRS. DELANE. What ailed it for them to find fault?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. People are so hard to please nowadays, and I recommended
+them to salt it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. They had a right to have minded your advice.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. There was nothing on that pig at all but that it went mad on
+poor O'Grady that owned it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. So I heard, and went killing all before it.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Sure it's only in the brain madness can be. I heard the
+doctor saying that.
+
+MRS. DELANE. He should know.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I give you my word I cut the head off it. I went to the loss
+of it, throwing it to the eels in the river. If they had salted the
+meat, as I advised them, what harm would it have done to any person on
+earth?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I hope no harm will come on poor Mrs. Quirke and the
+family.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Maybe it wasn't that but some other thing----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Here is Fardy. I must send the message to the sergeant.
+Well, Mr. Quirke, I'm glad I had the time to give you a warning.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'm obliged to you, indeed. You were always very
+neighborly, Mrs. Delane. Don't be too quick now sending the message.
+There is just one article I would like to put away out of the house
+before the sergeant will come.
+
+     [_Enter_ FARDY.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Here now, Fardy--that's not the way you're going to the
+barracks. Any one would think you were scaring birds yet. Put on your
+uniform.
+
+     [FARDY _goes into office_.
+
+MRS. DELANE. You have this message to bring to the sergeant of police.
+Get your cap now; it's under the counter.
+
+     [FARDY _reappears, and she gives him telegram_.
+
+FARDY. I'll bring it to the station. It's there he was going.
+
+MRS. DELANE. You will not, but to the barracks. It can wait for him
+there.
+
+     [FARDY _goes off_. MR. QUIRKE _has appeared at door_.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It was indeed a very neighborly act, Mrs. Delane, and I'm
+obliged to you. There is just _one_ article to put out of the way. The
+sergeant may look about him then and welcome. It's well I cleared the
+premises on yesterday. A consignment to Birmingham I sent. The Lord be
+praised, isn't England a terrible country, with all it consumes?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Indeed, you always treat the neighbors very decent, Mr.
+Quirke, not asking them to buy from you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Just one article. [_Turns to rack._] That sheep I brought in
+last night. It was for a charity, indeed, I bought it from the widow
+woman at Kiltartan Cross. Where would the poor make a profit out of
+their dead meat without me? Where now is it? Well, now, I could have
+swore that that sheep was hanging there on the rack when I went in----
+
+MRS. DELANE. You must have put it in some other place.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Going in and searching and coming out._] I did not; there
+is no other place for me to put it. Is it gone blind I am, or is it not
+in it, it is?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It's not there now, anyway.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Didn't you take notice of it there, yourself, this morning?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I have it in my mind that I did; but it's not there now.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. There was no one here could bring it away?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Is it me, myself, you suspect of taking it, James Quirke?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Where is it at all? It is certain it was not of itself it
+walked away. It was dead, and very dead, the time I bought it.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I have a pleasant neighbor, indeed, that accuses me that I
+took his sheep. I wonder, indeed, you to say a thing like that! I to
+steal your sheep or your rack or anything that belongs to you or to your
+trade! Thank you, James Quirke. I am much obliged to you, indeed.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Ah, be quiet, woman; be quiet----
+
+MRS. DELANE. And let me tell you, James Quirke, that I would sooner
+starve and see every one belonging to me starve than to eat the size of
+a thimble of any joint that ever was on your rack or that ever will be
+on it, whatever the soldiers may eat that have no other thing to get, or
+the English, that devour all sorts, or the poor ravenous people that's
+down by the sea!
+
+     [_She turns to go into shop._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Stopping her._] Don't be talking foolishness, woman. Who
+said you took my meat? Give heed to me now. There must some other
+message have come. The sergeant must have got some other message.
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Sulkily._] If there is any way for a message to come that
+is quicker than to come by the wires, tell me what it is, and I'll be
+obliged to you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The sergeant was up here, making an excuse he was sticking
+up that notice. What was he doing here, I ask you?
+
+MRS. DELANE. How would I know what brought him?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It is what he did; he made as if to go away--he turned back
+again and I shaving--he brought away the sheep--he will have it for
+evidence against me----
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Interested._] That might be so.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I would sooner it to have been any other beast nearly ever I
+had upon the rack.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Is that so?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I bade the Widow Early to kill it a fortnight ago--but she
+would not, she was that covetous!
+
+MRS. DELANE. What was on it?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. How would I know what was on it? Whatever was on it, it was
+the will of God put it upon it--wasted it was, and shivering and
+refusing its share.
+
+MRS. DELANE. The poor thing.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Gone all to nothing--wore away like a flock of thread. It
+did not weigh as much as a lamb of two months.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is likely the inspector will bring it to Dublin?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The ribs of it streaky with the dint of patent medicines----
+
+MRS. DELANE. I wonder is it to the Petty Sessions you'll be brought or
+is it to the Assizes?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll speak up to them. I'll make my defense. What can the
+army expect at fippence a pound?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is likely there will be no bail allowed?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Would they be wanting me to give them good quality meat out
+of my own pocket? Is it to encourage them to fight the poor Indians and
+Africans they would have me? It's the Anti-Enlisting Societies should
+pay the fine for me.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It's not a fine will be put on you, I'm afraid. It's five
+years in jail you will be apt to be getting. Well, I'll try and be a
+good neighbor to poor Mrs. Quirke.
+
+     [MR. QUIRKE, _who has been stamping up and down, sits down and
+     weeps_. HALVEY _comes in and stands on one side_.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Hadn't I heart-scalding enough before, striving to rear five
+weak children?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I suppose they will be sent to the Industrial Schools?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. My poor wife----
+
+MRS. DELANE. I'm afraid the workhouse----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. And she out in an ass-car at this minute, helping me to
+follow my trade.
+
+MRS. DELANE. I hope they will not arrest her along with you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'll give myself up to justice. I'll plead guilty! I'll be
+recommended to mercy!
+
+MRS. DELANE. It might be best for you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Who would think so great a misfortune could come upon a
+family through the bringing away of one sheep!
+
+HYACINTH. [_Coming forward._] Let you make yourself easy.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Easy! It's easy to say let you make yourself easy.
+
+HYACINTH. I can tell you where it is.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Where what is?
+
+HYACINTH. The sheep you are fretting after.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What do you know about it?
+
+HYACINTH. I know everything about it.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose the sergeant told you?
+
+HYACINTH. He told me nothing.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose the whole town knows it, so?
+
+HYACINTH. No one knows it, as yet.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. And the sergeant didn't see it?
+
+HYACINTH. No one saw it or brought it away but myself.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Where did you put it at all?
+
+HYACINTH. In the ditch behind the church wall. In among the nettles it
+is. Look at the way they have me stung. [_Holds out hands._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. In the ditch! The best hiding-place in the town.
+
+HYACINTH. I never thought it would bring such great trouble upon you.
+You can't say, anyway, I did not tell you.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. You, yourself, that brought it away and that hid it! I
+suppose it was coming in the train you got information about the message
+to the police.
+
+HYACINTH. What now do you say to me?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Say! I say I am as glad to hear what you said as if it was
+the Lord telling me I'd be in heaven this minute.
+
+HYACINTH. What are you going to do to me?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Do, is it? [_Grasps his hand._] Any earthly thing you would
+wish me to do, I will do it.
+
+HYACINTH. I suppose you will tell----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Tell! It's I that will tell when all is quiet. It is I will
+give you the good name through the town!
+
+HYACINTH. I don't well understand.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Embracing him._] The man that preserved me!
+
+HYACINTH. That preserved you?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. That kept me from ruin!
+
+HYACINTH. From ruin?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. That saved me from disgrace!
+
+HYACINTH. [_To_ MRS. DELANE.] What is he saying at all?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. From the inspector!
+
+HYACINTH. What is he talking about?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. From the magistrates!
+
+HYACINTH. He is making some mistake.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. From the Winter Assizes!
+
+HYACINTH. Is he out of his wits?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Five years in jail!
+
+HYACINTH. Hasn't he the queer talk?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The loss of the contract!
+
+HYACINTH. Are my own wits gone astray?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What way can I repay you?
+
+HYACINTH. [_Shouting._] I tell you I took the sheep----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. You did, God reward you!
+
+HYACINTH. I stole away with it----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The blessing of the poor on you!
+
+HYACINTH. I put it out of sight----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The blessing of my five children----
+
+HYACINTH. I may as well say nothing----
+
+MRS. DELANE. Let you be quiet now, Quirke. Here's the sergeant coming to
+search the shop----
+
+     [SERGEANT _comes in_. QUIRKE _leaves go of_ HALVEY, _who arranges
+     his hat, etc._
+
+SERGEANT. The department to blazes!
+
+MRS. DELANE. What is it is putting you out?
+
+SERGEANT. To go to the train to meet the lecturer, and there to get a
+message through the guard that he was unavoidably detained in the South,
+holding an inquest on the remains of a drake.
+
+MRS. DELANE. The lecturer, is it?
+
+SERGEANT. To be sure. What else would I be talking of? The lecturer has
+failed me, and where am I to go looking for a person that I would think
+fitting to take his place?
+
+MRS. DELANE. And that's all? And you didn't get any message but the one?
+
+SERGEANT. Is that all? I am surprised at you, Mrs. Delane. Isn't it
+enough to upset a man, within three-quarters of an hour of the time of
+the meeting? Where, I would ask you, am I to find a man that has
+education enough and wit enough and character enough to put up speaking
+on the platform on the minute?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Jumps up._] It is I, myself, will tell you that.
+
+SERGEANT. You!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Slapping_ HALVEY _on the back_.] Look at here, Sergeant.
+There is not one word was said in all those papers about this young man
+before you but it is true. And there could be no good thing said of him
+that would be too good for him.
+
+SERGEANT. It might not be a bad idea.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Whatever the paper said about him, Sergeant, I can say more
+again. It has come to my knowledge--by chance--that since he came to
+this town that young man has saved a whole family from destruction.
+
+SERGEANT. That is much to his credit--helping the rural classes----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. A family and a long family, big and little, like sods of
+turf--and they depending on a--on one that might be on his way to dark
+trouble at this minute if it was not for his assistance. Believe me, he
+is the most sensible man, and the wittiest, and the kindest, and the
+best helper of the poor that ever stood before you in this square. Is
+not that so, Mrs. Delane?
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is true, indeed. Where he gets his wisdom and his wit
+and his information from I don't know, unless it might be that he is
+gifted from above.
+
+SERGEANT.. Well, Mrs. Delane, I think we have settled that question. Mr.
+Halvey, you will be the speaker at the meeting. The lecturer sent these
+notes--you can lengthen them into a speech. You can call to the people
+of Cloon to stand out, to begin the building of their character. I saw a
+lecturer do it one time at Dundrum. "Come up here," he said; "Dare to be
+a Daniel," he said----
+
+HYACINTH. I can't--I won't----
+
+SERGEANT. [_Looking at papers and thrusting them into his hand._] You
+will find it quite easy. I will conduct you to the platform--these
+papers before you and a glass of water--that's settled. [_Turns to go._]
+Follow me on to the court-house in half an hour--I must go to the
+barracks first--I heard there was a telegram--[_Calls back as he goes._]
+Don't be late, Mrs. Delane. Mind, Quirke, you promised to come.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Well, it's time for me to make an end of settling
+myself--and, indeed, Mr. Quirke, you'd best do the same.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Rubbing his cheek._] I suppose so. I had best keep on good
+terms with him for the present. [_Turns._] Well, now, I had a great
+escape this day.
+
+     [_Both go in as_ FARDY _reappears, whistling_.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Sitting down._] I don't know in the world what has come upon
+the world that the half of the people of it should be cracked!
+
+FARDY. Weren't you found out yet?
+
+HYACINTH. Found out, is it? I don't know what you mean by being found
+out.
+
+FARDY. Didn't he miss the sheep?
+
+HYACINTH. He did, and I told him it was I took it--and what happened I
+declare to goodness I don't know--Will you look at these? [_Holds out
+notes._
+
+FARDY. Papers! Are they more testimonials?
+
+HYACINTH. They are what is worse. [_Gives a hoarse laugh._] Will you
+come and see me on the platform--these in my hand--and I
+speaking--giving out advice. [FARDY _whistles_.] Why didn't you tell me,
+the time you advised me to steal a sheep, that in this town it would
+qualify a man to go preaching, and the priest in the chair looking on?
+
+FARDY. The time I took a few apples that had fallen off a stall, they
+did not ask me to hold a meeting. They welted me well.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Looking round._] I would take apples if I could see them. I
+wish I had broke my neck before I left Carrow, and I'd be better off! I
+wish I had got six months the time I was caught setting snares--I wish I
+had robbed a church.
+
+FARDY. Would a Protestant church do?
+
+HYACINTH. I suppose it wouldn't be so great a sin.
+
+FARDY. It's likely the sergeant would think worse of it. Anyway, if you
+want to rob one, it's the Protestant church is the handiest.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Getting up._] Show me what way to do it?
+
+FARDY. [_Pointing._] I was going around it a few minutes ago, to see
+might there be e'er a dog scenting the sheep, and I noticed the window
+being out.
+
+HYACINTH. Out, out and out?
+
+FARDY. It was, where they are putting colored glass in it for the
+distiller----
+
+HYACINTH. What good does that do me?
+
+FARDY. Every good. You could go in by that window if you had some person
+to give you a hoist. Whatever riches there is to get in it then, you'll
+get them.
+
+HYACINTH. I don't want riches. I'll give you all I will find if you will
+come and hoist me.
+
+FARDY. Here is Miss Joyce coming to bring you to your lodging. Sure I
+brought your bag to it, the time you were away with the sheep----
+
+HYACINTH. Run! Run!
+
+     [_They go off._ _Enter_ MISS JOYCE.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Are you here, Mrs. Delane? Where, can you tell me, is Mr.
+Halvey?
+
+MRS. DELANE. [_Coming out dressed._] It's likely he is gone on to the
+court-house. Did you hear he is to be in the chair and to make an
+address to the meeting?
+
+MISS JOYCE. He is getting on fast. His reverence says he will be a good
+help in the parish. Who would think, now, there would be such a godly
+young man in a little place like Carrow!
+
+     [_Enter_ SERGEANT _in a hurry, with telegram_.
+
+SERGEANT. What time did this telegram arrive, Mrs. Delane?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I couldn't be rightly sure, Sergeant. But sure it's marked
+on it, unless the clock I have is gone wrong.
+
+SERGEANT. It is marked on it. And I have the time I got it marked on my
+own watch.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Well, now, I wonder none of the police would have followed
+you with it from the barracks--and they with so little to do----
+
+SERGEANT. [_Looking in at_ QUIRKE'S _shop_.] Well, I am sorry to do what
+I have to do, but duty is duty.
+
+     [_He ransacks shop._ MRS. DELANE _looks on_. MR. QUIRKE _puts his
+     head out of window_.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What is that going on inside? [_No answer._] Is there any
+one inside, I ask? [_No answer._] It must be that dog of Tannian's--wait
+till I get at him.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is Sergeant Carden, Mr. Quirke. He would seem to be
+looking for something----
+
+     [MR. QUIRKE _appears in shop_. SERGEANT _comes out, makes another
+     dive, taking up sacks, etc._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I'm greatly afraid I am just out of meat, Sergeant--and I'm
+sorry now to disoblige you, and you not being in the habit of dealing
+with me----
+
+SERGEANT. I should think not, indeed.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Looking for a tender little bit of lamb, I suppose you are,
+for Mrs. Carden and the youngsters?
+
+SERGEANT. I am not.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. If I had it now, I'd be proud to offer it to you, and make
+no charge. I'll be killing a good kid to-morrow. Mrs Carden might fancy
+a bit of it----
+
+SERGEANT. I have had orders to search your establishment for unwholesome
+meat, and I am come here to do it.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Sitting down with a smile._] Is that so? Well, isn't it a
+wonder the schemers does be in the world.
+
+SERGEANT. It is not the first time there have been complaints.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose not. Well, it is on their own head it will fall at
+the last!
+
+SERGEANT. I have found nothing so far.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I suppose not, indeed. What is there you could find, and it
+not in it?
+
+SERGEANT. Have you no meat at all upon the premises?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I have, indeed, a nice barrel of bacon.
+
+SERGEANT. What way did it die?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It would be hard for me to say that. American it is. How
+would I know what way they do be killing the pigs out there? Machinery,
+I suppose, they have--steam-hammers----
+
+SERGEANT. Is there nothing else here at all?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. I give you my word, there is no meat, living or dead, in
+this place, but yourself and myself and that bird above in the cage.
+
+SERGEANT. Well, I must tell the inspector I could find nothing. But mind
+yourself for the future.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Thank you, Sergeant. I will do that.
+
+     [_Enter_ FARDY. _He stops short._
+
+SERGEANT. It was you delayed that message to me, I suppose? You'd best
+mend your ways or I'll have something to say to you. [_Seizes and shakes
+him._
+
+FARDY. That's the way every one does be faulting me. [_Whimpers._
+
+     [_The_ SERGEANT _gives him another shake. A half-crown falls out of
+     his pocket._
+
+MISS JOYCE. [_Picking it up._] A half-a-crown! Where, now, did you get
+that much, Fardy?
+
+FARDY. Where did I get it, is it?
+
+MISS JOYCE. I'll engage it was in no honest way you got it.
+
+FARDY. I picked it up in the street----
+
+MISS JOYCE. If you did, why didn't you bring it to the sergeant or to
+his reverence?
+
+MRS. DELANE. And some poor person, maybe, being at the loss of it.
+
+MISS JOYCE. I'd best bring it to his reverence. Come with me, Fardy,
+till he will question you about it.
+
+FARDY. It was not altogether in the street I found it----
+
+MISS JOYCE. There, now! I knew you got it in no good way! Tell me, now.
+
+
+FARDY. It was playing pitch and toss I won it----
+
+MISS JOYCE. And who would play for half-crowns with the like of you,
+Fardy Farrell? Who was it, now?
+
+FARDY. It was--a stranger----
+
+MISS JOYCE. Do you hear that? A stranger! Did you see e'er a stranger in
+this town, Mrs. Delane, or Sergeant Carden, or Mr. Quirke?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Not a one.
+
+SERGEANT. There was no stranger here.
+
+MRS. DELANE. There could not be one here without me knowing it.
+
+FARDY. I tell you there was.
+
+MISS JOYCE. Come on, then, and tell who was he to his reverence.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Taking other arm._] Or to the bench.
+
+FARDY. I did get it, I tell you, from a stranger.
+
+SERGEANT. Where is he, so?
+
+FARDY. He's in some place--not far away.
+
+SERGEANT. Bring me to him.
+
+FARDY. He'll be coming here.
+
+SERGEANT. Tell me the truth and it will be better for you.
+
+FARDY. [_Weeping._] Let me go and I will.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Letting go._] Now--who did you get it from?
+
+FARDY. From that young chap came to-day, Mr. Halvey.
+
+ALL. Mr. Halvey!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Indignantly._] What are you saying, you young ruffian,
+you? Hyacinth Halvey to be playing pitch and toss with the like of you!
+
+FARDY. I didn't say that.
+
+MISS JOYCE. You did say it. You said it now.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Hyacinth Halvey! The best man that ever came into this town!
+
+MISS JOYCE. Well, what lies he has!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. It's my belief the half-crown is a bad one. Maybe it's to
+pass it off it was given to him. There were tinkers in the town at the
+time of the fair. Give it here to me. [_Bites it._] No, indeed, it's
+sound enough. Here, Sergeant, it's best for you take it. [_Gives it to_
+SERGEANT, _who examines it_.
+
+SERGEANT. Can it be? Can it be what I think it to be?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. What is it? What do you take it to be?
+
+SERGEANT. It is, it is. I know it, I know this half-crown----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. That is a queer thing, now.
+
+SERGEANT. I know it well. I have been handling it in the church for the
+last twelvemonth----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is that so?
+
+SERGEANT. It is the nest-egg half-crown we hand round in the
+collection-plate every Sunday morning. I know it by the dint on the
+Queen's temples and the crooked scratch under her nose.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Examining it._] So there is, too.
+
+SERGEANT. This is a bad business. It has been stolen from the church.
+
+ALL. Oh! Oh! Oh!
+
+SERGEANT. [_Seizing_ FARDY.] You have robbed the church!
+
+FARDY. [_Terrified._] I tell you I never did!
+
+SERGEANT. I have the proof of it.
+
+FARDY. Say what you like! I never put a foot in it!
+
+SERGEANT. How did you get this, so?
+
+MISS JOYCE. I suppose from the _stranger_?
+
+MRS. DELANE. I suppose it was Hyacinth Halvey gave it to you, now?
+
+FARDY. It was so.
+
+SERGEANT. I suppose it was he robbed the church?
+
+FARDY. [_Sobs._] You will not believe me if I say it.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Oh! the young vagabond! Let me get at him!
+
+MRS. DELANE. Here he is himself now!
+
+[HYACINTH _comes in_. FARDY _releases himself and creeps behind him_.
+
+MRS. DELANE. It is time you to come, Mr. Halvey, and shut the mouth of
+this young schemer.
+
+MISS JOYCE. I would like you to hear what he says of you, Mr. Halvey.
+Pitch and toss, he says.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Robbery, he says.
+
+MRS. DELANE. Robbery of a church.
+
+SERGEANT. He has had a bad name long enough. Let him go to a reformatory
+now.
+
+FARDY. [_Clinging to_ HYACINTH.] Save me, save me! I'm a poor boy trying
+to knock out a way of living; I'll be destroyed if I go to a
+reformatory. [_Kneels and clings to_ HYACINTH'S _knees_.
+
+HYACINTH. I'll save you easy enough.
+
+FARDY. Don't let me be jailed!
+
+HYACINTH. I am going to tell them.
+
+FARDY. I'm a poor orphan----
+
+HYACINTH. Will you let me speak?
+
+FARDY. I'll get no more chance in the world----
+
+HYACINTH. Sure I'm trying to free you----
+
+FARDY. It will be tasked to me always.
+
+HYACINTH. Be quiet, can't you?
+
+FARDY. Don't you desert me!
+
+HYACINTH. Will you be silent?
+
+FARDY. Take it on yourself.
+
+HYACINTH. I will if you'll let me.
+
+FARDY. Tell them you did it.
+
+HYACINTH. I am going to do that.
+
+FARDY. Tell them it was you got in at the window.
+
+HYACINTH. I will! I will!
+
+FARDY. Say it was you robbed the box.
+
+HYACINTH. I'll say it! I'll say it!
+
+FARDY. It being open!
+
+HYACINTH. Let me tell, let me tell.
+
+FARDY. Of all that was in it.
+
+HYACINTH. I'll tell them that.
+
+FARDY. And gave it to me.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Putting hand on his mouth and dragging him up._] Will you
+stop and let me speak?
+
+SERGEANT. We can't be wasting time. Give him here to me.
+
+HYACINTH. I can't do that. He must be let alone.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Seizing him._] He'll be let alone in the lock-up.
+
+HYACINTH. He must not be brought there.
+
+SERGEANT. I'll let no man get him off.
+
+HYACINTH. I will get him off.
+
+SERGEANT. You will not!
+
+HYACINTH. I will.
+
+SERGEANT. Do you think to buy him off?
+
+HYACINTH. I will buy him off with my own confession.
+
+SERGEANT. And what will that be?
+
+HYACINTH. It was I robbed the church.
+
+SERGEANT. That is likely indeed!
+
+HYACINTH. Let him go, and take me. I tell you I did it.
+
+SERGEANT. It would take witnesses to prove that.
+
+HYACINTH. [_Pointing to_ FARDY.] He will be witness.
+
+FARDY. Oh, Mr. Halvey, I would not wish to do that. Get me off and I
+will say nothing.
+
+HYACINTH. Sure you must. You will be put on oath in the court.
+
+FARDY. I will not! I will not! All the world knows I don't understand
+the nature of an oath!
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Coming forward._] Is it blind ye all are?
+
+MRS. DELANE. What are you talking about?
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is it fools ye all are?
+
+MISS JOYCE. Speak for yourself.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Is it idiots ye all are?
+
+SERGEANT. Mind who you're talking to.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. [_Seizing_ HYACINTH'S _hands_.] Can't you see? Can't you
+hear? Where are your wits? Was ever such a thing seen in this town?
+
+MRS. DELANE. Say out what you have to say.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. A walking saint he is!
+
+MRS. DELANE. Maybe so.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The preserver of the poor! Talk of the holy martyrs! They
+are nothing at all to what he is! Will you look at him! To save that
+poor boy he is going! To take the blame on himself he is going! To say
+he, himself, did the robbery he is going! Before the magistrate he is
+going! To jail he is going! Taking the blame on his own head! Putting
+the sin on his own shoulders! Letting on to have done a robbery! Telling
+a lie--that it may be forgiven him--to his own injury! Doing all that, I
+tell you, to save the character of a miserable slack lad, that rose in
+poverty.
+
+     [_Murmur of admiration from all._
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Now, what do you say?
+
+SERGEANT. [_Pressing his hand._] Mr. Halvey, you have given us all a
+lesson. To please you, I will make no information against the boy,
+[_Shakes him and helps him up._] I will put back the half-crown in the
+poor-box next Sunday. [_To_ FARDY.] What have you to say to your
+benefactor?
+
+FARDY. I'm obliged to you, Mr. Halvey. You behaved very decent to me,
+very decent indeed. I'll never let a word be said against you if I live
+to be a hundred years.
+
+SERGEANT. [_Wiping eyes with a blue handkerchief._] I will tell it at
+the meeting. It will be a great encouragement to them to build up their
+character. I'll tell it to the priest and he taking the chair----
+
+HYACINTH. Oh, stop, will you----
+
+MR. QUIRKE. The chair. It's in the chair he, himself, should be. It's in
+a chair we will put him now. It's to chair him through the streets we
+will. Sure he'll be an example and a blessing to the whole of the town.
+[_Seizes_ HALVEY _and seats him in chair_.] Now, Sergeant, give a hand.
+Here. Fardy.
+
+     [_They all lift the chair with_ HALVEY _in it, wildly protesting_.
+
+MR. QUIRKE. Come along now to the court-house. Three cheers for Hyacinth
+Halvey! Hip! hip! hoora!
+
+     [_Cheers heard in the distance as the curtain drops._
+
+
+
+
+THE GAZING GLOBE
+
+BY
+
+EUGENE PILLOT
+
+
+_The Gazing Globe_ is reprinted by special permission of Eugene Pillot.
+All rights are retained by the author. This play is protected by
+copyright and must not be used without the permission of and payment of
+royalty to Eugene Pillot, who may be reached through The 47 Workshop,
+Cambridge, Massachusetts.
+
+
+EUGENE PILLOT
+
+Eugene Pillot, one of the well-known contemporary writers of one-act
+plays, was born in Houston, Texas. He was educated in the New York
+School of Fine and Applied Arts, at the University of Texas, at Cornell
+University, and at Harvard University. While at Harvard, he participated
+in the activities of The 47 Workshop.
+
+Mr. Pillot's one-act plays are always characterized by excellent and
+well-sustained technic. Among his best-known one-act plays are _The
+Gazing Globe_, _Two Crooks and a Lady_, _Telephone Number One_ (a prize
+play), _Hunger_, and _My Lady Dreams_. Mr. Pillot's plays have been
+produced frequently in schools and Little Theatres of America.
+
+_The Gazing Globe_ originally appeared in _The Stratford Journal_, and
+was first produced by the Boston Community Players, February 26, 1920,
+with the following cast: ZAMA, Rosalie Manning; OHANO, Beulah Auerbach;
+and NIJO, Eugene Pillot. _The Gazing Globe_ has unusually sustained
+tone and dramatic suspense.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+     ZAMA
+     OHANO
+     NIJO
+
+
+
+
+THE GAZING GLOBE[F]
+
+
+     SCENE: _A soft cream-colored room, bare walled and unfurnished
+     except for dull-blue grass mats on the floor and brilliant
+     cushions. In the centre of rear wall is a great circular window
+     with a dais before it, so that it may be used as a doorway. A
+     gathered shade of soft blue silk covers the opening of the window._
+
+PLACE: _An island in a southern sea._
+
+TIME: _Not so long ago._
+
+     [_The curtain rises on an empty stage._ ZAMA, _an old servant woman
+     dressed in dull purples and grays, hurries in from the right. She
+     stops at centre stage and glances about searchingly, then calls in
+     a weazen voice._
+
+ZAMA. Ohano--Ohano! Where do you be, child?
+
+     [_Listens, looks about, sees drawn shade at the rear, and sighs as
+     she goes to it and starts to raise it._
+
+     [_As the shade rolls out of sight we see through the open window a
+     bit of quaint cliff garden that overlooks a sea of green. The rocks
+     are higher on the left, near the window, where a purple-pink vine
+     in full blossom has started to climb. At the right the rocks slope
+     down to the sea. At centre, stone steps lead up to a slender stone
+     pedestal that holds a gazing globe, now a brilliant gold in the
+     late afternoon sunlight._ OHANO, _with hands clasped round the
+     globe, is gazing at it. She is a woman of the early twenties,
+     beautiful and gowned in a flowing kimono-like robe of green with
+     embroideries of white and blue._
+
+ZAMA. [_In a chiding, motherly way._] Ohano, my child, you must not be
+so much at that evil ball! How many times be I not telling you it is an
+_enchanted_ ball?
+
+OHANO. Yes, Zama, I hope it is enchanted. I've tried every other means
+to gain the way to my heart's desire--and they've all failed me. The
+story these islanders have woven round this gazing globe may be but a
+myth--but if it shows me the way to my freedom, I shall not have looked
+at it in vain.
+
+ZAMA. Be you forgetting, child, 'tis said that evil ball shows only the
+way to destruction!
+
+OHANO. Yes, these island people will create any myth, go any length, to
+keep one thinking, living in their narrow way. You are destined for evil
+if you try to follow the urge of your own heart--oh, yes, I know.
+
+ZAMA. But _your_ heart, child, should only be wanting the love of Nijo.
+
+OHANO. Nijo--I am hoping that he will be big enough to help me--but my
+lover has been away so long----
+
+ZAMA. But to-day he be coming back--I came to tell you I think I saw his
+boat----
+
+OHANO. Nijo's boat? Where?
+
+ZAMA. It be near the edge of the island just where----
+
+OHANO. Why didn't you tell me before?
+
+ZAMA. I came to--but I be forgetting when I see you at that evil ball
+again.
+
+OHANO. [_All eagerness._] Perhaps we can see him land--from here on the
+rocks--come, Zama, I hear the sound of voices down near the sea--come!
+[_They climb to the highest rock._] Look, Zama, the boat is there!
+Already there in the green water against the shore!
+
+ZAMA. It do seem to be so. [_Peers toward right._
+
+OHANO. And _there_--is Nijo!
+
+ZAMA. Where, where, child?
+
+OHANO. There--see, he's just coming ashore--oh, Nijo! And look, Zama,
+look what the people crowding round him have done--look!
+
+ZAMA. What? My poor eyes be yet uncertain. What do they be doing to your
+lover?
+
+OHANO. They have put upon him the Robe of Flame--to greet him with the
+highest honor of the island.
+
+ZAMA. So they be. The robe they say the gods themselves did wear when
+time did first begin. Nijo must come back a great warrior now--a great
+warrior!
+
+OHANO. Oh, how wonderful to return from the wars like that! Zama, I want
+to--I _must_ go out into the world and do great things too, like Nijo.
+
+ZAMA. Nijo be coming back, child. That do be enough. Look, what is it
+that glitters so in the sun?
+
+OHANO. Why, they are giving something to my red god--something that's
+long as a serpent moon--see, he holds it out in admiration, before him.
+Just what can it be?
+
+ZAMA. In faith I do believe they have given your hero--a sword!
+
+OHANO. A marvellous sword--look, its jewels flash with the shifting
+lights, warm as the colored rifts of sunset!
+
+ZAMA. Such gems do be a tribute to his greatness, Ohano, they do.
+
+OHANO. How gladly would I have the way I seek without such tribute--how
+willingly!
+
+ZAMA. And now the crowd do be parting--he leaves the boat and he looks
+this way, Ohano--he looks!
+
+OHANO. Nijo, my red wonder of the world!
+
+ZAMA. See, he mounts his steed--he waves to you!
+
+OHANO. Nijo! Nijo!
+
+ZAMA. And now he rides off to come to you here. It is better we be
+waiting inside for him--when he brings back his love to his promised
+bride.
+
+OHANO. [_As they enter room._] Ah, Zama, he must bring me more than love
+this time--much more. Yes, your little Ohano must have more in her life
+to-day than just love--and Nijo must show her the way to that realm
+where she may stretch her soul and _live_!
+
+ZAMA. The love of so great a man do be enough for any woman, child.
+
+OHANO. Oh, no--oh, no----
+
+ZAMA. But it do be; and evil will fall, I know, if you do be asking more
+than love!
+
+OHANO. But I tell you, Nijo's love is not enough. I must have a bigger,
+greater thing!
+
+ZAMA. The gods do know of none that be more than love.
+
+OHANO. But there must be, else why would I feel the rush of its pulse
+within my veins? Why would my whole being cry out for action and the
+glory of doing big things in the lands across the sea? Why, tell me why,
+I would feel those things if they were not so?
+
+ZAMA. It be not for me to say, child; but I do be thinking you moon at
+that evil ball too much. It do make your sight grow red! It be not wise
+to know an enchanted thing so well.
+
+OHANO. If that gazing globe in the garden would only show me the way to
+my heart's desire, how gladly would I be the victim of its enchantment!
+
+ZAMA. Nijo's kiss do be your enchantment, child. One touch of his lips
+and you do be forgetting all else.
+
+OHANO. If Nijo's kiss can make me forget this fever within me, I want
+his kiss as I shall never want anything else in all of this life. I want
+it!!
+
+     [_Approaching horse's hoofs are heard from off right._
+
+ZAMA. Listen--the horse! Ohano, your lover do be coming!
+
+OHANO. [_Running to the window._] Already? He must have taken the short
+way through the cliffs.
+
+ZAMA. Ah, child, do you not be excited as a bird in a storm-wind's
+blow?
+
+OHANO. [_Superbly, as she leans against window._] Yes, I await my hero!
+
+ZAMA. He's stopped, child! He do be here! At last he comes back to my
+little Ohano!
+
+OHANO. My hope comes! [_With outstretched arms to right._] My Nijo!!
+Oh----!
+
+     [_She had impulsively started to greet_ NIJO, _but suddenly shrinks
+     back_.
+
+ZAMA. What do be wrong--what?
+
+OHANO. He's so different--so changed--oh, here he is--ssh!
+
+     [NIJO _appears at the window, where he pauses for a moment. He is a
+     tall, brunette man, scarcely thirty--a handsome, well-knit southern
+     island type, wearing a flowing robe of flame, with a flaring collar
+     of old-gold brocade. A peaked hat completes the costume. A curved
+     sword, with a hilt thickly studded with large jewels and incased in
+     gold, hangs at his belt. He seems worldly weary and sad as he
+     advances into the room._
+
+OHANO. Nijo!
+
+NIJO. [_Unimpassioned._] Ohano.
+
+OHANO. [_Eagerly._] You have come back!
+
+NIJO. Yes--and the season of the heat has been gracious to your health,
+I hope?
+
+OHANO. Yes--and yours, Nijo?
+
+NIJO. The same.
+
+OHANO. Oh, I am glad--glad as tree-blossoms for the kiss of spring. And
+Zama here shares my welcome, don't you?
+
+NIJO. [_Recognizing_ ZAMA.] Ah, Zama.
+
+ZAMA. [_Bowing before him._] The gods do be kind to bring back a hero to
+us.
+
+NIJO. Thank you.
+
+ZAMA. Now I do be going for refreshments for your weariness; great it
+must be after so long a voyage. [_Exits right._
+
+OHANO. Shall we not sit here?
+
+NIJO. As you will.
+
+     [OHANO _and_ NIJO _sit upon mats near the window, partly facing
+     each other_.
+
+OHANO. They--they gave you a sword at the boat.
+
+NIJO. [_Wearily._] Oh, yes.
+
+OHANO. Even from up here we could see its jewels flash.
+
+NIJO. [_Without interest._] Yes, it is cunningly conceived.
+
+OHANO. How wonderful it must be. Perhaps--I may see it?
+
+NIJO. [_Still wearily._] If you so desire.
+
+     [_Unbuckles sword and holds it before himself for her to examine.
+     She leans over it admiringly, touching the jewels as she speaks of
+     them._
+
+OHANO. Magnificent! Rubies and emeralds and sapphires! And here are
+moonstones and diamonds. How you must prize it.
+
+NIJO. [_Wearily._] Of course, one must.
+
+OHANO. And the very people who tried to stop you from going across the
+sea to win your glory have given it to you.
+
+NIJO. That is the way of the world.
+
+OHANO. Show me the way to glory, Nijo.
+
+NIJO. And why?
+
+OHANO. I would travel it too.
+
+NIJO. You--a simple island maiden?
+
+OHANO. I'm not simple. I've grown beyond the people here.
+
+NIJO. But there is glory in the work women must do at home.
+
+OHANO. And I have done my share of it. I want bigger work now--out in
+the world.
+
+NIJO. But the simple tasks must be done.
+
+OHANO. I am sick unto death of doing them!
+
+NIJO. But you can't go into the battles of the world. You are an island
+woman.
+
+OHANO. This last war has made all women free. If the other island women
+cling to the everlasting tradition that woman should not go beyond her
+native hearth, let them cling. I shall reach the summit of things and
+know the glory of doing big things in the world!
+
+NIJO. But you--sheltered, protected all your life--how can you do it?
+
+OHANO. That's what troubles me. But you were fettered by this island
+life and you broke through the bars of convention. How did _you_ do it?
+
+NIJO. [_Sadly._] Ohano, I would not spoil your life by telling you.
+
+OHANO. Spoil it? What do you think is happening to it now? Oh, Nijo,
+can't you understand I'm stagnating--_dying_ in this commonplace island
+life.
+
+NIJO. I thought that about myself, too, when I started my climb to
+glory; but scarcely a moon had passed before I realized the loneliness
+of great heights.
+
+OHANO. [_Tigerishly._] Are you trying to turn me from my wish--to have
+all the island's glory for yourself?
+
+NIJO. No, but only the valley people enjoy the sublimity of a mountain.
+
+OHANO. [_Scornfully._] Ha!
+
+NIJO. Those who reach the top have lost their perspective. All they see
+are the lonely tops of other mountains.
+
+OHANO. [_Sublimely._] But they've had the joy of the climb!
+
+NIJO. And worth what--no more than the mist of the sea.
+
+OHANO. Do you think that satisfies me? I want to find out for myself! I
+only want you to tell me the way to use this spirit that boils within my
+blood, thirsts for action!
+
+NIJO. That I never will.
+
+OHANO. Oh, what shall I do? I've even implored the sun and the moon!
+[_Looks toward sea._] Now I _must_ listen to my dreams--my dreams that
+cry and cry: "Look in the gazing globe! Look in the gazing globe! It
+will show you the way!" And if it ever does, I'll take that path _no
+matter where it leads_.
+
+NIJO. My journey only made me want to come back to the haven of your
+love, Ohano. The amber cup of glory left me athirst to be wrapped in the
+mantle of your boundless love and warmed with the glow of your heart.
+
+OHANO. [_Surprised._] Your journey has really led you back to me?
+
+NIJO. [_Sadly._] You're my only hope. I've been as mad for you as the
+sea for the moonlight.
+
+OHANO. [_Disturbed._] But you had fire and impulse when you went away;
+and now--well, you do still yearn for me?
+
+NIJO. [_Quietly, without passion._] The hope for your love has been the
+light of my brain, changing from life to dream, from earth to star.
+
+OHANO. My thirst for glory has been that way; but Zama tells me it is as
+nothing in the kiss of love. If love has that power, I am willing to
+forget all else. Kiss me, Nijo!
+
+NIJO. At last my lips will press yours, as the sun flames to an immortal
+moment when it meets the sky.
+
+     [_Kneeling opposite each other, their lips meet._ OHANO _instantly
+     gives a piercing scream and recoils from him_. NIJO _sinks into a
+     heap_.
+
+OHANO. [_Rising and turning toward the sea, weeping._] Oh, oh, oh!
+
+ZAMA. [_Rushing in from right._] What is it? What is it, Ohano?
+
+OHANO. [_Still weeping._] Oh--ooh.
+
+ZAMA. What do it be, my little Ohano?
+
+OHANO. [_Turning._] His kiss--Nijo's kiss!
+
+ZAMA. Yes?
+
+OHANO. Cold as white marble--_cold_!
+
+ZAMA. Cold as white marble?
+
+OHANO. Oh, Nijo, why do you kiss me like a thing of stone?
+
+NIJO. [_As he looks up, pitifully._] Into that kiss I tried to put all
+the love I've thought these many years.
+
+OHANO. The love you've _thought_?
+
+NIJO. [_Despondently._] Yes, I've only thought it--_thought_ it!
+
+OHANO. But your heart----?
+
+NIJO. [_Rising._] My heart feels no more! Only my head thinks.
+
+ZAMA. You love no more?
+
+NIJO. Only with my head, it seems. I see things, know things, understand
+things; but I no longer feel anything. And my thirst for glory has done
+it all--killed my love of life and turned my very kiss to stone. Oh,
+glory, why do men give the essence of their lives to you--you who last
+no longer than the glow of gold above the place of sunset!
+
+OHANO. [_Superbly._] Because glory gives you the world--everything!
+
+NIJO. It takes everything away--strips you--and leaves you nothing to
+believe. Oh, I could have become a common soldier here, marching
+shoulder to shoulder with the island men going out to war--but no--I
+must be a great warrior, a hero in position. Had I known then what I
+know now, how gladly would I have gone as one of the thousands who are
+known as--just soldiers. They are the ones who know the throb of life
+and love!
+
+OHANO. You bring back such a message to me? You who have climbed and
+climbed to heights till I have believed you to be as constant in your
+quest as the light that shines upon the gazing globe?
+
+NIJO. I--a light?
+
+OHANO. Why not? I've always likened your feet unto the disks of two
+luminaries, lighting the way for all the world to follow. [_Looks at
+gazing globe, which is now a ball of gold against the black sea and
+sky._] And now you tell me I was wrong. Perhaps the light upon the
+gazing globe itself is the only one to follow.
+
+NIJO. I--a light? Why, Ohano, if I'm anything, I'm a gazing globe!
+
+OHANO. What do you mean--you a gazing globe?
+
+NIJO. That without I'm all fair, all wonderful--but within I'm empty as
+a gazing globe.
+
+OHANO. [_Scornfully._] But a gazing globe shows men the way to their
+heart's desire.
+
+NIJO. It reflects to men what they see into it. So does glory.
+
+OHANO. I can't believe that--now.
+
+NIJO. Behold what it has done to me! Already as a child I gazed at that
+globe, longing to grasp the glory of which it was a symbol. It filled me
+with a red madness, surged with an unbearable music, giving me a riotous
+pain! Oh, it made me drunk for the wine of glory!
+
+OHANO. I know! I know! Now you talk as the man I thought you were.
+
+NIJO. I'm not a man. I'm dead.
+
+OHANO. But you have known the glory of life. Shall I never know the way
+to it? [_Appealingly, to the globe._] The way--the way is what I seek!
+
+ZAMA. Look not so upon the evil ball, child. It do be enchanted for one
+thousand years! [OHANO _moves nearer the globe_.] Go not so near, child!
+Evil will fall--and you will be enslaved!
+
+OHANO. What care I, if it shows me the way? [_Hands outstretched to the
+globe._
+
+ZAMA. [_Appealingly to_ NIJO.] Sir, I pray you do be stopping her. She
+do be always gazing at that golden ball; and slowly it do be drawing her
+within its enchanted grasp. And it do be an enchanted ball!
+
+NIJO. Perhaps there's more to its enchantment than I thought. It claimed
+me for a victim--and now it's freezing her life's warmth to the
+falseness of Orient pearl.
+
+OHANO. [_Murmuring to the globe._] The way--the way! I must have the
+way!
+
+NIJO. [_Swiftly drawing his sword._] I will not show you--but I'll save
+you! [_Starts toward the gazing globe._
+
+ZAMA. [_Barring his path._] Nijo, sir, what do you be doing?
+
+NIJO. [_With a flourish of his sword._] I kill the thing that freezes
+another heart!
+
+ZAMA. That do mean ruin! It be an enchanted ball!
+
+NIJO. [_Brushing past_ ZAMA.] It will enchant no longer!!
+
+OHANO. No! No, Nijo!
+
+NIJO. [_Running up pedestal steps._] Yes!!
+
+     [_With a mighty blow he strikes the gazing globe with his sword.
+     Frightened_, OHANO _shrinks to one side, facing right, as a
+     thunder-like crash follows the blow, and pieces of the globe tumble
+     to the ground--all but one piece that remains upon the pedestal.
+     Then from a moon off stage right shines a straight golden path
+     across the sea to the bit of gazing globe on the pedestal._
+
+OHANO. [_Triumphantly._] The moon--The way! At last the way! From the
+gazing globe--the golden path to the moon of glory. Now I am free!
+
+     [_Rushes wildly down the moonlight path to the sea._
+
+ZAMA. Stop her!
+
+NIJO. No, it is better to let her go.
+
+ZAMA. But the path do lead into the sea. It is death! Stop her!!
+[_Starts forward._
+
+NIJO. [_Restraining_ ZAMA.] No! In death her soul has found the only
+way!
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOR
+
+BY
+
+ANTON TCHEKOV
+
+
+_The Boor_ is reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark and of
+Samuel French, publisher, New York City. All rights reserved. For
+permission to perform, address Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street,
+New York City.
+
+
+ANTON TCHEKOV
+
+Anton Tchekov, considered the foremost of contemporary Russian
+dramatists, was born in 1860 at Taganrog, Russia. In 1880 he was
+graduated from the Medical School of the University of Moscow. Ill
+health soon compelled him to abandon his practice of medicine, and in
+1887 he sought the south. In 1904, the year of the successful appearance
+of his _Cherry Orchard_, he died in a village of the Black Forest in
+Germany.
+
+As a dramatist, Tchekov has with deliberate intent cast off much of the
+conventionalities of dramatic technic. In his longer plays especially,
+like _The Sea Gull_, _Uncle Vanya_, and _Cherry Orchard_, he somewhat
+avoids obvious struggles, time-worn commonplaces, well-prepared
+climaxes, and seeks rather to spread out a panoramic canvas for our
+contemplation. His chief aim is to show us humanity as he sees it. It is
+his interest in humanity that gives him so high rank as a dramatist.
+
+His one-act plays, a form of drama unusually apt for certain intimate
+aspects of Russian peasant life, are more regular in their technic than
+his longer plays. Among the five or six shorter plays that Tchekov
+wrote, _The Boor_ and _A Marriage Proposal_ are his best. In these plays
+he shows the lighter side of Russian country life, infusing some of the
+spirit of the great Gogol into his broad and somewhat farcical character
+portrayals. With rare good grace, in these plays he appears to be asking
+us to throw aside our restraint and laugh with him at the stupidity and
+naivete, as well as good-heartedness, of the Russian people he knew so
+well.
+
+_The Boor_ is a remarkably well-constructed one-act play, and is
+probably the finest one-act play of the Russian school of drama.
+
+
+PERSONS IN THE PLAY
+
+     HELENA IVANOVNA POPOV, _a young widow, mistress of a country estate_
+     GRIGORI STEPANOVITCH SMIRNOV, _proprietor of a country estate_
+     LUKA, _servant of_ MRS. POPOV
+
+     _A gardener._ _A coachman._ _Several workmen._
+
+
+
+
+THE BOOR
+
+TIME: _The present._
+
+     SCENE: _A well-furnished reception-room in_ MRS. POPOV'S _home_.
+     MRS. POPOV _is discovered in deep mourning, sitting upon a sofa,
+     gazing steadfastly at a photograph_. LUKA _is also present_.
+
+
+LUKA. It isn't right, ma'am. You're wearing yourself out! The maid and
+the cook have gone looking for berries; everything that breathes is
+enjoying life; even the cat knows how to be happy--slips about the
+courtyard and catches birds--but you hide yourself here in the house as
+though you were in a cloister. Yes, truly, by actual reckoning you
+haven't left this house for a whole year.
+
+MRS. POPOV. And I shall never leave it--why should I? My life is over.
+He lies in his grave, and I have buried myself within these four walls.
+We are both dead.
+
+LUKA. There you are again! It's too awful to listen to, so it is!
+Nikolai Michailovitch is dead; it was the will of the Lord, and the Lord
+has given him eternal peace. You have grieved over it and that ought to
+be enough. Now it's time to stop. One can't weep and wear mourning
+forever! My wife died a few years ago. I grieved for her. I wept a whole
+month--and then it was over. Must one be forever singing lamentations?
+That would be more than your husband was worth! [_He sighs._] You have
+forgotten all your neighbors. You don't go out and you receive no one.
+We live--you'll pardon me--like the spiders, and the good light of day
+we never see. All the livery is eaten by the mice--as though there
+weren't any more nice people in the world! But the whole neighborhood
+is full of gentlefolk. The regiment is stationed in
+Riblov--officers--simply beautiful! One can't see enough of them! Every
+Friday a ball, and military music every day. Oh, my dear, dear ma'am,
+young and pretty as you are, if you'd only let your spirits live--!
+Beauty can't last forever. When ten short years are over, you'll be glad
+enough to go out a bit and meet the officers--and then it'll be too
+late.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Resolutely._] Please don't speak of these things again.
+You know very well that since the death of Nikolai Michailovitch my life
+is absolutely nothing to me. You think I live, but it only seems so. Do
+you understand? Oh, that his departed soul may see how I love him! I
+know, it's no secret to you; he was often unjust toward me, cruel,
+and--he wasn't faithful, but I shall be faithful to the grave and prove
+to him how _I_ can love. There, in the Beyond, he'll find me the same as
+I was until his death.
+
+LUKA. What is the use of all these words, when you'd so much rather go
+walking in the garden or order Tobby or Welikan harnessed to the trap,
+and visit the neighbors?
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Weeping._] Oh!
+
+LUKA. Madam, dear madam, what is it? In Heaven's name!
+
+MRS. POPOV. He loved Tobby so! He always drove him to the Kortschagins
+or the Vlassovs. What a wonderful horse-man he was! How fine he looked
+when he pulled at the reins with all his might! Tobby, Tobby--give him
+an extra measure of oats to-day!
+
+LUKA. Yes, ma'am.
+
+     [_A bell rings loudly._
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Shudders._] What's that? I am at home to no one.
+
+LUKA. Yes, ma'am. [_He goes out, centre._
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Gazing at the photograph._] You shall see, Nikolai, how I
+can love and forgive! My love will die only with me--when my poor heart
+stops beating. [_She smiles through her tears._] And aren't you ashamed?
+I have been a good, true wife; I have imprisoned myself and I shall
+remain true until death, and you--you--you're not ashamed of yourself,
+my dear monster! You quarrelled with me, left me alone for weeks----
+
+     [LUKA _enters in great excitement_.
+
+LUKA. Oh, ma'am, some one is asking for you, insists on seeing you----
+
+MRS. POPOV. You told him that since my husband's death I receive no one?
+
+LUKA. I said so, but he won't listen; he says it is a pressing matter.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I receive no one!
+
+LUKA. I told him that, but he's a wild man; he swore and pushed himself
+into the room; he's in the dining-room now.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Excitedly._] Good. Show him in. The impudent----!
+
+     [LUKA _goes out, centre_.
+
+MRS. POPOV. What a bore people are! What can they want with me? Why do
+they disturb my peace? [_She sighs._] Yes, it is clear I must enter a
+convent. [_Meditatively._] Yes, a convent.
+
+     [SMIRNOV _enters, followed by_ LUKA.
+
+SMIRNOV. [To LUKA.] Fool, you make too much noise! You're an ass!
+[_Discovering_ MRS. POPOV--_politely_.] Madam, I have the honor to
+introduce myself: Lieutenant in the Artillery, retired, country
+gentleman, Grigori Stepanovitch Smirnov! I'm compelled to bother you
+about an exceedingly important matter.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Without offering her hand._] What is it you wish?
+
+SMIRNOV. Your deceased husband, with whom I had the honor to be
+acquainted, left me two notes amounting to about twelve hundred
+roubles. Inasmuch as I have to pay the interest to-morrow on a loan from
+the Agrarian Bank, I should like to request, madam, that you pay me the
+money to-day.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Twelve hundred--and for what was my husband indebted to you?
+
+SMIRNOV. He bought oats from me.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_With a sigh, to_ LUKA.] Don't forget to give Tobby an
+extra measure of oats.
+
+     [LUKA _goes out_.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_To_ SMIRNOV.] If Nikolai Michailovitch is indebted to you,
+I shall, of course, pay you, but I am sorry, I haven't the money to-day.
+To-morrow my manager will return from the city and I shall notify him to
+pay you what is due you, but until then I cannot satisfy your request.
+Furthermore, to-day it is just seven months since the death of my
+husband, and I am not in a mood to discuss money matters.
+
+SMIRNOV. And I am in the mood to fly up the chimney with my feet in the
+air if I can't lay hands on that interest to-morrow. They'll seize my
+estate!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Day after to-morrow you will receive the money.
+
+SMIRNOV. I don't need the money day after to-morrow; I need it to-day.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I'm sorry I can't pay you to-day.
+
+SMIRNOV. And I can't wait until day after to-morrow.
+
+MRS. POPOV. But what can I do if I haven't it?
+
+SMIRNOV. So you can't pay?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I cannot.
+
+SMIRNOV. Hm! Is that your last word?
+
+MRS. POPOV. My last.
+
+SMIRNOV. Absolutely?
+
+MRS. POPOV. Absolutely.
+
+SMIRNOV. Thank you. [_He shrugs his shoulders._] And they expect me to
+stand for all that. The toll-gatherer just now met me in the road and
+asked me why I was always worrying. Why, in Heaven's name, shouldn't I
+worry? I need money, I feel the knife at my throat. Yesterday morning I
+left my house in the early dawn and called on all my debtors. If even
+one of them had paid his debt! I worked the skin off my fingers! The
+devil knows in what sort of Jew-inn I slept; in a room with a barrel of
+brandy! And now at last I come here, seventy versts from home, hope for
+a little money, and all you give me is moods! Why shouldn't I worry?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I thought I made it plain to you that my manager will return
+from town, and then you will get your money.
+
+SMIRNOV. I did not come to see the manager; I came to see you. What the
+devil--pardon the language--do I care for your manager?
+
+MRS. POPOV. Really, sir, I am not used to such language or such manners.
+I shan't listen to you any further. [_She goes out, left._
+
+SMIRNOV. What can one say to that? Moods! Seven months since her husband
+died! Do I have to pay the interest or not? I repeat the question, have
+I to pay the interest or not? The husband is dead and all that; the
+manager is--the devil with him!--travelling somewhere. Now, tell me,
+what am I to do? Shall I run away from my creditors in a balloon? Or
+knock my head against a stone wall? If I call on Grusdev he chooses to
+be "not at home," Iroschevitch has simply hidden himself, I have
+quarrelled with Kurzin and came near throwing him out of the window,
+Masutov is ill and this woman has--moods! Not one of them will pay up!
+And all because I've spoiled them, because I'm an old whiner, dish-rag!
+I'm too tender-hearted with them. But wait! I allow nobody to play
+tricks with me, the devil with 'em all! I'll stay here and not budge
+until she pays! Brr! How angry I am, how terribly angry I am! Every
+tendon is trembling with anger, and I can hardly breathe! I'm even
+growing ill! [_He calls out._] Servant!
+
+     [LUKA _enters_.
+
+LUKA. What is it you wish?
+
+SMIRNOV. Bring me Kvas or water! [LUKA _goes out_.] Well, what can we
+do? She hasn't it on hand? What sort of logic is that? A fellow stands
+with the knife at his throat, he needs money, he is on the point of
+hanging himself, and she won't pay because she isn't in the mood to
+discuss money matters. Woman's logic! That's why I never liked to talk
+to women, and why I dislike doing it now. I would rather sit on a powder
+barrel than talk with a woman. Brr!--I'm getting cold as ice; this
+affair has made me so angry. I need only to see such a romantic creature
+from a distance to get so angry that I have cramps in the calves! It's
+enough to make one yell for help!
+
+     [_Enter_ LUKA.
+
+LUKA. [_Hands him water._] Madam is ill and is not receiving.
+
+SMIRNOV. March! [LUKA _goes out_.] Ill and isn't receiving! All right,
+it isn't necessary. I won't receive, either! I'll sit here and stay
+until you bring that money. If you're ill a week, I'll sit here a week.
+If you're ill a year, I'll sit here a year. As Heaven is my witness,
+I'll get the money. You don't disturb me with your mourning--or with
+your dimples. We know these dimples! [_He calls out the window._] Simon,
+unharness! We aren't going to leave right away. I am going to stay here.
+Tell them in the stable to give the horses some oats. The left horse has
+twisted the bridle again. [_Imitating him._] Stop! I'll show you how.
+Stop! [_Leaves window._] It's awful. Unbearable heat, no money, didn't
+sleep last night and now--mourning-dresses with moods. My head aches;
+perhaps I ought to have a drink. Ye-s, I must have a drink. [_Calling._]
+Servant!
+
+LUKA. What do you wish?
+
+SMIRNOV. Something to drink! [LUKA _goes out_. SMIRNOV _sits down and
+looks at his clothes_.] Ugh, a fine figure! No use denying that. Dust,
+dirty boots, unwashed, uncombed, straw on my vest--the lady probably
+took me for a highwayman. [_He yawns._] It was a little impolite to
+come into a reception-room with such clothes. Oh, well, no harm done.
+I'm not here as a guest. I'm a creditor. And there is no special costume
+for creditors.
+
+LUKA. [_Entering with glass._] You take great liberty, sir.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Angrily._] What?
+
+LUKA. I--I--I just----
+
+SMIRNOV. Whom are you talking to? Keep quiet.
+
+LUKA. [_Angrily._] Nice mess! This fellow won't leave! [_He goes out._
+
+SMIRNOV. Lord, how angry I am! Angry enough to throw mud at the whole
+world! I even feel ill! Servant!
+
+     [MRS. POPOV _comes in with downcast eyes_.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Sir, in my solitude I have become unaccustomed to the human
+voice and I cannot stand the sound of loud talking. I beg you, please to
+cease disturbing my rest.
+
+SMIRNOV. Pay me my money and I'll leave.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I told you once, plainly, in your native tongue, that I
+haven't the money at hand; wait until day after to-morrow.
+
+SMIRNOV. And I also had the honor of informing you in your native tongue
+that I need the money, not day after to-morrow, but to-day. If you don't
+pay me to-day I shall have to hang myself to-morrow.
+
+MRS. POPOV. But what can I do if I haven't the money?
+
+SMIRNOV. So you are not going to pay immediately? You're not?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I cannot.
+
+SMIRNOV. Then I'll sit here until I get the money. [_He sits down._] You
+will pay day after to-morrow? Excellent! Here I stay until day after
+to-morrow. [_Jumps up._] I ask you, do I have to pay that interest
+to-morrow or not? Or do you think I'm joking?
+
+MRS. POPOV. Sir, I beg of you, don't scream! This is not a stable.
+
+SMIRNOV. I'm not talking about stables, I'm asking you whether I have to
+pay that interest to-morrow or not?
+
+MRS. POPOV. You have no idea how to treat a lady.
+
+SMIRNOV. Oh, yes, I have.
+
+MRS. POPOV. No, you have not. You are an ill-bred, vulgar person!
+Respectable people don't speak so to ladies.
+
+SMIRNOV. How remarkable! How do you want one to speak to you? In French,
+perhaps! Madame, je vous prie! Pardon me for having disturbed you. What
+beautiful weather we are having to-day! And how this mourning becomes
+you! [_He makes a low bow with mock ceremony._
+
+MRS. POPOV. Not at all funny! I think it vulgar!
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Imitating her._] Not at all funny--vulgar! I don't understand
+how to behave in the company of ladies. Madam, in the course of my life
+I have seen more women than you have sparrows. Three times have I fought
+duels for women, twelve I jilted and nine jilted me. There was a time
+when I played the fool, used honeyed language, bowed and scraped. I
+loved, suffered, sighed to the moon, melted in love's torments. I loved
+passionately, I loved to madness, loved in every key, chattered like a
+magpie on emancipation, sacrificed half my fortune in the tender
+passion, until now the devil knows I've had enough of it. Your obedient
+servant will let you lead him around by the nose no more. Enough! Black
+eyes, passionate eyes, coral lips, dimples in cheeks, moonlight
+whispers, soft, modest sighs--for all that, madam, I wouldn't pay a
+kopeck! I am not speaking of present company, but of women in general;
+from the tiniest to the greatest, they are conceited, hypocritical,
+chattering, odious, deceitful from top to toe; vain, petty, cruel with a
+maddening logic and [_he strikes his forehead_] in this respect, please
+excuse my frankness, but one sparrow is worth ten of the aforementioned
+petticoat-philosophers. When one sees one of the romantic creatures
+before him he imagines he is looking at some holy being, so wonderful
+that its one breath could dissolve him in a sea of a thousand charms and
+delights; but if one looks into the soul--it's nothing but a common
+crocodile. [_He seizes the arm-chair and breaks it in two._] But the
+worst of all is that this crocodile imagines it is a masterpiece of
+creation, and that it has a monopoly on all the tender passions. May the
+devil hang me upside down if there is anything to love about a woman!
+When she is in love, all she knows is how to complain and shed tears. If
+the man suffers and makes sacrifices she swings her train about and
+tries to lead him by the nose. You have the misfortune to be a woman,
+and naturally you know woman's nature; tell me on your honor, have you
+ever in your life seen a woman who was really true and faithful? Never!
+Only the old and the deformed are true and faithful. It's easier to find
+a cat with horns or a white woodcock, than a faithful woman.
+
+MRS. POPOV. But allow me to ask, who is true and faithful in love? The
+man, perhaps?
+
+SMIRNOV. Yes, indeed! The man!
+
+MRS. POPOV. The man! [_She laughs sarcastically._] The man true and
+faithful in love! Well, that is something _new_! [_Bitterly._] How can
+you make such a statement? Men true and faithful! So long as we have
+gone thus far, I may as well say that of all the men I have known, my
+husband was the best; I loved him passionately with all my soul, as only
+a young, sensible woman may love; I gave him my youth, my happiness, my
+fortune, my life. I worshipped him like a heathen. And what happened?
+This best of men betrayed me in every possible way. After his death I
+found his desk filled with love-letters. While he was alive he left me
+alone for months--it is horrible even to think about it--he made love to
+other women in my very presence, he wasted my money and made fun of my
+feelings--and in spite of everything I trusted him and was true to him.
+And more than that: he is dead and I am still true to him. I have buried
+myself within these four walls and I shall wear this mourning to my
+grave.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Laughing disrespectfully._] Mourning! What on earth do you
+take me for? As if I didn't know why you wore this black domino and why
+you buried yourself within these four walls. Such a secret! So romantic!
+Some knight will pass the castle, gaze up at the windows, and think to
+himself: "Here dwells the mysterious Tamara who, for love of her
+husband, has buried herself within four walls." Oh, I understand the
+art!
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Springing up._] What? What do you mean by saying such
+things to me?
+
+SMIRNOV. You have buried yourself alive, but meanwhile you have not
+forgotten to powder your nose!
+
+MRS. POPOV. How dare you speak so?
+
+SMIRNOV. Don't scream at me, please; I'm not the manager. Allow me to
+call things by their right names. I am not a woman, and I am accustomed
+to speak out what I think. So please don't scream.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I'm not screaming. It is you who are screaming. Please leave
+me, I beg of you.
+
+SMIRNOV. Pay me my money and I'll leave.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I won't give you the money.
+
+SMIRNOV. You won't? You won't give me my money?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I don't care what you do. You won't get a kopeck! Leave me!
+
+SMIRNOV. As I haven't the pleasure of being either your husband or your
+fiance, please don't make a scene. [_He sits down._] I can't stand it.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Breathing hard._] You are going to sit down?
+
+SMIRNOV. I already have.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Kindly leave the house!
+
+SMIRNOV. Give me the money.
+
+MRS. POPOV. I don't care to speak with impudent men. Leave! [_Pause._]
+You aren't going?
+
+SMIRNOV. No.
+
+MRS. POPOV. No?
+
+SMIRNOV. No.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Very well. [_She rings the bell._
+
+     [_Enter_ LUKA.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Luka, show the gentleman out.
+
+LUKA. [_Going to_ SMIRNOV.] Sir, why don't you leave when you are
+ordered? What do you want?
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Jumping up._] Whom do you think you are talking to? I'll
+grind you to powder.
+
+LUKA. [_Puts his hand to his heart._] Good Lord! [_He drops into a
+chair._] Oh, I'm ill; I can't breathe!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Where is Dascha? [_Calling._] Dascha! Pelageja! Dascha!
+[_She rings._
+
+LUKA. They're all gone! I'm ill! Water!
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_To_ SMIRNOV.] Leave! Get out!
+
+SMIRNOV. Kindly be a little more polite!
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Striking her fists and stamping her feet._] You are
+vulgar! You're a boor! A monster!
+
+SMIRNOV. What did you say?
+
+MRS. POPOV. I said you were a boor, a monster!
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Steps toward her quickly._] Permit me to ask what right you
+have to insult me?
+
+MRS. POPOV. What of it? Do you think I am afraid of you?
+
+SMIRNOV. And you think that because you are a romantic creature you can
+insult me without being punished? I challenge you!
+
+LUKA. Merciful Heaven! Water!
+
+SMIRNOV. We'll have a duel.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Do you think because you have big fists and a steer's neck I
+am afraid of you?
+
+SMIRNOV. I allow no one to insult me, and I make no exception because
+you are a woman, one of the "weaker sex"!
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Trying to cry him down._] Boor, boor, boor!
+
+SMIRNOV. It is high time to do away with the old superstition that it is
+only the man who is forced to give satisfaction. If there is equity at
+all let there be equity in all things. There's a limit!
+
+MRS. POPOV. You wish to fight a duel? Very well.
+
+SMIRNOV. Immediately.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Immediately. My husband had pistols. I'll bring them. [_She
+hurries away, then turns._] Oh, what a pleasure it will be to put a
+bullet in your impudent head. The devil take you! [_She goes out._
+
+SMIRNOV. I'll shoot her down! I'm no fledgling, no sentimental young
+puppy. For me there is no weaker sex!
+
+LUKA. Oh, sir. [_Falls to his knees._] Have mercy on me, an old man, and
+go away. You have frightened me to death already, and now you want to
+fight a duel.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Paying no attention._] A duel. That's equity, emancipation.
+That way the sexes are made equal. I'll shoot her down as a matter of
+principle. What can a person say to such a woman? [_Imitating her._]
+"The devil take you. I'll put a bullet in your impudent head." What can
+one say to that? She was angry, her eyes blazed, she accepted the
+challenge. On my honor, it's the first time in my life that I ever saw
+such a woman.
+
+LUKA. Oh, sir. Go away. Go away!
+
+SMIRNOV. That _is_ a woman. I can understand her. A real woman. No
+shilly-shallying, but fire, powder, and noise! It would be a pity to
+shoot a woman like that.
+
+LUKA. [_Weeping._] Oh, sir, go away.
+
+     [_Enter_ MRS. POPOV.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Here are the pistols. But before we have our duel, please
+show me how to shoot. I have never had a pistol in my hand before!
+
+LUKA. God be merciful and have pity upon us! I'll go and get the
+gardener and the coachman. Why has this horror come to us? [_He goes
+out._
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Looking at the pistols._] You see, there are different kinds.
+There are special duelling pistols, with cap and ball. But these are
+revolvers, Smith & Wesson, with ejectors; fine pistols! A pair like that
+cost at least ninety roubles. This is the way to hold a revolver.
+[_Aside._] Those eyes, those eyes! A real woman!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Like this?
+
+SMIRNOV. Yes, that way. Then you pull the hammer back--so--then you
+aim--put your head back a little. Just stretch your arm out, please.
+So--then press your finger on the thing like that, and that is all. The
+chief thing is this: don't get excited, don't hurry your aim, and take
+care that your hand doesn't tremble.
+
+MRS. POPOV. It isn't well to shoot inside; let's go into the garden.
+
+SMIRNOV. Yes. I'll tell you now, I am going to shoot into the air.
+
+MRS. POPOV. That is too much! Why?
+
+SMIRNOV. Because--because. That's my business.
+
+MRS. POPOV. You are afraid. Yes. A-h-h-h, No, no, my dear sir, no
+flinching! Please follow me. I won't rest until I've made a hole in that
+head I hate so much. Are you afraid?
+
+SMIRNOV. Yes, I'm afraid.
+
+MRS. POPOV. You are lying. Why won't you fight?
+
+SMIRNOV. Because--because--I--like you.
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_With an angry laugh._] You like me! He dares to say he
+likes me! [_She points to the door._] Go.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Laying the revolver silently on the table, takes his hat and
+starts. At the door he stops a moment, gazing at her silently, then he
+approaches her, hesitating._] Listen! Are you still angry? I was mad as
+the devil, but please understand me--how can I express myself? The thing
+is like this--such things are--[_He raises his voice._] Now, is it my
+fault that you owe me money? [_Grasps the back of the chair, which
+breaks._] The devil knows what breakable furniture you have! I like you!
+Do you understand? I--I'm almost in love!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Leave! I hate you.
+
+SMIRNOV. Lord! What a woman! I never in my life met one like her. I'm
+lost, ruined! I've been caught like a mouse in a trap.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Go, or I'll shoot.
+
+SMIRNOV. Shoot! You have no idea what happiness it would be to die in
+sight of those beautiful eyes, to die from the revolver in this little
+velvet hand! I'm mad! Consider it and decide immediately, for if I go
+now, we shall never see each other again. Decide--speak--- I am a noble,
+a respectable man, have an income of ten thousand, can shoot a coin
+thrown into the air. I own some fine horses. Will you be my wife?
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Swings the revolver angrily._] I'll shoot!
+
+SMIRNOV. My mind is not clear--I can't understand. Servant--water! I
+have fallen in love like any young man. [_He takes her hand and she
+cries with pain._] I love you! [_He kneels._] I love you as I have never
+loved before. Twelve women I jilted, nine jilted me, but not one of them
+all have I loved as I love you. I am conquered, lost; I lie at your feet
+like a fool and beg for your hand. Shame and disgrace! For five years I
+haven't been in love; I thanked the Lord for it, and now I am caught,
+like a carriage tongue in another carriage. I beg for your hand! Yes or
+no? Will you?--Good! [_He gets up and goes quickly to the door._
+
+MRS. POPOV. Wait a moment!
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Stopping._] Well?
+
+MRS. POPOV. Nothing. You may go. But--wait a moment. No, go on, go on. I
+hate you. Or--no; don't go. Oh, if you knew how angry I was, how angry!
+[_She throws the revolver on to the chair._] My finger is swollen from
+this thing. [_She angrily tears her handkerchief._] What are you
+standing there for? Get out!
+
+SMIRNOV. Farewell!
+
+MRS. POPOV. Yes, go. [_Cries out._] Why are you going? Wait--no, go!!
+Oh, how angry I am! Don't come too near, don't come too
+near--er--come--no nearer.
+
+SMIRNOV. [_Approaching her._] How angry I am with myself! Fall in love
+like a schoolboy, throw myself on my knees. I've got a chill!
+[_Strongly._] I love you. This is fine--all I needed was to fall in
+love. To-morrow I have to pay my interest, the hay harvest has begun,
+and then you appear! [_He takes her in his arms._] I can never forgive
+myself.
+
+MRS. POPOV. Go away! Take your hands off me! I hate you--you--this
+is--[_A long kiss._
+
+     [_Enter_ LUKA _with an axe, the gardener with a rake, the coachman
+     with a pitchfork, and workmen with poles_.
+
+LUKA. [_Staring at the pair._] Merciful heavens!
+
+     [_A long pause._
+
+MRS. POPOV. [_Dropping her eyes._] Tell them in the stable that Tobby
+isn't to have any oats.
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST STRAW
+
+BY
+
+BOSWORTH CROCKER
+
+
+_The Last Straw_ is reprinted by special permission of Bosworth Crocker.
+All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address the author, care
+Society of American Dramatists and Composers, 148 West 45th Street,
+New York City.
+
+
+BOSWORTH CROCKER
+
+Bosworth Crocker was born March 2, 1882, in Surrey, England. While still
+a child he was brought to the United States. He lives in New York City
+and may be reached in care of the Society of American Dramatists and
+Composers, 148 West 45th Street.
+
+In addition to _Pawns of War_ and _Stone Walls_, he has written a number
+of one-act plays, _The Dog_, _The First Time_, _The Cost of a Hat_, _The
+Hour Before_, _The Baby Carriage_, and _The Last Straw_.
+
+_The Last Straw_, produced by the Washington Square Players in New York
+City, is an excellent one-act tragedy, based upon the psychological law
+of suggestion.
+
+
+CAST
+
+
+     FRIEDRICH BAUER, _janitor of the Bryn Mawr_
+     MIENE, _his wife_
+     KARL, _elder son, aged ten_
+     FRITZI, _younger son, aged seven_
+     JIM LANE, _a grocer boy_
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST STRAW[G]
+
+     TIME: _The present day._
+
+     SCENE: _The basement of a large apartment-house in New York City._
+
+     SCENE: _The kitchen of the Bauer flat in the basement of the Bryn
+     Mawr. A window at the side gives on an area and shows the walk
+     above and the houses across the street. Opposite the windows is a
+     door to an inner room. Through the outer door, in the centre of the
+     back wall, a dumb-waiter and whistles to tenants can be seen. A
+     broken milk-bottle lies in a puddle of milk on the cement floor in
+     front of the dumb-waiter. To the right of the outer door, a
+     telephone; gas-range on which there are flat-irons heating and
+     vegetables cooking. To the left of the outer door is an old
+     sideboard; over it hangs a picture of Schiller. Near the centre of
+     the room, a little to the right, stands a kitchen table with four
+     chairs around it. Ironing-board is placed between the kitchen table
+     and the sink, a basket of dampened clothes under it. A large
+     calendar on the wall. An alarm-clock on the window-sill. Time: a
+     little before noon. The telephone rings_; MRS. BAUER _leaves her
+     ironing and goes to answer it_.
+
+
+MRS. BAUER. No, Mr. Bauer's out yet. [_She listens through the
+transmitter._] Thank you, Mrs. Mohler. [_Another pause._] I'll tell him
+just so soon he comes in--yes, ma'am.
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _goes back to her ironing. Grocer boy rushes into
+     basement, whistling; he puts down his basket, goes up to_ MRS.
+     BAUER'S _door and looks in_.
+
+
+LANE. Say--where's the boss?
+
+MRS. BAUER. He'll be home soon, I--hope--Jim. What you want?
+
+     [_He stands looking at her with growing sympathy._
+
+LANE. Nothin'. Got a rag 'round here? Dumb-waiter's all wet.... Lot of
+groceries for Sawyers.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Without lifting her eyes, mechanically hands him a mop
+which hangs beside the door._] Here.
+
+LANE. What's the matter?
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Dully._] Huh?
+
+LANE. [_Significantly._] Oh, I know.
+
+MRS. BAUER. What you know?
+
+LANE. About the boss. [MRS. BAUER _looks distressed_.] Heard your
+friends across the street talkin'.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Bitterly._] Friends!
+
+LANE. Rotten trick to play on the boss, all right, puttin' that old maid
+up to get him pinched.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Absently._] Was she an old maid?
+
+LANE. The cruelty-to-animals woman over there [_waves his
+hand_]--regular old crank. Nies[H] put her up to it all right.
+
+MRS. BAUER. I guess it was his old woman. Nies ain't so bad. She's the
+one. Because my two boys dress up a little on Sunday, she don't like it.
+
+LANE. Yes, she's sore because the boys told her the boss kicks their
+dog.
+
+MRS. BAUER. He don't do nothin' of the sort--jus' drives it 'way from
+the garbage-pails--that's all. We coulda had that dog took up long
+ago--they ain't got no license. But Fritz--he's so easy--he jus' takes
+it out chasin' the dog and hollerin'.
+
+LANE. That ain't no way. He ought to make the dog holler--good and
+hard--once; then it'd keep out of here.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Don't you go to talkin' like that 'round my man. Look at all
+this trouble we're in on account of a stray cat.
+
+LANE. I better get busy. They'll be callin' up the store in a minute.
+That woman's the limit.... Send up the groceries in that slop, she'd
+send them down again. High-toned people like her ought to keep maids.
+
+     [_He mops out the lower shelf of the dumb-waiter, then looks at the
+     broken bottle and the puddle of milk inquiringly._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Taking the mop away from him._] I'll clean that up. I
+forgot--in all this trouble.
+
+LANE. Whose milk?
+
+MRS. BAUER. The Mohlers'. That's how it all happened. Somebody upset
+their milk on the dumb-waiter and the cat was on the shelf lickin' it
+up; my man, not noticin', starts the waiter up and the cat tries to jump
+out; the bottle rolls off and breaks. The cat was hurt awful--caught in
+the shaft. I don't see how it coulda run after that, but it did--right
+into the street, right into that woman--Fritz after it. Then it fell
+over. "You did that?" she says to Fritz. "Yes," he says, "I did that."
+He didn't say no more, jus' went off, and then after a while they came
+for him and---- [_She begins to cry softly._
+
+LANE. Brace up; they ain't goin' to do anything to him.... [_Comes into
+kitchen. Hesitatingly._] Say!... He didn't kick the cat--did he?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Who said so?
+
+LANE. Mrs. Nies--says she saw him from her window.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_As though to herself._] I dunno. [_Excitedly._] Of course
+he didn't kick that cat. [_Again, as though to herself._] Fritz is so
+quick-tempered he mighta kicked it 'fore he knew what he was about. No
+one'd ever know how good Fritz is unless they lived with him. He never
+hurt no one and nothing except himself.
+
+LANE. Oh, I'm on to the boss. I never mind his hollerin'.
+
+MRS. BAUER. If you get a chance, bring me some butter for dinner--a
+pound.
+
+LANE. All right. I'll run over with it in ten or fifteen minutes, soon
+as I get rid of these orders out here in the wagon.
+
+MRS. BAUER. That'll do.
+
+     [_She moves about apathetically, lays the cloth on the kitchen
+     table and begins to set it._ LANE _goes to the dumb-waiter,
+     whistles up the tube, puts the basket of groceries on the shelf of
+     the dumb-waiter, pulls rope and sends waiter up_. MRS. BAUER
+     _continues to set the table. Boys from the street suddenly swoop
+     into the basement and yell_.
+
+CHORUS OF BOYS' VOICES. Who killed the cat! Who killed the cat!
+
+LANE. [_Letting the rope go and making a dive for the boys._] I'll show
+you, you----
+
+     [_They rush out_, MRS. BAUER _stands despairingly in the doorway
+     shaking her clasped hands_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Those are Nies's boys.
+
+LANE. Regular toughs! Call the cop and have 'em pinched if they don't
+stop it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. If my man hears them--you know--there'll be more trouble.
+
+LANE. The boss ought to make it hot for them.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Such trouble!
+
+LANE. [_Starts to go._] Well--luck to the boss.
+
+MRS. BAUER. There ain't no such thing as luck for us.
+
+LANE. Aw, come on....
+
+MRS. BAUER. Everything's against us. First Fritz's mother dies. We named
+the baby after her--Trude.... Then we lost Trude. That finished Fritz.
+After that he began this hollerin' business. And now this here
+trouble--just when things was goin' half-ways decent for the first time.
+[_She pushes past him and goes to her ironing._
+
+LANE. [_Shakes his head sympathetically and takes up his basket._] A
+pound, you said?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes.
+
+LANE. All right. [_He starts off and then rushes back._] Here's the
+boss comin', Mrs. Bauer. [_Rushes off again._
+
+LANE'S VOICE. [_Cheerfully._] Hello, there!
+
+BAUER'S VOICE. [_Dull and strained._] Hello!
+
+     [BAUER _comes in. His-naturally bright blue eyes are tired and
+     lustreless; his strung frame seems to have lost all vigor and
+     alertness; there in a look of utter despondency on his face._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Closing the door after him._] They let you off?
+
+BAUER. [_With a hard little laugh._] Yes, they let me off--they let me
+off with a fine all right.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Aghast._] They think you did it then.
+
+BAUER. [_Harshly._] The judge fined me, I tell you.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Unable to express her poignant sympathy._] Fined you!...
+Oh, Fritz! [_She lays her hand on his shoulder._
+
+BAUER. [_Roughly, to keep himself from, going to pieces._] That slop out
+there ain't cleaned up yet.
+
+MRS. BAUER. I've been so worried.
+
+BAUER. [_With sudden desperation._] I can't stand it, I tell you.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Well, it's all over now, Fritz.
+
+BAUER. Yes, it's all over.... it's all up with me.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Fritz!
+
+BAUER. That's one sure thing.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You oughtn't to give up like this.
+
+BAUER. [_Pounding on the table._] I tell you I can't hold up my head
+again.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Why, Fritz?
+
+BAUER. They've made me out guilty. The judge fined me. Fined me, Miene!
+How is that? Can a man stand for that? The woman said I told her
+myself--right out--that I did it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. The woman that had you--[_he winces as she hesitates_] took?
+
+BAUER. Damned----
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Putting her hand over his mouth._] Hush, Fritz.
+
+BAUER. Why will I hush, Miene? She said I was proud of the job.
+[_Passionately raising his voice._] The damned interferin'----
+
+MRS. BAUER. Don't holler, Fritz. It's your hollerin' that's made all
+this trouble.
+
+BAUER. [_Penetrated by her words more and more._] My hollerin'!....
+
+     [The telephone rings; she answers it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes, Mrs. Mohler, he's come in now.--Yes.--Won't after
+dinner do?--All right.--Thank you, Mrs. Mohler. [_She hangs up the
+receiver._] Mrs. Mohler wants you to fix her sink right after dinner.
+
+BAUER. I'm not goin' to do any more fixin' around here.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You hold on to yourself, Fritz; that's no way to talk; Mrs.
+Mohler's a nice woman.
+
+BAUER. I don't want to see no more nice women. [_After a pause._]
+Hollerin'!--that's what's the matter with me--hollerin', eh? Well, I've
+took it all out in hollerin'.
+
+MRS. BAUER. They hear you and they think you've got no feelings.
+
+BAUER. [_In utter amazement at the irony of the situation._] And I was
+goin' after the damned cat to take care of it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Why didn't you tell the judge all about it?
+
+BAUER. They got me rattled among them. The lady was so soft and
+pleasant--"He must be made to understand, your honor," she said to the
+judge, "that dumb animals has feelin's, too, just as well as human
+beings"--_Me_, Miene--made to understand that! I couldn't say nothin'.
+My voice just stuck in my throat.
+
+MRS. BAUER. What's the matter with you! You oughta spoke up and told the
+judge just how it all happened.
+
+BAUER. I said to myself; I'll go home and put a bullet through my
+head--that's the best thing for me now.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_With impatient unbelief._] Ach, Fritz, Fritz!
+
+     [_Clatter of feet._
+
+CHORUS OF VOICES. [_At the outer door._] Who killed the cat! Who killed
+the cat!
+
+     [BAUER _jumps up, pale and shaken with strange rage; she pushes him
+     gently back into his chair, opens the door, steps out for a moment,
+     then comes in and leaves the door open behind her_.
+
+BAUER. You see?... Even the kids ... I'm disgraced all over the place.
+
+MRS. BAUER. So long as you didn't hurt the cat----
+
+BAUER. What's the difference? Everybody believes it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. No, they don't, Fritz.
+
+BAUER. You can't fool me, Miene. I see it in their eyes. They looked
+away from me when I was comin' 'round the corner. Some of them kinder
+smiled like--[_passes his hand over his head_]. Even the cop says to me
+on the way over, yesterday: "Don't you put your foot in it any more'n
+you have to." You see? He thought I did it all right. Everybody believes
+it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Putting towels away._] Well, then _let_ them believe
+it.... The agent don't believe it.
+
+BAUER. I dunno. He'da paid my fine anyhow.
+
+MRS. BAUER. He gave you a good name.
+
+BAUER. [_With indignant derision._] He gave me a good name!... Haven't I
+always kept this place all right since we been here? Afterward he said
+to me: "I'm surprised at this business, Bauer, very much surprised."
+That shows what he thinks. I told him it ain't true, I didn't mean to
+hurt it. I saw by his eyes he didn't believe me.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Well, don't you worry any more now.
+
+BAUER. [_To himself._] Hollerin'!
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Shuts the door._] Well, now, holler a little if it does
+you good.
+
+BAUER. Nothin's goin' to do me good.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You just put it out of your mind. [_The telephone rings. She
+answers it._] Yes, but he can't come now, Mrs. McAllister. He'll be up
+this afternoon.
+
+     [_She hangs up the receiver._
+
+BAUER. And I ain't goin' this afternoon--nowhere.
+
+MRS. BAUER. It's Mrs. McAllister. Somethin's wrong with her
+refrigerator--the water won't run off, she says.
+
+BAUER. They can clean out their own drain-pipes.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You go to work and get your mind off this here business.
+
+BAUER. [_Staring straight ahead of him._] I ain't goin' 'round among the
+people in this house ... to have them lookin' at me ... disgraced like
+this.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You want to hold up your head and act as if nothin's
+happened.
+
+BAUER. Nobody spoke to me at the dumb-waiter when I took off the garbage
+and paper this morning. Mrs. Mohler always says something pleasant.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You just think that because you're all upset. [_The
+telephone rings; she goes to it and listens._] Yes, ma'am, I'll see.
+Fritz, have you any fine wire? Mrs. McAllister thinks she might try and
+fix the drain with it--till you come up.
+
+BAUER. I got no wire.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Mr. Bauer'll fix it--right after dinner, Mrs. McAllister.
+[_Impatiently._] He can't find the wire this minute--soon's he eats his
+dinner.
+
+BAUER. [_Doggedly._] You'll see....
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Soothingly._] Come now, Fritz, give me your hat. [_She
+takes his hat from him._
+
+VOICES IN THE STREET. [_Receding from the front area._] Who killed the
+cat! Who killed the cat!
+
+     [BAUER _rushes toward the window in a fury of excitement_.
+
+BAUER. [_Shouting at the top of his voice._] _Verdammte_ loafers!
+_Schweine!_
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Goes up to him._] Fritz! Fritz!
+
+BAUER. [_Collapses and drops into chair._] You hear 'em.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Don't pay no attention, then they'll get tired.
+
+BAUER. Miene, we must go away. I can't stand it here no longer.
+
+MRS. BAUER. But there's not such another good place, Fritz--and the
+movin'....
+
+BAUER. I say I can't stand it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Desperately._] It ... it would be just the same any other
+place.
+
+BAUER. Just the same?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes, something'd go wrong anyhow.
+
+BAUER. You think I'm a regular Jonah.
+
+     [_He shakes his head repeatedly in the affirmative, as though
+     wholly embracing her point of view._
+
+MRS. BAUER. Folks don't get to know you. They hear you hollerin' 'round
+and they think you beat the children and kick the dogs and cats.
+
+BAUER. Do I ever lick the children when they don't need it?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Not Fritzi.
+
+BAUER. You want to spoil Karl. I just touch him with the strap once, a
+little--like this [_illustrates with a gesture_] to scare him, and he
+howls like hell.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes, and then he don't mind you no more because he knows you
+don't mean it.
+
+BAUER. [_To himself._] That's the way it goes ... a man's own wife and
+children ...
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Attending to the dinner. Irritably._] Fritz, if you would
+clean that up out there--and Mrs. Carroll wants her waste-basket. You
+musta forgot to send it up again.
+
+BAUER. All right.
+
+     [_He goes out and leaves the door open. She stands her flat-iron on
+     the ledge of the range to cool and puts her ironing-board away,
+     watching him at the dumb-waiter while he picks up the glass and
+     cleans up the milk on the cement floor. He disappears for a moment,
+     then he comes in again, goes to a drawer and takes out rags and a
+     bottle of polish._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Pushing the clothes-basket out of the way._] This ain't
+cleanin' day, Fritz.
+
+BAUER. [_Dully, putting the polish back into the drawer._] That's so.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Comforting him._] You've got to eat a good dinner and then
+go up-stairs and fix that sink for Mrs. Mohler and the drain for Mrs.
+McAllister.
+
+BAUER. [_In a tense voice._] I tell you I can't stand it.... I tell you,
+Miene....
+
+MRS. BAUER. What now, Fritz?
+
+BAUER. People laugh in my face. [_Nods in the direction of the street._]
+Frazer's boy standin' on the stoop calls his dog away when it runs up to
+me like it always does.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Dogs know better'n men who's good to them.
+
+BAUER. He acted like he thought I'd kick it.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You've got all kinds of foolishness in your head now.... You
+sent up Carroll's basket?
+
+BAUER. No.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Well---- [_She checks herself._
+
+BAUER. All right. [_He gets up._
+
+MRS. BAUER. It's settin' right beside the other dumb-waiter, [_He goes
+out._] Oh, Gott!--Oh, Gott!--Oh, Gott!
+
+     [_Enter_ KARL, _and_ FRITZI. FRITZI _is crying_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Running to them._] What's the matter?
+
+     [_She hushes them and carefully closes the door._
+
+KARL. The boys make fun of us; they mock us.
+
+FRITZI. They mock us--"Miau! Miau!" they cry, and then they go like
+this----
+
+     [FRITZI _imitates kicking and breaks out crying afresh_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Hush, Fritzi, you mustn't let your father hear.
+
+FRITZI. He'd make them shut up.
+
+KARL. I don't want to go to school this afternoon.
+
+     [_He doubles his fists._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Turning on him fiercely._] Why not? [_In an undertone._]
+You talk that way before your little brother.--Have you no sense?
+
+FRITZI. [_Beginning to whimper._] I d-d-d-on't want to go to school this
+afternoon.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You just go 'long to school and mind your own business.
+
+KARL _and_ FRITZI. [_Together._] But the boys....
+
+MRS. BAUER. They ain't a-goin' to keep it up forever. Don't you answer
+them. Just go 'long together and pay no attention.
+
+KARL. Then they get fresher and fresher.
+
+FRITZI. [_Echoing_ KARL.] Yes, then they get fresher and fresher.
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _begins to take up the dinner. The sound of footfalls
+     just outside the door is heard._
+
+MRS. BAUER. Go on now, hang up your caps and get ready for your dinners.
+
+FRITZI. I'm going to tell my papa. [_Goes to inner door._
+
+MRS. BAUER. For God's sake, Fritzi, shut up. You mustn't tell no one.
+Papa'd be disgraced all over.
+
+KARL. [_Coming up to her._] Disgraced?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Hush!
+
+KARL. Why disgraced?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Because there's liars, low-down, snoopin' liars in the
+world.
+
+KARL. Who's lied, mama?
+
+MRS. BAUER. The janitress across the street.
+
+KARL. Mrs. Nies?
+
+FRITZI. [_Calling out._] Henny Nies is a tough.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Looking toward the outer door anxiously and shaking her
+head threateningly at_ FRITZI.] I give you somethin' if you don't stop
+hollerin' out like that.
+
+KARL. Who'd she lie to?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Never mind. Go 'long now. It's time you begin to eat.
+
+KARL. What'd she lie about?
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Warningly._] S-s-sh! Papa'll be comin' in now in a minute.
+
+KARL. It was Henny Nies set the gang on to us. I coulda licked them all
+if I hadn't had to take care of Fritzi.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You'll get a lickin' all right if you don't keep away from
+Henny Nies.
+
+KARL. Well--if they call me names--and say _my_ father's been to the
+station-house for killing a cat...?
+
+FRITZI. Miau! Miau! Miau!
+
+MRS. BAUER. Hold your mouth.
+
+FRITZI. [_Swaggering._] My father never was in jail--was he, mama?
+
+KARL. Course not.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To_ FRITZI.] Go, wash your hands, Fritzi.
+
+     [_She steers him to the door of the inner room. He exits._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Distressed._] Karl ...
+
+KARL. [_Turning to his mother._] Was he, mama?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Papa don't act like he used to. Sometimes I wonder what's
+come over him. Of course it's enough to ruin any man's temper, all the
+trouble we've had.
+
+CHORUS OF VOICES. [_From the area by the window._] Who killed the cat!
+Who killed the cat!
+
+     [_Sound of feet clattering up the area steps._ FRITZI _rushes in,
+     flourishing a revolver_.
+
+FRITZI. I shoot them, mama.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Grabbing the revolver._] _Mein Gott!_ Fritzi! Papa's
+pistol! [_She examines it carefully._] You ever touch that again and
+I'll ... [_She menaces him._
+
+FRITZI. [_Sulkily._] I'll save up my money and buy me one.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Smiling a little to herself._] I see you buyin' one.
+[_Carries revolver into inner room._
+
+FRITZI. [_In a loud, voice and as though shooting at_ KARL.] Bang! Bang!
+Bang!
+
+     [KARL _strikes at_ FRITZI; FRITZI _dodges_.
+
+KARL. [_To his mother as she re-enters._] Trouble with Fritzi is he
+don't mind me any more.
+
+MRS. BAUER. You wash your dirty hands and face this minute--d'you hear
+me, Fritzi!
+
+FRITZI. [_Looking at his hands._] That's ink-stains. I got the highest
+mark in spelling to-day. Capital H-e-n-n-y, capital N-i-e-s--Henny Nies,
+a bum.
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _makes a rush at him, and he runs back into the inner
+     room_.
+
+KARL. [_Sitting down beside the table._] Do we have to go to school this
+afternoon?
+
+MRS. BAUER. You have to do what you always do.
+
+KARL. Can't we stay home?...
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Fiercely._] Why? Why?
+
+KARL. [_Sheepishly._] I ain't feelin' well.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Karlchen!... _schaem dich!_
+
+KARL. Till the boys forget....
+
+MRS. BAUER. Papa'd know somethin' was wrong right away. That'd be the
+end. You mustn't act as if anything was different from always.
+
+KARL. [_Indignantly._] Sayin' _my_ father's been to jail!
+
+MRS. BAUER. Karl....
+
+KARL. Papa'd make them stop.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Panic-stricken._] Karl, don't you tell papa nothing.
+
+KARL. Not tell papa?
+
+MRS. BAUER. No.
+
+KARL. Why not tell papa?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Because----
+
+KARL. Yes, mama?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Because he was arrested yesterday.
+
+KARL. [SHOCKED.] What for, mama? Why was he----
+
+MRS. BAUER. For nothing.... It was all a lie.
+
+KARL. Well--what was it, mama?
+
+MRS. BAUER. The cat got hurt in the dumb-waiter--papa didn't mean
+to--then they saw papa chasin' it--then it died.
+
+KARL. Why did papa chase it?
+
+MRS. BAUER. To see how it hurt itself.
+
+KARL. Whose cat?
+
+MRS. BAUER. The stray cat.
+
+KARL. The little black cat? Is Blacky dead?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Yes, he died on the sidewalk.
+
+KARL. Where was we?
+
+MRS. BAUER. You was at school.
+
+KARL. Papa didn't want us to keep Blacky.
+
+MRS. BAUER. So many cats and dogs around....
+
+FRITZI. [_Wailing at the door._] Blacky was my cat.
+
+MRS. BAUER. S-s-h! What do you know about Blacky?
+
+FRITZI. I was listening. Why did papa kill Blacky?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Hush!
+
+FRITZI. Why was papa took to jail?
+
+MRS. BAUER. Fritzi! If papa was to hear....
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _goes out_.
+
+FRITZI. [_Sidling up to_ KARL.] Miau! Miau!
+
+KARL. You shut up that. Didn't mama tell you?
+
+FRITZI. When I'm a man I'm going to get arrested. I'll shoot Henny Nies.
+
+KARL. [_Contemptuously._] Yes, you'll do a lot of shooting.
+
+     [FRITZI _punches_ KARL _in back_.
+
+KARL. [_Striking at_ FRITZI.] You're as big a tough as Henny Nies.
+
+FRITZI. [_Proud of this alleged likeness._] I'm going to be a man just
+like my father; I'll holler and make them stand around.
+
+KARL. [_With conviction._] What you need is a good licking.
+
+     [_Telephone rings_; KARL _goes to it_.
+
+KARL. No, ma'am, we're just going to eat now.
+
+FRITZI. [_Sits down beside the table._] Blacky was a nice cat; she
+purred just like a steam-engine.
+
+KARL. Mama told you not to bring her in.
+
+FRITZI. Papa said I could.
+
+     [_There is the sound of footfalls._ BAUER _and his wife come in and
+     close the door behind them_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Putting the dinner on the table._] Come, children. [_To_
+BAUER.] Sit down, Fritz.
+
+     [_She serves the dinner._ KARL _pulls_ FRITZI _out of his father's
+     chair and pushes him into his own; then he takes his place next to
+     his mother_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To_ BAUER, _who sits looking at his food_.] Eat somethin',
+Friedrich. [_She sits down._
+
+BAUER. I can't eat nothin'. I'm full up to here.
+
+     [_He touches his throat._
+
+MRS. BAUER. If you haven't done nothin' wrong, why do you let it worry
+you so?
+
+     [_Children are absorbed in eating._
+
+FRITZI. [_Suddenly._] Gee, didn't Blacky like liver!
+
+     [MRS. BAUER _and_ KARL _look at him warningly_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Fiercely._] You eat your dinner.
+
+BAUER. [_Affectionately, laying his hand on_ FRITZI'S _arm_.] Fritzi.
+
+FRITZI. [_Points toward the inner room._] I'm going to have a gun, too,
+when I'm a man.
+
+     [BAUER _follows_ FRITZI'S _gesture and falls to musing. There is a
+     look of brooding misery on his face._ KARL _nudges_ FRITZI
+     _warningly and watches his father furtively_. BAUER _sits
+     motionless, staring straight ahead of him_.
+
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To_ BAUER.] Now drink your coffee.
+
+BAUER. Don't you see, Miene, don't you see?... Nothing makes it right
+now; no one believes me--no one believes--no one.
+
+MRS. BAUER. What do you care, if you didn't do it?
+
+BAUER. I care like hell.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_With a searching took at her husband._] Fritzi, when you
+go on like this, people won't believe you didn't do it. You ought to act
+like you don't care.... [_She fixes him with a beseeching glance._] If
+you _didn't_ do it.
+
+     [BAUER _looks at his wife as though a hidden meaning to her words
+     had suddenly bitten into his mind_.
+
+BAUER. [_As though to himself._] A man can't stand that. I've gone
+hungry ... I've been in the hospital ... I've worked when I couldn't
+stand up hardly....
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Coaxingly._] Drink your coffee, drink it now, Fritz, while
+it's hot.
+
+     [_He tries to swallow a little coffee and then puts down the cup._
+
+BAUER. I've never asked favors of no man.
+
+MRS. BAUER. Well, an' if you did ...
+
+BAUER. I've always kept my good name ...
+
+MRS. BAUER. If a man hasn't done nothin' wrong it don't matter. Just go
+ahead like always--if----
+
+BAUER. [_Muttering._] If--if----
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To the boys._] Get your caps now, it's time to go to
+school.
+
+     [KARL _gets up, passes behind his father and beckons to_ FRITZI _to
+     follow him_.
+
+FRITZI. [_Keeping his seat._] Do we have to go to school?
+
+BAUER. [_Suddenly alert._] Why, what's the matter?
+
+FRITZI. The boys----
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Breaking in._] Fritzi!
+
+     [_The boys go into the inner room._ BAUER _collapses again_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Looking at him strangely._] Fritzi--if you didn't----
+
+BAUER. I can't prove nothing--and no one believes me. [_A pause. She is
+silent under his gaze._] No one! [_He waits for her to speak. She sits
+with averted face. He sinks into a dull misery. The expression in his
+eyes changes from beseeching to despair as her silence continues, and he
+cries out hoarsely._] No one! Even if you kill a cat--what's a cat
+against a man's life!
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_Tensely, her eyes fastened on his._] But you _didn't_ kill
+it?
+
+     [_A pause._
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_In a low, appealing voice._] Did you? Fritz? Did you?
+
+     [BAUER _gets up slowly. He stands very still and stares at his
+     wife._
+
+KARL'S VOICE. Mama, Fritzi's fooling with papa's gun.
+
+     [_Both children rush into the room._
+
+KARL. You oughta lock it up.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_To_ FRITZI.] Bad boy! [_To_ KARL.] Fritzi wants to kill
+himself--that's what. Go on to school.
+
+     [_Boys run past area._
+
+VOICES. Who killed the cat! Who killed the cat!
+
+     [_At the sound of the voices the boys start back. Instinctively_
+     MRS. BAUER _lays a protecting hand on each. She looks around at her
+     husband with a sudden anxiety which she tries to conceal from the
+     children, who whisper together._ BAUER _rises heavily to his feet
+     and walks staggeringly toward the inner room_.
+
+MRS. BAUER. [_In a worried tone, as the pushes the children out._] Go on
+to school.
+
+     [_At the threshold of the inner room_ BAUER _stops, half turns back
+     with distorted features, and then hurries in. The door slams behind
+     him._ MRS. BAUER _closes the outer door, turns, takes a step as
+     though to follow_ BAUER, _hesitates, then crosses to the kitchen
+     table and starts to clear up the dishes. The report of a revolver
+     sounds from the inner room. Terror-stricken_, MRS. BAUER _rushes
+     in_.
+
+MRS. BAUER'S VOICE. Fritz! Fritz! Speak to me! Look at me, Fritz! You
+didn't do it, Fritz! I know you didn't do it!
+
+     [_Sound of low sobbing.... After a few seconds the telephone
+     bell.... It rings continuously while the Curtain slowly falls._
+
+
+
+
+MANIKIN AND MINIKIN
+
+(A BISQUE-PLAY)
+
+BY
+
+ALFRED KREYMBORG
+
+
+_Manikin and Minikin_ is reprinted by special permission of Alfred
+Kreymborg. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address
+Norman Lee Swartout, Summit, New Jersey.
+
+
+ALFRED KREYMBORG
+
+Alfred Kreymborg, one of the foremost advocates of free-verse rhythmical
+drama, was born in New York City, 1883. He founded and edited _The
+Globe_ while it was in existence; and under its auspices issued the
+first anthology of imagist verse (Ezra Pound's Collection, 1914). In
+July, 1915, he founded _Others, a Magazine of the New Verse_, and _The
+Other Players_ in March, 1918, an organization devoted exclusively to
+American plays in poetic form. At present Mr. Kreymborg is in Italy,
+launching a new international magazine, _The Broom_.
+
+Mr. Kreymborg has been active in both poetry and drama. He has edited
+several anthologies of free verse, and has published his own free verse
+as _Mushrooms_ and _The Blood of Things_. His volume of plays, all in
+free rhythmical verse, is _Plays for Poem--Mimes_. The most popular
+plays in this volume are _Lima Beans_, and _Manikin and Minikin_.
+
+_Manikin and Minikin_ aptly exemplifies Mr. Kreymborg's idea of
+rhythmical, pantomimic drama. It is a semi-puppet play in which there
+are dancing automatons to an accompaniment of rhythmic lines in place of
+music. Mr. Kreymborg is a skilled musician and he composes his lines
+with musical rhythm in mind. His lines should be read accordingly.
+
+
+
+
+MANIKIN AND MINIKIN
+
+(A BISQUE-PLAY)
+
+
+     _Seen through an oval frame, one of the walls of a parlor. The
+     wall-paper is a conventionalized pattern. Only the shelf of the
+     mantelpiece shows. At each end, seated on pedestals turned slightly
+     away from one another, two aristocratic bisque figures, a boy in
+     delicate cerise and a girl in cornflower blue. Their shadows join
+     in a grotesque silhouette. In the centre, an ancient clock whose
+     tick acts as the metronome for the sound of their high voices.
+     Presently the mouths of the figures open and shut, after the mode
+     of ordinary conversation._
+
+SHE. Manikin!
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. That fool of a servant has done it again.
+
+HE. I should say, she's more than a fool.
+
+SHE. A meddlesome busybody----
+
+HE. A brittle-fingered noddy!
+
+SHE. Which way are you looking? What do you see?
+
+HE. The everlasting armchair,
+the everlasting tiger-skin,
+the everlasting yellow, green, and purple books,
+the everlasting portrait of milord----
+
+SHE. Oh, these Yankees!--And I see
+the everlasting rattan rocker,
+the everlasting samovar,
+the everlasting noisy piano,
+the everlasting portrait of milady----
+
+
+HE. Simpering spectacle!
+
+SHE. What does she want, always dusting?
+
+HE. I should say--that is, I'd consider the thought----
+
+SHE. You'd consider a lie--oh, Manikin--you're trying to defend her!
+
+HE. I'm not defending her----
+
+SHE. You're trying to----
+
+HE. I'm not trying to----
+
+SHE. Then, what are you trying to----
+
+HE. Well, I'd venture to say, if she'd only stay away some morning----
+
+SHE. That's what I say in my dreams!
+
+HE. She and her broom----
+
+SHE. Her everlasting broom----
+
+HE. She wouldn't be sweeping----
+
+SHE. Every corner, every cranny, every crevice----
+
+HE. And the dust wouldn't move----
+
+SHE. Wouldn't crawl, wouldn't rise, wouldn't fly----
+
+HE. And cover us all over----
+
+SHE. Like a spider-web--ugh!
+
+HE. Everlasting dust has been most of our life----
+
+SHE. Everlasting years and years of dust!
+
+HE. You on your lovely blue gown----
+
+SHE. And you on your manly pink cloak.
+
+HE. If she didn't sweep, we wouldn't need dusting----
+
+SHE. Nor need taking down, I should say----
+
+HE. With her stupid, clumsy hands----
+
+SHE. Her crooked, monkey paws----
+
+HE. And we wouldn't need putting back----
+
+SHE. I with my back to you----
+
+HE. I with my back to you.
+
+SHE. It's been hours, days, weeks----
+by the sound of that everlasting clock----
+and the coming of day and the going of day----
+since I saw you last!
+
+HE. What's the use of the sun
+with its butterfly wings of light--
+what's the use of a sun made to see by--
+if I can't see you!
+
+SHE. Manikin!
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Say that again!
+
+HE. Why should I say it again--don't you know?
+
+SHE. I know, but sometimes I doubt----
+
+HE. Why do you, what do you doubt?
+
+SHE. Please say it again!
+
+HE. What's the use of a sun----
+
+SHE. What's the use of a sun?
+
+HE. That was made to see by----
+
+SHE. That was made to see by?
+
+HE. If I can't see you!
+
+SHE. Oh, Manikin!
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. If you hadn't said that again, my doubt would have filled a
+balloon.
+
+HE. Your doubt--which doubt, what doubt?
+
+SHE. And although I can't move, although I can't move unless somebody
+shoves me, one of these days when the sun isn't here, I would have
+slipped over the edge of this everlasting shelf----
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. And fallen to that everlasting floor into so many fragments, they'd
+never paste Minikin together again!
+
+HE. Minikin, Minikin!
+
+SHE. They'd have to set another here--some Minikin, I'm assured!
+
+HE. Why do you chatter so, prattle so?
+
+SHE. Because of my doubt--because I'm as positive as I am that I sit
+here with my knees in a knot--that that human creature--loves you.
+
+HE. Loves me?
+
+SHE. And you her!
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. When she takes us down she holds you much longer.
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. I'm sufficiently feminine--and certainly old enough--I and my
+hundred and seventy years--I can see, I can feel by her manner of
+touching me and her flicking me with her mop--the creature hates
+me--she'd like to drop me, that's what she would!
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. Don't you venture defending her! Booby--you don't know live women!
+When I'm in the right position I can note how she fondles you, pets you
+like a parrot with her finger-tip, blows a pinch of dust from your eye
+with her softest breath, holds you off at arm's length and fixes you
+with her spider look, actually holds you against her cheek--her
+rose-tinted cheek--before she releases you! If she didn't turn us apart
+so often, I wouldn't charge her with insinuation; but now I know she
+loves you--she's as jealous as I am--and poor dead me in her live power!
+Manikin? */
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. If you could see me--the way you see her----
+
+HE. But I see you--see you always--see only you!
+
+SHE. If you could see me the way you see her, you'd still love me, you'd
+love me the way you do her! Who made me what I am? Who dreamed me in
+motionless clay?
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. No!
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. No.
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. Yes.
+
+HE. I love you----
+
+SHE. No!
+
+HE. I've always loved you----
+
+SHE. No.
+
+HE. You doubt that?
+
+SHE. Yes!
+
+HE. You doubt that?
+
+SHE. Yes.
+
+HE. You doubt that?
+
+SHE. No. You've always loved me--yes--but you don't love me now--no--not
+since that rose-face encountered your glance--no.
+
+HE. Minikin!
+
+SHE. If I could move about the way she can--
+if I had feet--
+dainty white feet which could twinkle and twirl--
+I'd dance you so prettily
+you'd think me a sun butterfly--
+if I could let down my hair
+and prove you it's longer than larch hair--
+if I could raise my black brows
+or shrug my narrow shoulders,
+like a queen or a countess--
+if I could turn my head, tilt my head,
+this way and that, like a swan--
+ogle my eyes, like a peacock,
+till you'd marvel,
+they're green, nay, violet, nay, yellow, nay, gold--
+if I could move, only move
+just the moment of an inch--
+you would see what I could be!
+It's a change, it's a change,
+you men ask of women!
+
+HE. A change?
+
+SHE. You're eye-sick, heart-sick
+of seeing the same foolish porcelain thing,
+a hundred years old,
+a hundred and fifty,
+and sixty, and seventy--
+I don't know how old I am!
+
+HE. Not an exhalation older than I--not an inhalation younger! Minikin?
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. No!
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. No!
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. Yes.
+
+HE. I don't love that creature----
+
+SHE. You do.
+
+HE. I can't love that creature----
+
+SHE. You can.
+
+HE. Will you listen to me?
+
+SHE. Yes--
+if you'll tell me--
+if you'll prove me--
+so my last particle of dust--
+the tiniest speck of a molecule--
+the merest electron----
+
+HE. Are you listening?
+
+SHE. Yes!
+
+HE. To begin with--
+I dislike, suspect, deplore--
+I had best say, feel compassion
+for what is called humanity--
+or the animate, as opposed to the inanimate----
+
+SHE. You say that so wisely--
+you're such a philosopher--
+say it again!
+
+HE. That which is able to move
+can never be steadfast, you understand?
+Let us consider the creature at hand
+to whom you have referred
+with an undue excess of admiration
+adulterated with an undue excess of envy----
+
+SHE. Say that again!
+
+HE. To begin with--
+I can only see part of her at once.
+She moves into my vision;
+she moves out of my vision;
+she is doomed to be wayward.
+
+SHE. Yes, but that which you see of her----
+
+HE. Is ugly, commonplace, unsightly.
+Her face a rose-face?
+It's veined with blood and the skin of it wrinkles--
+her eyes are ever so near to a hen's--
+her movements,
+if one would pay such a gait with regard--
+her gait is unspeakably ungainly--
+her hair----
+
+SHE. Her hair?
+
+HE. Luckily I've never seen it down--
+I dare say it comes down in the dark,
+when it looks, most assuredly, like tangled weeds.
+
+SHE. Again, Manikin, that dulcet phrase!
+
+HE. Even were she beautiful,
+she were never so beautiful as thou!
+
+SHE. Now you're a poet, Manikin!
+
+HE. Even were she so beautiful as thou--lending her your eyes, and the
+exquisite head which holds them--like a cup two last beads of wine, like
+a stone two last drops of rain, green, nay, violet, nay, yellow, nay,
+gold----
+
+SHE. Faster, Manikin!
+
+HE. I can't, Minikin!
+Words were never given to man
+to phrase such a one as you are--
+inanimate symbols
+can never embrace, embody, hold
+the animate dream that you are--
+I must cease.
+
+SHE. Manikin!
+
+HE. And even were she so beautiful as thou,
+she couldn't stay beautiful.
+
+SHE. Stay beautiful?
+
+HE. Humans change with each going moment.
+That is a gray-haired platitude.
+Just as I can see that creature
+only when she touches my vision,
+so I could only see her once, were she beautiful--
+at best, twice or thrice--
+you're more precious than when you came!
+
+SHE. And you!
+
+HE. Human pathos penetrates still deeper
+when one determines their inner life,
+as we've pondered their outer.
+Their inner changes far more desperately.
+
+SHE. How so, wise Manikin?
+
+HE. They have what philosophy terms moods,
+and moods are more pervious to modulation
+than pools to idle breezes.
+These people may say, to begin with--
+I love you.
+This may be true, I'm assured--
+as true as when _we_ say, I love you.
+But they can only say,
+I love you,
+so long as the mood breathes,
+so long as the breezes blow,
+so long as water remains wet.
+They are honest--
+they mean what they say--
+passionately, tenaciously, tragically--
+but when the mood languishes,
+they have to say,
+if it be they are honest--
+I do not love you.
+Or they have to say,
+I love you,
+to somebody else.
+
+SHE. To somebody else?
+
+HE. Now, you and I--
+we've said that to each other--
+we've had to say it
+for a hundred and seventy years--
+and we'll have to say it always.
+
+SHE. Say always again!
+
+HE. The life of an animate--
+
+SHE. Say always again!
+
+HE. Always!
+The life of an animate
+is a procession of deaths
+with but a secret sorrowing candle,
+guttering lower and lower,
+on the path to the grave--
+the life of an inanimate
+is as serenely enduring--
+as all still things are.
+
+SHE. Still things?
+
+HE. Recall our childhood in the English museum--
+ere we were moved,
+from place to place,
+to this dreadful Yankee salon--
+do you remember
+that little old Greek tanagra
+of the girl with a head like a bud--
+that little old Roman medallion
+of the girl with a head like a----
+
+SHE. Manikin, Manikin--
+were they so beautiful as I--
+did you love them, too--
+why do you bring them back?
+
+HE. They were not so beautiful as thou--
+I spoke of them--
+recalled, designated them--
+well, because they were ages old--
+and--and----
+
+SHE. And--and?
+
+HE. And we might live as long as they--
+as they did and do!
+I hinted their existence
+because they're not so beautiful as thou,
+so that by contrast and deduction----
+
+SHE. And deduction?
+
+HE. You know what I'd say----
+
+SHE. But say it again!
+
+HE. I love you.
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Then even though that creature has turned us
+apart,
+can you see me?
+
+HE. I can see you.
+
+SHE. Even though you haven't seen me
+for hours, days, weeks--
+with your dear blue eyes--
+you can see me--
+with your hidden ones?
+
+HE. I can see you.
+
+SHE. Even though you are still,
+and calm, and smooth,
+and lovely outside--
+you aren't still and calm
+and smooth and lovely inside?
+
+HE. Lovely, yes--but not still and calm and smooth!
+
+SHE. Which way are you looking? What do you see?
+
+HE. I look at you. I see you.
+
+SHE. And if that fool of a servant--oh, Manikin--suppose she should
+break the future--our great, happy centuries ahead--by dropping me,
+throwing me down?
+
+HE. I should take an immediate step off this everlasting shelf--
+
+SHE. But you cannot move!
+
+HE. The good wind would give me a blow!
+
+SHE. Now you're a punster! And what would your fragments do?
+
+HE. They would do what Manikin did.
+
+SHE. Say that again!
+
+HE. They'd do what Manikin did....
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Shall I tell you something?
+
+HE. Tell me something.
+
+SHE. Are you listening?
+
+HE. With my inner ears.
+
+SHE. I wasn't jealous of that woman----
+
+HE. You weren't jealous?
+
+SHE. I wanted to hear you talk----
+
+HE. You wanted to hear me talk?
+
+SHE. You talk so wonderfully!
+
+HE. Do I, indeed? What a booby I am!
+
+SHE. And I wanted to hear you say----
+
+HE. You cheat, you idler, you----
+
+SHE. Woman----
+
+HE. Dissembler!
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. Minikin?
+
+SHE. Everlastingly?
+
+HE. Everlastingly.
+
+SHE. Say it again!
+
+HE. I refuse----
+
+SHE. You refuse?
+
+HE. Well----
+
+SHE. Well?
+
+HE. You have ears outside your head--I'll say that for you--but they'll
+never hear--what your other ears hear!
+
+SHE. Say it--down one of the ears--outside my head?
+
+HE. I refuse.
+
+SHE. You refuse?
+
+HE. Leave me alone.
+
+SHE. Manikin?
+
+HE. I can't say it!
+
+SHE. Manikin! */
+
+     [_The clock goes on ticking for a moment. Its mellow chimes strike
+     the hour._
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+WHITE DRESSES
+
+(A TRAGEDY OF NEGRO LIFE)
+
+BY
+
+PAUL GREENE
+
+
+_White Dresses_ is reprinted by special permission of Professor
+Frederick H. Koch. Copyrighted by the Carolina Playmakers, Inc., Chapel
+Hill, North Carolina. For permission to produce, address Frederick H.
+Koch, director.
+
+
+PAUL GREENE
+
+Paul Greene, one of the most promising of the University of North
+Carolina Playmakers, was born in 1894 on a farm near Lillington, North
+Carolina. He has received his education at Buies Creek Academy and at
+the University of North Carolina, from which he received his bachelor's
+degree in 1921. He saw service with the A. E. F. in France, with the
+105th United States Engineers.
+
+In addition to _White Dresses_, Mr. Greene has written a number of
+one-act plays: _The Last of the Lowries_ (to be included in a
+forthcoming volume of Carolina Folk-Plays, published by Henry Holt &
+Company), _The Miser_, _The Old Man of Edenton_, _The Lord's Will_,
+_Wreck P'int_, _Granny Boling_ (in _The Drama_ for August-September,
+1921). The first three plays named above were produced originally by the
+Carolina Playmakers at Chapel Hill.
+
+_White Dresses_ is an excellent example of folk-play of North Carolina.
+This play was written in English 31, the course in dramatic composition
+at the University of North Carolina conducted by Professor Frederick H.
+Koch. "The Aim of the Carolina Playmakers," says Professor Koch, "is to
+build up a genuinely native drama, a fresh expression of the folk-life
+in North Carolina, drawn from the rich background of local tradition and
+from the vigorous new life of the present day. In these simple plays we
+hope to contribute something of lasting value in the making of a new
+folk-theatre and a new folk-literature."
+
+Out of the many conflicts of American life, past and present, Mr. Greene
+sees possibilities for a great native drama. _White Dresses_ presents a
+fundamental aspect of the race problem in America.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    CANDACE MCLEAN, _an old negro woman_, MARY'S _aunt_
+    MARY MCLEAN, _a quadroon girl, niece of_ CANDACE
+    JIM MATTHEWS, _Mary's lover_
+    HENRY MORGAN, _the landlord, a white man_
+
+
+
+
+WHITE DRESSES
+
+     TIME: _The evening before Christmas, 1900_.
+
+     SCENE: _The scene is laid in a negro cabin, the home of_ CANDACE
+     _and_ MARY MCLEAN, _in eastern North Carolina_.
+
+     _In the right corner of the room is a rough bed covered with a
+     ragged counterpane. In the centre at the rear is an old bureau with
+     a cracked mirror, to the left of it a door opening to the outside.
+     In the left wall is a window with red curtains. A large chest
+     stands near the front on this side, and above it hang the family
+     clothes, several ragged dresses, an old bonnet, and a cape. At the
+     right, toward the front, is a fireplace, in which a small fire is
+     burning. Above and at the sides of the fireplace hang several pots
+     and pans, neatly arranged. Above these is a mantel, covered with a
+     lambrequin of dingy red crape paper. On the mantel are bottles and
+     a clock. A picture of "Daniel in the Lion's Den" hangs above the
+     mantel. The walls are covered with newspapers, to which are pinned
+     several illustrations clipped from popular magazines. A rough table
+     is in the centre of the room. A lamp without a chimney is on it.
+     Several chairs are about the room. A rocking-chair with a rag
+     pillow in it stands near the fire. There is an air of cleanliness
+     and poverty about the whole room._
+
+     _The rising of the curtain discloses the empty room. The fire is
+     burning dimly._ AUNT CANDACE _enters at the rear, carrying several
+     sticks of firewood under one arm. She walks with a stick, and is
+     bent with rheumatism. She is dressed in a slat bonnet, which hides
+     her face in its shadow, brogan shoes, a man's ragged coat, a
+     checkered apron, a dark-colored dress. She mumbles to herself and
+     shakes her head as she comes in. With great difficulty she puts the
+     wood on the fire, and then takes the poker and examines some
+     potatoes that are cooking in the ashes. She takes out her snuff-box
+     and puts snuff in her lip. As she does this her bonnet is pushed
+     back, and in the firelight her features are discernible--sunken
+     eyes, high cheek-bones, and big, flat nose. Upon her forehead she
+     wears a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles._
+
+     _She sits down in a rocking-chair, now and then putting her hand to
+     her head, and groaning as if in pain. She turns and looks
+     expectantly toward the door. After a moment she hobbles to the
+     chest on the right and takes out an old red crocheted fascinator.
+     Shivering she wraps it around her neck and stands looking down in
+     the chest. She lifts out a little black box and starts to unfasten
+     it, when the door suddenly opens and_ MARY MCLEAN _comes in_. AUNT
+     CANDACE _puts the box hastily back into the chest, and hurries to
+     the fire_.
+
+     MARY MCLEAN _has a "turn" of collards in one arm and a paper bundle
+     in the other. She lays the collards on the floor near the window
+     and puts her shawl on the bed. She is a quadroon girl about
+     eighteen years old, with an oval face and a mass of fine dark hair,
+     neatly done up. There is something in her bearing that suggests a
+     sort of refinement. Her dress is pitifully shabby, her shoes
+     ragged. But even this cannot hide the lines of an almost perfect
+     figure. For a negro she is pretty. As she comes up to the fire her
+     pinched lips and the tired expression on her face are plainly
+     visible. Only her eyes betray any signs of excitement._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Honey, I's been a-waitin' foh you de las' two hours. My
+haid's been bad off. Chile, whah you been? Miss Mawgin must a had a
+pow'ful washin' up at de big house.
+
+     [MARY _opens her hand and shows her a five-dollar bill_.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. De Lawd help my life, chile!
+
+MARY. An' look here what Mr. Henry sent you, too. [_She undoes the
+bundle, revealing several cooked sweet potatoes, sausages, spareribs,
+and some boiled ham._] He said as 'twas Christmas time he sent you this
+with the collards there.
+
+     [_She points toward the collards at the window._ AUNT CANDACE _pays
+     little attention to the food as_ MARY _places it in her lap, but
+     continues to look straight into_ MARY'S _face. The girl starts to
+     give her the money, but she pushes her away._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Excitedly._] Whah'd you git dat, honey? Whah'd you git
+it? Mr. Henry ain't never been dat kind befo'. Dey ain't no past
+Christmas times he was so free wid 'is money. He ain't de kind o' man
+foh dat. An' he a-havin' 'is washin' done on Christmas Eve. [_Her look
+is direct and troubled._] Chile, Mr. Hugh didn't give you dat money, did
+he?
+
+MARY. [_Still looking in the fire._] Aunty, I ain't said Mr. Henry sent
+you this money. Yes'm, Mr. Hugh sent it to you. I done some washin' for
+him. I washed his socks and some shirts--pure silk they was. [_She
+smiles at the remembrance._] An' he give me the money an' tole me to
+give it to you--said he wished he could give you somethin' more.
+
+     [_She hands the money to_ AUNT CANDACE, _who takes it quickly_.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Help my soul an' body! De boy said dat! Bless 'is soul! He
+ain't fo'got 'is ol' aunty, even if he ain't been to see 'er since he
+come back from school way out yander. De Lawd bless 'im! Allus was a
+good boy, an' he ain't changed since he growed up nuther. When I useter
+nuss 'im he'd never whimper, no suh. Bring me de tin box, honey. An'
+don't notice what I's been sayin'. I spects I's too perticler 'bout you.
+I dunno.
+
+     [MARY _goes to the bureau and gets a tin box. She puts the money
+     in it, returns it, and lights the lamp._ AUNT CANDACE _takes off
+     her bonnet and hangs it behind her on the rocking-chair. Then she
+     begins to eat greedily, now and then licking the grease off her
+     fingers. Suddenly she utters a low scream, putting her hands to her
+     head and rocking to and fro. She grasps her stick and begins
+     beating about her as if striking at something, crying out in a loud
+     voice._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ah-hah, I'll git you! I'll git you!
+
+     [MARY _goes to her and pats her on the cheek_.
+
+MARY. It's your poor head, ain't it, aunty? You rest easy, I'll take
+care of you. [_She continues to rub her cheek and forehead until the
+spell passes._] Set still till I git in a turn of light-wood. It's goin'
+to be a terrible cold night an' looks like snow.
+
+     [_After a moment_ AUNT CANDACE _quiets down and begins eating
+     again_. MARY _goes out and brings in an armful of wood which she
+     throws into the box. She takes a bottle and spoon from the mantel,
+     and starts to pour out some medicine._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. I's better now, honey. Put it back up. I ain't gwine take
+none now. D'ain't no use ... d'ain't no use in dat. I ain't long foh dis
+world, ain't long. I's done my las' washin' an' choppin' an' weighed up
+my las' cotton. Medicine ain't no mo' good.
+
+MARY. You're allus talkin' like that, aunty. You're goin' to live to be
+a hundred. An' this medicine----
+
+AUNT CANDACE. I ain't gwine take it, I say. No, suh, ain't gwine be
+long. I's done deef. I's ol' an' hipshot now. No, suh, I don't want no
+medicine. [_Childishly._] I's got a taste o' dese heah spareribs an'
+sausages, an' I ain't gwine take no medicine. [MARY _puts the bottle and
+spoon back on the mantel and sits down_. AUNT CANDACE _stops eating and
+looks at_ MARY'S _dreaming face_.] Honey, what makes you look like dat?
+[_Excitedly._] Mr. Henry ain't said ... he ain't said no mo' 'bout us
+havin' to leave, has he?
+
+MARY. [_Looking up confusedly._] No'm, he ... no'm, he said ... he said
+to-day that he'd 'bout decided to let us stay right on as long as we
+please.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Huh, what's dat?
+
+MARY. He said it might be so we could stay right on as long as we
+please.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Joyously._] Thank de Lawd! Thank de Lawd! I knowed he's
+gwine do it. I knowed. But I's been pow'ful feared, chile, he's gwine
+run us off. An' he ain't never liked Mr. Hugh's takin' up foh us. But
+now I c'n rest in peace. Thank de Lawd, I's gwine rest my bones rat whah
+I loves to stay till dey calls foh me up yander. [_Stopping._] Has you
+et?
+
+MARY. Yes'm, I et up at Mr. Henry's. Mr. Hugh ... [_hesitating_] he said
+'twas a shame for me to come off without eatin' nothin' an' so I et.
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _becomes absorbed in her eating_. MARY _goes to the
+     chest, opens it, and takes out a faded cloak and puts it on. Then
+     she goes to the bureau, takes out a piece of white ribbon, and ties
+     it on her hair. For a moment she looks at her reflection in the
+     mirror. She goes to the chest and stands looking down in it. She
+     makes a movement to close it. The lid falls with a bang._ AUNT
+     CANDACE _turns quickly around_.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What you want, gal? You ain't botherin' de li'l box, is
+you?
+
+MARY. [_Coming back to the fire._] Botherin' that box! Lord, no, I don't
+worry about it no more ... I'm just dressin' up a little.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ah-hah, but you better not be messin' 'round de chist too
+much. You quit puttin' you' clothes in dere. I done tol' you. What you
+dressin' up foh? Is Jim comin' round to-night?
+
+     [_She wraps up the remainder of her supper and puts it in the
+     chimney corner._
+
+MARY. [_Not noticing the question._] Aunty, don't I look a little bit
+like a white person?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Taking out her snuff-box._] Huh, what's dat?
+
+MARY. I don't look like a common nigger, do I?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Lawd bless you, chile, you's purty, you is. You's jes' as
+purty as any white folks. You's lak yo' mammy what's dead an' gone.
+Yessuh, you's her very spit an' image, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [_Lowering
+her voice._] Yes, suh, 'ceptin' you's whiter. [_They both look in the
+fire._] 'Bout time foh Jim to be comin', ain't it?
+
+MARY. Yes'm, he'll be comin', I reckon. They ain't no gittin' away from
+him an' his guitar.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. _What_ you got agin Jim? Dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim.
+He's gwine treat you white, an' it's time you's gittin' married. I's
+done nussin' my fust chile at yo' age, my li'l Tom 'twas. Useter sing to
+'im. [_Pausing._] Useter sing to 'im de sweetest kin' o' chunes, jes'
+lak you, honey, jes' lak you. He's done daid an' gone do'. All my babies
+is. De Marster he call an' tuck 'em. An' 'druther'n let 'em labor an'
+sweat below, he gi'n 'em a harp an' crown up dere. Tuck my ol' man from
+'is toil an' trouble, too, an' I's left heah alone now. Ain't gwine be
+long do', ain't gwine be long. [_Her voice trails off into silence. All
+is quiet save for the ticking of the clock._ AUNT CANDACE _brushes her
+hand across her face, as if breaking the spell of her revery_.] Yessuh,
+I wants you to git married, honey. I told you, an' told you. We's lived
+long enough by ourselves. I's lak to nuss yo' li'l uns an' sing to 'em
+fo' I go. Mind me o' de ol' times.
+
+MARY. [_Lost in abstraction, apparently has not been listening._] Aunty,
+you ought to see him now. He's better to me than he ever was. He's as
+kind as he can be. An' he wears the finest clothes! [_She stares in the
+fire._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Dat he do. Dey ain't no 'sputin' of it. I allus said he's
+de best-lookin' nigger in de country. An' dey ain't nobody kinder'n Jim.
+No, suh.
+
+MARY. An' to-day he said 'twas a pity I had to work an' wash like a
+slave for a livin'. He don' treat me like I was a nigger. He acts like
+I'm white folks. Aunty, you reckon ...
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Gazing at her with a troubled look of astonishment._] I
+knows it, honey, I knows it. Course dey ain't no better nigger'n Jim an'
+I wants you to marry Jim. He's awaitin' an' ...
+
+MARY. [_Vehemently._] I ain't talkin' 'bout Jim. What's Jim? He ain't
+nothin'.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Guessing at the truth, half rises from her seat._] What
+you mean? Huh! What you talkin' 'bout?
+
+MARY. [_Wearily sitting down._] Nothin', aunty, jes' talkin'.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Jes' talkin'? Chile ... chile ...
+
+MARY. Aunty, did you ever wish you was white?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Troubled._] Laws a mercy! Huh! White! Wish I's white?
+Lawdy, no! What I want to be white foh? I's born a nigger, an' I's gwine
+die a nigger. I ain't one to tear up de work o' de Lawd. He made me an'
+I ain't gwine try to change it. What's in yo' haid, chile? [_Sadly._]
+Po' thing, don't do dat. Yo' po' mammy useter talk lak dat ... one
+reason she ain't livin' to-day. An' I ain't done prayin' foh 'er nuther.
+Chile, you git such notions ra't out'n yo' haid. [_She shakes her head,
+groaning._] Oh, Lawdy! Lawdy! [_Then, screaming, she puts her hands to
+her head. She grasps her stick and begins striking about her,
+shrieking._] Dey's after me! Dey's after me! [_She continues beating
+around her._] Open de do'! Open de do'!
+
+     [MARY _puts her arms around her and tries to soothe her, but she
+     breaks away from her, fighting with her stick. Then_ MARY _runs and
+     opens the door, and_ AUNT CANDACE _drives the imaginary devils
+     out_.
+
+
+MARY. They're gone now, they're gone.
+
+     [_She closes the door and leads her back to her seat._ AUNT CANDACE
+     _sits down, mumbling and groaning. The spell passes and the wild
+     look dies from her face._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Looking up._] I's had another spell, ain't I, honey?
+
+MARY. Yes'm, but you're all right now.
+
+     [_She pours out some medicine and gives it to her._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Some dese days I's gwine be carried off by 'em, chile; I's
+ol' an' po'ly, ol' an' po'ly now. Dem debbils gwine git me yit. [_She
+mumbles._
+
+MARY. No, they ain't, aunty. I ain't goin' to let 'em.
+
+     [_There is a knock at the door, and stamping of feet._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What's dat?
+
+MARY. Nothin'. Somebody at the door. [_The low strumming of guitar is
+heard._] That's Jim. Come in!
+
+     [JIM MATTHEWS _enters. He is a young negro about twenty-two years
+     old, and as black as his African ancestors. He carries a guitar
+     slung over his shoulders, wears an old derby hat, tan shirt with a
+     dark tie, well-worn blue suit, the coat of which comes to his
+     knees, and tan shoes, slashed along the sides to make room for his
+     feet. As he comes in he pulls off his hat and smiles genially,
+     showing his white teeth. With better clothes he might call himself
+     a spo't._
+
+JIM. Good even', ladies. [_He lays his derby an the bed._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Turning around in her chair._] What does he say?
+
+MARY. He says good evenin'.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. _Ah_-hah! Good even', Jim. Take a seat. I's sho glad you
+come. Mary's been talkin' 'bout you. [_He smiles complacently._] We's
+sho glad you come.
+
+     [_He takes a seat between_ AUNT CANDACE _and_ MARY.
+
+JIM. Yes'm. An' I's sho glad to be wid you all. I's allus glad to be wid
+de ladies.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What's he say?
+
+JIM. [_Louder._] I's glad to be wid you all.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ah-hah! [JIM _pulls out a large checkered handkerchief
+from his breast-pocket, wipes his forehead, and then flips the dust from
+his shoes. He folds it carefully and puts it back in his pocket._] Any
+news, Jim?
+
+JIM. No'm, none 'tall. Any wid you?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Hah? No, nothin' 'tall, 'ceptin' Mr. Henry done said ...
+said ...
+
+     [_Here she groans sharply and puts her hand to her head._
+
+JIM. What's that she's sayin'? [_As_ AUNT CANDACE _continues groaning_.]
+Still havin' them spells, is she, Miss Mary?
+
+MARY. Yes, she has 'em about every night.
+
+[_Making a movement as if to go to_ AUNT CANDACE. _She stops and stares
+in the fire._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ne' min' me. I's all right now. An' you chillun go on wid
+yo' cou'tin'. I's gwine peel my 'taters.
+
+     [_Raking the potatoes from the ashes, she begins peeling them. Then
+     she takes a piece of sausage from the package in the corner._ JIM
+     _smiles sheepishly and strums his guitar once or twice. He moves
+     his chair nearer to_ MARY. _She moves mechanically from him, still
+     gazing in the fire._
+
+JIM. Er ... Miss Mary, you's lookin' 'ceedin' snatchin' wid dat white
+ribbon an' new cloak. I's glad to see you thought I's comin' 'round.
+Yes'm, I tells all de gals you got 'em beat a mile. [_He stops._ MARY
+_pays no attention to him_.] From here slam to France an' back, I ain't
+seed no gals lak you. Yes'm, dat's what I tells 'em all, an' I oughta
+know, kaze I's an ol' road nigger. I's seen de world, I has. But I's
+tired of 'tall, an' I wants to settle down ... an' ... you knows me....
+[_He stops and fidgets in his chair, strums his guitar, feels of his
+necktie, takes out his handkerchief and wipes his forehead._] Miss Mary,
+I's ...
+
+MARY. Jim, I done tol' you, you needn't come messin' 'round here. I
+ain't lovin' you. I ain't goin' to marry--nobody, never!
+
+JIM. [_Taken aback._] Now, Miss Mary ... er ... honey. I knows jas' how
+you feels. It's kaze I been a rounder, but you'll hadder forgive me. An'
+I's gwine 'form, I is. I's quit all dem tother gals, near 'bout broke
+dey hearts, but I hadder do it. Dey's only one foh me, you know. To-day
+I's talkin' to dat young feller, Hugh Mawgin, an' ...
+
+MARY. Hugh what! What you sayin', Jim Matthews! Mr. Hugh, you mean.
+
+JIM. [_Hurriedly._] Yes'm, I said "Mr. Hugh." Didn't you hear me, Miss
+Mary?
+
+MARY. What'd you say to him?
+
+JIM. I told 'im I's callin' 'round here 'casionally, an' he said ... he
+...
+
+MARY. [_Looking straight at_ JIM.] He said what?
+
+JIM. He axed me if I's a-courtin', an' I told 'im I mought ... er ... be
+...
+
+MARY. Go on; tell me. Did he say I ought to marry you?
+
+JIM. [_Eagerly._] Yes'm.... [MARY _gasps_.] No'm, not ezzactly.... He
+said as how it was a pity you had nobody to take care o' you, an' had to
+work so hard lak a slave every day. An' he said you's most too purty an'
+good to do it. An' I tuck from 'is talk dat he meant he thought you's
+good enough foh me, an' wanted me to take care o' you, so's you wouldn't
+hadder work.
+
+MARY. _Oh!..._ Yes, I reckon so. [_She is silent._
+
+JIM. He's a eddicated boy, an' he knows. Dey teaches 'im how to know
+everything out yander at dat college place. He sees my worf', he does.
+Co'se I ain't braggin', but de gals all do say ... oh, you know what dey
+says.
+
+MARY. [_Jumping up from her chair._] Jim Matthews, you think I'd marry a
+... oh, I'd ...
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Turning around._] What's you sayin', gal?
+
+MARY. [_Sittin' down._] Oh, aunty! I ... I ... was just askin' Jim to
+play a piece. [_To_ JIM _in a lower voice_.] For the Lord's sake play
+somethin'....
+
+     [_She hides her face in her apron._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Ah-hah.... Play us a piece on yo' box, Jim.
+
+     [JIM, _at a loss as to the meaning of_ MARY'S _tears, but feeling
+     that they are somehow a further proof of his power with the ladies,
+     smiles knowingly, tunes his guitar, and begins strumming a chord.
+     After playing a few bars, he starts singing in a clear voice, with
+     "Ohs" and "Ahs" thrown in._
+
+JIM. Oh, whah you gwine, my lover?
+Gwine on down de road.
+Oh, whah you gwine, my lover?
+Gwine on down de road.
+(_Bass_) Gwine ... on ... gwine on down de road.
+
+She th'owed her arms aroun' me
+An' cast me silver an' gold.
+Said, "Whah you gwine, my lover?"
+Gwine on down de road.
+(_Bass_) Oh, Lawd! ... Oh, Lawd!
+              Gwine ... on ... down ... de ... road.
+
+     [MARY _still leans forward, with her face in her hands_. JIM _stops
+     playing and speaks softly_.
+
+JIM. Miss Mary, I's sho' sorry I made you cry. Honey, I don't want you
+to cry 'bout me lak dat ...
+
+     [_She remains silent. He smiles in self-gratulation, but utters a
+     mournful sigh for her benefit. Pulling his guitar further up on his
+     lap, he takes out his pocket-knife, fits it between his fingers in
+     imitation of the Hawaiians, clears his throat and strikes another
+     chord._
+
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Noticing the silence, looks at_ MARY.] What's de trouble
+wid you, gal? What's de trouble, chile? Oh, Lawdy me! [_Passing her hand
+across her forehead._
+
+MARY. [_Raising her head._] Nothin', nothin'. I'm tickled at Jim. [_To_
+JIM.] Go on, play her piece about the hearse. Play it!
+
+JIM. [_Strums his guitar, tunes it, and begins._]
+
+    Hearse done carried somebody to de graveyard.
+      Lawd, I know my time ain't long.
+    Hearse done carried somebody to de graveyard.
+      Lawd, I know my time ain't long.
+
+     [_He sings louder, syncopating with his feet._]
+
+    Preacher keeps a-preachin' an' people keep a-dyin'.
+      Lawd, I know my time ain't long.
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _begins swaying rhythmically with the music, clapping
+     her hands, and now and then exclaiming_.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Jesus! Lawdy, my Lawd!
+
+     [_She and_ JIM _begin to sing alternately, she the first verse and_
+     JIM _the refrain. While this is going on_ MARY, _unobserved, goes
+     to the window, pulls open the curtain and looks out, stretching her
+     clenched hands above her head. She turns to the mirror, smooths
+     back her heavy hair, shakes her head, snatches off the ribbon and
+     throws it on the floor. Then she pulls off her cloak and lays it on
+     the bed. She picks up the ribbon and puts it in the bureau.
+     Meanwhile the music has continued._
+
+Hammer keep ringin' on somebody's coffin.
+
+JIM. _Lawd_, I know my time ain't long.
+
+     [_They repeat these lines._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. _Gwine_ roll 'em up lak leaves in de judgment.
+
+JIM. Lawd, I know my time ain't long.
+
+     [_After these lines have been repeated_, JIM, _noticing_ MARY'S
+     _absence from his side, stops and looks around_. AUNT CANDACE
+     _keeps on singing a verse or two. She stops and looks around, seas_
+     MARY _standing in an attitude of despair_. JIM _speaks_.
+
+JIM. Miss Mary!
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What is it, honey?
+
+     [_There is a stamping of feet outside._ MARY _raises her head with
+     an expectant look an her face. She runs to the door and opens it.
+     Her expression changes to one of disappointment and fear as_ HENRY
+     MORGAN _enters. He is a man of powerful build, about fifty years
+     old, rough and overbearing. A week's growth of grizzled beard
+     darkens his face. He wears a felt hat, long black overcoat, ripped
+     at the pockets and buttoned up to his chin, big laced boots, and
+     yarn mittens. In his hand he carries a package, which he throws
+     contemptuously on the bed. He keeps his hat on._ MARY _closes the
+     door and stands with her back to it, clasping the latch-string_.
+     AUNT CANDACE _and_ JIM _offer their seats_. JIM'S _look is one of
+     servile respect, that of Aunt Candace one of troubled expectancy_.
+
+MORGAN. [_In a booming voice._] Dad burn you, Jim. Still a-courtin', eh?
+Set down, Candace. I ain't goin't to stay long.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Querulously._] What's he say?
+
+MARY. [_Coming to the centre of the room._] He says for you to set down.
+He ain't goin' to stay long.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Sitting down._] Ah-hah ... Oh, Lawdy! Lawdy!
+
+MORGAN. [_Coming closer to_ AUNT CANDACE.] How you gettin' 'long now,
+Candace?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Po'ly, po'ly, Mr. Mawgin. Ain't got much longer down here,
+ain't much longer.
+
+MORGAN. [_Laughing._] Aw come on, Candace, cut out your foolin'. You
+ain't half as bad off as you make out. [JIM _moves his chair to the
+corner and sits down_.] I understand you. If you'd git up from there an'
+go to work you'd be well in a week.
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Oh, Lawd, Mr. Mawgin, I sho' is po'ly! I hopes you'll
+never have to suffer lak me.
+
+     [_Mumbling, she shakes her head, rocks to and fro without taking
+     her feet from the floor, punctuating her movements by tapping with
+     her stick._ MORGAN _sees_ MARY _looking at the package_.
+
+MORGAN. That's for Mary. I was comin' down this way an' caught up with
+John. He said he was comin' here to bring it. An' so I took an' brought
+it, though he acted sort of queer about it, like he didn't want me even
+to save him a long walk. Wonder what that nigger can be givin' you.
+[MARY _starts toward the bed_.] No, you ain't goin' to see it now, gal.
+We got a little business to 'tend to first. Did you tell Candace what I
+said?
+
+MARY. Mr. Morgan, how could I?... I couldn't do it, not to-night.
+
+MORGAN. Uh-huh ... I knowed it. Knowed I'd better come down here an'
+make sure of it. Durn me, you been cryin', ain't you? [_His voice
+softens._] What's the trouble, gal?
+
+MARY. Nothin', nothin'. I ... I been tickled at Jim.
+
+JIM. Tickled at Jim?
+
+AUNT CANDACE. What does he say?
+
+MORGAN. [_Turning to her._] Keep quiet, can't you, Candace; I got a
+little business with Mary. [AUNT CANDACE _becomes silent and begins
+watching the package. She half starts from her chair, then settles back,
+staring hard at the bundle._ MORGAN _speaks to_ MARY.] You ain't been
+cryin' about what I told you this evenin', have you?
+
+MARY. No, sir. I was tickled at Jim. It wan't nothin', honest it wan't.
+
+MORGAN. Well, go on lyin' if you want to.
+
+MARY. Mr. Morgan, I was jes' ...
+
+MORGAN. No matter. [_Brusquely._] Well, what you goin' to do about what
+I said? [_He looks at her squarely._ JIM _watches them both with open
+mouth_. AUNT CANDACE _keeps staring at the bundle on the bed, and now
+and then glancing around to see if any one is watching her. She is
+oblivious of the conversation._ MARY _stands with bowed head_.] Well,
+what about it? I've done told you you got to get out at the first o' the
+year if you ain't a mind to marry Jim. [JIM _straightens up_.] At least
+you've got to marry somebody that can come here and work. I told you to
+tell Candace to look out for it. Why didn't you tell her like I said?
+
+MARY. I couldn't do it. It'd kill her to leave here. You know it. She's
+been good to me all my life. Oh, I can't do it.
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _stealthily slips across the room and picks up the
+     package from the bed, unseen by any one but_ JIM.
+
+MORGAN. Can't do it? Well, what you want me to do? Lose money on you
+till the end of time! You ain't earned enough to keep you in clothes for
+the last three years since Candace got down, an' ...
+
+     [_A terrible cry rings out._ AUNT CANDACE _stands by the bed,
+     holding a white dress up before her_. MORGAN _looks perplexed.
+     Suddenly he starts back in astonishment._
+
+MARY. [_Starting forward._] It's for me! [_Joyously._] It's mine!
+
+MORGAN. [_Catching_ MARY _by the arm_.] What--what is it?... Heigh!
+Don't you move, gal! Wait a minute!
+
+     [_He pulls her back._ AUNT CANDACE _looks at_ MORGAN. _Gradually he
+     lowers his head._
+
+AUNT CANDACE. I's a-feared on it. I knowed it ... I knowed it. [_She
+throws the dress back on the bed and hobbles to the fire, groaning._]
+Oh, Lawdy! Oh, Lawdy! My po' li'l gal! My po' li'l gal!
+
+     [_She rocks to and fro._ MORGAN'S _hand falls from_ MARY'S
+     _shoulder, and she runs to the bed_.
+
+MARY. He sent it to me! He sent it to me! I knowed he wouldn't forget.
+[_She hugs the dress to her._
+
+MORGAN. [_Turning to her._] Well, and what nigger's sending you presents
+now? [_With suspicion fully aroused._] Who give you that, Mary!
+
+MARY. He did!
+
+MORGAN. [_Sternly._] Who?
+
+MARY. [_Impetuously._] It was him! An' I don't care if you do know it!
+
+MORGAN. Who? You don't mean ...
+
+MARY. I do too--an' ...
+
+MORGAN. God a'mighty, my ... it can't be so.
+
+     [MARY _goes to the window and holds the dress in front of her_.
+
+MARY. It is, too. Mr. Hugh sent it to me. [MORGAN _groans_.] He told me
+to-day he's sorry for me. I knowed he'd remember me; I knowed it. An',
+after all, I ain't been workin' the whole year for nothin'. He's got a
+heart if nobody else ain't.
+
+MORGAN. What in the devil! I wonder ... Lord!
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _still looks in the fire. For a moment_ MORGAN
+     _stands lost in abstraction, then he speaks fiercely_.
+
+MORGAN. Mary, put them damned things up. Put 'em up, I say. [_He goes
+toward her. She shrinks back; holding the dress to her. He snatches it
+from her and throws it on the bed, then he pushes her out in the middle
+of the floor. She wipes the tears from her eyes with her apron._] You
+listen here, gal. We're goin' to settle it right here and now, once and
+for all. You're goin' to marry Jim?
+
+MARY. Mr. Morgan ... oh ... I can't marry him. I can't! I won't! Let me
+stay. Don't drive her out; she'll die. I'll work, I'll hoe an' wash, day
+an' night. I'll do anything, I'll ...
+
+MORGAN. [_Fiercely._] You've tole me that a thousand times, an' you've
+got to say one or the other right now. Right now! Do you hear! Marry
+Jim, I tell you, and it'll be all right. He's smart and he'll take care
+of you ...
+
+MARY. I can't do it, I tell you. I can't! I'd rather die. Look at me.
+Ain't I almost white? Look at him. He's black and I hate him. I can't
+marry no nigger. Oh, don't make me do it.
+
+MORGAN. White! What's that got to do with your marryin'? Ain't you a...?
+You don't think you can marry a white man, do you? I tell you you've got
+to decide to-night. I've been after you now for two years and, gal,
+you've got to do it!
+
+MARY. Don't make me do it! I hate him. I ain't black. Oh, Lord!...
+
+MORGAN. [_Desperately._] Candace!
+
+MARY. [_Clutching at his arm._] Don't tell her. I ain't goin' to see her
+drove out in the cold from her home. Don't tell her.
+
+     [AUNT CANDACE _still looks in the fire_. JIM _sits lost in
+     amazement, idly strumming his guitar_.
+
+MORGAN. Well?
+
+MARY. [_Looking wildly around, as if seeking help._] Oh!...
+
+MORGAN. [_Wiping his face._] Gal, I don't want to be too hard on you.
+But use common sense. I've been good to you. They ain't another man in
+the county that would have kept you for the last three years, an' losin'
+money on you every year. I'm done of it, gal, I'm done. Marry Jim.
+
+MARY. He wouldn't let you do it if he was here. He wouldn't.
+
+MORGAN. Who? Who you talkin' about?
+
+MARY. Mr. Hugh, your boy. He's got feelin's, he has. If he was here ...
+
+MORGAN. [_Hoarsely._] I know it. I know it. Don't you see? He's all I
+got. I can't run the risk of his ... Oh, Mary, I can't tell you. For
+God's sake, marry Jim. Can't you see? You've got to marry him! Hugh's
+gone off for a week, an' I'm goin' to settle it before he ever gets
+back. And when he gets back, you and Candace will be clean out of this
+country, if you don't marry Jim. They ain't nobody else 'round here
+will take you in, and keep you like I have.
+
+MARY. Where ... where's he gone?
+
+MORGAN. He's gone to see his gal. The one he's going to marry. And by
+God, you've got to marry Jim.
+
+MARY. [_Half sobbing._] They ain't no use tryin' to change it. I've
+tried and tried, but they ain't no use. I jus' as well do it. Yes, yes,
+I'll marry him. I'll marry him. They ain't no way to be white. I got to
+be a nigger. I'll marry him, yes. I'll marry him, an' work an' hoe an'
+wash an' raise more children to go through it all like me, maybe other
+children that'll want to be white an' can't. They ain't nobody can help
+me. But look at him. [_Pointing to_ JIM.] He's a nigger an' ... yes ...
+I'm a nigger too.
+
+     [_She throws her arms out, letting them fall at her side._
+
+MORGAN. [_Almost gently._] All right, Mary ... I'll send for the
+preacher and the license in the morning and have him marry you and Jim
+right here. You needn't think about leavin' any more. And you and Jim
+can live here as long as you please. Is that all right, Jim?
+
+JIM. [_Uncertainly._] Yes-suh, yes-suh, Mr. Mawgin! An' I thanks you
+'specially.
+
+MORGAN. [_Going up to_ AUNT CANDACE.] Mary and Jim are going to be
+married to-morrow, Candace. It'll be a lucky day for you. [_She makes no
+answer, but continues her trancelike stare in the fire._ MORGAN _comes
+to_ MARY _and offers his hand. She fails to see it._] Child, what I've
+had to do to-night has hurt me a whole lot worse'n you.... Good-night,
+Mary.
+
+     [_He stands a moment looking at the floor, then goes out quietly._
+
+JIM. [_Coming up to_ MARY.] Miss Mary, don't look lak dat. I's gwine do
+better, I's.... [MARY _keeps her head muffled in her apron_.] Honey, I's
+sho' gwine make you a good man.
+
+     [MARY _pays no attention to him. In his embarrassment he strums his
+     guitar, clears his throat, props his foot up on a chair rung, and
+     begins singing in a low voice._]
+
+    JIM. Lyin' in the jail house,
+    A-peepin' th'ough de bars....
+
+AUNT CANDACE. [_Waking from her reverie._] Bring me de li'l black box,
+gal. Bring me de box! [MARY _drops her apron and stares dully at the
+floor_.] Bring me de box! [_Half-screaming._] Bring me de box, I say!
+[_Trembling and groaning, she stands up._ MARY _goes to the chest and
+brings her the black box_. AUNT CANDACE _drops her stick and clutches
+it_.] I's gwine tell you de secret o' dis li'l box. Yo' mammy told me to
+tell you if de time ever come, an' it's come. She seed trouble an' our
+mammy befo' us. [_She takes a key, tied by a string around her neck, and
+unlocks the box, pulling out a wrinkled white dress, yellowed with age,
+of the style of the last generation._ JIM _sits down, overcome with
+astonishment, staring at the old woman with open mouth_.] Look heah,
+chile. I's gwine tell you now. Nineteen yeahs ago come dis Christmas
+dey's a white man gi'n your mammy dis heah, an' dat white man is kin to
+you, an' he don't live fur off nuther. Gimme dat dress dere on de bed.
+[MARY _gets it and holds it tightly to her breast_. AUNT CANDACE
+_snatches at it, but_ MARY _clings to it_.] Gimme dat dress!
+
+MARY. It's mine!
+
+AUNT CANDACE. Gimme! [_She jerks the dress from_ MARY. _Hobbling to the
+fireplace, she lays both of them carefully on the flames._ JIM _makes a
+movement as if to save them, but she waves him back with her stick_.]
+Git back, nigger! Git back! Dis night I's gwine wipe out some o' de
+traces o' sin. [MARY _sits in her chair, sobbing. As the dresses burn_
+AUNT CANDACE _comes to her and lays her hand upon her head_.] I knows
+yo' feelin's, chile. But yo's got to smother 'em in. Yo's got to smother
+'em in.
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+MOONSHINE
+
+BY
+
+ARTHUR HOPKINS
+
+
+_Moonshine_ is reprinted by special permission of Arthur Hopkins,
+Plymouth Theatre, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission
+to perform, address the author.
+
+
+ARTHUR HOPKINS
+
+Arthur Hopkins, one of the well-known men of the practical theatre of
+to-day, was born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1878. He completed his academic
+training at Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio. At present he
+is the manager of Plymouth Theatre, New York City.
+
+Mr. Hopkins's entire life has been given to the theatre, which is his
+hobby. In the midst of his various activities as a manager he has found
+time to do some dramatic writing. Among his one-act plays are _Thunder
+God_, _Broadway Love_, and _Moonshine_, which appeared in the _Theatre
+Acts Magazine_ for January, 1919.
+
+_Moonshine_ is an excellent play of situation that has grown out of the
+reaction of character on character.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    LUKE HAZY, _Moonshiner_
+    A REVENUE OFFICER
+
+
+
+
+MOONSHINE
+
+
+     SCENE: _Hut of a moonshiner in the mountain wilds of North
+     Carolina. Door back left. Window back right centre. Old deal table
+     right centre. Kitchen chair at either side of table, not close to
+     it. Old cupboard in left corner. Rude stone fireplace left side. On
+     back wall near door is a rough pencil sketch of a man hanging from
+     a tree._
+
+     _At rise of curtain a commotion is heard outside of hut._
+
+LUKE. [_Off stage._] It's all right, boys.... Jist leave him to me....
+Git in there, Mister Revenue.
+
+     [REVENUE, _a Northerner in city attire, without hat, clothes dusty,
+     is pushed through doorway_. LUKE, _a lanky, ill-dressed Southerner,
+     following, closes door_. REVENUE'S _hands are tied behind him_.
+
+LUKE. You must excuse the boys for makin' a demonstration over you,
+Mister Revenue, but you see they don't come across you fellers very
+frequent, and they allus gits excited.
+
+REVENUE. I appreciate that I'm welcome.
+
+LUKE. 'Deed you is, and I'm just agoin' to untie your hands long nuff
+fer you to take a sociable drink. [_Goes to stranger, feels in
+all-pockets for weapons._] Reckon yer travellin' peaceable. [_Unties
+hands._] Won't yer sit down?
+
+REVENUE. [_Drawing over chair and sitting._] Thank you. [_Rubs wrists to
+get back circulation._]
+
+LUKE. [_Going over to cupboard and taking out jug._] Yessa, Mister, the
+boys ain't seen one o' you fellers fer near two years. Began to think
+you wus goin' to neglect us. I wus hopin' you might be Jim Dunn. Have a
+drink?
+
+REVENUE. [_Starts slightly at mention of_ JIM DUNN.] No, thank you, your
+make is too strong for me.
+
+LUKE. It hain't no luck to drink alone when you git company. Better have
+some.
+
+REVENUE. Very well, my friend, I suffer willingly.
+
+     [_Drinks a little and chokes._
+
+LUKE. [_Draining cup._] I reckon ye all don't like the flavor of liquor
+that hain't been stamped.
+
+REVENUE. It's not so bad.
+
+LUKE. The last Revenue that sit in that chair got drunk on my make.
+
+REVENUE. That wouldn't be difficult.
+
+LUKE. No, but it wuz awkward.
+
+REVENUE. Why?
+
+LUKE. I had to wait till he sobered up before I give him his ticker. I
+didn't feel like sendin' him to heaven drunk. He'd a found it awkward
+climbin' that golden ladder.
+
+REVENUE. Thoughtful executioner.
+
+LUKE. So you see mebbe you kin delay things a little by dallyin' with
+the licker.
+
+REVENUE. [_Picking up cup, getting it as far as his lips, slowly puts it
+down._] The price is too great.
+
+LUKE. I'm mighty sorry you ain't Jim Dunn. But I reckon you ain't. You
+don't answer his likeness.
+
+REVENUE. Who's Jim Dunn?
+
+LUKE. You ought to know who Jim Dunn is. He's just about the worst one
+of your revenue critters that ever hit these parts. He's got four of the
+boys in jail. We got a little reception all ready for him. See that?
+
+     [_Pointing to sketch on back wall._
+
+REVENUE. [_Looking at sketch._] Yes.
+
+LUKE. That's Jim Dunn.
+
+REVENUE. [_Rising, examining picture._] Doesn't look much like any one.
+
+
+LUKE. Well, that's what Jim Dunn'll look like when we git 'im. I'm
+mighty sorry you hain't Jim Dunn.
+
+REVENUE. I'm sorry to disappoint you.
+
+LUKE. [_Turning to cupboard and filling pipe._] Oh, it's all right. I
+reckon one Revenue's about as good as another, after all.
+
+REVENUE. Are you sure I'm a revenue officer?
+
+LUKE. [_Rising._] Well, since we ketched ye climin' trees an' snoopin'
+round the stills, I reckon we won't take no chances that you hain't.
+
+REVENUE. Oh.
+
+LUKE. Say, mebbe you'd like a seggar. Here's one I been savin' fer quite
+a spell back, thinkin' mebbe I'd have company some day. [_Brings out
+dried-up cigar, hands it to him._
+
+REVENUE. No, thank you.
+
+LUKE. It hain't no luck to smoke alone when ye got company. [_Striking
+match and holding it to_ REVENUE.] Ye better smoke. [REVENUE _bites off
+end and mouth is filled with dust, spits out dust_. LUKE _holds match to
+cigar. With difficulty_ REVENUE _lights it_.] That's as good a five-cent
+cigar as ye can git in Henderson.
+
+REVENUE. [_After two puffs, makes wry face, throws cigar on table._] You
+make death very easy, Mister.
+
+LUKE. Luke's my name. Yer kin call me Luke. Make you feel as though you
+had a friend near you at the end--Luke Hazy.
+
+REVENUE. [_Starting as though interested, rising._] Not the Luke Hazy
+that cleaned out the Crosby family?
+
+LUKE. [_Startled._] How'd you hear about it?
+
+REVENUE. Hear about it? Why, your name's been in every newspaper in the
+United States. Every time you killed another Crosby the whole feud was
+told all over again. Why, I've seen your picture in the papers twenty
+times.
+
+LUKE. Hain't never had one took.
+
+REVENUE. That don't stop them from printing it. Don't you ever read the
+newspapers?
+
+LUKE. Me read? I hain't read nothin' fer thirty years. Reckon I couldn't
+read two lines in a hour.
+
+REVENUE. You've missed a lot of information about yourself.
+
+LUKE. How many Crosbys did they say I killed?
+
+REVENUE. I think the last report said you had just removed the twelfth.
+
+LUKE. It's a lie! I only killed six ... that's all they wuz--growed up.
+I'm a-waitin' fer one now that's only thirteen.
+
+REVENUE. When'll he be ripe?
+
+LUKE. Jes as soon as he comes a-lookin' fer me.
+
+REVENUE. Will he come?
+
+LUKE. He'll come if he's a Crosby.
+
+REVENUE. A brave family?
+
+LUKE. They don't make 'em any braver--they'd be first-rate folks if they
+wuzn't Crosbys.
+
+REVENUE. If you feel that way why did you start fighting them?
+
+LUKE. I never started no fight. My granddad had some misunderstandin'
+with their granddad. I don't know jes what it wuz about, but I reckon my
+granddad wuz right, and I'll see it through.
+
+REVENUE. You must think a lot of your grandfather.
+
+LUKE. Never seen 'im, but it ain't no luck goin' agin yer own kin. Won't
+ye have a drink?
+
+REVENUE. No--no--thank you.
+
+LUKE. Well, Mr. Revenue, I reckon we might as well have this over.
+
+REVENUE. What?
+
+LUKE. Well, you won't get drunk, and I can't be put to the trouble o'
+havin' somebody guard you.
+
+REVENUE. That'll not be necessary.
+
+LUKE. Oh, I know yer like this yer place now, but this evenin' you
+might take it into yer head to walk out.
+
+REVENUE. I'll not walk out unless you make me.
+
+LUKE. Tain't like I'll let yer, but I wouldn't blame yer none if yu
+tried.
+
+REVENUE. But I'll not.
+
+LUKE. [_Rising._] Say, Mistah Revenue, I wonder if you know what you're
+up against?
+
+REVENUE. What do you mean?
+
+LUKE. I mean I gotta kill you.
+
+REVENUE. [_Rising, pauses._] Well, that lets me out.
+
+LUKE. What do yu mean?
+
+REVENUE. I mean that I've been trying to commit suicide for the last two
+months, but I haven't had the nerve.
+
+LUKE. [_Startled._] Suicide?
+
+REVENUE. Yes. Now that you're willing to kill me, the problem is solved.
+
+LUKE. Why, what d'ye want to commit suicide fer?
+
+REVENUE. I just want to stop living, that's all.
+
+LUKE. Well, yu must have a reason.
+
+REVENUE. No special reason--I find life dull and I'd like to get out of
+it.
+
+LUKE. Dull?
+
+REVENUE. Yes--I hate to go to bed--I hate to get up--I don't care for
+food--I can't drink liquor--I find people either malicious or dull--I
+see by the fate of my acquaintances, both men and women, that love is a
+farce. I have seen fame and preference come to those who least deserved
+them, while the whole world kicked and cuffed the worthy ones. The
+craftier schemer gets the most money and glory, while the fair-minded
+dealer is humiliated in the bankruptcy court. In the name of the law
+every crime is committed; in the name of religion every vice is
+indulged; in the name of education greatest ignorance is rampant.
+
+LUKE. I don't git all of that, but I reckon you're some put out.
+
+REVENUE. I am. The world's a failure ... what's more, it's a farce. I
+don't like it but I can't change it, so I'm just aching for a chance to
+get out of it.... [_Approaching_ LUKE.] And you, my dear friend, are
+going to present me the opportunity.
+
+LUKE. Yes, I reckon you'll get your wish now.
+
+REVENUE. Good ... if you only knew how I've tried to get killed.
+
+LUKE. Well, why didn't you kill yerself?
+
+REVENUE. I was afraid.
+
+LUKE. Afreed o' what--hurtin' yourself?
+
+REVENUE. No, afraid of the consequences.
+
+LUKE. Whad d'ye mean?
+
+REVENUE. Do you believe in another life after this one?
+
+LUKE. I kan't say ez I ever give it much thought.
+
+REVENUE. Well, don't--because if you do you'll never kill another Crosby
+... not even a revenue officer.
+
+LUKE. 'Tain't that bad, is it?
+
+REVENUE. Worse. Twenty times I've had a revolver to my head--crazy to
+die--and then as my finger pressed the trigger I'd get a terrible
+dread--a dread that I was plunging into worse terrors than this world
+ever knew. If killing were the end it would be easy, but what if it's
+only the beginning of something worse?
+
+LUKE. Well, you gotta take some chances.
+
+REVENUE. I'll not take that one. You know, Mr. Luke, life was given to
+us by some one who probably never intended that we should take it, and
+that some one has something ready for people who destroy his property.
+That's what frightens me.
+
+LUKE. You do too much worryin' to be a regular suicide.
+
+REVENUE. Yes, I do. That's why I changed my plan.
+
+LUKE. What plan?
+
+REVENUE. My plan for dying.
+
+LUKE. Oh, then you didn't give up the idea?
+
+REVENUE. No, indeed--I'm still determined to die, but I'm going to make
+some one else responsible.
+
+LUKE. Oh--so you hain't willing to pay fer yer own funeral music?
+
+REVENUE. No, sir. I'll furnish the passenger, but some one else must buy
+the ticket. You see, when I finally decided I'd be killed, I immediately
+exposed myself to every danger I knew.
+
+LUKE. How?
+
+REVENUE. In a thousand ways.... [_Pause._] Did you ever see an
+automobile?
+
+LUKE. No.
+
+REVENUE. They go faster than steam engines, and they don't _stay_ on
+tracks. Did you ever hear of Fifth Avenue, New York?
+
+LUKE. No.
+
+REVENUE. Fifth Avenue is jammed with automobiles, eight deep all day
+long. People being killed every day. I crossed Fifth Avenue a thousand
+times a day, every day for weeks, never once trying to get out of the
+way, and always praying I'd be hit.
+
+LUKE. And couldn't yu git hit?
+
+REVENUE. [_In disgust._] No. Automobiles only hit people who try to get
+out of the way. [_Pause._] When that failed, I frequented the lowest
+dives on the Bowery, flashing a roll of money and wearing diamonds,
+hoping they'd kill me for them. They stole the money and diamonds, but
+never touched me.
+
+LUKE. Couldn't you pick a fight?
+
+REVENUE. I'm coming to that. You know up North they believe that a man
+can be killed in the South for calling another man a liar.
+
+LUKE. That's right.
+
+REVENUE. It is, is it? Well, I've called men liars from Washington to
+Atlanta, and I'm here to tell you about it.
+
+LUKE. They must a took pity on ye.
+
+REVENUE. Do you know Two Gun Jake that keeps the dive down in Henderson?
+
+LUKE. I should think I do.... Jake's killed enough of 'em.
+
+REVENUE. He's a bad man, ain't he?
+
+LUKE. He's no trifler.
+
+REVENUE. I wound up in Jake's place two nights ago, pretending to be
+drunk. Jake was cursing niggers.
+
+LUKE. He's allus doin' that.
+
+REVENUE. So I elbowed my way up to the bar and announced that I was an
+expert in the discovery of nigger blood ... could tell a nigger who was
+63-64ths white.
+
+LUKE. Ye kin?
+
+REVENUE. No, I can't, but I made them believe it. I then offered to look
+them over and tell them if they had any nigger blood in them. A few of
+them sneaked away, but the rest stood for it. I passed them all until I
+got to Two Gun Jake. I examined his eyeballs, looked at his
+finger-nails, and said, "You're a nigger."
+
+LUKE. An' what did Jake do?
+
+REVENUE. He turned pale, took me into the back room. He said: "Honest to
+God, mister, can ye see nigger blood in me?" I said: "Yes." "There's no
+mistake about it?" "Not a bit," I answered. "Good God," he said, "I
+always suspected it." Then he pulled out his gun--
+
+LUKE. Eh ... eh?
+
+REVENUE. And shot _himself_.
+
+LUKE. Jake shot hisself!... Is he dead?
+
+REVENUE. I don't know--I was too disgusted to wait. I wandered around
+until I thought of you moonshiners ... scrambled around in the mountains
+until I found your still. I _sat_ on it and waited until you boys showed
+up, and here I am, and you're going to kill me.
+
+LUKE. [_Pause._] Ah, so ye want us to do yer killin' fer ye, do ye?
+
+REVENUE. You're my last hope. If I fail this time I may as well give it
+up.
+
+LUKE. [_Takes out revolver, turns sidewise and secretly removes
+cartridges from chamber. Rises._] What wuz that noise?
+
+     [_Lays revolver on table and steps outside of door._ REVENUE _looks
+     at revolver, apparently without interest_.
+
+     [LUKE _cautiously enters doorway and expresses surprise at seeing_
+     REVENUE _making no attempt to secure revolver. Feigning excitement,
+     goes to table, picks up gun._
+
+LUKE. I reckon I'm gettin' careless, leavin' a gun layin' around here
+that-a-way. Didn't you see it?
+
+REVENUE. Yes.
+
+LUKE. Well, why didn't ye grab it?
+
+REVENUE. What for?
+
+LUKE. To git the drop on me.
+
+REVENUE. Can't you understand what I've been telling you, mister? I
+don't _want_ the drop on you.
+
+LUKE. Well, doggone if I don't believe yer tellin' me the truth. Thought
+I'd just see what ye'd do. Ye see, I emptied it first.
+
+     [_Opens up gun._
+
+REVENUE. That wasn't necessary.
+
+LUKE. Well, I reckon ye better git along out o' here, mister.
+
+REVENUE. You don't mean you're weakening?
+
+LUKE. I ain't got no call to do your killin' fer you. If ye hain't sport
+enough to do it yerself, I reckon ye kin go on sufferin'.
+
+REVENUE. But I told you why I don't want to do it. One murder more or
+less means nothing to you. You don't care anything about the hereafter.
+
+LUKE. Mebbe I don't, but there ain't no use my takin' any more chances
+than I have to. And what's more, mister, from what you been tellin' me I
+reckon there's a charm on you, and I ain't goin' to take no chances
+goin' agin charms.
+
+REVENUE. So _you're_ going to go back on me?
+
+LUKE. Yes, siree.
+
+REVENUE. Well, maybe some of the other boys will be willing. I'll wait
+till they come.
+
+LUKE. The other boys ain't goin' to see you. You're a leavin' this yer
+place right now--now! It won't do no good. You may as well go peaceable;
+ye ain't got no right to expect us to bear yer burdens.
+
+REVENUE. Damn it all! I've spoiled it again.
+
+LUKE. I reckon you better make up yer mind to go on livin'.
+
+REVENUE. That looks like the only way out.
+
+LUKE. Come on, I'll let you ride my horse to town. It's the only one we
+got, so yu can leave it at Two Gun Jake's, and one o' the boys'll go git
+it, or I reckon I'll go over myself and see if Jake made a job of it.
+
+REVENUE. I suppose it's no use arguing with you.
+
+LUKE. Not a bit. Come on, you.
+
+REVENUE. Well, I'd like to leave my address so if you ever come to New
+York you can look me up.
+
+LUKE. 'Tain't likely I'll ever come to New York.
+
+REVENUE. Well, I'll leave it, anyhow. Have you a piece of paper?
+
+LUKE. Paper what you write on? Never had none, mister.
+
+REVENUE. [_Looking about room, sees_ JIM DUNN's _picture on wall, goes
+to it, takes it down_.] If you don't mind, I'll put it on the back of
+Jim Dunn's picture. [_Placing picture on table, begins to print._] I'll
+print it for you, so it'll be easy to read. My address is here, so if
+you change your mind you can send for me.
+
+LUKE. 'Tain't likely--come on. [_Both go to doorway_--LUKE _extends
+hand_, REVENUE _takes it_.] Good-by, mister--cheer up ... there's the
+horse.
+
+REVENUE. Good-by. [_Shaking_ LUKE'S _hand_.
+
+LUKE. Don't be so glum, mister. Lemme hear you laff jist onct before yu
+go. [REVENUE _begins to laugh weakly_.] Aw, come on, laff out with it
+hearty. [REVENUE _laughs louder_.] Heartier yit.
+
+     [REVENUE _is now shouting his laughter, and is heard laughing until
+     hoof-beats of his horse die down in the distance_.
+
+     [LUKE _watches for a moment, then returns to table--takes a
+     drink--picks up picture--turns it around several times before
+     getting it right--then begins to study. In attempting to make out
+     the name he slowly traces in the air with his index finger a
+     capital "J"--then mutters "J-J-J," then describes a letter
+     "I"--mutters "I-I-I," then a letter "M"--muttering "M-M-M,
+     J-I-M--J-I-M--JIM." In the same way describes and mutters D-U-N-N._
+
+LUKE. Jim Dunn! By God! [_He rushes to corner, grabs shot-gun, runs to
+doorway, raises gun in direction stranger has gone--looks intently--then
+slowly lets gun fall to his side, and scans the distance with his hand
+shadowing his eyes--steps inside--slowly puts gun in corner--seats
+himself at table._] Jim Dunn!--and he begged me to kill 'im!!
+
+
+
+
+MODESTY
+
+BY
+
+PAUL HERVIEU
+
+
+_Modesty_ is reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark, the
+translator of the play from the French, and of Samuel French, publisher,
+New York City. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address
+Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City.
+
+
+PAUL HERVIEU
+
+Paul Hervieu, one of the foremost of contemporary French dramatists, was
+born in 1857 at Neuilly, near Paris. Although he prepared for the bar,
+having passed the examination at twenty, and practised his profession
+for a few years, he soon set to writing short stories and novels which
+appeared in the early eighties. _The Nippers_, in 1890, established his
+reputation as a dramatist. The remainder of his life was given to
+writing for the stage. In 1900 he was elected to the French Academy. He
+died October 15, 1915.
+
+In addition to _The Nippers_, Hervieu's best-known long plays are _The
+Passing of the Torch_, _The Labyrinth_, and _Know Thyself_.
+
+_Modesty_ is his well-known one-act play. In subtlety of technic and in
+delicacy of touch it is one of the finest examples of French one-act
+plays. Its humor and light, graceful satire are noteworthy.
+
+
+PERSONS IN THE PLAY
+
+    HENRIETTE
+    JACQUES
+    ALBERT
+
+
+
+
+MODESTY
+
+
+     TIME: _The present._
+
+     SCENE: _A drawing-room. Entrance_, C; _sofa, chairs, writing-desk._
+     JACQUES _and_ HENRIETTE _enter_ C, _from dinner_. HENRIETTE _in
+     ball costume_, JACQUES _in evening dress. They come down_ C.
+
+HENRIETTE. What is it? Is it so terribly embarrassing?
+
+JACQUES. You can easily guess.
+
+HENRIETTE. You're so long-winded. You make me weary--come to the point.
+
+JACQUES. I'll risk all at a stroke--My dear Henriette, we are cousins. I
+am unmarried, you--a widow. Will you--will you be my wife?
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh, my dear Jacques, what _are_ you thinking of? We were such
+good friends! And now you're going to be angry.
+
+JACQUES. Why?
+
+HENRIETTE. Because I'm not going to give you the sort of answer you'd
+like.
+
+JACQUES. You don't--you don't think I'd make a good husband?
+
+HENRIETTE. Frankly, no.
+
+JACQUES. I don't please you?
+
+HENRIETTE. As a cousin you are charming; as a husband you would be quite
+impossible.
+
+JACQUES. What have you against me?
+
+HENRIETTE. Nothing that you're to blame for. It is merely the fault of
+my character; _that_ forces me to refuse you.
+
+JACQUES. But I can't see why you----?
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With an air of great importance._] A great change is taking
+place in the hearts of us women. We have resolved henceforward not to be
+treated as dolls, but as creatures of reason. As for me, I am most
+unfortunate, for nobody ever did anything but flatter me. I have always
+been too self-satisfied, too----
+
+JACQUES. You have always been the most charming of women, the most----
+
+HENRIETTE. Stop! It's exactly that sort of exaggeration that's begun to
+make me so unsure of myself. I want you to understand once for all,
+Jacques, I have a conscience, and, furthermore, it is beginning to
+develop. I have taken some important resolutions.
+
+JACQUES. What _do_ you mean?
+
+HENRIETTE. I have resolved to better myself, to raise my moral and
+intellectual standards, and to do that I must be guided, criticised----
+
+JACQUES. But you already possess every imaginable quality! You are
+charitable, cultured, refined----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Annoyed._] Please!
+
+     [_Turns away and sits on settee._ JACQUES _addresses her from
+     behind chair_.
+
+JACQUES. You are discreet, witty----
+
+HENRIETTE. The same old compliments! Everybody tells me that. I want to
+be preached to, contradicted, scolded----
+
+JACQUES. You could never stand _that_.
+
+HENRIETTE. Yes, I could. I should be happy to profit by the criticism.
+It would inspire me.
+
+JACQUES. I'd like to see the man who has the audacity to criticise you
+to your face----
+
+HENRIETTE. That is enough! I trust you are aware that you are not the
+person fit to exercise this influence over me?
+
+JACQUES. How could I? Everything about you pleases me. It can never be
+otherwise.
+
+HENRIETTE. How interesting! That's the very reason I rejected your
+proposal. I sha'n't marry until I am certain that I shall not be
+continually pestered with compliments and flattery and submission. The
+man who marries me shall make it his business to remind me of my
+shortcomings, to correct all my mistakes. He must give me the assurance
+that I am continually bettering myself.
+
+JACQUES. And this--husband--have you found him already?
+
+HENRIETTE. What--? Oh, who knows?
+
+JACQUES. Perhaps it's--Albert?
+
+HENRIETTE. Perhaps it is--what of it?
+
+JACQUES. Really!
+
+HENRIETTE. You want me to speak frankly?
+
+JACQUES. Of course.
+
+HENRIETTE. Then--you wouldn't be annoyed if I said something nice about
+Albert?
+
+     [JACQUES _brings down_ C. _chair which is by desk, facing_
+     HENRIETTE.
+
+JACQUES. Why, he's your friend!
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh! So you, too, have a good opinion of him?
+
+JACQUES. Certainly.
+
+HENRIETTE. Well, what would you say of him?
+
+JACQUES. [_Trying to be fair._] I'd trust him with money--I've never
+heard he was a thief.
+
+HENRIETTE. But in other ways?
+
+JACQUES. [_Still conscientious._] I believe him to be
+somewhat--somewhat----
+
+HENRIETTE. Wilful? Headstrong?
+
+JACQUES. Um--uncultured, let us say.
+
+HENRIETTE. As you like--but for my part, I find that that air of his
+inspires absolute confidence. He knows how to be severe at times----
+
+JACQUES. You're mistaken about that; that's only simple brute force. Go
+to the Zoo: the ostrich, the boa constrictor, the rhinoceros, all
+produce the same effect on you as your Albert----
+
+HENRIETTE. My Albert? My Albert? Oh, I don't appropriate him so quickly
+as all that. His qualifications as censor are not yet entirely
+demonstrated.
+
+     [JACQUES _rises and approaches_ HENRIETTE, _who maintains an air of
+     cold dignity_.
+
+JACQUES. For heaven's sake, Henriette, stop this nonsense!
+
+HENRIETTE. What nonsense?
+
+JACQUES. Tell me you are only playing with me. That you only wanted to
+put my love to the test! To make me jealous! To torture me! You have
+succeeded. Stop it, for heaven's sake----
+
+HENRIETTE. My dear friend, I'm very sorry for you. I wish I could help
+you, but I cannot. I have given you a perfect description of the husband
+I want, and I am heart-broken that you bear so remote a resemblance to
+him.
+
+JACQUES. Only promise you will think over your decision.
+
+HENRIETTE. It is better to stop right now.
+
+JACQUES. Don't send me away like this. Don't----
+
+HENRIETTE. I might give you false hopes. I have only to tell you that I
+shall never consent to be the wife of a man who cannot be the severest
+of censors.
+
+JACQUES. [_Kneeling._] I beg you!
+
+HENRIETTE. No, no, no, Jacques! Spare me that. [_A telephone rings in
+the next room._] There's the 'phone----
+
+JACQUES. Don't go!
+
+     [HENRIETTE _rises hastily and goes to door_. JACQUES _tries for a
+     moment to stop her_.
+
+HENRIETTE. I must go. Go away, I tell you. I'll be furious if I find you
+here when I come back.
+
+JACQUES. Henriette!
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Coming down_ L. _to table_.] Not now! Please, Jacques.
+[_Exit._]
+
+JACQUES. I can't leave it that way. I am the husband who will make her
+happy. But how? That is the question. [_Pause._] Ah, Albert!
+
+     [_Enter_ ALBERT. _He shakes hands with_ JACQUES.
+
+ALBERT. How are you, rival?
+
+JACQUES. [_Gravely._] My friend, we are no longer rivals.
+
+ALBERT. How's that?
+
+JACQUES. I have just had a talk with Henriette; she refuses to marry
+either one of us.
+
+ALBERT. Did she mention me?
+
+JACQUES. Casually.
+
+     [_Both sit down_, ALBERT _on sofa_, JACQUES _on chair near it_.
+
+ALBERT. What did she say?
+
+JACQUES. Oh, I wouldn't repeat it; it wouldn't be friendly.
+
+ALBERT. I _must_ know.
+
+JACQUES. Very well, then--she said that you had not succeeded--nor had
+I--to find the way to her heart. Between you and me, we've got a
+high-minded woman to deal with, a philosopher who detests flattery. It
+seems you have been in the habit of paying her compliments----
+
+ALBERT. I never pay compliments.
+
+JACQUES. Whatever you did, she didn't like it. Moreover--since you want
+the whole truth--you seem to her a bit--ridiculous.
+
+ALBERT. Pardon?
+
+JACQUES. The very word: ridiculous. She wants a husband who will act as
+a sort of conscience pilot. Evidently, you haven't appealed to her in
+that capacity.
+
+ALBERT. Sometimes I used to be rather sharp with her----
+
+JACQUES. You did it too daintily, perhaps; you lacked severity. I'll
+wager you smiled, instead of scowled--that would have been fatal!
+
+ALBERT. I don't understand.
+
+JACQUES. Henriette is a singular woman; to get her, you have to tell her
+that you don't like her--her pride demands it. Tell her all her bad
+qualities, straight from the shoulder.
+
+ALBERT. [_Feeling himself equal to the task._] Don't worry about that!
+[_Rises and walks about._] I know women love to be told things straight
+out.
+
+JACQUES. I'm not the man for that; nor are you, I suppose?
+
+ALBERT. No? Jacques, I'm awfully obliged to you; you've done me a good
+turn----
+
+JACQUES, Don't mention it----
+
+ALBERT. You want to do me one more favor?
+
+JACQUES. [_Devotedly._] Anything you like!
+
+ALBERT. Promise me you'll never let Henrietta know that you told me
+this?
+
+JACQUES. I promise; but why?
+
+ALBERT. You know she has to understand that my behavior toward her is in
+character. Natural, you see.
+
+JACQUES. Oh, you're going at it strenuously.
+
+ALBERT. I am.
+
+JACQUES. Your decision honors you.
+
+ALBERT. Let's not have Henriette find us together. Would you mind
+disappearing?
+
+JACQUES. With pleasure. I'll look in later and get the news.
+
+     [JACQUES _rises_.
+
+ALBERT. Thanks, Jacques.
+
+JACQUES. Good-by, Albert.
+
+     [_Exits after shaking hands cordially with_ ALBERT.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Re-entering as_ ALBERT _assumes a rather severe attitude_.]
+How are you? [_Pause._] Have you seen Jacques?
+
+ALBERT. [_With a determined air._] No, Henriette. Thank God!
+
+HENRIETTE. Why?
+
+ALBERT. Because it pains me to see men in your presence whom you care
+nothing for.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Delighted._] You don't like that?
+
+     [_Sitting down on sofa._
+
+ALBERT. No, I don't. And I'd like to tell you----
+
+HENRIETTE. About my relations with Jacques?
+
+ALBERT. Oh, he's not the only one.
+
+HENRIETTE. Heaps of others, I suppose?
+
+ALBERT. [_Sits on chair near sofa._] You suppose correctly; heaps.
+
+HENRIETTE. Really?
+
+ALBERT. You are a coquette.
+
+HENRIETTE. You think so?
+
+ALBERT. I am positive.
+
+HENRIETTE. I suppose I displease you in other ways, too?
+
+ALBERT. In a great many other ways.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Really delighted._] How confidently you say that!
+
+ALBERT. So much the worse if you don't like it!
+
+HENRIETTE. Quite the contrary, my dear Albert; you can't imagine how you
+please me when you talk like that. It's perfectly adorable.
+
+ALBERT. It makes very little difference to me whether I please you or
+not. I speak according to my temperament. Perhaps it is a bit
+authoritative, but I can't help _that_.
+
+HENRIETTE. You are superb.
+
+ALBERT. Oh, no. I'm just myself.
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh, if you were only the----
+
+ALBERT. I haven't the slightest idea what you were about to say, but
+I'll guarantee that there's not a more inflexible temper than mine in
+Paris.
+
+HENRIETTE. I can easily believe it. [_Pause._] Now tell me in what way
+you think I'm coquettish.
+
+     [_Sitting on edge of sofa in an interested attitude._ ALBERT _takes
+     out cigarette, lights and smokes it_.
+
+ALBERT. That's easy; for instance, when you go to the theatre, to a
+reception, to the races. As soon as you arrive the men flock about in
+dozens; those who don't know you come to be introduced. You're the
+talking-stock of society. Now I should be greatly obliged if you would
+tell me to what you attribute this notoriety?
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Modestly._] Well, I should attribute it to the fact that I
+am--agreeable, and pleasant----
+
+ALBERT. There are many women no less so.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Summoning up all her modesty to reply._] You force me to
+recognize the fact----
+
+ALBERT. And I know many women fully as pleasant as you who don't flaunt
+their favors in the face of everybody; _they_ preserve some semblance of
+dignity, a certain air of aloof distinction that it would do you no harm
+to acquire.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With a gratitude that is conscious of its bounds._] Thanks,
+thanks so much. [_Drawing back to a corner of the sofa._] I am deeply
+obliged to you----
+
+ALBERT. Not at all.
+
+HENRIETTE. In the future I shall try to behave more decorously.
+
+ALBERT. Another thing----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_The first signs of impatience begin to appear._] What?
+Another thing to criticise?
+
+ALBERT. A thousand! [_Settling himself comfortably._
+
+HENRIETTE. Well, hurry up.
+
+ALBERT. You must rid yourself of your excessive and ridiculous
+school-girl sentimentality.
+
+HENRIETTE. I wonder just on what you base your statement. Would you
+oblige me so far as to explain that?
+
+ALBERT. With pleasure. I remember one day in the country you were in
+tears because a _poor_ little mouse had fallen into the claws of a
+_wretched_ cat; two minutes later you were sobbing because the _poor_
+cat choked in swallowing the _wretched_ little mouse.
+
+HENRIETTE. That was only my kindness to dumb animals. Is it wrong to be
+kind to dumb animals?
+
+     [_She is about to rise when_ ALBERT _stops her with a gesture_.
+
+ALBERT. That would be of no consequence, if it weren't that you were of
+so contradictory a nature that you engage in the emptiest, most
+frivolous conversations, the most----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Slightly disdainful._] Ah, you are going too far! You make
+me doubt your power of analysis. I am interested only in noble and high
+things----
+
+ALBERT. And yet as soon as the conversation takes a serious turn, it's
+appalling to see you; you yawn and look bored to extinction.
+
+HENRIETTE. There you are right--partly.
+
+ALBERT. You see!
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Sharp and even antagonistic._] Yes, I have that unfortunate
+gift of understanding things before people have finished explaining
+them. While the others are waiting for the explanation, I can't wait,
+and I fly on miles ahead----
+
+ALBERT. Hm--that sounds probable; I sha'n't say anything more about that
+just now. But while I'm on the subject, I have more than once noticed
+that you are guilty of the worst vice woman ever possessed----
+
+HENRIETTE. And what, if you please?
+
+ALBERT. Vanity.
+
+HENRIETTE. I vain? Oh, you're going too far!
+
+ALBERT. [_Unruffled._] Not a word! Every time I tell you a fault, you
+twist it round to your own advantage. Whereas you are really worse----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Rising and gathering her skirts about her with virtuous
+indignation._] You are rude! I suppose you would find fault with me if I
+considered myself more polite than the person whom I have the honor to
+address?
+
+ALBERT. I hope you don't intend that remark as personal.
+
+HENRIETTE. I certainly do.
+
+     [_She crosses to the other side of the stage and sits down._ ALBERT
+     _rises and goes up to her_.
+
+ALBERT. Henriette! No! [_Laughing._] I see your trick.
+
+HENRIETTE. What do you mean?
+
+ALBERT. You can't deceive me by pretending to be angry. You wanted to
+see whether I could withstand your temper. Let us now proceed to the
+next chapter: your manner of dressing.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Now really outraged._] My manner of dressing? You dare!
+
+     [HENRIETTE _crosses_ L. _Front_, ALBERT _following her_.
+
+ALBERT. Yes, that will be enough for to-day----
+
+HENRIETTE. And then you'll begin again to-morrow!
+
+ALBERT. Yes.
+
+HENRIETTE. And do you think for one minute that I'll listen to you while
+you insult me to my face? _You_ are the vain one, to think you can come
+to that! _You_ are the frivolous one, _you_ are the----
+
+ALBERT. [_Slightly perturbed._] Be careful what you say!
+
+HENRIETTE. I'll take care of that. Let me tell you that you are a
+detestable cynic. You are disgustingly personal; always dwelling on
+details, on the least----
+
+ALBERT. Which is as much as calling me a fool?
+
+HENRIETTE. Just about. You would be if you didn't read your morning
+paper regularly; so regularly that I know in advance exactly what you
+are going to say to me during the day.
+
+ALBERT. Why not call me a parrot?
+
+HENRIETTE. That would flatter you, for you don't speak as well as a
+parrot; a parrot's memory never gets clouded, a parrot has at least the
+common politeness to----
+
+ALBERT. [_Between his teeth._] I won't stand for this. I wonder how you
+could have endured me so long if you thought me such a fool.
+
+HENRIETTE. I believed you harmless.
+
+ALBERT. Are you aware that you have wounded me cruelly?
+
+HENRIETTE. _You_ have wounded _me_. Thank heaven, though, we had this
+discussion! Now I'll know how to conduct myself toward you in the
+future.
+
+ALBERT. Thank heaven for the same thing! It was high time! I grieve to
+think that only last night I had fully made up my mind to ask you to be
+my wife!
+
+HENRIETTE. My dear friend, if you ever do so, I shall show you the door
+immediately.
+
+     [_Enter_ JACQUES _hurriedly_. HENRIETTE _runs to him as for
+     protection_.
+
+JACQUES. What's all this noise? What's the matter?
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh, Jacques--I'm so glad you've come.
+
+ALBERT. Just in time! You put an end to our pleasant little tete-a-tete.
+
+JACQUES. But what's happened?
+
+HENRIETTE. Well, monsieur here----
+
+ALBERT. No, it was mademoiselle who----
+
+     [HENRIETTE _and_ ALBERT _each take an arm of_ JACQUES _and bring
+     him down-stage_ C. _His attention is constantly shifting from one
+     to the other, as they address him in turn._
+
+HENRIETTE. Just think, Jacques----
+
+ALBERT. Jacques, she had the audacity to----
+
+HENRIETTE. Stop! I'm going to tell him first----
+
+JACQUES. You're both too excited to explain anything. Albert, you take a
+little stroll and cool off.
+
+ALBERT. [_Retreating toward the door._] Charmed.
+
+HENRIETTE. Then I can draw a free breath.
+
+JACQUES. [_To_ ALBERT.] I'll fix up things while you're away.
+
+ALBERT. [_To both._] I won't give in.
+
+HENRIETTE. Neither will I.
+
+JACQUES. Tut, tut!
+
+ALBERT. Good-day, mademoiselle.
+
+HENRIETTE. Good-day.
+
+JACQUES. Good-day, Albert.
+
+     [_Exit_ ALBERT.
+
+HENRIETTE. Thank goodness, we're rid of him!
+
+JACQUES. [_Sympathetically._] Tell me all about it.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_Sits down on sofa, inviting_ JACQUES _by a gesture to do
+the same. He sits beside her._] That man invented the most abominable
+things about me; criticised me to my face!
+
+JACQUES. He did!
+
+HENRIETTE. It was so ridiculous--makes me sick to think about it.
+
+JACQUES. My dear Henriette, don't think about it. Albert must have
+behaved like a brute to make you so angry.
+
+HENRIETTE. Yes, don't you think so? _You_ think I'm right?
+
+JACQUES. [_Loyally._] Of course I do.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_At her ease once more._] You encourage me, Jacques.
+
+JACQUES. When I saw you were angry I said to myself at once: "Henriette
+is right."
+
+HENRIETTE. Really?
+
+JACQUES. I said it because I knew you were by nature peace-loving and
+considerate----
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With profound conviction._] Well, I think that's the least
+that could be said of me.
+
+JACQUES. In any event, you are always tactful, you always----
+
+HENRIETTE. _You_ know me, Jacques!
+
+JACQUES. I flatter myself. I felt instinctively you couldn't be wrong.
+You have always been so admirably poised, so unfailingly considerate.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With perfect simplicity._] Frankly now, do I ever lose my
+temper with you?
+
+JACQUES. [_In good faith._] Never. With me you are always patient,
+gracious, modest----
+
+HENRIETTE. But I remember, a little while ago, I made you suffer----
+
+JACQUES. Yes, I was unhappy. But "if after every storm comes such a
+calm"----
+
+HENRIETTE. It was all my fault. You understand me; you are truly a
+friend.
+
+JACQUES. Nothing more?
+
+     [_Rising, but standing near her._ HENRIETTE _blushingly looks down
+     at her shoe_.
+
+HENRIETTE. Oh----
+
+JACQUES. Prove that you mean that sincerely.
+
+HENRIETTE. What have I to do? [_Same business._
+
+JACQUES. Place your future in my hands; marry me.
+
+HENRIETTE. [_With downcast eyes._] I was just thinking about it. [_Same
+business, but with repressed joy._
+
+JACQUES. [_About to embrace her._] Ah!
+
+HENRIETTE. Wait!
+
+     [_Complete metamorphosis. Her joy is still present, but it has
+     taken on a playful, serio-comic aspect. Rising and putting her hand
+     in his._
+
+JACQUES. Why do you hesitate?
+
+HENRIETTE. Jacques, do you remember what I told you not long ago?
+
+JACQUES. Yes.
+
+HENRIETTE. In spite of that, are you quite sure that I am not vain or
+coquettish?
+
+JACQUES. I am certain.
+
+HENRIETTE. You are also firmly resolved to be my moral guide, critic,
+helper?
+
+JACQUES. [_Stolid as ever._] I am.
+
+HENRIETTE. I make one condition.
+
+JACQUES. Name it.
+
+HENRIETTE. On your word of honor?
+
+JACQUES. On my word of honor. Tell me.
+
+HENRIETTE. Will you swear to tell me, without pity, every time you find
+me at fault? Swear.
+
+JACQUES. I swear.
+
+HENRIETTE. Then you have my promise.
+
+JACQUES. [_As they embrace._] Dearest!
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE DEACON'S HAT
+
+BY
+
+JEANNETTE MARKS
+
+
+_The Deacon's Hat_ is reprinted by special arrangement with Miss
+Jeannette Marks and with Little, Brown and Company, Boston, the
+publisher of _Three Welsh Plays_, from which this play is taken. All
+rights reserved. For permission to perform address the author in care
+of the publisher.
+
+
+JEANNETTE MARKS
+
+Jeannette Marks, well-known essayist, poet, and playwright, was born in
+1875 at Chattanooga, Tennessee, but spent her early life in
+Philadelphia, where her father, the late William Dennis Marks, was
+professor of dynamics in the University of Pennsylvania and president of
+the Edison Electric Light Company. She attended school in Dresden, and
+in 1900 was graduated from Wellesley College. She obtained her master's
+degree from Wellesley in 1903. Her graduate studies were continued at
+the Bodleian Library and at the British Museum. Since 1901 she has been
+on the staff of the English Department at Mount Holyoke College, South
+Hadley, Massachusetts. Her chief courses are Nineteenth Century Poetry
+and Play-writing.
+
+Miss Marks's interest in Welsh life is the result of her hiking several
+summers among the Welsh hills and valleys. She became intimately
+acquainted with Welsh peasant life. It is said that Edward Knobloch,
+well-known dramatist, on one of her homeward voyages from one of her
+summer outings in Wales, pointed out to Miss Marks the dramatic
+possibilities of the material she had thus acquired. _Three Welsh Plays_
+was the result. Two of these plays, without the author's knowledge, were
+entered in 1911 for the Welsh National Theatre prize contest. To her
+credit, the plays won the prize. The complete volume appeared in 1917.
+
+_The Deacon's Hat_ is a fine study of the life of the common folk of
+Wales.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+
+    DEACON ROBERTS, _a stout, oldish Welshman_
+    HUGH WILLIAMS, _an earnest, visionary young man who owns Y Gegin_
+    NELI WILLIAMS, _his capable wife_
+    MRS. JONES, _the Wash, a stout, kindly woman who wishes to buy soap_
+    MRS. JENKINS, _the Midwife, after pins for her latest baby_
+    TOM MORRIS, _the Sheep, who comes to buy tobacco and remains to pray_
+
+
+
+
+THE DEACON'S HAT[I]
+
+
+     SCENE: _A little shop called Y Gegin (The Kitchen), in Bala, North
+     Wales._
+
+     TIME: _Monday morning at half-past eleven._
+
+     _To the right is the counter of Y Gegin, set out with a bountiful
+     supply of groceries; behind the counter are grocery-stocked
+     shelves. Upon the counter is a good-sized enamel-ware bowl filled
+     with herring pickled in brine and leek, also a basket of fresh
+     eggs, a jar of pickles, some packages of codfish, a half dozen
+     loaves of bread, a big round cheese, several pounds of butter
+     wrapped in print paper, etc., etc._
+
+     _To the left are a cheerful glowing fire and ingle._
+
+     _At the back center is a door; between the door and the fire stands
+     a grandfather's clock with a shining brass face. Between the clock
+     and the door, back centre, is a small tridarn [Welsh dresser] and a
+     chair. From the rafters hang flitches of bacon, hams, bunches of
+     onions, herbs, etc. On either side of the fireplace are latticed
+     windows, showing a glimpse of the street. Before the fire is a
+     small, round, three-legged table; beside it a tall, straight-backed
+     chair._
+
+     _Between the table and left is a door which is the entrance to Y
+     Gegin and from which, on a metal elbow, dangles a large bell._
+
+     _At rise of curtain Hugh Williams enters at back centre, absorbed
+     in reading a volume of Welsh theological essays. He is dressed in a
+     brightly striped vest, a short, heavy cloth coat, cut away in
+     front and with lapels trimmed with brass buttons, swallowtails
+     behind, also trimmed with brass buttons, stock wound around his
+     neck, and tight trousers down to his boot-tops._
+
+     _Neli Williams, his wife, a comely, capable young woman, busy with
+     her knitting every instant she talks, is clad in her market
+     costume, a scarlet cloak, and a tall black Welsh beaver. Over her
+     arm is an immense basket._
+
+NELI. [_Commandingly._] Hughie, put down that book!
+
+HUGH. [_Still going on reading._] Haven't I just said a man is his own
+master, whatever!
+
+NELI. Hughie, ye're to mind the shop while I'm gone!
+
+HUGH. [_Patiently._] Yiss, yiss.
+
+NELI. I don't think ye hear a word I am sayin' whatever.
+
+HUGH. Yiss, I hear every word ye're sayin'.
+
+NELI. What is it, then?
+
+HUGH. [_Weakly._] 'Tis all about--about--the--the weather whatever!
+
+NELI. Ye've not heard a word, an' ye're plannin' to read that book from
+cover to cover, I can see.
+
+HUGH. [_A little too quickly._] Nay, I have no plans....
+
+     [_He tucks book away in back coat pocket over-hastily._
+
+NELI. Hugh!
+
+HUGH. [_Weakly._] Nay, I _have_ no plans whatever!
+
+NELI. [_Reproachfully._] Hugh--_ie_! 'Twould be the end of sellin'
+anythin' to anybody if I leave ye with a book whatever! Give me that
+book!
+
+HUGH. [_Obstinately._] Nay, I'll no read the book.
+
+NELI. Give me that book!
+
+HUGH. [_Rising a little._] Nay. I say a man is his own master whatever!
+
+NELI. [_Finding the book hidden in his coat-tail pocket._] Is he? Well,
+I'll no leave ye with any masterful temptations to be readin'.
+
+HUGH. Ye've no cause to take this book away from me.
+
+NELI. [_Opens book and starts with delight._] 'Tis Deacon Roberts's new
+book on "The Flamin' Wickedness of Babylon." Where did ye get it?
+
+HUGH. [_Reassured by her interest._] He lent it to me this morning.
+
+NELI. [_Resolutely._] Well, I will take it away from ye this noon till I
+am home again whatever!
+
+HUGH. [_Sulkily._] Sellin' groceries is not salvation. They sold
+groceries in Babylon; Deacon Roberts says so.
+
+NELI. [_Looking at book with ill-disguised eagerness._] I dunno as
+anybody ever found salvation by givin' away all he had for nothin'! 'Tis
+certain Deacon Roberts has not followed that way.
+
+HUGH. [_Still sulkily._] A man is his own master, I say.
+
+NELI. [_Absent-mindedly, her nose in the book._] Is he? Well, indeed!
+
+HUGH. [_Crossly._] Aye, he is. [_Pointedly._] An' I was not plannin' to
+give away the book whatever.
+
+NELI. [_Closing volume with a little sigh, as for stolen delights, and
+speaking hastily._] An' I am not talkin' about acceptin' books, but
+about butter an' eggs an' cheese an' all the other groceries!
+
+HUGH. Aye, ye'll get no blessin' from such worldliness.
+
+NELI. [_Absent-mindedly._] Maybe not, but ye will get a dinner from that
+unblessed worldliness an' find no fault, I'm thinkin'. [_Her hand
+lingering on the book, which she opens._] But such wonderful theology!
+An' such eloquence! Such an understandin' of sin! Such glowin' pictures
+of Babylon!
+
+HUGH. Aye, hot! I tell ye, Neli, there's no man in the parish has such a
+gift of eloquence as Deacon Roberts or such theology. In all Wales ye'll
+not find stronger theology than his.
+
+NELI. Ye have no need to tell me that! [_Looking for a place in which to
+hide the book until she returns._] Have I not a deep an' proper
+admiration for theology? Have I not had one minister an' five deacons
+an' a revivalist in my family, to say nothin' at all of one composer of
+hymns?
+
+HUGH. Yiss, yiss. Aye, 'tis a celebrated family. I am no sayin' anythin'
+against your family.
+
+NELI. Then what?
+
+HUGH. [_Pleadingly._] Deacon Roberts has great fire with which to save
+souls. We're needin' that book on Babylon's wickedness. Give it back to
+me, Neli!
+
+NELI. Oh, aye! [_Looks at husband._] I'm not sayin' but that ye are
+wicked, Hugh, an' needin' these essays, for ye have no ministers and
+deacons and hymn composers among your kin.
+
+HUGH. [_Triumphantly._] Aye, aye, that's it! That's it! An' the more
+need have I to read till my nostrils are full of the smoke of--of
+Babylon.
+
+NELI. [_Absent-mindedly tucking book away on shelf as she talks._] Aye,
+but there has been some smoke about Deacon Roberts's reputation which
+has come from some fire less far away than Babylon.
+
+HUGH. What smoke?
+
+NELI. [_Evasively._] Well, I am thinkin' about my eggs which vanished
+one week ago to-day. There was no one in that mornin' but Deacon
+Roberts. Mrs. Jones the Wash had come for her soap an' gone before I
+filled that basket with eggs.
+
+HUGH. [_Watching her covertly, standing on tiptoe and craning his neck
+as she stows away book._] Yiss, yiss!
+
+NELI. [_Slyly._] Ask Deacon Roberts if cats steal eggs whatever?
+
+HUGH. [_Repeating._] If cats steal eggs, if cats steal eggs.
+
+NELI. Aye, not if eggs steal cats.
+
+HUGH. [_Craning neck._] Yiss, yiss, if eggs steal cats!
+
+NELI. Hugh--_ie_! Now ye'll never get it correct again! 'Tis if cats
+steal eggs.
+
+HUGH. [_Sulkily._] Well, I'm no carin' about cats with heaven starin'
+me in the face.
+
+     [NELI _turns about swiftly with the quick, sudden motions
+     characteristic of her, and_ HUGH _shrinks into himself. She shakes
+     her finger at him and goes over to kiss him._
+
+NELI. Hughie, lad, ye're not to touch the book while I am gone to
+market.
+
+HUGH. Nay, nay, certainly not!
+
+NELI. And ye're to be on the lookout for Mrs. Jones the Wash, for Mrs.
+Jenkins the Midwife--Jane Elin has a new baby, an' it'll be needin'
+somethin'. [_Pointing to counter._] Here is everythin' plainly marked.
+Ye're no to undersell or give away anythin.' D'ye hear?
+
+HUGH. Aye, I hear!
+
+NELI. An' remember where the tobacco is, for this is the day Tom Morris
+the Sheep comes in.
+
+HUGH. Aye, in the glass jar.
+
+NELI. Good-by. I will return soon.
+
+HUGH. [_Indifferently._] Good-by.
+
+     [NELI _leaves by door at back centre. Immediately_ HUGH _steals
+     toward the shelves where she hid the book_.
+
+NELI. [_Thrusting head back in._] Mind, Hughie lad, no readin'--nay, not
+even any theology!
+
+HUGH. [_Stepping quickly away from shelves and repeating parrotlike._]
+Nay, nay, no readin', no sermons, not even any theology!
+
+NELI. An' no salvation till I come back!
+
+     [_She smiles, withdraws head, and is gone._ HUGH _starts forward,
+     collides clumsily with the counter in his eagerness, knocks the
+     basket of eggs with his elbow, upsetting it. Several eggs break. He
+     shakes his head ruefully at the mess and as ruefully at the
+     counter. He finds book and hugs it greedily to him._
+
+HUGH. [_Mournfully._] Look at this! What did I say but that there was no
+salvation sellin' groceries! If Neli could but see those eggs! [_He
+goes behind counter and gets out a box of eggs, from which he refills
+the basket. The broken eggs he leaves untouched upon the floor. He opens
+his volume of sermons and seats himself by a little three-legged table
+near the fire. He sighs in happy anticipation. Hearing a slight noise,
+he looks suspiciously at door, gets up, tiptoes across floor to street
+door, and locks it quietly. An expression of triumph overspreads his
+face._] Da, if customers come, they will think no one is at home
+whatever, an' I can read on! [_He seats himself at little three-legged
+table, opens volume, smooths over its pages lovingly, and begins to read
+slowly and halting over syllables._] The smoke of Ba-by-lon was
+hot--scorchin' hot. An' 'twas filled with Ba-ba-ba-baal stones, slimy
+an' scorchin' hot also----
+
+     [_There is the sound of feet coming up the shop steps, followed by
+     a hand trying the door-knob._ HUGH _looks up from his sermons, an
+     expression of innocent triumph on his face. The door-knob is tried
+     again, the door rattled._
+
+     [_Then some one rings the shop door-bell._
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Calling._] Mrs. Williams, mum, have ye any soap?
+[_No answer. Calling._] Mrs. Williams! Mrs. Williams!
+
+     [HUGH _nods approvingly and lifts his volume to read_.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Where are they all whatever? I will just look in at
+the window, [_A large, kindly face is anxiously flattened against the
+window. At that_ HUGH _drops in consternation under the three-legged
+table_.] Uch, what's that shadow skippin' under the table? No doubt a
+rat after the groceries. Mrs. Williams, mum, Mrs. Williams! Well,
+indeed, they're out.
+
+     [_She pounds once more on the door with a heavy fist, rings, and
+     then goes. Suddenly the door back centre opens, and_ NELI WILLIAMS
+     _appears_.
+
+NELI. [_She does not see_ HUGH _and peers around for him_.] What is all
+that bell-ringing about?
+
+     [HUGH _crawls out from under the table_.
+
+
+HUGH. Hush, she's gone!
+
+NELI. [_Amazed, and whispering to herself._] Under the table!
+
+HUGH. [_Rising and putting up his hand as a sign for her to keep
+silent._] Nay, 'twas Mrs. Jones the Wash come to buy her soap whatever!
+
+NELI. Aye, well, why didn't she come in whatever?
+
+HUGH. [_Whispering._] I locked the door, Neli, so I could finish readin'
+those essays whatever! An' then she looked in at the window, an' I had
+to get under the table.
+
+NELI. [_Indignantly._] Locked the door against a customer, an' after all
+I said! An' crawled under a table! Hugh Williams, your wits are goin'
+quite on the downfall!
+
+HUGH. [_In a whisper._] Aye, but Neli, those essays--an' I thought ye
+had gone to market.
+
+NELI. I had started, but I came back for my purse. Put down that book!
+
+HUGH. Aye, but, Neli----
+
+NELI. [_Angrily._] Much less of heaven an' much more of earth is what I
+need in a husband! Ye have sent away a customer; very like Mrs. Jones
+the Wash after soap will go elsewhere.
+
+HUGH. Aye, but Neli....
+
+     [_Steps are heard approaching._
+
+NELI. Get up! Some one is coming.
+
+     [HUGH _gets up very unwillingly_.
+
+HUGH. [_Whispering still._] Aye, but Neli....
+
+NELI. [_Angrily._] Put down that book, I say! [_She crunches over some
+eggshells._] Eggs? Broken?
+
+HUGH. [_Putting down book._] Aye, Neli, my elbow an' the eggs in
+Babylon....
+
+NELI. [_Sarcastically._] Aye, I see beasts in Babylon here
+together--doleful creatures smearin' one an' sixpence worth of eggs all
+over the floor. An' a half-dozen eggs gone last week. [_Wiping up
+eggs._] An' I'm to suppose Babylon had something to do with that
+half-dozen eggs, too? They were put in the basket after Mrs. Jones the
+Wash had left whatever, an' before Deacon Roberts came.
+
+HUGH. Neli, I did not say----
+
+NELI. [_Still angrily._] Well, indeed, unlock that door!
+
+HUGH. [_Going to unlock door._] But, Neli....
+
+NELI. [_Disappearing through door back centre._] Not a word! Your mind
+has gone quite on the downfall--lockin' doors against your own bread and
+butter an' soap.
+
+HUGH. [_Unlocking door sullenly._] But, Neli, salvation an' soap....
+
+NELI. [_Snappily._] Salvation an' soap are as thick as thieves.
+
+HUGH. But, Neli, a man is his own master.
+
+NELI. Yiss, I see he is!
+
+     [NELI _goes out, slamming door noisily_.
+
+HUGH. Dear anwyl, she seems angry!
+
+     [HUGH _opens street door left just as_ NELI _goes out through
+     kitchen, by door back centre_. DEACON ROBERTS _enters the door_
+     HUGH _has unlocked. He looks at_ HUGH, _smiles, and goes over to
+     counter in a businesslike way. He is a stout man, dressed in a
+     black broadcloth cutaway coat, tight trousers, a drab vest, high
+     collar and stock, woollen gloves, a muffler wound about his neck
+     and face, and a tall Welsh beaver hat. Under his arm he carries a
+     book._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Speaking affectionately, pulling off his gloves,
+putting down book on counter, and beginning eagerly to touch the various
+groceries._] Essays on Babylon to-day, Hughie lad?
+
+HUGH. [_Looking about for_ NELI _and speaking fretfully_.] Nay.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Unwinding his muffler._] Ye look as if ye had been in
+spiritual struggle.
+
+HUGH. [_Drearily._] I have.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Well, indeed, Hughie, 'tis neither the angel nor the
+archfiend here now, nor for me any struggle except the struggle to both
+live an' eat well--ho! ho! _an'_ eat well, I say--in Bala. [_Laughs
+jovially._] Ho! ho! not bad, Hughie lad--live _an'_ eat in Bala!
+
+HUGH. [_Patiently._] With that muffler around your head, deacon, ye are
+enough to frighten the devil out of Babylon.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Unwinding last lap of muffler._] Yiss, yiss, Hughie
+lad. But I dunno but ye will understand better if I call myself, let us
+say the angel with the sickle--ho! ho!--not the angel of fire, Hughie,
+but the angel with the sharp sickle gatherin' the clusters of the vines
+of the earth. [_Sudden change of subject._] Where is Neli?
+
+HUGH. [_Vacantly._] I dunno--yiss, yiss, at market.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Chuckling._] Dear, dear, at market--a fine day for
+marketing! An' my essays on the Flamin' Wickedness of Babylon, Hughie
+lad, how are they? Have ye finished them?
+
+HUGH. Nay, not yet.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Looking over counter, touching one article after
+another as he mentions it._] Pickled herrin'--grand but wet!
+Pickles--dear me, yiss, Neli's--an' good! Butter from
+Hafod-y-Porth--sweet as honey! [_He picks up a pat of butter and sniffs
+it, drawing in his breath loudly. He smiles with delight and lays down
+the butter. He takes off his hat and dusts it out inside. He puts his
+hat back on his head, smiles, chuckles, picks up butter, taps it
+thoughtfully with two fingers, smells it and puts down the pat
+lingeringly. He lifts up a loaf of_ NELI WILLIAMS'S _bread, glancing
+from it to the butter_.] Bread! Dear me! [_His eyes glance on to
+codfish._] American codfish [_picks up package and smacks his lips
+loudly_], dear _anwyl_, with potatoes--[_reads_] "Gloucester." [_Reaches
+out and touches eggs affectionately._] Eggs--are they fresh, Hugh?
+
+HUGH. [_Dreamily._] I dunno. But I broke some of them. They might be!
+[_Looks at floor._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. _Were_ they fresh?
+
+HUGH. I dunno.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Sharply._] Dunno? About _eggs_?
+
+     [_Picks up egg._
+
+HUGH. [_Troubled._] Neli's hens laid them.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. I see, Neli's hens laid 'em, an' you broke 'em!
+Admirable arrangement! [_Putting down the egg and turning toward the
+cheese, speaks on impatiently._] Well, indeed then, were the hens fresh?
+
+HUGH. [_More cheerful._] Yiss, I think. Last week the basket was grand
+an' full of fresh eggs, but they disappeared, aye, they did indeed.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Starts._] Where did they go to?
+
+HUGH. [_Injured._] How can I say? I was here, an' I would have told her
+if I had seen, but I did not whatever. Neli reproves me for too great
+attention to visions an' too little to the groceries.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Chuckling._] Aye, Hughie lad, such is married life!
+Let a man marry his thoughts or a wife, for he cannot have both. I have
+chosen my thoughts.
+
+HUGH. But the cat----
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Briskly._] Aye, a man can keep a cat without risk.
+
+HUGH. Nay, nay, I mean the cat took 'em. I dunno. That's
+it--{SPACE}[HUGH _clutches his head, trying to recall something_.] Uch,
+that's it! Neli told me to remember to ask ye if ye thought eggs could
+steal a cat whatever.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Puzzled._] Eggs steal a cat?
+
+HUGH. [_Troubled._] Nay, nay, cats steal an egg?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Startled and looking suspiciously at_ HUGH.] Cats?
+What cats?
+
+HUGH. [_With solemnity._] Aye, but I told Neli I'm no carin' about cats
+with heaven starin' me in the face. Deacon Roberts, those essays are
+grand an' wonderful.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Relieved._] Yiss, yiss! Hughie lad, theology is a
+means to salvation an' sometimes to other ends, too. But there's no
+money in theology. [_Sighs._] And a man must live! [_Points to corroded
+dish of pickled herring, sniffing greedily._] Dear people, what
+beautiful herrin'! [_Wipes moisture away from corners of his mouth and
+picks up a fish from dish, holding it, dripping, by tail._] Pickled?
+
+HUGH. [_Looking at corroded dish._] Tuppence.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Shortly._] Dear to-day.
+
+HUGH. [_Eyeing dish dreamily._] I dunno. Neli----
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Eyes glittering, cutting straight through sentence and
+pointing to cheese._] Cheese?
+
+HUGH. A shillin', I'm thinkin'.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. A shillin', Hugh? [DEACON ROBERTS _lifts knife and drops
+it lightly on edge of cheese. The leaf it pares off he picks up and
+thrusts into his mouth, greedily pushing in the crumbs. Then he pauses
+and looks slyly at_ HUGH.] Was it sixpence ye said, Hugh?
+
+HUGH. [_Gazing toward the fire and the volume of essays._] Yiss,
+sixpence, I think.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Sarcastically._] Still too dear, Hugh!
+
+HUGH. [_Sighing._] I dunno, it might be dear. [_With more animation._]
+Deacon, when Babylon fell----
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Wipes his mouth and, interrupting_ HUGH, _speaks
+decisively_.] No cheese. [_He removes his tall Welsh beaver hat, mops
+off his bald white head, and, pointing up to the shelves, begins to dust
+out inside of hatband again, but with a deliberate air of preparation._]
+What is that up there, Hughie lad?
+
+HUGH. [_Trying to follow the direction of the big red wavering
+forefinger._] Ye mean that? A B C In-fants' Food, I think.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Giving his hat a final wipe._] Nay, nay, not for me,
+Hughie lad! Come, come, brush the smoke of burnin' Babylon from your
+eyes! In a minute I must be goin' back to my study, whatever. An' I have
+need of food!
+
+     [HUGH _takes a chair and mounts it. The_ DEACON _looks at_ HUGH'S
+     _back, puts his hand down on the counter, and picks up an egg from
+     the basket. He holds it to the light and squints through it to see
+     whether it is fresh. Then he turns it lovingly over in his fat
+     palm, makes a dexterous backward motion and slides it into his
+     coat-tail pocket. This he follows with two more eggs for same
+     coat-tail and three for other--in all half a dozen._
+
+HUGH. [_Dreamily pointing to tin._] Is it Yankee corn?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_To Hugh's back, and slipping in second egg._] Nay,
+nay, not that, Hughie lad, that tin above!
+
+HUGH. [_Absent-mindedly touching tin._] Is it ox tongue?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slipping in third egg and not even looking up._] Ox
+tongue, lad? Nay, nuthin' so large as that.
+
+HUGH. [_Dreamily reaching up higher._] American condensed m-m-milk?
+Yiss, that's what it is.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slipping in fourth egg._] Condensed milk, Hughie? Back
+to infants' food again.
+
+HUGH. [_Stretching up almost to his full length and holding down tin
+with tips of long white finger._] Kippert herrin'? Is it that?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slipping in fifth egg._] Nay, nay, a little further
+up, if you please.
+
+HUGH. [_Gasping, but still reaching up and reading._] Uto--U-to-pi-an
+Tinned Sausage. Is it that?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slipping in sixth egg with an air of finality and
+triumph, and lifting his hat from the counter._] Nay, nay, not that,
+Hughie lad. Why do ye not begin by askin' me what I want? Ye've no gift
+for sellin' groceries whatever.
+
+HUGH. [_Surprised._] Did I not ask ye?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Nay.
+
+HUGH. What would Neli say whatever? She would never forgive me.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Amiably._] Well, I forgive ye, Hughie lad. 'Tis a
+relish I'm needin'!
+
+HUGH. [_Relieved._] Well, indeed, a relish! We have relishes on that
+shelf above, I think. [_Reaches up but pauses helplessly._] I must tell
+Neli that these shelves are not straight.
+
+     [_Dizzy and clinging to the shelves, his back to the_ DEACON.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Picking up a pound of butter wrapped in print paper._]
+Is it up there?
+
+HUGH. No, I think, an' the shelves are not fast whatever. I must tell
+Neli. They go up like wings. [_Trying to reach to a bottle just above
+him._] Was it English or American?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Putting the pound of butter in his hat and his hat on
+his head._] American, Hughie lad.
+
+     [_At that instant there is a noise from the inner kitchen, and_
+     NELI WILLIAMS _opens the door. The_ DEACON _turns, and their
+     glances meet and cross. Each understands perfectly what the other
+     has seen._ NELI WILLIAMS _has thrown off her red cloak and taken
+     off her Welsh beaver hat. She is dressed in a short full skirt,
+     white stockings, clogs on her feet, a striped apron, tight bodice,
+     fichu, short sleeves, and white cap on dark hair._
+
+NELI. [_Slowly._] Uch! The deacon has what he came for whatever!
+
+HUGH. [_Turning to contradict his wife._] Nay, Neli--{SPACE}[_Losing his
+balance on chair, tumbles off, and, with arm flung out to save himself,
+strikes dish of pickled herring. The herring and brine fly in every
+direction, spraying the_ DEACON _and_ HUGHIE; _the bowl spins madly,
+dipping and revolving on the floor. For a few seconds nothing is audible
+except the bowl revolving on the flagstones and_ HUGHIE _picking himself
+up and sneezing behind the counter_.] Achoo! Achoo! Dear me,
+Neli--Achoo!
+
+NELI. [_Going quickly to husband and beginning to wipe brine from
+husband's forehead and cheeks; at the same time has her back to the_
+DEACON _and forming soundless letters with her lips, she jerks her head
+toward the_ DEACON.] B-U-T-T-E-R!
+
+HUGH. [_Drearily._] Better? Aye, I'm better. It did not hurt me
+whatever.
+
+NELI. [_Jerking head backwards toward_ DEACON ROBERTS _and again forming
+letters with lips_.] B-U-T-T-E-R!
+
+HUGH. What, water? Nay, I don't want any water.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Coughing, ill at ease and glancing suspiciously at
+bowl that has come to rest near his leg._] Ahem! 'Tis cold here, Mrs.
+Williams, mum, an' I must be movin' on.
+
+NELI. [_Savagely to_ DEACON.] Stay where ye are whatever!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Unaccustomed to being spoken to this way by a woman._]
+Well, indeed, mum, I could stay, but I'm thinkin' 'tis cold an'--I'd
+better go.
+
+NELI. [_Again savagely._] Nay, stay! Stay for--for what ye came for
+whatever!
+
+     [NELI _looks challengingly at the_ DEACON. _Then she goes on wiping
+     brine carefully from husband's hair and from behind his ears. The_
+     DEACON _coughs and pushes bowl away with the toe of his boot_.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Smiling._] 'Tis unnecessary to remain then, mum.
+
+NELI. [_To_ HUGH.] What did he get?
+
+HUGH. [_Sneezing._] N--n--Achoo!--nothin'!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_With sudden interest, looking at the floor._] Well,
+indeed!
+
+NELI. [_Suspiciously._] What is it?
+
+     [_He reaches down with difficulty to a small thick puddle on the
+     floor just beneath his left coat-tail. He aims a red forefinger at
+     it, lifts himself, and sucks fingertip._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Smiling._] Ahem, Mrs. Williams, mum, 'tis excellent
+herrin' brine! [_From the basket on the counter he picks up an egg,
+which he tosses lightly and replaces in basket._] A beautiful fresh egg,
+Mrs. Williams, mum. I must be steppin' homewards.
+
+HUGH. [_Struggling to speak just as_ NELI _reaches his nose, wringing it
+vigorously at she wipes it_.] Aye, but Neli, I was just tellin' ye when
+I fell that I could not find the deacon's relish--uch, achoo! achoo!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_With finality, tossing the egg in air, catching it and
+putting it back in basket._] Well, indeed, mum, I must be steppin'
+homewards now.
+
+     [NELI'S _glance rests on fire burning on other side of room_. _She
+     puts down wet cloth. She turns squarely on the_ DEACON.
+
+NELI. What is your haste, Mr. Roberts? Please to go to the fire an'
+wait! I can find the relish.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Hastily._] Nay, nay, mum. I have no need any
+more--[_Coughs._] Excellent herrin' brine.
+
+     [_Goes toward door._
+
+NELI. [_To_ HUGH.] Take him to the fire, Hugh. 'Tis a cold day whatever!
+[_Insinuatingly to_ DEACON.] Have ye a reason for wantin' to go, Mr.
+Roberts?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Going._] Nay, nay, mum, none at all! But, I must not
+trouble ye. 'Tis too much to ask, an' I have no time to spare an'----
+
+NELI. [_Interrupting and not without acerbity._] Indeed, Mr. Roberts,
+sellin' what we _can_ is our profit. [_To_ HUGH, _who obediently takes_
+DEACON _by arm and pulls him toward fire_.] Take him to the fire, lad.
+[_To_ DEACON.] What kind of a relish was it, did ye say, Mr. Roberts?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Having a tug of war with_ HUGH.] 'Tis an Indian
+relish, mum, but I cannot wait.
+
+HUGH. [_Pulling harder._] American, ye said.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Hastily._] Yiss, yiss, American Indian relish, that
+is.
+
+NELI. Tut, 'tis our specialty, these American Indian relishes! We have
+several. Sit down by the fire while I look them up. [_Wickedly._] As ye
+said. Mr. Roberts, 'tis cold here this morning.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. There, Hughie lad, I must not trouble ye. [_Looks at
+clock._] 'Tis ten minutes before twelve, an' my dinner will be ready at
+twelve. [_Pulls harder._
+
+NELI. [_To_ HUGH.] Keep him by the fire, lad.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. There, Hughie lad, let me go!
+
+     [_But_ HUGH _holds on, and the_ DEACON'S _coat begins to come off_.
+
+NELI. [_Sarcastically._] The relish--American Indian, ye said, I
+think--will make your dinner taste fine and grand!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Finding that without leaving his coat behind he is
+unable to go, he glowers at_ HUGH _and speaks sweetly to_ NELI.] 'Tis a
+beautiful clock, Mrs. Williams, mum. But I haven't five minutes to
+spare.
+
+NELI. [_Keeping a sharp lookout on the rim of the_ DEACON'S _hat_.]
+Well, indeed, I can find the relish in just one minute. An' ye'll have
+abundance of time left.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Trapped, and gazing at clock with fine air of
+indifference._] 'Tis a clever, shinin' lookin' clock whatever, Mrs.
+Williams, mum.
+
+NELI. Have ye any recollection of the name of the maker of the relish,
+Mr. Roberts?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Putting his hands behind him anxiously and parting his
+freighted coat-tails with care; then, revolving, presenting his back and
+one large, well-set, bright-colored patch to the fire._] Nay, I have
+forgotten it, Mrs. Williams, mum.
+
+NELI. Too bad, but I'm sure to find it. [_She mounts upon chair. At this
+moment the shop door-bell rings violently, and there enters_ MRS. JONES
+THE WASH, _very fat and very jolly. She is dressed in short skirt, very
+full, clogs on her feet, a bodice made of striped Welsh flannel, a
+shabby kerchief, a cap on her head, and over this a shawl._ NELI _turns
+her head a little_.] Aye, Mrs. Jones the Wash, in a minute, if you
+please. Sit down until I find Deacon Roberts's relish whatever.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Sits down on chair by door back centre and folds
+her hands over her stomach._] Yiss, yiss, mum, thank you. I've come for
+soap. I came once before, but no one was in.
+
+NELI. Too bad!
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. An' I looked in at the window an' saw nothin' but a
+skippin' shadow looked like a rat. Have ye any rats, Mrs. Williams, mum,
+do ye think?
+
+NELI. Have I any rats? Well, indeed, 'tis that I'm wantin' to know, Mrs.
+Jones the Wash!
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Well, I came back, for the water is eatin' the soap
+to-day as if 'twere sweets--aye, 'tis a very meltin' day for soap!
+[_Laughs._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. 'Tis sweet to be clean, Mrs. Jones the Wash.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Laughing._] Yiss, yiss, Deacon Roberts, there has
+many a chapel been built out of a washtub, an' many a prayer risen up
+from the suds!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Solemnly._] Aye, Mrs. Jones the Wash, 'tis holy work,
+washin' is very holy work.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Touched._] Yiss, yiss, I thank ye, Deacon
+Roberts.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Well, I must be steppin' homeward now.
+
+NELI. [_Firmly._] Nay, Mr. Roberts. I am searchin' on the shelf where I
+think that American Indian relish is. Ye act as if ye had some cause to
+hurry, Mr. Roberts. Wait a moment, if you please.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Well, indeed, but I am keepin' Mrs. Jones the Wash
+waitin'!
+
+NELI. [_To_ MRS. JONES.] Ye are in no haste?
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Thoroughly comfortable and happy._] Nay, mum, no
+haste at all. I am havin' a rest, an' 'tis grand an' warm here whatever.
+
+NELI. [_Maliciously to_ DEACON.] Does it feel hot by the fire?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Experiencing novel sensations on the crown of his bald
+head._] Mrs. Williams, mum, 'tis hot in Y Gegin, but as with Llanycil
+Churchyard, Y Gegin is only the portal to a hotter an' a bigger place
+where scorchin' flames burn forever an' forever. Proverbs saith, "Hell
+an' destruction are never full." What, then, shall be the fate of women
+who have no wisdom, Mrs. Williams, mum?
+
+NELI. [_Searching for relish._] Aye, what? Well, indeed, the men must
+know.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Nodding her head appreciatively at_ HUGH.] Such
+eloquence, Mr. Williams! Aye, who in chapel has such grand theology as
+Deacon Roberts!
+
+     [_She sighs. The bell rings violently again, and_ TOM MORRIS THE
+     SHEEP _enters. He is dressed in gaiters, a shepherd's cloak, etc.,
+     etc. He carries a crook in his hand. He is a grizzle-haired,
+     rosy-faced old man, raw-boned, strong, and awkward, with a
+     half-earnest, half-foolish look._
+
+NELI. [_Looking around._] Aye, Tom Morris the Sheep, come in an' sit
+down. I am lookin' out an American Indian relish for the deacon.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Yiss, mum. I am wantin' to buy a little tobacco,
+mum. 'Tis lonely upon the hillsides with the sheep, whatever.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Hastily._] I must go now, Mrs. Williams, mum, an' ye
+can wait on Tom Morris.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Nay, nay, Mr. Roberts, sir, there is no haste.
+
+NELI. [_To_ TOM MORRIS.] Sit down there by the door, if you please.
+
+     [TOM MORRIS _seats himself on other side of door by back centre_.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Yiss, mum. [_Touches his forelock to_ MRS. JONES
+THE WASH.] A grand day for the clothes, Mrs. Jones, mum.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss, yiss, an' as I was just sayin' 'tis a meltin'
+day for the soap!
+
+NELI. [_Significantly._] An' perhaps 'tis a meltin' day for somethin'
+besides soap! [_She looks at_ DEACON.
+
+HUGH. [_Earnestly._] Yiss, yiss, for souls, meltin' for souls, I am
+hopin'. [_Picking up the book from the little three-legged table, and
+speaking to the_ DEACON.] They are enlargin' the burial ground in
+Llanycil Churchyard--achoo! achoo!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Slyly moving a step away from fire._] They're only
+enlargin' hell, Hughie lad, an' in that place they always make room for
+all. [_He casts a stabbing look at_ NELI.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Nodding head._] True, true, room for all!
+[_Chuckling._] But 'twould be a grand place to dry the clothes in!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Severely._] Mrs. Jones, mum, hell is paved with words
+of lightness.
+
+HUGH. [_Looking up from book, his face expressing delight._] Deacon
+Roberts, I have searched for the place of hell, but one book sayeth one
+thing, an' another another. Where is hell?
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, where is hell?
+
+     [_The bell rings violently. All start except_ NELI. MRS. JENKINS
+     THE MIDWIFE _enters. She is an old woman, white-haired, and with a
+     commanding, somewhat disagreeable expression on her face. She wears
+     a cloak and black Welsh beaver and walks with a stick._
+
+NELI. Yiss, yiss, Mrs. Jenkins the Midwife, I am just lookin' out a
+relish for the Deacon. Sit down by the fire, please.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Seating herself on other side of fire._]
+Aye, mum, I've come for pins; I'm in no haste.
+
+NELI. is it Jane Elin's baby?
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Aye, Jane Elin's, an' 'tis my sixth hundredth
+birth.
+
+HUGH. We're discussing the place of hell, Mrs. Jenkins, mum.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Well, indeed, I have seen the place of hell
+six hundred times then. [_Coughs and nods her head up and down over
+stick._] Heaven an' hell I'm thinkin' we have with us here.
+
+HUGH. Nay, nay, how could that be? Tell us where is the place of hell,
+Deacon Roberts.
+
+     [_All listen with the most intense interest._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Nodding._] Aye, the place of hell-- [_stopping
+suddenly, a terrified look on his face, as the butter slides against the
+forward rim of his hat, almost knocking it off, then going on with neck
+rigid and head straight up_] to me is known where is that place--their
+way is dark an' slippery; they go down into the depths, an' their soul
+is melted because of trouble.
+
+NELI. [_Pausing sceptically._] Aye, 'tis my idea of hell whatever with
+souls meltin', Mr. Roberts!
+
+HUGH. [_Tense with expectation._] Tell us where is that place!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Neck rigid, head unmoved, and voice querulous._] Yiss,
+yiss. [_Putting his hand up and letting it down quickly._] Ahem! Ye
+believe that it rains in Bala?
+
+HUGH. [_Eyes on_ DEACON, _in childlike faith_.] I do.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Yiss, yiss, before an' after every birth
+whatever!
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss, yiss, who would know better than I that it
+rains in Bala?
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, amen, it rains in Bala upon the hills an' in
+the valleys.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. Ye believe that it can rain in Bala both when the moon
+is full an' when 'tis new?
+
+HUGH. [_Earnestly._] I do.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Wearily._] Yiss, any time.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, all the time.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE.. Yiss, yiss, it rains ever an' forever!
+
+NELI. [_Forgetting the relish search._] Well, indeed, 'tis true it can
+rain in Bala at any time an' at all times.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Paying no attention to Neli._] Ye believe that
+Tomen-y-Bala is Ararat?
+
+HUGH. [_Clutching his book more tightly and speaking in a whisper._]
+Yiss.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Aye, 'tis true.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE.. Yiss, the Hill of Bala is Ararat.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Yiss, I have driven the sheep over it whatever
+more than a hundred times.
+
+NELI. [_Both hands on counter, leaning forward, listening to_ DEACON'S
+_words_.] Aye, Charles-y-Bala said so.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Still ignoring_ NELI _and lowering his coat-tails
+carefully_.] Ye believe, good people, that the Druids called Noah
+"Tegid," an' that those who were saved were cast up on Tomen-y-Bala?
+
+HUGH. Amen, I do!
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Nodding her old head._] Aye, 'tis true.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss, yiss.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Amen, 'tis so.
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Moving a few steps away from the fire, standing
+sidewise, and lifting hand to head, checking it in midair._] An' ye know
+that Bala has been a lake, an' Bala will become a lake?
+
+HUGH. Amen, I do!
+
+NELI. [_Assenting for the first time._] Yiss, 'tis true--that is.
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Dear anwyl, yiss!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_With warning gesture toward window._] Hell is out
+there--movin' beneath Bala Lake to meet all at their comin'. [_Raises
+his voice suddenly._] Red-hot Baal stones will fall upon your
+heads--Baal stones. Howl ye! [_Shouting loudly._] Meltin' stones
+smellin' of the bullocks. Howl, ye sinners! [_Clasping his hands
+together desperately._] Scorchin' hot--Oo--o--o--Howl ye!--howl ye!
+[_The_ DEACON'S _hat sways, and he jams it down more tightly on his
+head. Unclasping his hands and as if stirring up the contents of a
+pudding-dish._] 'Round an' round like this! Howl, ye sinners, howl!
+
+     [_All moan and sway to and fro except_ NELI.
+
+NELI. [_Sceptically._] What is there to fear?
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Groaning._] Nay, but what is there not to
+fear?
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Aye, outermost darkness. Och! Och!
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Have mercy!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Shouting again._] Get ready! Lift up your eyes!
+[_Welsh beaver almost falls off and is set straight in a twinkling._]
+Beg for mercy before the stones of darkness burn thee, an' there is no
+water to cool thy tongue, an' a great gulf is fixed between thee an'
+those who might help thee!
+
+NELI. [_Spellbound by the_ DEACON'S _eloquence and now oblivious to hat,
+etc._] Yiss, yiss, 'tis true, 'tis very true!
+
+     [_She steps down from chair and places hands on counter._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_His face convulsed, shouting directly at her._]
+Sister, hast thou two eyes to be cast into hell fire?
+
+NELI. [_Terrified and swept along by his eloquence._] Two eyes to be
+burned?
+
+     [_All lower their heads, groaning and rocking to and fro._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_The butter trickling down his face, yelling with
+sudden violence._] Hell is here an' now. Here in Bala, here in Y Gegin,
+here with us! Howl ye! Howl, ye sinners!
+
+     [_All moan together._
+
+HUGH. [_Whispering._] Uch, here!
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Yiss, here!
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. [_Terrified._] Aye. Amen! Yiss!
+
+NELI. [_Whispering._] Here in Y Gegin!
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Clapping his hands to his face._] Stones of Baal,
+stones of darkness, slimy with ooze, red-hot ooze, thick vapors! Howl
+ye, howl, ye sinners! [_All moan and groan. Takes a glance at clock,
+passes hand over face and runs on madly, neck rigid, eyes staring, fat
+red cheeks turning to purple._] Midday, not midnight, is the hour of
+hell; its sun never sets! But who knows when comes that hour of hell?
+
+NELI. [_Taking hands from counter and crossing them as she whispers._]
+Who knows?
+
+ALL. [_Groaning._] Who knows?
+
+HUGH. [_Voice quavering and lifting his Welsh essays._] Who knows?
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Big yellow drops pouring down his face, his voice full
+of anguish._] I will tell ye when is the hour of hell. [_He points to
+the clock._] Is one the hour of hell? Nay. Two? Nay. Three? No, not
+three. Four? Four might be the hour of hell, but 'tis not. Five? Nor
+five, indeed. Six? Nay. Seven? Is seven the hour, the awful hour? Nay,
+not yet. Eight? Is eight the hour--an hour bright as this bright hour?
+Nay, eight is not. [_The_ DEACON _shouts in a mighty voice and points
+with a red finger at the clock_.] 'Tis comin'! 'Tis comin', I say! Howl
+ye, howl! Only one minute more! Sinners, sinners, lift up your eyes! Cry
+for mercy! [_All groan._] Cry for mercy! When the clock strikes twelve,
+'twill be the hour of hell! Fix your eyes upon the clock! Watch! Count!
+Listen! 'Tis strikin'. The stroke! The hour is here!
+
+     [_All dropped on their knees and turned toward the clock, their
+     backs to the street door, are awaiting the awful stroke. The book
+     has fallen from_ HUGH'S _hands_. NELI'S _hands are clenched_. MRS.
+     JENKINS THE MIDWIFE _is nodding her old head_. MRS. JONES THE WASH
+     _on her knees, her face upturned to the clock, is rubbing up and
+     down her thighs, as if at the business of washing_. TOM MORRIS THE
+     SHEEP _is prostrate and making a strange buzzing sound between his
+     lips. The wheels of the clever old timepiece whir and turn. Then in
+     the silent noonday the harsh striking begins: One, Two, Three,
+     Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve._
+
+DEACON ROBERTS. [_Yelling suddenly in a loud and terrible voice._] Hell
+let loose! Howl ye! Howl, ye sinners! [_All cover their eyes. All groan
+or moan. The clock ticks, the flame in the grate flutters_, NELI'S
+_bosom rises and falls heavily_.] Lest worse happen to ye, sin no more!
+
+     [_The_ DEACON _looks at them all quietly. Then he lifts his hands
+     in sign of blessing, smiles and vanishes silently through street
+     door. All remain stationary in their terror. Nothing happens. But
+     at last_ NELI _fearfully, still spellbound by the_ DEACON'S
+     _eloquence, lifts her eyes to the clock. Then cautiously she turns
+     a little toward the fire and the place of_ DEACON ROBERTS.
+
+NELI. Uch! [_She stands on her feet and cries out._] The Deacon is gone!
+
+HUGH. [_Raising his eyes._] Uch, what is it? Babylon----
+
+NELI. Babylon nothing! [_She wrings her hands._
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Groaning._] Is he dead? Is he dead?
+
+NELI. [_With sudden plunge toward the door._] Uch, ye old hypocrite, ye
+villain! Uch, my butter an' my eggs, my butter an' my eggs!
+
+     [NELI _throws open the door and slams it to after her as she
+     pursues the_ DEACON _out into the bright midday sunshine_.
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Well, indeed, what is it? Has she been taken?
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Getting up heavily._] Such movin' eloquence! A
+saintly man is Deacon Roberts!
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, a saintly man is Deacon Roberts!
+
+HUGH. [_Picking up his book and speaking slowly._] Aye, eloquence that
+knoweth the place of hell even better than it knoweth Bala whatever!
+
+MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Very businesslike._] Aye, 'twas a treat--a
+rare treat! But where's my pins now?
+
+MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Very businesslike._] Yiss, yiss, 'twas a grand
+an' fine treat. But I'm wantin' my soap now.
+
+TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Have ye any tobacco, Hughie lad?
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+WHERE BUT IN AMERICA
+
+BY
+
+OSCAR M. WOLFF
+
+
+_Where But In America_ is reprinted by special permission of the author
+and of the _Smart Set Magazine_, in which this play was first printed.
+For permission to perform address the author at Room 1211, 105 Monroe
+Street, Chicago, Illinois.
+
+
+OSCAR M. WOLFF
+
+Oscar M. Wolff was born July 13, 1876. After graduation from Cornell
+University he completed his law course in the University of Chicago. In
+addition to his interest in law, which he has practised and taught, he
+has done considerable writing and editing. He has published a legal
+text-book, and his articles on legal subjects have appeared both in law
+journals and in magazines of general interest. During the war he was
+connected with the United States Food Administration at Washington. At
+present he lives in Chicago, Illinois.
+
+In addition to some stories, he has written several one-act plays:
+_Where But in America_, _The Claim for Exemption_, and _The
+Money-Lenders_.
+
+_Where But in America_ is an excellent play of situation, as well as a
+delicate satire on a certain aspect of American social life.
+
+
+CAST
+
+    MRS. ESPENHAYNE
+    MR. ESPENHAYNE
+    HILDA
+
+
+
+
+WHERE BUT IN AMERICA[J]
+
+
+     SCENE: _The Espenhayne dining-room._
+
+     _The curtain rises on the Espenhayne dining-room. It is furnished
+     with modest taste and refinement. There is a door, centre, leading
+     to the living-room, and a swinging door, left, leading to the
+     kitchen._
+
+     _The table is set, and_ ROBERT _and_ MOLLIE ESPENHAYNE _are
+     discovered at their evening meal. They are educated, well-bred
+     young Americans._ ROBERT _is a pleasing, energetic business man of
+     thirty_; MOLLIE _an attractive woman of twenty-five. The bouillon
+     cups are before them as the curtain rises._
+
+BOB. Mollie, I heard from the man who owns that house in Kenilworth. He
+wants to sell the house. He won't rent.
+
+MOLLIE. I really don't care, Bob. That house was too far from the
+station, and it had only one sleeping-porch, and you know I want
+white-enamelled woodwork in the bedrooms. But, Bob, I've been terribly
+stupid!
+
+BOB. How so, Mollie?
+
+MOLLIE. You remember the Russells moved to Highland Park last spring?
+
+BOB. Yes; Ed Russell rented a house that had just been built.
+
+MOLLIE. A perfectly darling little house! And Fanny Russell once told me
+that the man who built it will put up a house for any one who will take
+a five-year lease. And she says that the man is very competent and they
+are simply delighted with their place.
+
+BOB. Why don't we get in touch with the man?
+
+MOLLIE. Wasn't it stupid of me not to think about it? It just flashed
+into my mind this morning, and I sat down at once and sent a
+special-delivery letter to Fanny Russell. I asked her to tell me his
+name at once, and where we can find him.
+
+BOB. Good! You ought to have an answer by to-morrow or Thursday and
+we'll go up north and have a talk with him on Saturday.
+
+MOLLIE. [_With enthusiasm._] Wouldn't it be wonderful if he'd build just
+what we want! Fanny Russell says every detail of their house is perfect.
+Even the garage; they use it----
+
+BOB. [_Interrupting._] Mollie, that's the one thing I'm afraid of about
+the North Shore plan. I've said repeatedly that I don't want to buy a
+car for another year or two. But here you are, talking about a garage
+already.
+
+MOLLIE. But you didn't let me finish what I was saying. The Russells
+have fitted up their garage as a playroom for the children. If we had a
+garage we could do the same thing.
+
+BOB. Well, let's keep temptation behind us and not even talk to the man
+about a garage. If we move up north it must be on an economy basis for a
+few years; just a half-way step between the apartment and the house we
+used to plan. You mustn't get your heart set on a car.
+
+MOLLIE. I haven't even thought of one, dear. [BOB _and_ MOLLIE _have now
+both finished the bouillon course and lay down their spoons. Reaching
+out her hand to touch the table button, and at the same time leaning
+across the table and speaking very impressively._] Bob, I'm about to
+ring for Hilda!
+
+BOB. What of it?
+
+MOLLIE. [_Decidedly and with a touch of impatience._] You know very
+well, what of it. I don't want Hilda to hear us say one word about
+moving away from the South Side!
+
+BOB. [_Protesting._] But Mollie----
+
+MOLLIE. [_Interrupting hurriedly and holding her finger to her lips in
+warning._] Psst!
+
+     [_The next instant_ HILDA _enters, left. She is a tall, blonde
+     Swedish girl, about twenty-five years old. She is very pretty and
+     carries herself well and looks particularly charming in a maid's
+     dress, with white collars and cuffs and a dainty waitress's apron.
+     Every detail of her dress is immaculate._
+
+MOLLIE. [_Speaking the instant that_ HILDA _appears and talking very
+rapidly all the time that_ HILDA _remains in the room. While she speaks_
+MOLLIE _watches_ HILDA _rather than_ ROBERT, _whom she pretends to be
+addressing_.] In the last game Gert Jones was my partner. It was frame
+apiece and I dealt and I bid one no trump. I had a very weak no trump.
+I'll admit that, but I didn't want them to win the rubber. Mrs. Stone
+bid two spades and Gert Jones doubled her. Mrs. Green passed and I
+simply couldn't go to three of anything. Mrs. Stone played two spades,
+doubled, and she made them. Of course, that put them out and gave them
+the rubber. I think that was a very foolish double of Gert Jones, and
+then she said it was my fault, because I bid one no trump.
+
+     [_As_ MOLLIE _begins her flow of words_ BOB _first looks at her in
+     open-mouthed astonishment. Then as he gradually comprehends that_
+     MOLLIE _is merely talking against time he too turns his eyes to_
+     HILDA _and watches her closely in her movements around the table.
+     Meanwhile_ HILDA _moves quietly and quickly and pays no attention
+     to anything except the work she has in hand. She carries a small
+     serving-tray, and, as_ MOLLIE _speaks_, HILDA _first takes the
+     bouillon cups from the table, then brings the carving-knife and
+     fork from the sideboard and places them before_ ROBERT, _and then,
+     with the empty bouillon cups, exits left_. BOB _and_ MOLLIE _are
+     both watching_ HILDA _as she goes out. The instant the door swings
+     shut behind her_, MOLLIE _relaxes with a sigh, and_ ROBERT _leans
+     across the table to speak_.
+
+BOB. Mollie, why not be sensible about this thing! Have a talk with
+Hilda and find out if she will move north with us.
+
+MOLLIE. That's just like a man! Then we might not find a house to please
+us and Hilda would be dissatisfied and suspicious. She might even leave.
+[_Thoughtfully._] Of course, I must speak to her before we sign a lease,
+because I really don't know what I'd do if Hilda refused to leave the
+South side. [_More cheerfully._] But there, we won't think about the
+disagreeable things until everything is settled.
+
+BOB. That's good American doctrine.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Warningly and again touching her finger to her lips._] Psst!
+
+     [HILDA _enters, left, carrying the meat plates, with a heavy napkin
+     under them_.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Immediately resuming her monologue._] I think my last year's
+hat will do very nicely. You know it rained all last summer and I really
+only wore the hat a half a dozen times. Perhaps not that often. I can
+make a few changes on it; put on some new ribbons, you know, and it will
+do very nicely for another year. You remember that hat, don't you dear?
+
+     [BOB _starts to answer, but_ MOLLIE _rushes right on_.
+
+Of course you do, you remember you said it was so becoming. That's
+another reason why I want to wear it this summer.
+
+     [HILDA, _meanwhile, puts the plates on the table in front of_ BOB,
+     _and goes out, left_. MOLLIE _at once stops speaking_.
+
+BOB. [_Holding his hands over the plates as over a fire and rubbing them
+together in genial warmth._] Ah, the good hot plates! She never forgets
+them. She _is_ a gem, Mollie.
+
+MOLLIE. [_In great self-satisfaction._] If you are finally convinced of
+that, after three years, I wish you would be a little bit more careful
+what you say the next time Hilda comes in the room.
+
+BOB. [_In open-mouthed astonishment._] What!
+
+MOLLIE. Well, I don't want Hilda to think we are making plans behind her
+back.
+
+BOB. [_Reflectively._] "A man's home is his castle." [_Pauses._] It's
+very evident that the Englishman who first said that didn't keep any
+servants.
+
+     [_Telephone bell rings off stage._
+
+MOLLIE. Answer that, Bob.
+
+BOB. Won't Hilda answer it?
+
+MOLLIE. [_Standing up quickly and speaking impatiently._] Very well, I
+shall answer it myself. I can't ask Hilda to run to the telephone while
+she is serving the meal.
+
+BOB. [_Sullenly, as he gets up._] All right! All right!
+
+     [BOB _exits, centre. As he does so_ HILDA _appears at the door,
+     left, hurrying to answer the telephone_.
+
+MOLLIE. Mr. Espenhayne will answer it, Hilda.
+
+     [HILDA _makes the slightest possible bow of acquiescence, withdraws
+     left, and in a moment reappears with vegetable dishes and small
+     side dishes, which she puts before_ MRS. ESPENHAYNE. _She is
+     arranging these when_ BOB _re-enters, centre_.
+
+BOB. Somebody for you, Hilda.
+
+HILDA. [_Surprised._] For me? Oh! But I cannot answer eet now. Please
+ask the party to call later.
+
+     [HILDA _speaks excellent English, but with some Swedish accent. The
+     noticeable feature of her speech is the precision and great care
+     with which she enunciates every syllable._
+
+MOLLIE. Just take the number yourself, Hilda, and tell the party you
+will call back after dinner.
+
+HILDA. Thank you, Messes Aispenhayne.
+
+     [HILDA _exits, centre_. BOB _stands watching_ HILDA, _as she leaves
+     the room, and then turns and looks at_ MOLLIE _with a bewildered
+     expression_.
+
+BOB. [_Standing at his chair._] But I thought Hilda couldn't be running
+to the telephone while she serves the dinner?
+
+MOLLIE. But this call is for Hilda, herself. That's quite different, you
+see.
+
+BOB. [_Slowly and thoughtfully._] Oh, yes! Of course; I see! [_Sits down
+in his chair._] That is--I don't quite see!
+
+MOLLIE. [_Immediately leaning across the table and speaking in a
+cautious whisper._] Do you know who it is?
+
+     [BOB _closes his lips very tightly and nods yes in a very important
+     manner_.
+
+MOLLIE. [_In the same whisper and very impatiently._] Who?
+
+BOB. [_Looking around the room as if to see if any one is in hiding, and
+then putting his hand to his mouth and exaggerating the whisper._] The
+Terrible Swede.
+
+MOLLIE. [_In her ordinary tone and very much exasperated._] Robert, I've
+told you a hundred times that you shouldn't refer to--to--the man in
+that way.
+
+BOB. And I've told you a hundred times to ask Hilda his name. If I knew
+his name I'd announce him with as much ceremony as if he were the
+Swedish Ambassador.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Disgusted._] Oh, don't try to be funny! Suppose some day Hilda
+hears you speak of him in that manner?
+
+BOB. You know that's mild compared to what you think of him. Suppose
+some day Hilda learns what you think of him?
+
+MOLLIE. I think very well of him and you know it. Of course, I dread the
+time when she marries him, but I wouldn't for the world have her think
+that we speak disrespectfully of her or her friends.
+
+BOB. "A man's home is his castle."
+
+     [MOLLIE'S _only answer is a gesture of impatience_. MOLLIE _and_
+     BOB _sit back in their chairs to await_ HILDA'S _return. Both sit
+     with fingers interlaced, hands resting on the edge of the table in
+     the attitude of school children at attention. A long pause._ MOLLIE
+     _unclasps her hands and shifts uneasily_. ROBERT _does the same_.
+     MOLLIE, _seeing this, hastily resumes her former attitude of quiet
+     waiting_. ROBERT, _however, grows increasingly restless. His
+     restlessness makes_ MOLLIE _nervous and she watches_ ROBERT, _and
+     when he is not observing her she darts quick, anxious glances at
+     the door, centre_. BOB _drains and refills his glass_.
+
+MOLLIE. [_She has been watching_ ROBERT _and every time he shifts or
+moves she unconsciously does the same, and finally she breaks out
+nervously_.] I don't understand this at all! Isn't to-day Tuesday?
+
+BOB. What of it?
+
+MOLLIE. He usually calls up on Wednesdays and comes to see her on
+Saturdays.
+
+BOB. And takes her to the theatre on Thursdays and to dances on Sundays.
+He's merely extending his line of attack.
+
+     [_Another long pause--then Bob begins to experiment to learn
+     whether the plates are still hot. He gingerly touches the edges of
+     the upper plate in two or three places. It seems safe to handle. He
+     takes hold of upper and lower plates boldly, muttering, as he does
+     so, "Cold as--" Drops the plates with a clatter and a smothered
+     oath. Shakes his fingers and blows on them. Meanwhile_ MOLLIE _is
+     sitting very rigid, regarding_ BOB _with a fixed stare and beating
+     a vigorous tattoo on the tablecloth with her fingers. Bob catches
+     her eye and cringes under her gaze. He drains and refills his
+     glass. He studies the walls and the ceiling of the room, meanwhile
+     still nursing his fingers._ BOB _steals a sidelong glance at_
+     MOLLIE. _She is still staring at him. He turns to his water goblet.
+     Picks it up and holds it to the light. He rolls the stem between
+     his fingers, squinting at the light through the water. Reciting
+     slowly as he continues to gaze at the light._
+
+BOB. Starlight! Starbright! Will Hilda talk to him all night!
+
+MOLLIE. [_In utter disgust._] Oh, stop that singing.
+
+     [BOB _puts down his glass, then drinks the water and refills the
+     glass. He then turns his attention to the silverware and cutlery
+     before him. He examines it critically, then lays a teaspoon
+     carefully on the cloth before him, and attempts the trick of
+     picking it up with the first finger in the bowl and the thumb at
+     the point of the handle. After one or two attempts the spoon shoots
+     on the floor, far behind him._ MOLLIE _jumps at the noise_. BOB
+     _turns slowly and looks at the spoon with an injured air, then
+     turns back to_ MOLLIE _with a silly, vacuous smile. He now lays all
+     the remaining cutlery in a straight row before him._
+
+BOB. [_Slowly counting the cutlery and silver, back and forth._] Eeny,
+meeny, miney, mo. Catch a--[_Stops suddenly as an idea comes to him.
+Gazes thoughtfully at_ MOLLIE _for a moment, then begins to count over
+again_.] Eeny, meeny, miney, mo; Hilda's talking to her beau. If we
+holler, she may go. Eeny, mee----
+
+MOLLIE. [_Interrupting and exasperated to the verge of tears._] Bob, if
+you don't stop all that nonsense, I shall scream! [_In a very tense
+tone._] I believe I'm going to have one of my sick headaches! [_Puts her
+hand to her forehead._] I know it; I can feel it coming on!
+
+BOB. [_In a soothing tone._] Hunger, my dear, hunger! When you have a
+good warm meal you'll feel better.
+
+MOLLIE. [_In despair._] What do you suppose I ought to do?
+
+BOB. Go out in the kitchen and fry a couple of eggs.
+
+MOLLIE. Oh! be serious! I'm at my wits' end! Hilda never did anything
+like this before.
+
+BOB. [_Suddenly quite serious._] What does that fellow do for a living,
+anyhow?
+
+MOLLIE. How should I know?
+
+BOB. Didn't you ever ask Hilda?
+
+MOLLIE. Certainly not. Hilda doesn't ask me about your business; why
+should I pry into her affairs?
+
+BOB. [_Taking out his cigarette case and lighting a cigarette._] Mollie,
+I see you're strong for the Constitution of the United States.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Suspiciously._] What do you mean by that?
+
+BOB. The Constitution says: "Whereas it is a self-evident truth that all
+men are born equal"--[_With a wave of the hand._] Hilda and you, and the
+Terrible Swede and I and----
+
+MOLLIE. [_Interrupting._] Bob, you're such a _heathen_! _That's not in
+the Constitution._ That's in the Bible!
+
+BOB. Well, wherever it is, until this evening I never realized what a
+personage Hilda is.
+
+MOLLIE. You can make fun of me all you please, but I know what's right!
+Your remarks don't influence me in the least--not in the least!
+
+BOB. [_Murmurs thoughtfully and feelingly._] How true! [_Abruptly._] Why
+don't they get married? Do you know that?
+
+MOLLIE. All I know is that they are waiting until his business is
+entirely successful, so that Hilda won't have to work.
+
+BOB. Well, the Swedes are pretty careful of their money. The chances are
+Hilda has a neat little nest-egg laid by.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Hesitating and doubtfully._] That's one thing that worries me
+a little. I think Hilda puts money--into--into--into the young man's
+business.
+
+BOB. [_Indignantly._] Do you mean to tell me that this girl gives her
+money to that fellow and you don't try to find out a thing about him?
+Who he is or what he does? I suppose she supports the loafer.
+
+MOLLIE. [_With dignity._] He's not a loafer. I've seen him and I've
+talked with him, and I know he's a gentleman.
+
+BOB. Mollie, I'm getting tired of all that kind of drivel. I believe
+nowadays women give a good deal more thought to pleasing their maids
+than they do to pleasing their husbands.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Demurely._] Well, you know, Bob, your maid can leave you much
+easier than your husband can--[_pauses thoughtfully_] and I'm sure she's
+much harder to replace.
+
+BOB. [_Very angry, looking at his watch, throwing his napkin on the
+table and standing up._] Mollie, our dinner has been interrupted for
+fifteen minutes while Hilda entertains her [_with sarcasm_] gentleman
+friend. If you won't stop it, I will.
+
+     [_Steps toward the door, centre._
+
+MOLLIE. [_Sternly, pointing to_ BOB'S _chair_.] Robert, sit down!
+
+     [BOB _pauses, momentarily, and at the instant_ HILDA _enters,
+     centre, meeting_ BOB, _face to face. Both are startled._ BOB, _in a
+     surly manner, walks back to his place at the table_. HILDA
+     _follows, excited and eager_. BOB _sits down and_ HILDA _stands for
+     a moment at the table, smiling from one to the other and evidently
+     anxious to say something_. BOB _and_ MOLLIE _are severe and
+     unfriendly. They gaze at_ HILDA _coldly. Slowly_ HILDA'S
+     _enthusiasm cools, and she becomes again the impassive servant_.
+
+HILDA. Aixcuse me, Meeses Aispenhayne, I am very sorry. I bring the
+dinner right in. [_Hilda exits left._
+
+BOB. It's all nonsense. [_Touches the plates again, but this time even
+more cautiously than before. This time he finds they are entirely safe
+to handle._] These plates are stone cold now.
+
+     [HILDA _enters, left, with meat platter. Places it before_ BOB. _He
+     serves the meat and_ MOLLIE _starts to serve the vegetables_. HILDA
+     _hands_ MOLLIE _her meat plate_.
+
+MOLLIE. Vegetables? [BOB _is chewing on his meat and does not answer_.
+MOLLIE _looks at him inquiringly. But his eyes are on his plate.
+Repeating._] Vegetables? [_Still no answer from_ BOB. _Very softly,
+under her breath._] H'mm.
+
+     [MOLLIE _helps herself to vegetables and then dishes out a portion
+     which she hands to_ HILDA, _who in turn places the dish beside_
+     BOB. _When both are served_ HILDA _stands for a moment back of the
+     table. She clasps and unclasps her hands in a nervous manner, seems
+     about to speak, but as_ BOB _and_ MOLLIE _pay no attention to her
+     she slowly and reluctantly turns, and exits left_. MOLLIE _takes
+     one or two bites of the meat and then gives a quick glance at_ BOB.
+     _He is busy chewing at his meat, and_ MOLLIE _quietly lays down her
+     knife and fork and turns to the vegetables_.
+
+BOB. [_Chewing desperately on his meat._] Tenderloin, I believe?
+
+MOLLIE. [_Sweetly._] Yes, dear.
+
+BOB. [_Imitating_ MOLLIE _a moment back_.] H'mm! [_He takes one or two
+more hard bites._] Mollie, I have an idea.
+
+MOLLIE. I'm relieved.
+
+BOB. [_Savagely._] Yes, you will be when you hear it. When we get that
+builder's name from Fanny Russell, we'll tell him that instead of a
+garage, which we don't need, he can build a special telephone booth off
+the kitchen. Then while Hilda serves the dinner----
+
+     [BOB _stops short, as_ HILDA _bursts in abruptly, left, and comes
+     to the table_.
+
+HILDA. Aixcuse me, Meeses Aispenhayne, I am so excited.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Anxiously._] Is anything wrong, Hilda?
+
+HILDA. [_Explosively._] Meeses Aispenhayne, Meester Leendquist he say
+you want to move to Highland Park.
+
+     [BOB _and_ MOLLIE _simultaneously drop their knives and forks and
+     look at_ HILDA _in astonishment and wonder_.
+
+MOLLIE. What?
+
+BOB. Who?
+
+HILDA. [_Repeats very rapidly._] Meester Leendquist, he say you look for
+house on North Shore!
+
+MOLLIE. [_Utterly overcome at_ HILDA'S _knowledge and at a loss for
+words of denial_.] We move to the North Shore? How ridiculous! Hilda,
+where did you get such an idea? [_Turns to_ ROBERT.] Robert, did you
+ever hear anything so laughable? [_She forces a strained laugh._] Ha!
+Ha! Ha! [ROBERT _has been looking at_ HILDA _in dumb wonder. At_
+MOLLIE'S _question he turns to her in startled surprise. He starts to
+answer, gulps, swallows hard, and then coughs violently. Very sharply,
+after waiting a moment for_ BOB _to answer_.] Robert Espenhayne, will
+you stop that coughing and answer me!
+
+BOB. [_Between coughs, and drinking a glass of water._] Egh! Egh! Excuse
+me! Something, eh! egh! stuck in my throat.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Turning to_ HILDA.] Some day we might want to move north,
+Hilda, but not now! Oh, no, not now!
+
+BOB. Who told you that, Hilda?
+
+HILDA. Meester Leendquist.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Puzzled._] Who is Mr. Lindquist?
+
+HILDA. [_Surprised._] Meester Leendquist--[_Pauses, a trifle
+embarrassed._] Meester Leendquist ees young man who just speak to me on
+telephone. He come to see me every Saturday.
+
+BOB. Oh, Mr. Lindquist, the--the--Ter----
+
+MOLLIE. [_Interrupting frantically, and waving her hands at_ BOB.] Yes,
+yes, of course. You know--Mr. Lindquist! [BOB _catches himself just in
+time and_ MOLLIE _settles back with a sigh of relief, then turns to_
+HILDA _with a puzzled air_.] But where did Mr. Lindquist get such an
+idea?
+
+HILDA. Mrs. Russell tell heem so.
+
+MOLLIE. [_Now entirely bewildered._] What Mrs. Russell?
+
+HILDA. Meeses Russell--your friend.
+
+MOLLIE. [_More and more at sea._] Mrs. Edwin Russell, who comes to see
+me--every now and then?
+
+HILDA. Yes.
+
+MOLLIE. But how does Mrs. Russell know Mr. Lindquist and why should she
+tell Mr. Lindquist that we expected to move to the North Shore?
+
+HILDA. Meester Leendquist, he build Meeses Russell's house. That ees
+hees business. He build houses on North Shore and he sell them and rent
+them.
+
+     [BOB _and_ MOLLIE _look at each other and at_ HILDA, _in wonder and
+     astonishment as the situation slowly filters into their brains. A
+     long pause._]
+
+BOB. [_In awe and astonishment._] You mean that Mr. Lindquist, the young
+man who comes to see you every--every--every now and then--is the same
+man who put up the Russell house?
+
+HILDA. Yes, Meester Aispenhayne.
+
+BOB. [_Slowly._] And when Mrs. Espenhayne [_points to_ MOLLIE] wrote to
+Mrs. Russell [_jerks his thumb to indicate the north_], Mrs. Russell
+told Mr. Lindquist [_jerks his thumb in opposite direction_] and Mr.
+Lindquist telephoned to you?
+
+     [_Points to_ HILDA.
+
+HILDA. Yes, Meester Aispenhayne. [_Nodding._
+
+BOB. [_Very thoughtfully and slowly._] H'mm! [_Then slowly resuming his
+meal and speaking in mock seriousness, in subtle jest at_ MOLLIE, _and
+imitating her tone of a moment or two back_.] But of course, you
+understand, Hilda, we don't want to move to the North Shore now! Oh, no,
+not now!
+
+HILDA. [_Somewhat crestfallen._] Yes, Meester Aispenhayne.
+
+BOB. [_Reflectively._] But, of course, if Mr. Lindquist builds houses,
+we might look. Yes, we might look.
+
+HILDA. [_In growing confidence and enthusiasm._] Yes, Meester
+Aispenhayne, and he build such beautiful houses and so cheap. He do so
+much heemself. Hees father was carpenter and he work hees way through
+Uneeversity of Mennesota and study architecture and then he go to
+Uneeversity of Eelenois and study landscape gardening and now he been in
+business for heemself sex years. And oh, Meeses Aispenhayne, you must
+see hees own home! You will love eet, eet ees so beautiful. A little
+house, far back from the road. You can hardly see eet for the trees and
+the shrubs, and een the summer the roses grow all around eet. Eet is
+just like the picture book!
+
+MOLLIE. [_In the most perfunctory tone, utterly without interest or
+enthusiasm._] How charming! [_Pauses thoughtfully, then turns to_ HILDA,
+_anxiously_.] Then I suppose, Hilda, if we should decide to move up to
+the North Shore you would go with us?
+
+HILDA. [_Hesitatingly._] Yes, Meeses Aispenhayne. [_Pauses._] But I
+theenk I must tell you thees spring Meester Leendquist and I aixpect to
+get married. Meester Leendquist's business ees very good. [_With a quick
+smile and a glance from one to the other._] You know, I am partner with
+heem. I put all my money een Meester Leendquist's business too.
+
+     [MOLLIE _and_ BOB _gaze at each other in complete resignation and
+     surrender_.
+
+BOB. [_Quite seriously after a long pause._] Hilda, I don't know whether
+we will move north or not, but the next time Mr. Lindquist comes here I
+want you to introduce me to him. I'd like to know him. You ought to be
+very proud of a man like that.
+
+HILDA. [_Radiant with pleasure._] Thank you, Meester Aispenhayne.
+
+MOLLIE. Yes, indeed, Hilda, Mr. Espenhayne has often said what a fine
+young man Mr. Lindquist seems to be. We want to meet him, and Mr.
+Espenhayne and I will talk about the house, and then we will speak to
+Mr. Lindquist. [_Then weakly._] Of course, we didn't expect to move
+north for a long time, but, of course, if you expect to get married, and
+Mr. Lindquist builds houses---- [_Her voice dies out. Long pause._
+
+HILDA. Thank you, Meeses Aispenhayne, I tell Mr. Leendquist.
+
+     [HILDA _stands at the table a moment longer, then slowly turns and
+     moves toward door, left_. BOB _and_ MOLLIE _watch her and as she
+     moves away from the table_ BOB _turns to_ MOLLIE. _At this moment_
+     HILDA _stops, turns suddenly and returns to the table_.
+
+HILDA. Oh, Meeses Aispenhayne, I forget one theeng!
+
+MOLLIE. What now, Hilda?
+
+HILDA. Meester Leendquist say eef you and Meester Aispenhayne want to
+look at property on North Shore, I shall let heem know and he meet you
+at station weeth hees automobile.
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+A DOLLAR
+
+BY
+
+DAVID PINSKI
+
+
+_A Dollar_ is reprinted by special permission of David Pinski and of
+B. W. Huebach, New York City, the publisher of David Pinski's _Ten
+Plays_, from which this play is taken. All rights reserved. For
+permission to perform address the publisher.
+
+
+DAVID PINSKI
+
+David Pinski, perhaps the most notable dramatist of the Yiddish Theatre,
+was born of Jewish parentage April 5, 1872, in Mohilev, on the Dnieper,
+White Russia. Because his parents had rabbinical aspirations for him he
+was well educated in Hebrew studies (Bible and Talmud) by his fourteenth
+year, when he moved to Moscow, where he was further trained in classical
+and secular studies. In 1891 he planned to study medicine in Vienna, but
+soon returned to Warsaw, where he began his literary work as a
+short-story writer. In 1896 he took up the study of philosophy and
+literature, and in 1899 wrote his first plays. In 1899 he came to New
+York City, where he is now editor of the Jewish daily, _Die Zeit_. In
+1911 he revisited Germany to see a production of his well-known comedy,
+_The Treasure_, by Max Reinhart.
+
+Mr. Pinski is zealous in his interests in literature, drama, socialism,
+and Zionism. Drama is to him an interpretation of life, and a guide and
+leader, as were the words of the old poets and prophets. "The dramatic
+technique," says he, "changes with each plot, as each plot brings with
+it its own technique. One thing, however, must be common to all the
+different forms of the dramatic technique--avoidance of tediousness."
+
+Mr. Pinski has written a goodly number of plays, most of which are on
+Yiddish themes. _Forgotten Souls_, _The Stranger_, _Sufferings_, _The
+Treasure_, _The Phonograph_, and _A Dollar_ may be mentioned. Most of
+his plays have been produced many times; _The Stranger_ played the third
+season in Moscow.
+
+"I wrote _A Dollar_," says he, "in the summer of 1913, when I was hard
+pressed financially. I relieved myself of my feelings by a hearty laugh
+at the almighty dollar and the race for it. Just as I did many summers
+before, in 1906, when I entertained myself by ridiculing the mad money
+joy in the bigger comedy, _The Treasure_."
+
+
+PERSONS
+
+The Characters are given in the order of their appearance.
+
+    THE COMEDIAN
+    THE VILLAIN
+    THE TRAGEDIAN
+    ACTOR _who plays_ "OLD MAN" _role_
+    THE HEROINE
+    THE INGENUE
+    ACTRESS _who plays_ "OLD WOMAN" _role_
+    THE STRANGER
+
+
+
+
+A DOLLAR
+
+
+     _A cross-roads at the edge of a forest. One road extends from left
+     to right; the other crosses the first diagonally, disappearing into
+     the forest. The roadside is bordered with grass. On the right, at
+     the crossing, stands a sign-post, to which are nailed two boards,
+     giving directions and distances._
+
+     _The afternoon of a summer day. A troupe of stranded strolling
+     players enters from the left. They are ragged and weary. The_
+     COMEDIAN _walks first, holding a valise in each hand, followed by
+     the_ VILLAIN _carrying over his arms two huge bundles wrapped in
+     bed-sheets. Immediately behind these the_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD
+     MAN" _carrying together a large, heavy trunk_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Stepping toward the sign-post, reading the directions on the
+boards, and explaining to the approaching fellow-actors._] That way
+[_pointing to right and swinging the valise to indicate the direction_]
+is thirty miles. This way [_pointing to left_] is forty-five--and that
+way it is thirty-six. Now choose for yourself the town that you'll never
+reach to-day. The nearest way for us is back to where we came from,
+whence we were escorted with the most splendid catcalls that ever
+crowned our histrionic successes.
+
+VILLAIN. [_Exhausted._] Who will lend me a hand to wipe off my
+perspiration? It has a nasty way of streaming into my mouth.
+
+COMEDIAN. Stand on your head, then, and let your perspiration water a
+more fruitful soil.
+
+VILLAIN. Oh!
+
+     [_He drops his arms, the bundles fall down. He then sinks down onto
+     one of them and wipes off the perspiration, moving his hand wearily
+     over his face. The_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD MAN" _approach the
+     post and read the signs_.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_In a deep, dramatic voice._] It's hopeless! It's hopeless!
+[_He lets go his end of the trunk._
+
+"OLD MAN." [_Lets go his end of the trunk._] Mm. Another stop.
+
+     [TRAGEDIAN _sits himself down on the trunk in a tragico-heroic
+     pose, knees wide apart, right elbow on right knee, left hand on
+     left leg, head slightly bent toward the right_. COMEDIAN _puts down
+     the valises and rolls a cigarette_. The "OLD MAN" _also sits down
+     upon the trunk, head sunk upon his breast_.
+
+VILLAIN. Thirty miles to the nearest town! Thirty miles!
+
+COMEDIAN. It's an outrage how far people move their towns away from us.
+
+VILLAIN. We won't strike a town until the day after to-morrow.
+
+COMEDIAN. Hurrah! That's luck for you! There's yet a day-after-to-morrow
+for us.
+
+VILLAIN. And the old women are still far behind us. Crawling!
+
+"OLD MAN." They want the vote and they can't even walk.
+
+COMEDIAN. We won't give them votes, that's settled. Down with votes for
+women!
+
+VILLAIN. It seems the devil himself can't take you! Neither your tongue
+nor your feet ever get tired. You get on my nerves. Sit down and shut up
+for a moment.
+
+COMEDIAN. _Me?_ Ha--ha! I'm going back there to the lady of my heart.
+I'll meet her and fetch her hither in my arms.
+
+     [_He spits on his hands, turns up his sleeves, and strides rapidly
+     off toward the left._
+
+VILLAIN. Clown!
+
+"OLD MAN." How can he laugh and play his pranks even now? We haven't a
+cent to our souls, our supply of food is running low and our shoes are
+dilapidated.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_With an outburst._] Stop it! No reckoning! The number of
+our sins is great and the tale of our misfortunes is even greater. Holy
+Father! Our flasks are empty; I'd give what is left of our soles
+[_displaying his ragged shoes_] for just a smell of whiskey.
+
+     [_From the left is heard the laughter of a woman. Enter the_
+     COMEDIAN _carrying in his arms the_ HEROINE, _who has her hands
+     around his neck and holds a satchel in both hands behind his back_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Letting his burden down upon the grass._] Sit down, my love,
+and rest up. We go no further to-day. Your feet, your tender little feet
+must ache you. How unhappy that makes me! At the first opportunity I
+shall buy you an automobile.
+
+HEROINE. And in the meantime you may carry me oftener.
+
+COMEDIAN. The beast of burden hears and obeys.
+
+     [_Enter the_ INGENUE _and the_ "OLD WOMAN," _each carrying a small
+     satchel_.
+
+INGENUE. [_Weary and pouting._] Ah! No one carried _me_.
+
+     [_She sits on the grass to the right of the_ HEROINE.
+
+VILLAIN. We have only one ass with us.
+
+     [COMEDIAN _stretches himself out at the feet of the_ HEROINE _and
+     emits the bray of a donkey_. "OLD WOMAN" _sits down on the grass to
+     the left of the_ HEROINE.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." And are we to pass the night here?
+
+"OLD MAN." No, we shall stop at "Hotel Neverwas."
+
+COMEDIAN. Don't you like our night's lodgings? [_Turning over toward
+the_ "OLD WOMAN."] See, the bed is broad and wide, and certainly
+without vermin. Just feel the high grass. Such a soft bed you never
+slept in. And you shall have a cover embroidered with the moon and
+stars, a cover such as no royal bride ever possessed.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." You're laughing, and I feel like crying.
+
+COMEDIAN. Crying? You should be ashamed of the sun which favors you with
+its setting splendor. Look, and be inspired!
+
+VILLAIN. Yes, look and expire.
+
+COMEDIAN. Look, and shout with ecstasy!
+
+"OLD MAN." Look, and burst!
+
+     [INGENUE _starts sobbing_. TRAGEDIAN _laughs heavily_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Turning over to the_ INGENUE.] What! You are crying? Aren't
+you ashamed of yourself?
+
+INGENUE. I'm sad.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." [_Sniffling._] I can't stand it any longer.
+
+HEROINE. Stop it! Or I'll start bawling, too.
+
+     [COMEDIAN _springs to his knees and looks quickly from one woman to
+     the other_.
+
+VILLAIN. Ha--ha! Cheer them up, clown!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Jumps up abruptly without the aid of his hands._] Ladies and
+gentlemen, I have it! [_In a measured and singing voice._] Ladies and
+gentlemen, I have it!
+
+HEROINE. What have you?
+
+COMEDIAN. Cheerfulness.
+
+VILLAIN. Go bury yourself, clown.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_As before._] Ho-ho-ho!
+
+"OLD MAN." P-o-o-h!
+
+     [_The women weep all the louder._
+
+COMEDIAN. I have--a bottle of whiskey!
+
+     [_General commotion. The women stop crying and look up to the_
+     COMEDIAN _in amazement; the_ TRAGEDIAN _straightens himself out and
+     casts a surprised look at the_ COMEDIAN; the "OLD MAN," _rubbing
+     his hands, jumps to his feet; the_ VILLAIN _looks suspiciously at
+     the_ COMEDIAN.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. A bottle of whiskey?
+
+"OLD MAN." He-he-he--A bottle of whiskey.
+
+VILLAIN. Hum--whiskey.
+
+COMEDIAN. You bet! A bottle of whiskey, hidden and preserved for such
+moments as this, a moment of masculine depression and feminine tears.
+
+     [_Taking the flask from his hip pocket. The expression on the faces
+     of all changes from hope to disappointment._
+
+VILLAIN. You call that a bottle. I call it a flask.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Explosively._] A thimble!
+
+"OLD MAN." A dropper!
+
+"OLD WOMAN." For seven of us! Oh!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Letting the flash sparkle in the sun._] But it's whiskey, my
+children. [_Opening the flask and smelling it._] U--u--u--m! That's
+whiskey for you. The saloonkeeper from whom I hooked it will become a
+teetotaler from sheer despair.
+
+     [TRAGEDIAN _rising heavily and slowly proceeding toward the flask_.
+     VILLAIN _still skeptical and rising as if unwilling. The_ "OLD MAN"
+     _chuckling and rubbing his hands. The_ "OLD WOMAN" _getting up
+     indifferently and moving apathetically toward the flask. The_
+     HEROINE _and_ INGENUE _hold each other by the hand and take ballet
+     steps in waltz time. All approach the_ COMEDIAN _with necks eagerly
+     stretched out and smell the flask, which the_ COMEDIAN _holds
+     firmly in both hands_.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. Ho--ho--ho--Fine!
+
+"OLD MAN." He--he--Small quantity, but excellent quality!
+
+VILLAIN. Seems to be good whiskey.
+
+HEROINE. [_Dancing and singing._] My comedian, my comedian. His head is
+in the right place. But why didn't you nab a larger bottle?
+
+COMEDIAN. My beloved one, I had to take in consideration both the
+quality of the whiskey and the size of my pocket.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." If only there's enough of it to go round.
+
+INGENUE. Oh, I'm feeling sad again.
+
+COMEDIAN. Cheer up, there will be enough for us all. Cheer up. Here,
+smell it again.
+
+     [_They smell again and cheerfulness reappears. They join hands and
+     dance and sing, forming a circle, the_ COMEDIAN _applauding_.
+
+COMEDIAN. Good! If you are so cheered after a mere smell of it, what
+won't you feel like after a drink. Wait, I'll join you. [_He hides the
+whiskey flask in his pocket._] I'll show you a new roundel which we will
+perform in our next presentation of Hamlet, to the great edification of
+our esteemed audience. [_Kicking the_ VILLAIN'S _bundles out of the
+way_.] The place is clear, now for dance and play. Join hands and form a
+circle, but you, Villain, stay on the outside of it. You are to try to
+get in and we dance and are not to let you in, without getting out of
+step. Understand? Now then!
+
+     [_The circle is formed in the following order_--COMEDIAN, HEROINE,
+     TRAGEDIAN, "OLD WOMAN," "OLD MAN," INGENUE.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Singing._]
+
+    To be or not to be, that is the question.
+      That is the question, that is the question.
+    He who would enter in,
+      Climb he must over us,
+    If over he cannot,
+      He must get under us.
+
+REFRAIN
+
+    Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
+      Over us, under us.
+    Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
+      Under us, over us.
+    Now we are jolly, jolly are we.
+
+     [_The_ COMEDIAN _sings the refrain alone at first and the others
+     repeat it together with him_.
+
+COMEDIAN.
+
+    To be or not to be, that is the question,
+      That is the question, that is the question.
+    In life to win success,
+      Elbow your way through,
+    Jostle the next one,
+      Else _you_ will be jostled.
+
+REFRAIN
+
+[_Same as before._]
+
+     [_On the last word of the refrain they flop as if dumbfounded, and
+     stand transfixed, with eyes directed on one spot inside of the
+     ring. The_ VILLAIN _leans over the arms of the_ COMEDIAN _and the_
+     HEROINE; _gradually the circle draws closer till their heads almost
+     touch. They attempt to free their handy but each holds on to the
+     other and all seven whisper in great astonishment._
+
+ALL. A dollar!
+
+     [_The circle opens up again, they look each at the other and shout
+     in wonder._
+
+ALL. A dollar!
+
+     [_Once more they close in and the struggle to free their hands
+     grows wilder; the_ VILLAIN _tries to climb over and then under the
+     hands into the circle and stretches out his hand toward the dollar,
+     but instinctively he is stopped by the couple he tries to pass
+     between, even when he is not seen but only felt. Again all lean
+     their heads over the dollar, quite lost in the contemplation of it,
+     and whispering, enraptured._
+
+ALL. A dollar!
+
+     [_Separating once again they look at each other with exultation and
+     at the same time try to free their hands, once more exclaiming in
+     ecstasy._
+
+ALL. A dollar!
+
+     [_Then the struggle to get free grows wilder and wilder. The hand
+     that is perchance freed is quickly grasped again by the one who
+     held it._
+
+INGENUE. [_In pain._] Oh, my hands, my hands! You'll break them. Let go
+of my hands!
+
+"OLD WOMAN." If you don't let go of my hands I'll bite.
+
+     [_Attempting to bite the hands of the_ TRAGEDIAN _and the_ "OLD
+     MAN," _while they try to prevent it_.
+
+"OLD MAN." [_Trying to free his hands from the hold of the_ HEROINE _and
+the_ "OLD WOMAN."] Let go of me. [_Pulling at both his hands._] These
+women's hands that--seem so frail, just look at them now.
+
+HEROINE. [_To_ COMEDIAN.] But you let go my hands.
+
+COMEDIAN. I think it's you who are holding fast to mine.
+
+HEROINE. Why should I be holding you? If you pick up the dollar, what is
+yours is mine, you know.
+
+COMEDIAN. Then let go of my hand and I'll pick it up.
+
+HEROINE. No, I'd rather pick it up myself.
+
+COMEDIAN. I expected something like that from you.
+
+HEROINE. [_Angrily._] Let go of my hands, that's all.
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha--It's a huge joke. [_In a tone of command._] Be
+quiet. [_They become still._] We must contemplate the dollar with
+religious reverence. [_Commotion._] Keep quiet, I say! A dollar is
+spread out before us. A real dollar in the midst of our circle, and
+everything within us draws us toward it, draws us on irresistibly. Be
+quiet! Remember you are before the Ruler, before the Almighty. On your
+knees before him and pray. On your knees.
+
+     [_Sinks down on his knees and drags with him the_ HEROINE _and_
+     INGENUE. "OLD MAN" _dropping on his knees and dragging the_ "OLD
+     WOMAN" _with him_.
+
+"OLD MAN." He-he-he!
+
+TRAGEDIAN. Ho-ho-ho, clown!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_To_ TRAGEDIAN.] You are not worthy of the serious mask you
+wear. You don't appreciate true Divine Majesty. On your knees, or you'll
+get no whiskey. [TRAGEDIAN _sinks heavily on his knees_.] O holy dollar,
+O almighty ruler of the universe, before thee we kneel in the dust and
+send toward thee our most tearful and heartfelt prayers. Our hands are
+bound, but our hearts strive toward thee and our souls yearn for thee. O
+great king of kings, thou who bringest together those who are separated,
+and separatest those who are near, thou who----
+
+     [_The_ VILLAIN, _who is standing aside, takes a full jump, clears
+     the_ INGENUE _and grasps the dollar. All let go of one another and
+     fall upon him, shouting, screaming, pushing, and fighting. Finally
+     the_ VILLAIN _manages to free himself, holding the dollar in his
+     right fist. The others follow him with clenched fists, glaring
+     eyes, and foaming mouths, wildly shouting._
+
+ALL. The dollar! The dollar! The dollar! Return the dollar!
+
+VILLAIN. [_Retreating._] You can't take it away from me; it's mine. It
+was lying under my bundle.
+
+ALL. Give up the dollar! Give up the dollar!
+
+VILLAIN. [_In great rage._] No, no. [_A moment during which the opposing
+sides look at each other in hatred. Quietly but with malice._] Moreover,
+whom should I give it to? To you--you--you--you?
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha-ha! He is right, the dollar is his. He has it,
+therefore it is his. Ha-ha-ha-ha, and I wanted to crawl on my knees
+toward the dollar and pick it up with my teeth. Ha-ha-ha-ha, but he got
+ahead of me. Ha-ha-ha-ha.
+
+HEROINE. [_Whispering in rage._] That's because you would not let go of
+me.
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha-ha!
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Shaking his fist in the face of the_ VILLAIN.] Heaven and
+hell, I feel like crushing you!
+
+     [_He steps aside toward the trunk and sits down in his former
+     pose._ INGENUE, _lying down on the grass, starts to cry_.
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha! Now we will drink, and the first drink is the
+Villain's.
+
+     [_His proposition is accepted in gloom; the_ INGENUE, _however,
+     stops crying; the_ "OLD MAN" _and the_ "OLD WOMAN" _have been
+     standing by the_ VILLAIN _looking at the dollar in his hand as if
+     waiting for the proper moment to snatch it from, him. Finally the_
+     "OLD WOMAN" _makes a contemptuous gesture and both turn aside from
+     the_ VILLAIN. _The latter, left in peace, smooths out the dollar,
+     with a serious expression on his face. The_ COMEDIAN _hands him a
+     small glass of whiskey_.
+
+COMEDIAN. Drink, lucky one.
+
+     [_The_ VILLAIN, _shutting the dollar in his fist, takes the whiskey
+     glass gravely and quickly drinks the contents, returning the glass.
+     He then starts to smooth and caress the dollar again. The_
+     COMEDIAN, _still laughing, passes the whiskey glass from one to the
+     other of the company, who drink sullenly. The whiskey fails to
+     cheer them. After drinking, the_ INGENUE _begins to sob again. The_
+     HEROINE, _who is served last, throws the empty whiskey glass toward
+     the_ COMEDIAN.
+
+COMEDIAN. Good shot. Now I'll drink up all that's left in the bottle.
+
+     [_He puts the flask to his lips and drinks. The_ HEROINE _tries to
+     knock it away from him, but he skilfully evades her. The_ VILLAIN
+     _continues to smooth and caress the dollar_.
+
+VILLAIN. Ha-ha-ha!... [_Singing and dancing._
+
+    He who would enter in,
+      _Jump_ he must over us.
+
+Ho-ho-ho! O Holy Dollar! O Almighty Ruler of the World!... O King of
+Kings! Ha-ha-ha!... Don't you all think if I have the dollar and you
+have it not that I partake a bit of its majesty? That means that I am
+now a part of its majesty. That means that I am the Almighty Dollar's
+plenipotentiary, and therefore I am the Almighty Ruler himself. On your
+knees before me!... He-he-he!...
+
+COMEDIAN. [_After throwing away the empty flask, lies down on the
+grass._] Well roared, lion, but you forgot to hide your jack-ass's ears.
+
+VILLAIN. It is one's consciousness of power. He-he-he. I know and you
+know that if I have the money I have the say. Remember, none of you has
+a cent to his name. The whiskey is gone. [_Picking up the flask and
+examining it._
+
+COMEDIAN. I did my job well. Drank it to the last drop.
+
+VILLAIN. Yes, to the last drop. This evening you shall have bread and
+sausage. Very small portions, too, for to-morrow is another day.
+[INGENUE _sobbing more frequently_.] Not till the day after to-morrow
+shall we reach town, and that doesn't mean that you get anything to eat
+there, either, but I--I--I--he-he-he. O Holy Dollar, Almighty Dollar!
+[_Gravely._] He who does my bidding shall not be without food.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_With wide-open eyes._] What? Ha-ha-ha!
+
+     [INGENUE _gets up and throws herself on the_ VILLAIN'S _bosom_.
+
+INGENUE. Oh, my dear beloved one.
+
+VILLAIN. Ha-ha, my power already makes itself felt.
+
+HEROINE. [_Pushing the_ INGENUE _away_.] Let go of him, you. He sought
+my love for a long time and now he shall have it.
+
+COMEDIAN. What? You!
+
+HEROINE. [_To_ COMEDIAN.] I hate you, traitor. [_To the_ VILLAIN.] I
+have always loved--genius. You are now the wisest of the wise. I adore
+you.
+
+VILLAIN. [_Holding_ INGENUE _in one arm_.] Come into my other arm.
+
+     [HEROINE, _throwing herself into his arms, kissing and embracing
+     him_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Half rising on his knees._] Stop, I protest. [_Throwing
+himself on the grass._] "O frailty, thy name is woman."
+
+"OLD WOMAN." [_Approaching the_ VILLAIN _from behind and embracing
+him_.] Find a little spot on your bosom for me. I play the "Old Woman,"
+but you know I'm not really old.
+
+VILLAIN. Now I have all of power and all of love.
+
+COMEDIAN. Don't call it love. Call it servility.
+
+VILLAIN. [_Freeing himself from the women._] But now I have something
+more important to carry out. My vassals--I mean you all--I have decided
+we will not stay here over night. We will proceed further.
+
+WOMEN. How so?
+
+VILLAIN. We go forward to-night.
+
+COMEDIAN. You have so decided?
+
+VILLAIN. I have so decided, and that in itself should be enough for you;
+but due to an old habit I shall explain to you why I have so decided.
+
+COMEDIAN. Keep your explanation to yourself and better not disturb my
+contemplation of the sunset.
+
+VILLAIN. I'll put you down on the blacklist. It will go ill with you for
+your speeches against me. Now, then, _without_ an explanation, we will
+go--and at once. [_Nobody stirs._] Very well, then, I go alone.
+
+WOMEN. No, no.
+
+VILLAIN. What do you mean?
+
+INGENUE. I go with you.
+
+HEROINE. And I.
+
+"OLD WOMAN." And I.
+
+VILLAIN. Your loyalty gratifies me very much.
+
+"OLD MAN." [_Who is sitting apathetically upon the trunk._] What the
+deuce is urging you to go?
+
+VILLAIN. I wanted to explain to you, but now no more. I owe you no
+explanations. I have decided--I wish to go, and that is sufficient.
+
+COMEDIAN. He plays his comedy wonderfully. Would you ever have suspected
+that there was so much wit in his cabbage head?
+
+WOMEN. [_Making love to the_ VILLAIN.] Oh, you darling.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Majestically._] I wouldn't give him even a single glance.
+
+VILLAIN. Still another on the blacklist. I'll tell you this much--I have
+decided----
+
+COMEDIAN. Ha-ha-ha! How long will you keep this up?
+
+VILLAIN. We start at once, but if I am to pay for your food I will not
+carry any baggage. You shall divide my bundles among you and of course
+those who are on the blacklist will get the heaviest share. You heard
+me. Now move on. I'm going now. We will proceed to the nearest town,
+which is thirty miles away. Now, then, I am off.
+
+COMEDIAN. Bon voyage.
+
+VILLAIN. And with me fares His Majesty the Dollar and your meals for
+to-morrow.
+
+WOMEN. We are coming, we are coming.
+
+"OLD MAN." I'll go along.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_To the_ VILLAIN.] You're a scoundrel and a mean fellow.
+
+VILLAIN. I am no fellow of yours. I am master and bread-giver.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. I'll crush you in a moment.
+
+VILLAIN. What? You threaten me! Let's go.
+
+     [_Turns to right. The women take their satchels and follow him._
+
+"OLD MAN." [_To the_ TRAGEDIAN.] Get up and take the trunk. We will
+settle the score with him some other time. It is he who has the dollar
+now.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Rising and shaking his fist._] I'll get him yet.
+
+     [_He takes his side of the trunk._
+
+VILLAIN. [_To_ TRAGEDIAN.] First put one of my bundles on your back.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_In rage._] One of your bundles on my back?
+
+VILLAIN. Oh, for all I care you can put it on your head, or between your
+teeth.
+
+"OLD MAN." We will put the bundle on the trunk.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Sitting up._] Look here, are you joking or are you in
+earnest?
+
+VILLAIN. [_Contemptuously._] I never joke.
+
+COMEDIAN. Then you are in earnest?
+
+VILLAIN. I'll make no explanations.
+
+COMEDIAN. Do you really think that because you have the dollar----
+
+VILLAIN. The holy dollar, the almighty dollar, the king of kings.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Continuing._] That therefore you are the master----
+
+VILLAIN. Bread-giver and provider.
+
+COMEDIAN. And that we must----
+
+VILLAIN. Do what I bid you to.
+
+COMEDIAN. So you are in earnest?
+
+VILLAIN. You must get up, take the baggage and follow me.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Rising._] Then I declare a revolution.
+
+VILLAIN. What? A revolution!
+
+COMEDIAN. A bloody one, if need be.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Dropping his end of the trunk and advancing with a
+bellicose attitude toward the_ VILLAIN.] And I shall be the first to let
+your blood, you scoundrel.
+
+VILLAIN. If that's the case I have nothing to say to you. Those who
+wish, come along.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Getting in his way._] No, you shall not go until you give up
+the dollar.
+
+VILLAIN. Ha-ha. It is to laugh!
+
+COMEDIAN. The dollar, please, or----
+
+VILLAIN. He-he-he!
+
+COMEDIAN. Then let there be blood. [_Turns up his sleeves._
+
+TRAGEDIAN. [_Taking off his coat._] Ah! Blood, blood!
+
+"OLD MAN." [_Dropping his end of the trunk._] I'm not going to keep out
+of a fight.
+
+WOMEN. [_Dropping his satchels._] Nor we. Nor we.
+
+VILLAIN. [_Shouting._] To whom shall I give up the dollar?
+You--you--you--you?
+
+COMEDIAN. This argument will not work any more. You are to give the
+dollar up to all of us. At the first opportunity we'll get change and
+divide it into equal parts.
+
+WOMEN. Hurrah, hurrah! Divide it, divide it!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_To_ VILLAIN.] And I will even be so good as to give you a
+share.
+
+TRAGEDIAN. I'd rather give him a sound thrashing.
+
+COMEDIAN. It shall be as I say. Give up the dollar.
+
+HEROINE. [_Throwing herself on the_ COMEDIAN'S _breast_.] My comedian!
+My comedian!
+
+INGENUE. [_To the_ VILLAIN.] I'm sick of you. Give up the dollar.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Pushing the_ HEROINE _aside_.] You better step aside or else
+you may get the punch I aim at the master and bread-giver. [_To the_
+VILLAIN.] Come up with the dollar!
+
+TRAGEDIAN. Give up the dollar to him, do you hear?
+
+ALL. The dollar, the dollar!
+
+VILLAIN. I'll tear it to pieces.
+
+COMEDIAN. Then we shall tear out what little hair you have left on your
+head. The dollar, quick!
+
+     [_They surround the_ VILLAIN; _the women pull his hair; the_
+     TRAGEDIAN _grabs him by the collar and shakes him; the_ "OLD MAN"
+     _strikes him on his bald pate; the_ COMEDIAN _struggles with him
+     and finally grasps the dollar_.
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Holding up the dollar._] I have it!
+
+     [_The women dance and sing._
+
+VILLAIN. Bandits! Thieves!
+
+TRAGEDIAN. Silence, or I'll shut your mouth.
+
+     [_Goes back to the trunk and assumes his heroic pose._
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Putting the dollar into his pocket._] That's what I call a
+successful and a bloodless revolution, except for a little fright and
+heart palpitation on the part of the late master and bread-giver.
+Listen, some one is coming. Perhaps he'll be able to change the dollar
+and then we can divide it at once.
+
+"OLD MAN." I am puzzled how we can change it into equal parts.
+
+     [_Starts to calculate with the_ INGENUE _and the_ "OLD WOMAN."
+
+HEROINE. [_Tenderly attentive to the_ COMEDIAN.] You are angry with me,
+but I was only playing with him so as to wheedle the dollar out of him.
+
+COMEDIAN. And now you want to trick me out of my share of it.
+
+"OLD MAN." It is impossible to divide it into equal parts. It is
+absolutely impossible. If it were ninety-eight cents or one hundred and
+five cents or----
+
+     [_The_ STRANGER _enters from the right, perceives the company,
+     greets it, and continues his way to left_. COMEDIAN _stops him_.
+
+COMEDIAN. I beg your pardon, sir; perhaps you have change of a dollar in
+dimes, nickels, and pennies.
+
+     [_Showing the dollar. The_ "OLD MAN" _and women step forward_.
+
+STRANGER. [_Getting slightly nervous, starts somewhat, makes a quick
+movement for his pistol-pocket, looks at the_ COMEDIAN _and the others
+and says slowly_.] Change of a dollar? [_Moving from the circle to
+left._] I believe I have.
+
+WOMEN. Hurrah!
+
+STRANGER. [_Turns so that no one is behind him and pulls his revolver._]
+Hands up!
+
+COMEDIAN. [_In a gentle tone of voice._] My dear sir, we are altogether
+peaceful folk.
+
+STRANGER. [_Takes the dollar from the_ COMEDIAN'S _hand and walks
+backwards to left with the pistol pointed at the group_.] Good-night,
+everybody.
+
+     [_He disappears, the actors remain dumb with fear, with their hands
+     up, mouths wide open, and staring into space._
+
+COMEDIAN. [_Finally breaks out into thunderous laughter._]
+Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE DIABOLICAL CIRCLE
+
+BY
+
+BEULAH BORNSTEAD
+
+
+
+_The Diabolical Circle_ is reprinted by special permission of Professor
+Franz Rickaby, in whose course in dramatic composition (English 36) in
+the University of North Dakota this play was written. For permission to
+perform, address Professor Franz Rickaby, University of North Dakota,
+University, North Dakota.
+
+
+BEULAH BORNSTEAD
+
+Beulah Bornstead, one of the promising young playwrights of the
+Northwest, was born in Grand Forks, North Dakota, May 5, 1896. She has
+had her academic training at the University of North Dakota, from which
+she received her B.A. in 1921. At present Miss Bornstead is principal of
+the Cavalier High School, North Dakota. Before attempting drama she
+tried her hand at journalism and at short-story writing.
+
+Miss Bornstead was introduced into playwriting by Professor Franz
+Rickaby, in whose course in dramatic composition at the University of
+North Dakota _The Diabolical Circle_ was written. In speaking of this
+play Miss Bornstead writes: "_The Diabolical Circle_ is the first play I
+have ever written. I never enjoyed doing anything so much in my life.
+The characters were so real to me that if I had bumped into one going
+round the corner I should not have been surprised in the least. BETTY
+and CHARLES and ADONIJAH and even COTTON MATHER himself worked that play
+out. All the humble author did was to set it down on paper." _The
+Diabolical Circle_ was produced May 5, 1921, by the Dakota Playmakers in
+their Little Theatre at the University of North Dakota.
+
+_The Diabolical Circle_ is one of the best contemporary plays dealing
+with American historical material. Its characterization is one of its
+noteworthy elements.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    COTTON MATHER
+    BETTY, _his daughter_
+    ADONIJAH WIGGLESWORTH, _a suitor, and_ COTTON'S _choice_
+    CHARLES MANNING, _likewise a suitor, but_ BETTY'S _choice_
+    THE CLOCK
+
+
+
+
+THE DIABOLICAL CIRCLE
+
+
+     SCENE: _The living-room in the Mather home in Boston._
+
+     TIME: _About 1700, an evening in early autumn._
+
+     _The stage represents the living-room of the Mather home. A large
+     colonial fireplace is seen down-stage left, within which stand huge
+     brass andirons. To one side hangs the bellows, with the tongs near
+     by, while above, underneath the mantelpiece, is suspended an old
+     flint-lock rifle. On both ends of the mantel are brass
+     candlesticks, and hanging directly above is an old-fashioned
+     portrait of Betty's mother. There are two doors, one leading into
+     the hall at centre left, the other, communicating with the rest of
+     the house, up-stage right. A straight high-backed settee is
+     down-stage right, while in the centre back towers an old
+     grandfather's clock.[K] To the left of the clock is the window,
+     cross-barred and draped with flowered chintz. An old-fashioned
+     table occupies the corner between the window and the hall door.
+     Here and there are various straight-backed chairs of Dutch origin.
+     Rag rugs cover the floor._
+
+     _As the curtain rises_ COTTON MATHER _is seated in a large armchair
+     by the fire, with_ BETTY _on a stool at his feet, with her
+     knitting_.
+
+     COTTON, _his hair already touched with the whitening frost of many
+     a severe New England winter, is grave and sedate. Very much
+     exercised with the perils of this life, and serenely contemplative
+     of the life to come, he takes himself and the world about him very
+     seriously._
+
+     _Not so with_ MISTRESS BETTY. _Outwardly demure, yet inwardly
+     rebellious against the straitened conventions of the times, she
+     dimples over with roguish merriment upon the slightest
+     provocation._
+
+     _As we first see them_ COTTON _is giving_ BETTY _some timely
+     advice_.
+
+COTTON. But you must understand that marriage, my daughter, is a most
+reverend and serious matter which should be approached in a manner
+fittingly considerate of its grave responsibility.
+
+BETTY. [_Thoughtfully._] Truly reverend and most serious, father
+[_looking up roguishly_], but I like not so much of the grave about it.
+
+COTTON. [_Continuing._] I fear thou lookest upon the matter too lightly.
+It is not seemly to treat such a momentous occasion thus flippantly.
+
+BETTY. [_Protesting._] Nay, father, why consider it at all? Marriage is
+yet a great way off. Mayhap I shall never leave thee.
+
+COTTON. Thou little thinkest that I may be suddenly called on to leave
+_thee_. The Good Word cautions us to boast not ourselves of the morrow,
+for we know not what a day may bring forth.
+
+BETTY. [_Dropping her knitting._] Father, thou art not feeling well.
+Perhaps----
+
+COTTON. Nay, child, be not alarmed. 'Tis but a most necessary lesson to
+be learned and laid up in the heart. I will not always be with thee and
+I would like to be comfortably assured of thy future welfare before I
+go.
+
+BETTY. [_Picking her knitting up._] Be comfortably assured, then, I
+prithee; I have no fears.
+
+COTTON. [_Bringing his arm down forcibly on the arm of the chair._] Aye!
+There it is. Thou hast no fears. Would that thou had'st some! [_Looks up
+at the portrait._] Had thy prudent and virtuous mother only lived to
+point the way, I might be spared this anxiety; but, beset by diverse
+difficulties in establishing the kingdom of God in this country, and
+sorely harassed by many hardships and by evil men, I fear me I have not
+propounded to thee much that I ought.
+
+BETTY. In what then is mine education lacking? Have I not all that is
+fitting and proper for a maiden to know?
+
+COTTON. [_Perplexed._] I know not. I have done my best, but thou hast
+not the proper attitude of mind befitting a maiden about to enter the
+married estate.
+
+BETTY. [_Protesting._] Nay, but I am not about to enter the married
+estate.
+
+COTTON. It is time.
+
+BETTY. [_Mockingly pleading._] Entreat me not to leave thee, father, nor
+forsake thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and whither----
+
+COTTON. [_Interrupting sternly._] Betty! It ill befitteth a daughter of
+mine to quote the Scriptures with such seeming irreverence.--I would not
+be parted from thee, yet I would that thou wert promised to some godly
+and upright soul that would guide thee yet more surely in the paths of
+righteousness. There be many such.
+
+BETTY. Yea, too many.
+
+COTTON. What meanest thou?
+
+BETTY. One were one too many when I would have none.
+
+COTTON. [_Shaking his head._] Ah. Betty, Betty! When wilt thou be
+serious? There is a goodly youth among the friends surrounding thee whom
+I have often marked, both on account of his godly demeanor and simple
+wisdom.
+
+BETTY. [_Nodding._] Yea, simple.
+
+COTTON. I speak of Adonijah Wigglesworth, a most estimable young
+gentleman, an acquaintance whom thou would'st do well to cultivate.
+
+BETTY. Yea, cultivate.
+
+COTTON. What thinkest thou?
+
+BETTY. A sod too dense for any ploughshare. My wit would break in the
+turning.
+
+COTTON. His is a strong nature, born to drive and not be driven. There
+is not such another, nay, not in the whole of Boston.
+
+BETTY. Nay. I have lately heard there be many such!
+
+COTTON. [_Testily._] Mayhap thou wouldst name a few.
+
+BETTY. [_Musingly, holds up her left hand with fingers outspread._] Aye,
+that I can. [_Checks off one on the little finger._] There be Marcus
+Ainslee----
+
+COTTON. A goodly youth that hath an eye for books.
+
+BETTY. One eye, sayest thou? Nay, four; and since I am neither morocco
+bound nor edged with gilt, let us consign him to the shelf wherein he
+findeth fullest compensation.
+
+COTTON. How now? A man of action, then, should appeal to thy brash
+tastes. What sayest thou to Jeremiah Wadsworth?
+
+BETTY. Too brash and rash for me [_checking off that candidate on the
+next finger_], and I'll have none of him. There's Percy Wayne.
+
+COTTON. Of the bluest blood in Boston.
+
+BETTY. Yet that be not everything [_checks off another finger_]--and
+Jonas Appleby----
+
+COTTON. He hath an eye to worldly goods----
+
+BETTY. [_Quickly._] Especially the larder. To marry him would be an
+everlasting round between the tankard and the kettle. [_Checks him
+off._] Nay, let me look yet farther--James Endicott. [_Checking._]
+
+COTTON. Aye, there might be a lad for thee; birth, breeding, a
+well-favored countenance, and most agreeable.
+
+BETTY. Yea, most agreeable--unto himself. 'Twere a pity to disturb such
+unanimity. Therefore, let us pass on. Take Charles Manning, an you
+please----
+
+COTTON. It pleaseth me not! I know the ilk; his father before him a
+devoted servant of the devil and King Charles. With others of his kind
+he hath brought dissension among the young men of Harvard, many of whom
+are dedicated to the service of the Lord, with his wicked apparel and
+ungodly fashion of wearing long hair after the manner of Russians and
+barbarous Indians. Many there be with him brought up in such pride as
+doth in no ways become the service of the Lord. The devil himself hath
+laid hold on our young men, so that they do evaporate senseless,
+useless, noisy impertinency wherever they may be; and now it has e'en
+got out in the pulpits of the land, to the great grief and fear of many
+godly hearts.
+
+     [_He starts to his feet and paces the floor._
+
+BETTY. [_Standing upright._] But Charles----
+
+COTTON. [_Interrupting._] Mention not that scapegrace in my hearing.
+
+BETTY. [_Still persisting._] But, father, truly thou knowest not----
+
+COTTON. [_Almost savagely, while_ BETTY _retreats to a safe distance_.]
+Name him not. I will not have it. Compared with Adonijah he is a reed
+shaken in the winds, whereas Adonijah resembleth a tree planted by the
+river of waters.
+
+BETTY. [_Who has been looking out of the window._] Converse of the devil
+and thou wilt behold his horns. Even now he approacheth the knocker.
+
+     [_The knocker sounds._
+
+COTTON. [_Sternly._] Betake thyself to thine own chamber with thine
+unseemly tongue, which so ill befitteth a maid.
+
+     [BETTY _is very demure, with head slightly bent and downcast eyes;
+     but the moment_ COTTON _turns she glances roguishly after his
+     retreating form; then while her glance revolves about the room, she
+     starts slightly as her gaze falls upon the clock. A smile of
+     mischievous delight flits over her countenance as she tiptoes in_
+     COTTON'S _wake until the clock is reached_. COTTON, _unsuspecting,
+     meanwhile, proceeds to do his duty as host, with never a backward
+     glance. While he is out in the hall_ BETTY, _with a lingering smile
+     of triumph, climbs into the clock and cautiously peeks forth as her
+     father opens the door and ushers in_ ADONIJAH, _whereupon the door
+     softly closes_.
+
+ADONIJAH. Good-morrow, reverend sir.
+
+COTTON. Enter, and doubly welcome.
+
+ADONIJAH. I would inquire whether thy daughter Betty is within.
+
+COTTON. We were but speaking of thee as thy knock sounded. Betty will be
+here presently; she hath but retired for the moment. Remove thy wraps
+and make thyself in comfort.
+
+     [ADONIJAH _is a lean, lank, lantern-jawed individual, clad in the
+     conventional sober gray of the Puritan, with high-crowned hat, and
+     a fur tippet wound about his neck up to his ears. He removes the
+     hat and tippet and hands them to_ COTTON, _who carefully places
+     them upon the table; meanwhile_ ADONIJAH _looks appraisingly about
+     him and judiciously selects the armchair by the fire. He pauses a
+     moment to rub his hands before the blaze, and then gingerly relaxes
+     into the depths of the armchair, as though fearful his comfort
+     would give way ere fully attained._ COTTON _places a chair on the
+     other side of_ ADONIJAH _and is seated_.
+
+COTTON. And how is it with thee since I have seen thee last?
+
+ADONIJAH. My business prospereth [_mournfully_], but not so finely as it
+might well do.
+
+     [_The clock strikes four, but is unnoticed by the two men._
+
+COTTON. Thou hast suffered some great loss?
+
+ADONIJAH. But yes--and no--this matter of lending money hath many and
+grievous complications, not the least of which is the duplicity of the
+borrower. I but insist on the thirty pounds to the hundred as my due
+recompense, and when I demand it they respond not, but let my kindness
+lie under the clods of ingratitude. [_Straightening up, and speaking
+with conviction._] They shall come before the council. I will have what
+is mine own.
+
+COTTON. [_Righteously._] And it is not unbecoming of thee to demand it.
+I wist not what the present generation is coming to.
+
+ADONIJAH. They have no sense of the value of money. They know not how to
+demean themselves properly in due proportion to their worldly goods, as
+the Lord hath prospered them. There be many that have nothing and do
+hold their heads above us that be worthy of our possessions.
+
+COTTON. The wicked stand in slippery places. It will not always be thus.
+Judgment shall come upon them.
+
+ADONIJAH. Aye, let them fall. I for one have upheld them too far. They
+squander their means in riotous living, and walk not in the ways of
+their fathers.
+
+COTTON. There be many such--many such--but thou, my lad, thou art not
+one of the multitude. As I have often observed to my Betty, thou
+standest out as a most upright and God-fearing young man.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Brimming over with self-satisfaction._] That have I ever
+sought to be.
+
+COTTON. An example that others would do well to imitate.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_All puffed up._] Nay, others value it not. They be envious
+of my good fortune.
+
+COTTON. A most prudent young man! Nay, be not so over-blushingly timid.
+Thou'rt too modest.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_His face falling._] But Betty--doth she regard me thus?
+
+COTTON. The ways of a maid are past finding out; but despair not. I
+think she hath thee much to heart, but, as the perverse heart of woman
+dictateth, behaveth much to the contrary.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Brightening up as one with new hopes._] Thou thinkest----
+
+COTTON. [_Interrupting._] Nay, lad, I am sure of it. Betty was ever a
+dutiful daughter.
+
+     [_All unseen_, BETTY _peeks out mischievously_.
+
+ADONIJAH. But I mistrust me her heart is elsewhere.
+
+COTTON. Thou referr'st to young Manning without doubt. It can never be.
+'Tis but a passing fancy.
+
+ADONIJAH. Nay, but I fear Charles thinketh not so. I have been told in
+secret [_leaning forward confidentially_] by one that hath every
+opportunity to know, that he hath enjoined Goodman Shrewsbury to send
+for--[_impressively_] a ring!
+
+COTTON. [_Angered._] A ring, sayest thou?
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Nodding._] Aye, even so.
+
+COTTON. But he hath not signified such intention here to me.
+
+ADONIJAH. Then there are no grounds for his rash presumption?
+
+COTTON. Humph! Grounds! For a ring! Aye, there'll be no diabolical
+circle here for the devil to daunce in. I will question Betty thereon.
+[_Rises._] Do thou remain here and I will send her to thee. Oh, that he
+should offer daughter of mine a ring!
+
+     [COTTON _leaves the room_. ADONIJAH _leans back in his chair in
+     supreme contentment at the turn affairs have taken. The clamorous
+     knocker arouses him from his reverie. He gazes stupidly around. The
+     continued imperious tattoo on the knocker finally brings him to his
+     feet. He goes into the hall and opens the door. His voice is
+     heard._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Frostily._] Good-afternoon, Sir Charles, mine host is
+absent.
+
+CHARLES. [_Stepping in._] My mission has rather to do with Mistress
+Betty. Is she in?
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Closing the hall door, and turning to_ CHARLES, _replies in
+grandiose hauteur_.] Mistress Betty is otherwise engaged, I would have
+thee know.
+
+CHARLES. Engaged? [_Bowing._] Your humble servant, I trust, hath the
+supreme pleasure of that engagement.
+
+     [_He glances inquiringly about the room, and places the hat on the
+     table beside that of_ ADONIJAH. _The two hats are as different as
+     the two men_: ADONIJAH'S _prim, Puritanic, severe_; CHARLES'S
+     _three-cornered, with a flowing plume_.
+
+     [CHARLES _is a handsome chap of goodly proportions, with a
+     straightforward air and a pleasant smile. He is dressed more after
+     the fashion of the cavaliers of Virginia, and wears a long wig with
+     flowing curls. The two men size each other up._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Meaningly._] Her father will shortly arrive.
+
+CHARLES. [_Impatiently striding forth._] Devil take her father. 'Tis
+Mistress Betty I would see. Where is she?
+
+     [CHARLES _continues pacing the floor_. ADONIJAH, _shocked beyond
+     measure, turns his back on the offending_ CHARLES, _and with folded
+     arms and bowed head stands aside in profound meditation. The clock
+     door slowly opens and_ BETTY _cautiously peeks out_. CHARLES _stops
+     short and is about to begin a decided demonstration, when_ BETTY,
+     _with a warning glance toward_ ADONIJAH, _checks him with upraised
+     hand. The clock door closes and_ CHARLES _subsides into the
+     armchair with a comprehending grin of delight_. ADONIJAH _slowly
+     turns and faces_ CHARLES _with a melancholy air_.
+
+CHARLES. Prithee, why so sad?
+
+     [_The grin becomes a chuckle._
+
+
+ADONIJAH. I do discern no cause for such unrighteous merriment.
+
+CHARLES. 'Tis none the less for all of that. I take life as I find it,
+and for that matter so do they all, even thou. The difference be in the
+finding. [_Whistles._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Uneasily._] It is time her father did arrive.
+
+CHARLES. Where then hath he been?
+
+ADONIJAH. He but went in search of Betty.
+
+CHARLES. Ah, then we'll wait.
+
+     [_He whistles, while_ ADONIJAH _moves uneasily about the room,
+     glancing every now and then at this disturbing element of his
+     peace, as if he would send him to kingdom come, if he only could_.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_After considerable toleration._] Waiting may avail thee
+naught.
+
+CHARLES. And thee? Nevertheless we'll wait. [_Whistles._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Takes another turn or two and fetches up a counterfeit
+sigh._] Methinks, her father's quest be fruitless.
+
+CHARLES. [_Starting up._] Ah, then, let us go.
+
+     [ADONIJAH., _visibly relieved, sits down in the chair opposite_.
+
+CHARLES. [_Amused._] Nay? [_Sits down and relaxes._] Ah, then, we'll
+wait. [_Whistles._
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Troubled._] 'Tis certain Mistress Betty be not here.
+
+CHARLES. Nay, if she be not here, then I am neither here nor there. I
+would wager ten pounds to a farthing she be revealed in time if she but
+will it. Wilt take me up?
+
+ADONIJAH. It be not seemly so to stake thy fortune on a woman's whim.
+
+CHARLES. [_Laughs._] Thou'rt right on it. If she will, say I, for if she
+will she won't, and if she won't she will.
+
+ADONIJAH. False jargon! A woman has no will but e'en her father's as a
+maid, her husband's later still.
+
+     [_Enter_ COTTON, _who stops short on seeing_ CHARLES, _rallies
+     quickly, and proceeds_.
+
+COTTON. [_Stiffly._] Good-day to you, sir.
+
+CHARLES. [_Bowing; he has risen._] And to you, sire.
+
+COTTON. [_To_ ADONIJAH.] I am deeply grieved to report that Mistress
+Betty is not to be found.
+
+     [ADONIJAH. _steals a sly look of triumph at_ CHARLES.
+
+CHARLES. [_In mock solemnity._] I prithee present my deep regrets to
+Mistress Betty. I will call again.
+
+COTTON. God speed thee! [_And as_ CHARLES _takes his leave_ COTTON
+_places his hand affectionately upon_ ADONIJAH'S _shoulder, saying
+reassuringly_.] Come again, my son; Betty may not be afar off. I fain
+would have her soon persuaded of thy worth. Improve thy time.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Beaming._] Good morrow, sir; I will.
+
+     [_As the door closes behind them_ COTTON _slowly walks toward the
+     fire, where he stands in complete revery. Still absorbed in thought
+     he walks slowly out the door at the right._ BETTY _peeks cautiously
+     out, but hearing footsteps quickly withdraws_. COTTON _re-enters
+     with hat on. He is talking to himself, reflectively._
+
+COTTON. Where can she be? Mayhap at Neighbor Ainslee's.
+
+     [_He goes hurriedly out through the hall door. The banging of the
+     outside door is heard. The clock door once more slowly opens and_
+     BETTY _peers forth, listening. The sound of a door opening causes
+     her to draw back. As the noise is further emphasized by approaching
+     footsteps, she pulls the clock door quickly to._ CHARLES _enters.
+     He looks inquiringly about, tosses his hat on the table, and goes
+     for the clock. He opens it with a gay laugh._ BETTY _steps forth
+     out of the clock, very much assisted by_ CHARLES.
+
+CHARLES. Blessed relief! Thou art in very truth, then, flesh and blood?
+
+BETTY. And what else should I be, forsooth?
+
+CHARLES. [_Laughing._] I marked thee for a mummy there entombed.
+
+BETTY. [_Disengaging her hand._] What? Darest thou?
+
+CHARLES. A lively mummy now thou art come to, whilst I [_sighs_]--I
+waited through the ages!
+
+BETTY. [_Laughingly._] A veritable monument of patient grief.
+
+CHARLES. And Adonijah----
+
+BETTY. Yea, verily, old Father Time but come to life. [_Mimics._] Thy
+waiting may avail thee naught.
+
+CHARLES. In truth, it may avail me naught; thy father may be back at any
+time, while I have much to say, sweet Betty----
+
+BETTY. [_Interrupting._] Nay, sweet Betty call me not.
+
+CHARLES. Dear Betty, then, the dearest----
+
+BETTY. [_Quickly._] Yea, call me dearest mummy, Hottentot, or what you
+will, just so it be not _sweet_, like Adonijah. It sickens me beyond
+expressing.
+
+CHARLES. Then, _sweet_ Betty thou art _not_, say rather sour Betty,
+cross Betty, mean Betty, bad Betty, mad Betty, sad Betty.
+
+BETTY. [_Suddenly dimpling._] Nay, glad Betty!
+
+CHARLES. Art then so glad? Wilt tell me why? In sooth, I know not
+whither to be glad, or sad, or mad. Sometimes I am but one, sometimes I
+am all three.
+
+BETTY. Wilt tell me why?
+
+CHARLES. [_Stepping closer and imprisoning her left hand._] Thou wilt
+not now escape it, for I will tell thee why, and mayhap this will aid
+me. [_Slips ring, which he has had concealed in his pocket, on her
+finger._] Hath this no meaning for thee?
+
+BETTY. [_Her eyes sparkling with mischief._] Aye, 'tis a diabolical
+circle for the devil to daunce in!
+
+CHARLES. [_In astonishment._] A what?
+
+BETTY. [_Slowly._] A diabolical circle for the devil to daunce in--so
+father saith. Likewise Adonijah.
+
+CHARLES. [_Weakly endeavoring to comprehend._] A diabolical circle--but
+what!--say it again, Betty.
+
+BETTY. [_Repeats slowly, emphasizing it with pointed finger._] A
+diabolical circle for the devil to daunce in.
+
+CHARLES. [_Throws back his head and laughs._] May I be the devil!
+
+BETTY. [_Shaking her finger at him._] Then daunce!
+
+     [_They take position, as though for a minuet. The knocker sounds._
+     BETTY _runs to the window_.
+
+BETTY. Aye, there's ADONIJAH at the knocker. Into the clock--hie
+thee--quick, quick!
+
+CHARLES. [_Reproachfully._] And would'st thou incarcerate me through the
+ages? [_Turns to the clock._] O timely sarcophagus!
+
+     [CHARLES _is smuggled into the clock, and_ BETTY _has barely enough
+     time to make a dash for the hat and conceal it behind her before
+     the door opens and in stalks_ ADONIJAH. _He looks about
+     suspiciously._ BETTY _faces him with the hat held behind her. He
+     removes his hat and tippet and lays them on the table._
+
+ADONIJAH. Methought I heard a sound of many feet.
+
+BETTY. [_Looking down._] Two feet have I; no more, no less.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Dryly._] Aye, two be quite sufficient.
+
+BETTY. An thou sayest the word, they yet can beat as loud a retreat as
+an whole regiment.
+
+ADONIJAH. Thou dost my meaning misconstrue.
+
+BETTY. Construe it then, I prithee.
+
+ADONIJAH. I came not here to vex----
+
+BETTY. Then get thee hence. [_He steps forward._ BETTY _steps back_.]
+But not behind me, Satan.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Coming closer._] And yet thou driv'st me to it.
+
+BETTY. [_Backing off._] Indeed, thou hast a nature born to _drive_ and
+not be driven.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Highly complimented._] So be it, yet I scarce had hoped that
+thou would'st notice. [_Advancing._] Born to drive, thou sayest, not be
+driven.
+
+BETTY. [_Retreating._] Thou hast said it, born to _drive_. But what to
+drive I have not said. That knowledge hath my father yet concealed.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Eagerly._] Thy father, then, hath told thee----
+
+BETTY. [_Who is retreating steadily across the room._] Thou wert born to
+_drive_!
+
+     [_Strikes settee and goes down on the hat._ ADONIJAH _seats himself
+     beside_ BETTY. BETTY _is of necessity forced to remain--on the
+     hat_. ADONIJAH _slides arm along the back of the settee. The clock
+     door strikes erratically. He jerks his arm back and gazes in the
+     direction of the clock. The clock hands wigwag._ ADONIJAH _stares
+     abstractedly and passes his hand over his forehead in a dazed
+     manner_.
+
+BETTY. [_Solicitously._] What aileth thee?
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Still staring._] The time!
+
+BETTY. [_Stifles a yawn._] It doth grow late.
+
+ADONIJAH. But not consistently; it changeth.
+
+BETTY. 'Twas ever so with time.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Reminiscently._] Of a certainty they moved.
+
+BETTY. Yea, verily, 'tis not uncommon.
+
+ADONIJAH. But backwards!
+
+BETTY. [_Joyfully._] Why, then, my prayers are answered. How often I
+have prayed them thus to move! Yet hath it never come to pass.
+
+ADONIJAH. Nay, had'st thou seen----
+
+BETTY. Prithee calm thyself. Thou'rt ill.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Steals his arm along the back of the settee and moves over
+closer._] Sweet Betty! [BETTY _looks away with a wry face_.] Thy
+indifference in no wise blinds me to thy conception of my true value.
+[BETTY _sits up, round-eyed_.] There was a time when I despaired--[_The
+clock again strikes wildly. The hands drop and rise as before._ ADONIJAH
+_excitedly points at the clock_.] Again! Did'st mark it? Something doth
+ail the clock!
+
+BETTY. Yea, truly thou art ill. The clock behaveth much more to the
+point than thou.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Tearing his gaze from the clock._] As I was on the point of
+saying--[_glances at the clock_] thy father hath given--[_another
+glance_] me to understand--[_with eye on the clock he hitches up
+closer_] that thou art not averse to mine affections----
+
+     [_As he attempts to put his arm around_ BETTY _the clock strikes a
+     tattoo and startles him excitedly to his feet, as the hands travel
+     all the way round_.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Pointing._] Now look! Mark the time!
+
+     [COTTON _enters_.
+
+COTTON. Tarry yet awhile, my son, the time doth not prevent thee.
+
+ADONIJAH. Tarry? Time doth not prevent? Little knowest thou! [_Gazes
+abstractedly about. Sights the ring on_ BETTY'S _finger, who in
+excitement has forgotten to keep her hands behind her back_.] Aye, there
+it is, the diabolical circle. It is a charm. It harms her not, while all
+about me is askew. Whence came she here? [_Points at_ BETTY.] She
+neither came nor went, and yet she was not there and now she is. A manly
+form did enter. Yet hath vanished into thin air. Yea, verily, it was
+none other than the devil himself in one of his divers forms, of which
+he hath aplenty. The very clock indulgeth in unseemly pranks. A strange
+influence hangs over me. I cannot now abide. I must depart from hence.
+My conscience bids me go.
+
+COTTON. [_Striving to detain him._] Hold! Thou'rt mad!
+
+BETTY. Nay, father, he is ill.
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Wildly._] Aye, if I be mad, thy daughter be to blame. The
+spell did come upon me. I have seen strange things.
+
+COTTON. What meanest thou?
+
+ADONIJAH. [_Pointing at_ BETTY, _who regards him wonderingly_.] Thy
+daughter is a witch!
+
+BETTY. [_Runs to_ COTTON.] Oh, father!
+
+COTTON. [_Consoles_ BETTY; _thunders at_ ADONIJAH.] What? Darest thou to
+being forth such an accusation?
+
+ADONIJAH. Aye, while I yet have strength to order mine own will. We
+shall see what we shall see when the fires leap round the stake. All the
+diabolical circles the devil may invent or his helpmeets acquire will be
+of small avail when the leaping tongues of flame curl round you, false
+servant of the devil. I can delay no longer. I will repair to the
+council at once, and report what I have seen.
+
+     [BETTY _faints away_. COTTON _is at once all paternal solicitude_.
+     ADONIJAH _gazes in stupefaction. All unobserved_ CHARLES _slips out
+     of the clock. Finally_ ADONIJAH, _as_ BETTY _shows signs of
+     reviving, turns himself away, only to find himself face to face
+     with_ CHARLES. ADONIJAH _stops dead in his tracks, absolutely
+     nonplussed_.
+
+CHARLES. Thou goest to the council? Thou lackest evidence. Behold the
+devil an' thou wilt.
+
+     [ADONIJAH'S _jaw drops. He stares unbelievingly._ COTTON _looks up
+     in surprise as_ CHARLES _continues_.
+
+CHARLES. An' thou goest to the council with such a message, the devil
+will dog thy very footsteps. And match word of thine with word of truth
+in such a light that thine own words shall imprison thee in the stocks
+over Sunday.
+
+     [ADONIJAH _recovers from his temporary abstraction, and seizing his
+     hat and tippet, tears out the door as if a whole legion of imps
+     were in full pursuit_. CHARLES _contemptuously turns on his heel
+     and goes over to_ BETTY, _who is now clinging to her father's arm_.
+
+BETTY. [_Faintly._] They will not burn me for a witch?
+
+CHARLES. [_Savagely._] Aye, let them try it an they will.
+
+COTTON. [_Hotly._] Aye--let them! [_Then starting suddenly with a new
+thought._] But how cam'st thou here? Yea, verily, it seemeth to me thou
+did'st materialize out of thin air.
+
+     [_Surveys_ CHARLES _with piercing scrutiny_.
+
+CHARLES. Nay, see through me an thou can'st. Thou wilt find me a most
+material shadow, the like of which no eye hath ever pierced. 'Twas not
+out of the air, but out of yonder clock that I materialized.
+
+BETTY. Yea, father, I put him there.
+
+COTTON. [_Going to the clock and opening it._] Of a truth, the evidence,
+all told, is here. Thou wert of a certainty in the clock. [_Takes out
+the detached pendulum. Steps back and surveys the timepiece, whose hands
+clearly indicate a time long passed or not yet come._] And as far as
+pendulums are concerned [_looking ruefully at the one in his hand_],
+thou certainly wert no improve----
+
+CHARLES. Aye, that I'll warrant. And may I never more be called to
+fulfil such position; the requirements be far too exacting for one of my
+build and constitution.
+
+COTTON. But what extremity hath induced thee to take up thine abode in
+such a place?
+
+     [_Lays the pendulum aside and gives_ CHARLES _his entire
+     attention_.
+
+CHARLES. Why, that came all in the course of events as I take it. When I
+returned a short time ago, hard upon mine heels came Adonijah; and,
+being loath either to leave the field or share it, I hid within the
+clock. Once there, the temptation to help time in covering its course
+grew strong upon me in the hope that Adonijah, misled by the lateness of
+the hour, would soon depart. Only I looked not for such a departure.
+Judge me not too harshly, sire, for I love thy daughter, and if thou
+wilt give thy consent to our marriage I will do all that becometh a man
+to deserve such treasure.
+
+COTTON. I like not thy frivolous manner of wearing hair that is not
+thine own; it becomes thee not. And I strongly mistrust thine attitude
+toward the more serious things of life.
+
+CHARLES. If my wig standeth between me and my heart's desire, why, I'll
+have no wig at all. [_He pulls the wig off and tosses it aside._ BETTY,
+_with a little cry, picks it up and smooths its disarranged curls_.] And
+as for mine outlook on life, I promise thee that hath but matched the
+outer trappings, and can be doffed as quickly. I am as serious beneath
+all outward levity as any sober-minded judge, and can act accordingly.
+
+COTTON. See to it that thou suit the action to those words. My heart is
+strangely moved toward thee, yet I would ponder the matter more deeply.
+[_Turns to_ BETTY, _who has been absent-mindedly twirling the curls on
+the wig_.] And where is thy voice, my daughter? Thou art strangely
+silent--[_as an afterthought_] for the once. But it is of small wonder,
+since thou hast had enough excitement for one evening. Methinks that
+scoundrel, Adonijah, needeth following up. Do thou remain with Betty,
+Charles, and I will hasten after him.
+
+CHARLES. Nay, thou need'st not trouble thyself regarding Adonijah. He
+hath much too wholesome a regard for the ducking-stool to cause further
+mischief.
+
+COTTON. Nevertheless, I will away to the council and make sure. [_He
+plants his hat on his head and departs._
+
+CHARLES. [_Turning to_ BETTY, _who has dropped the wig on the settee,
+and who is now gazing demurely at the floor_.] And now to finish up
+where we left off. The devil hath led us a merrier dance than we
+suspected. Thou hast not truly given answer to the question I have asked
+of thee.
+
+BETTY. What more of an answer would'st thou yet require?
+
+CHARLES. Why, I have yet had none at all.
+
+BETTY. Must tell thee further?
+
+CHARLES. [_Gravely._] Thou must.
+
+BETTY. [_Mischievously._] Then--put the question once again.
+
+CHARLES. Thou knowest the question, an thou wilt.
+
+BETTY. An' thou knowest the answer.
+
+     [CHARLES _takes her in his arms_.
+
+
+BETTY. [_Holding up her hand so that the ring sparkles._] Look,
+Charles--the diabolical circle!
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE FAR-AWAY PRINCESS
+
+BY
+
+HERMANN SUDERMANN
+
+
+_The Far-Away Princess_ is reprinted by special arrangement with Charles
+Scribner's Sons, the publishers of _Roses_, from which this play is
+taken. For permission to perform address the publishers.
+
+
+HERMANN SUDERMANN
+
+Hermann Sudermann, one of the foremost of the Continental European
+dramatists, was born at Matziken, in East Prussia, Germany, September
+30, 1857. He attended school at Elbing and Tilsit, and then at fourteen
+became a druggist's apprentice. He received his university training at
+Koenigsberg and Berlin. Soon he devoted his energies to literary work.
+
+His greatest literary work is in the field of the drama, in which he
+became successful almost instantly. His strength is not in poetic beauty
+and in deep insight into human character, as in the instance of a number
+of other German dramatists. He is essentially a man of the theatre, a
+dramatist, and a technician by instinct. He is a dramatic craftsman of
+the first order.
+
+His chief one-act plays are in two volumes: _Morituri_, which contains
+_Teja_, _Fritchen_, and _The Eternal Masculine_; and _Roses_, which
+contains _Streaks of Light_, _Margot_, _The Last Visit_, and _The
+Far-Away Princess_.
+
+_The Far-Away Princess_ is one of the most subtle and most delicate of
+Sudermann's plays. Its technic is exemplary.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    THE PRINCESS VON GELDERN
+    BARONESS VON BROOK, _her maid of honor_
+    FRAU VON HALLDORF
+    LIDDY } _her daughters_
+    MILLY }
+    FRITZ STRUeBEL, _a student_
+    FRAU LINDEMANN
+    ROSA, _a waitress_
+    A LACKEY
+
+
+
+
+THE FAR-AWAY PRINCESS[L]
+
+
+     THE PRESENT DAY: _The scene is laid at an inn situated above a
+     watering-place in central Germany._
+
+     _The veranda of an inn. The right side of the stage and half of the
+     background represent a framework of glass enclosing the veranda.
+     The left side and the other half of the background represent the
+     stone walls of the house. To the left, in the foreground, a door;
+     another door in the background, at the left. On the left, back, a
+     buffet and serving-table. Neat little tables and small iron chairs
+     for visitors are placed about the veranda. On the right, in the
+     centre, a large telescope, standing on a tripod, is directed
+     through an open window._ ROSA, _dressed in the costume of the
+     country, is arranging flowers on the small tables_. FRAU LINDEMANN,
+     _a handsome, stoutish woman in the thirties, hurries in excitedly
+     from the left_.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. There! Now she can come--curtains, bedding--everything
+fresh and clean as new! No, this honor, this unexpected honor--! Barons
+and counts have been here often enough. Even the Russian princes
+sometimes come up from the Springs. I don't bother my head about
+them--they're just like--that!--But a princess--a real princess!
+
+ROSA. Perhaps it isn't a real princess after all.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Indignantly._] What? What do you mean by that!
+
+ROSA. I was only thinking that a real princess wouldn't be coming to an
+inn like this. Real princesses won't lie on anything but silks and
+velvets. You just wait and see; it's a trick!
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. Are you going to pretend that the letter isn't genuine;
+that the letter is a forgery?
+
+ROSA. Maybe one of the regular customers is playing a joke. That
+student, Herr Struebel, he's always joking. [_Giggles._
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. When Herr Struebel makes a joke he makes a decent joke, a
+real, genuine joke. Oh, of course one has to pretend to be angry
+sometimes--but as for writing a forged letter--My land!--a letter with a
+gold crown on it--there! [_She takes a letter from her waist and
+reads._] "This afternoon Her Highness, the Princess von Geldern, will
+stop at the Fairview Inn, to rest an hour or so before making the
+descent to the Springs. You are requested to have ready a quiet and
+comfortable room, to guard Her Highness from any annoying advances, and,
+above all, to maintain the strictest secrecy regarding this event, as
+otherwise the royal visit will not be repeated. Baroness von Brook, maid
+of honor to Her Highness." Now, what have you got to say?
+
+ROSA. Herr Struebel lent me a book once. A maid of honor came into that,
+too. I'm sure it's a trick!
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Looking out toward the back._] Dear, dear, isn't that
+Herr Struebel now, coming up the hill? To-day of all days! What on earth
+does he always want up here?
+
+ROSA. [_Pointedly._] He's in such favor at the Inn. He won't be leaving
+here all day.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. That won't do at all. He's got to be sent off. If I only
+knew how I could--Oh, ho! I'll be disagreeable to him--that's the only
+way to manage it!
+
+     [STRUeBEL _enters. He is a handsome young fellow without much
+     polish, but cheerful, unaffected, entirely at his ease, and
+     invariably good-natured._
+
+STRUeBEL. Good day, everybody.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Sarcastically._] Charming day.
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Surprised at her coolness._] I say! What's up? Who's been
+rubbing you the wrong way? May I have a glass of beer, anyway? Glass of
+beer, if you please! Several glasses of beer, if you please. [_Sits
+down._] Pestiferously hot this afternoon.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_After a pause._] H'm, H'm.
+
+STRUeBEL. Landlady Linda, dear, why so quiet to-day?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. In the first place, Herr Struebel, I would have you know
+that my name is Frau Lindemann.
+
+STRUeBEL. Just so.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. And, secondly, if you don't stop your familiarity----
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Singing, as_ ROSA _brings him a glass of beer_.]
+"Beer--beer!"--Heavens and earth, how hot it is! [_Drinks._
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. If you find it so hot, why don't you stay quietly down
+there at the Springs?
+
+STRUeBEL. Ah, my soul thirsts for the heights--my soul thirsts for the
+heights every afternoon. Just as soon as ever my sallow-faced pupil has
+thrown himself down on the couch to give his red corpuscles a chance to
+grow, "I gayly grasp my Alpine staff and mount to my beloved."
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Scornfully._] Bah!
+
+STRUeBEL. Oh, you're thinking that _you_ are my beloved? No, dearest; my
+beloved stays down there. But to get nearer to her, I have to come up
+here--up to your telescope. With the aid of your telescope I can look
+right into her window--see?
+
+ROSA. [_Laughing._] Oh, so that's why----
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. Perhaps you think I'm interested in all that? Besides,
+I've no more time for you. Moreover, I'm going to have this place
+cleaned right away. Good-by, Herr Struebel. [_Goes out._
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Laughing._] I certainly caught it that time! See here, Rosa,
+what's got into her head?
+
+ROSA. [_Mysteriously._] Ahem, there are crowned heads and other
+heads--and--ahem--there are letters _with_ crowns and letters _without_
+crowns.
+
+STRUeBEL. Letters--? Are you----?
+
+ROSA. There are maids of honor--and other maids! [_Giggles._
+
+STRUeBEL. Permit me. [_Tapping her forehead lightly with his finger._]
+Ow! Ow!
+
+ROSA. What's the matter?
+
+STRUeBEL. Why, your head's on fire. Blow! Blow! And while you are getting
+some salve for my burns, I'll just----
+
+     [_Goes to the telescope._
+
+     [_Enter_ FRAU VON HALLDORF, LIDDY, _and_ MILLY. FRAU VON HALLDORF
+     _is an aristocratic woman, somewhat supercilious and affected_.
+
+LIDDY. Here's the telescope, mother. Now you can see for yourself.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. What a pity that it's in use just now.
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Stepping back._] Oh, I beg of you, ladies--I have plenty of
+time. I can wait.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_Condescendingly._] Ah, thanks so much. [_She goes up
+to the telescope, while_ STRUeBEL _returns to his former place_.]
+Waitress! Bring us three glasses of milk.
+
+LIDDY. [_As_ MILLY _languidly drops into a chair_.] Beyond to the right
+is the road, mother.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Oh, I have found the road, but I see no
+carriage--neither a royal carriage nor any other sort.
+
+LIDDY. Let me look.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Please do.
+
+LIDDY. It has disappeared now.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Are you quite sure that it was a royal carriage?
+
+LIDDY. Oh, one has an instinct for that sort of thing, mother. It comes
+to one in the cradle.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_As_ MILLY _yawns and sighs aloud_.] Are you sleepy,
+dear?
+
+MILLY. No, only tired. I'm always tired.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Well, that's just why we are at the Springs. Do as the
+princess does: take the waters religiously.
+
+MILLY. The princess oughtn't to be climbing up such a steep hill either
+on a hot day like this.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_More softly._] Well, you know why we are taking all
+this trouble. If, by good luck, we should happen to meet the
+princess----
+
+LIDDY. [_Who has been looking through the telescope._] Oh, there it is
+again!
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_Eagerly._] Where? Where?
+
+     [_Takes_ LIDDY'S _place_.
+
+LIDDY. It's just coming around the turn at the top.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Oh, now I see it! Why, there's no one inside!
+
+LIDDY. Well, then she's coming up on foot.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_To_ MILLY.] See, the princess is coming up on foot,
+too. And she is just as anaemic as you are.
+
+MILLY. If I were going to marry a grand-duke, and if I could have my own
+carriage driven along beside me, I wouldn't complain of having to walk
+either.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. I can't see a thing now.
+
+LIDDY. You have to turn the screw, mother.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. I have been turning it right along, but the telescope
+won't move.
+
+LIDDY. Let me try.
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Who has been throwing little wads of paper at_ ROSA _during
+the preceding conversation_.] What are they up to?
+
+LIDDY. It seems to me that you've turned the screw too far, mother.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Well, what shall we do about it?
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Rising._] Permit me to come to your aid, ladies. I've had
+some experience with these old screws.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Very kind--indeed.
+
+     [STRUeBEL _busies himself with the instrument_.
+
+LIDDY. Listen, mother. If the carriage has almost reached the top the
+princess can't be far off. Wouldn't it be best, then, to watch for them
+on the road?
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Certainly, if you think that would be best, dear
+Liddy.
+
+STRUeBEL. This is not only an old screw, but it's a regular perverted old
+screw.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Ah, really? [_Aside to her daughters._] And if she
+should actually speak to us at this accidental meeting--and if we could
+present ourselves as the subjects of her noble fiance, and tell her that
+we live at her future home--just imagine what an advantage that would
+give us over the other women of the court!
+
+STRUeBEL. There, ladies! We have now rescued the useful instrument to
+which the far-sightedness of mankind is indebted.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. Thanks, so much. Pardon me, sir, but have you heard
+anything about the report that the princess is going to make the journey
+up here to-day?
+
+STRUeBEL. The princess? The princess of the Springs? The princess of the
+lonely villa? The princess who is expected at the iron spring every
+morning, but who has never been seen by a living soul? Why, I am
+enormously interested. You wouldn't believe how much interested I am!
+
+LIDDY. [_Who has looked out, back._] There--there--there--it is!
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. The carriage?
+
+LIDDY. It's reached the top already. It is stopping over there at the
+edge of the woods.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. She will surely enter it there, then. Come quickly, my
+dear children, so that it will look quite accidental. Here is your
+money. [_She throws a coin to_ ROSA _and unwraps a small package done up
+in tissue-paper, which she has brought with her_.] Here is a bouquet for
+you--and here's one for you. You are to present these to the princess.
+
+MILLY. So that it will look quite accidental--oh, yes!
+
+     [_All three go out._
+
+STRUeBEL. Good heavens! Could I--? I don't believe it! Surely she
+sits--well, I'll make sure right away--[_Goes up to the telescope and
+stops._] Oh, I'll go along with them, anyhow.
+
+     [_Exit after them._
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Entering._] Have they all gone--all of them?
+
+ROSA. All of them.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Looking toward the right._] There--there--two ladies
+and a lackey are coming up the footpath. Mercy me! How my heart is
+beating!--If I had only had the sofa recovered last spring!--What am I
+going to say to them?--Rosa, don't you know a poem by heart which you
+could speak to the princess? [ROSA _shrugs her shoulders_.] They're
+coming through the court now!--Stop putting your arms under your apron
+that way, you stupid thing!--oh dear, oh dear----
+
+     [_The door opens._ A LACKEY _in plain black livery enters, and
+     remains standing at the door. He precedes_ THE PRINCESS _and_ FRAU
+     V. BROOK. THE PRINCESS _is a pale, sickly, unassuming young girl,
+     wearing a very simple walking costume and a medium-sized leghorn
+     hat trimmed with roses_. FRAU V. BROOK _is a handsome, stately,
+     stern-looking woman, in the thirties. She is well-dressed, but in
+     accordance with the simple tastes of the North German nobility._
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Who is the proprietor of this place?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. At your command, your Highness.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. [_Reprovingly._] I am the maid of honor. Where is the
+room that has been ordered?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. [_Opens the door, left._] Here--at the head of the
+stairs--my lady.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Would your Highness care to remain here for a few
+moments?
+
+THE PRINCESS Very much, dear Frau von Brook.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Edward, order what is needed for Her Highness, and see
+that a room next to Her Highness is prepared for me. I may assume that
+these are Your Highness's wishes?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Why certainly, dear Frau von Brook.
+
+[THE LACKEY, _who is carrying shawls and pillows, goes out with_ ROSA,
+_left_.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Mais puisque je te dis, Eugenie, que je n'ai pas sommeil.
+M'envoyer coucher comme une enfant, c'est abominable.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Mais je t'implore, cherie, sois sage! Tu sais, que c'est
+le medecin, qui----
+
+THE PRINCESS. Ah, ton medecin! Toujours cette corvee. Et si je te
+dis----
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Chut! My dear woman, wouldn't it be best for you to
+superintend the preparations?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. I am entirely at your service.
+
+     [_About to go out, left._
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. One thing more. This veranda, leading from the house to
+the grounds--would it be possible to close it to the public?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. Oh, certainly. The guests as often as not sit out under
+the trees.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Very well, then do so, please. [FRAU LINDEMANN _locks the
+door_.] We may be assured that no one will enter this place?
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. If it is desired, none of us belonging to the house will
+come in here either.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. We should like that.
+
+FRAU LINDEMANN. Very well. [_Exit._
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Really, you must be more careful, darling. If that woman
+had understood French--{SPACE}You must be careful!
+
+THE PRINCESS. What would have been so dreadful about it?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Oh, my dear child! This mood of yours, which is due to
+nothing but your illness--that reminds me, you haven't taken your
+peptonized milk yet--this is a secret which we must keep from every one,
+above all from your fiance. If the Grand Duke should discover----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Shrugging her shoulders._] Well, what of it?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. A bride's duty is to be a happy bride. Otherwise----
+
+THE PRINCESS. Otherwise?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. She will be a lonely and an unloved woman.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_With a little smile of resignation._] Ah!
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. What is it, dear? [THE PRINCESS _shakes her head_.] And
+then think of the strain of those formal presentations awaiting you in
+the autumn! You must grow strong. Remember that you must be equal to the
+most exacting demands of life.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Of life? Whose life?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. What do you mean by that?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Ah, what good does it do to talk about it?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Yes, you are right. In my soul, too, there are unhappy
+and unholy thoughts that I would rather not utter. From my own
+experience I know that it is best to keep strictly within the narrow
+path of duty.
+
+THE PRINCESS. And to go to sleep.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Ah, it isn't only that.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Look out there! See the woods! Ah, to lie down on the
+moss, to cover oneself with leaves, to watch the clouds pass by high
+above----
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. [_Softening._] We can do that, too, some-time.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Laughing aloud._] Sometime!
+
+[THE LACKEY _appears at the door_.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Is everything ready?
+
+     [THE LACKEY _bows_.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Aside to_ FRAU V. BROOK.] But I simply cannot sleep.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Try to, for my sake. [_Aloud._] Does Your Highness
+command----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling and sighing._] Yes, I command.
+
+     [_They go out, left._
+
+     [_The stage remains empty for several moments. Then_ STRUeBEL _is
+     heard trying the latch of the back door_.
+
+STRUeBEL'S VOICE. Hullo! What's up! Why is this locked all of a sudden?
+Rosa! Open up! I've got to look through the telescope! Rosa! Won't you?
+Oh, well, I know how to help myself. [_He is seen walking outside of the
+glass-covered veranda. Then he puts his head through the open window at
+the right._] Not a soul inside? [_Climbs over._] Well, here we are. What
+on earth has happened to these people? [_Unlocks the back door and looks
+out._] Everything deserted. Well, it's all the same to me. [_Locks the
+door again._] But let's find out right away what the carriage has to do
+with the case.
+
+     [_Prepares to look through the telescope._ THE PRINCESS _enters
+     cautiously through the door at the left, her hat in her hand.
+     Without noticing_ STRUeBEL, _who is standing motionless before the
+     telescope, she goes hurriedly to the door at the back and unlocks
+     it_.
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Startled at the sound of the key, turns around._] Why, how do
+you do? [THE PRINCESS, _not venturing to move, glances back at the door
+through which she has entered_.] Wouldn't you like to look through the
+telescope a while? Please do. [THE PRINCESS, _undecided as to whether or
+not she should answer him, takes a few steps back toward the door at the
+left_.] Why are you going away? I won't do anything to you.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Reassured._] Oh, I'm not going away.
+
+STRUeBEL. That's right. But--where have you come from? The door was
+locked. Surely you didn't climb through the window as I did?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Frightened._] What? You came--through the window?----
+
+STRUeBEL. Of course I did.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Frightened anew._] Then I had rather----
+
+     [_About to go back._
+
+STRUeBEL. Oh, my dear young lady, you just stay right here. Why, before
+I'd drive you away I'd pitch myself headlong over a precipice!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling, reassured._] I only wanted to go out into the
+woods for half an hour.
+
+STRUeBEL. Oh, then you're a regular guest here at the Inn?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Quickly._] Yes--yes, of course.
+
+STRUeBEL. And of course you drink the waters down below?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_In a friendly way._] Oh, yes, I drink the waters. And
+I'm taking the baths, too.
+
+STRUeBEL. Two hundred metres up and down every time! Isn't that very hard
+on you? Heavens! And you look so pale! See here, my dear young lady,
+don't you do it. It would be better for you to go down there--that
+is--{SPACE}Oh, forgive me! I've been talking without thinking. Of
+course, you have your own reasons--{SPACE}It's decidedly cheaper up
+here. _I_ know how to value a thing of that sort. I've never had any
+money in all my life!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Trying to seem practical._] But when one comes to a
+watering-place, one must have money.
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Slapping himself on the chest._] Do I look to you as if I
+drank iron? Thank Heaven, I can't afford such luxuries! No; I'm only a
+poor fellow who earns his miserable pittance during vacation by acting
+as a private tutor--that's to say, "miserable" is only a figure of
+speech, for in the morning I lie abed until nine, at noon I eat five and
+at night seven courses; and as for work, I really haven't a thing to do!
+My pupil is so anaemic--why, compared to him, _you're_ fit for a circus
+rider!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Laughing unrestrainedly._] Oh, well, I'm rather glad I'm
+not one.
+
+STRUeBEL. Dear me, it's a business like any other.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Like any other? Really, I didn't think that.
+
+STRUeBEL. And pray, what did you think then?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, I thought that they were--an entirely different sort
+of people.
+
+STRUeBEL. My dear young lady, all people are "an entirely different
+sort." Of course _we_ two aren't. We get along real well together, don't
+we? As poor as church mice, both of us!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling reflectively._] Who knows? Perhaps that's true.
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Kindly._] Do you know what? If you want to stay down
+there--I'll tell you how one can live cheaply. I have a friend, a
+student like myself. He's here to mend up as you are. I feed him up at
+the house where I'm staying. [_Frightened at a peculiar look of_ THE
+PRINCESS'S.] Oh, but you mustn't be--No, I shouldn't have said it. It
+wasn't decent of me. Only, let me tell you, I'm so glad to be able to
+help the poor fellow out of my unexpected earnings, that I'd like to be
+shouting it from the housetops all the time! Of course, you understand
+that, don't you?
+
+THE PRINCESS. You like to help people, then?
+
+STRUeBEL. Surely--don't you?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Reflecting._] No. There's always so much talk about it,
+and the whole thing immediately appears in the newspapers.
+
+STRUeBEL. What? If you help some one, that appears----?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Quietly correcting herself._] I only mean if one takes
+part in entertainments for charity----
+
+STRUeBEL. Oh, yes, naturally. In those things they always get some woman
+of rank to act as patroness, if they can, and she sees to it, you may be
+sure, that the newspapers make a fuss over it.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Demurely._] Oh, not every----
+
+STRUeBEL. Just try to teach me something I don't know about these titled
+women! Besides, my dear young lady, where is your home--in one of the
+large cities, or----?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, no. In quite a small town--really more like the
+country.
+
+STRUeBEL. Then I'm going to show you something that you probably never
+saw before in all your life.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh do! What is it?
+
+STRUeBEL. A princess! H'm--not a make-believe, but a real, true-blue
+princess!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, really?
+
+STRUeBEL. Yes. Our Princess of the Springs.
+
+THE PRINCESS. And who may that be?
+
+STRUeBEL. Why, Princess Marie Louise.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Of Geldern?
+
+STRUeBEL. Of course.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Do you know her?
+
+STRUeBEL. Why, certainly.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Really? I thought that she lived in great retirement.
+
+STRUeBEL. Well, that doesn't do her any good. Not a bit of it. And
+because you are such a jolly good fellow I'm going to tell you my
+secret. I'm in love with this princess!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh!
+
+STRUeBEL. You can't imagine what a comfort it is. The fact is, every
+young poet has got to have a princess to love.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Are you a poet?
+
+STRUeBEL. Can't you tell that by looking at me?
+
+THE PRINCESS. I never saw a poet before.
+
+STRUeBEL. Never saw a poet--never saw a princess! Why, you're learning a
+heap of things to-day!
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Assenting._] H'm--and have you written poems to her?
+
+STRUeBEL. Why, that goes without saying! Quantities of 'em!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, please recite some little thing--won't you?
+
+STRUeBEL. No, not yet. Everything at the proper time.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Ah, yes, first I should like to see the princess.
+
+STRUeBEL. No, first I am going to tell you the whole story.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, yes, yes. Please do. [_Sits down._
+
+STRUeBEL. Well, then--I had hardly heard that she was here before I was
+dead in love with her. It was just as quick as a shot, I tell you. Just
+as if I had waited all my life long to fall in love with her. Besides, I
+also heard about her beauty--and her sorrow. You see, she had an early
+love affair.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Disconcerted._] What? Are they saying that?
+
+STRUeBEL. Yes. It was a young officer who went to Africa because of
+her--and died there.
+
+THE PRINCESS. And they know that, too?
+
+STRUeBEL. What don't they know? But that's a mere detail--it doesn't
+concern me. Even the fact that in six months she will become the bride
+of a grand-duke--even that can make no difference to me. For the present
+she is _my_ princess. But you're not listening to me!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, yes, I am!
+
+STRUeBEL. Do you know what that means--_my_ princess! I'll not give up
+_my_ princess--not for anything in all the world!
+
+THE PRINCESS. But--if you don't even know her----?
+
+STRUeBEL. I don't know her? Why, I know her as well as I know myself!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Have you ever met her, then?
+
+STRUeBEL. I don't know of any one who has ever met her. And there's not a
+soul that can tell what she looks like. It is said that there were
+pictures of her in the shop-windows when she first came, but they were
+removed immediately. In the morning a great many people are always
+lurking around the Springs trying to catch a glimpse of her. I, myself,
+have gotten up at six o'clock a couple of times--on the same errand--and
+if you knew me better, you'd realize what that meant. But not a sign of
+her! Either she has the stuff brought to her house or she has the power
+of making herself invisible. [THE PRINCESS _turns aside to conceal a
+smile_.] After that, I used to hang around her garden--every day, for
+hours at a time. Until one day the policeman, whom the managers of the
+Springs have stationed at the gates, came up to me and asked me what on
+earth I was doing there. Well, that was the end of those methods of
+approach! Suddenly, however, a happy thought struck me. Now I can see
+her and have her near to me as often as I wish.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Why, that's very interesting. How?
+
+STRUeBEL. Yes, that's just the point. H'm, should I risk it? Should I
+take you into my confidence?
+
+THE PRINCESS. You promised me some time ago that you would show her to
+me.
+
+STRUeBEL. Wait a second. [_Looks through the telescope._] There she is.
+Please look for yourself.
+
+THE PRINCESS. But I am--[_She, too, looks through the telescope._]
+Actually, there is the garden as plain as if one were in it.
+
+STRUeBEL. And at the corner window on the left--with the
+embroidery-frame--that's she.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Are you absolutely certain that that is the princess?
+
+STRUeBEL. Why, who else could it be?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, 'round about a princess like that--there are such a
+lot of people. For instance, there is her waiting-woman, there's the
+seamstress and her assistants, there's----
+
+STRUeBEL. But, my dear young lady, if you only understood anything about
+these matters, you would have been certain at the very first glance that
+it was she--and no one else. Observe the nobility in every motion--the
+queenly grace with which she bends over the embroidery-frame----
+
+THE PRINCESS. How do you know that it's an embroidery-frame?
+
+STRUeBEL. Why, what should a princess be bending over if not an
+embroidery-frame? Do you expect her to be darning stockings?
+
+THE PRINCESS. It wouldn't hurt her at all!
+
+STRUeBEL. Now, that's just one of those petty, bourgeois notions which we
+ought to suppress. It's not enough that _we_ have to stick in this
+misery, but we'd like to drag her down, too--that being far above all
+earthly care----
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, dear me!
+
+STRUeBEL. What are you sighing about so terribly?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Tell me, wouldn't you like to have a closer acquaintance
+with your princess, some time?
+
+STRUeBEL. Closer? Why should I? Isn't she close enough to me, my far-away
+princess?--for that's what I call her when I talk to myself about her.
+And to have her _still_ closer?
+
+THE PRINCESS. Why, so that you could talk to her and know what she
+really was like?
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Terrified._] Talk to her! Heaven forbid! Goodness gracious,
+no! Just see here--how am I to face a princess? I'm an ordinary fellow,
+the son of poor folks. I haven't polished manners--I haven't even a
+decent tailor. A lady like that--why, she'd measure me from top to toe
+in one glance. I've had my lessons in the fine houses where I've applied
+as tutor. A glance from boots to cravat--and you're dismissed!
+
+THE PRINCESS. And you think that I--[_correcting herself_] that this
+girl is as superficial as that?
+
+STRUeBEL. "This girl"! Dear me, how that sounds! But, how should I ever
+succeed in showing her my real self? And even if I should, what would
+she care? Oh, yes, if she were like you--so nice and simple--and with
+such a kindhearted, roguish little twinkle in her eye----!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Roguish--I? Why so?
+
+STRUeBEL. Because you are laughing at me in your sleeve. And really I
+deserve nothing better.
+
+THE PRINCESS. But your princess deserves something better than your
+opinion of her.
+
+STRUeBEL. How do you know that?
+
+THE PRINCESS. You really ought to try to become acquainted with her some
+time.
+
+STRUeBEL. No, no, no--and again no! As long as she remains my far-away
+princess she is everything that I want her to be--modest, gracious,
+loving. She smiles upon me dreamily. Yes, she even listens when I recite
+my poems to her--and that can't be said of many people! And as soon as I
+have finished she sighs, takes a rose from her breast, and casts it down
+to the poet. I wrote a few verses yesterday about that rose, that flower
+which represents the pinnacle of my desires, as it were.
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Eagerly._] Oh, yes. Oh, please, please!
+
+STRUeBEL. Well, then, here goes. H'm----
+
+    "Twenty roses nestling close----"
+
+THE PRINCESS. What? Are there twenty now?
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Severely._] My princess would not have interrupted me.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, please--forgive me.
+
+STRUeBEL. I shall begin again.
+
+    "Twenty roses nestling close
+      Gleam upon thy breast,
+    Twenty years of rose-red love
+      Upon thy fair cheeks rest.
+
+    "Twenty years would I gladly give
+      Out of life's brief reign,
+    Could I but ask a rose of thee
+      And ask it not in vain.
+
+    "Twenty roses thou dost not need--
+      Why, pearls and rubies are thine!
+    With nineteen thou'dst be just as fair,
+      And _one_ would then be _mine_!
+
+    "And twenty years of rose-wreathed joy
+      Would spring to life for me--
+    Yet twenty years could ne'er suffice
+      To worship it--and thee!"
+
+THE PRINCESS. How nice that is! I've never had any verses written to me
+b----
+
+STRUeBEL. Ah, my dear young lady, ordinary folks like us have to do their
+own verse-making!
+
+THE PRINCESS. And all for one rose! Dear me, how soon it fades! And then
+what is left you?
+
+STRUeBEL. No, my dear friend, a rose like that never fades--even as my
+love for the gracious giver can never die.
+
+THE PRINCESS. But you haven't even got it yet!
+
+STRUeBEL. That makes no difference in the end. I'm entirely independent
+of such externals. When some day I shall be explaining Ovid to the
+beginners, or perhaps even reading Horace with the more advanced
+classes--no, it's better for the present not to think of reaching any
+such dizzy heights of greatness--well, then I shall always be saying to
+myself with a smile of satisfaction: "You, too, were one of those
+confounded artist fellows--why, you once went so far as to love a
+princess!"
+
+THE PRINCESS. And that will make you happy?
+
+STRUeBEL. Enormously! For what makes us happy, after all? A bit of
+happiness? Great heavens, no! Happiness wears out like an old glove.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Well, then, what does?
+
+STRUeBEL. Ah, how should I know! Any kind of a dream--a fancy--a wish
+unfulfilled--a sorrow that we coddle--some nothing which suddenly
+becomes everything to us. I shall always say to my pupils: "Young men,
+if you want to be happy as long as you live, create gods for yourselves
+in your own image; these gods will take care of your happiness."
+
+The Princess. And what would the god be like that you would create?
+
+STRUeBEL. _Would be?_ _Is_, my dear young lady, _is!_ A man of the world,
+a gentleman, well-bred, smiling, enjoying life--who looks out upon
+mankind from under bushy eyebrows, who knows Nietzsche and Stendhal by
+heart, and--[_pointing to his shoes_] who isn't down at the heels--a
+god, in short, worthy of my princess. I know perfectly well that all my
+life long I shall never do anything but crawl around on the ground like
+an industrious ant, but I know, too, that the god of my fancy will
+always take me by the collar when the proper moment comes and pull me up
+again into the clouds. Yes, up there I'm safe. And your god, or rather
+your goddess--what would she look like?
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Thoughtfully._] That's not easy to say. My goddess would
+be--a quiet, peaceful woman who would treasure a secret little joy like
+the apple of her eye, who would know nothing of the world except what
+she wanted to know, and who would have the strength to make her own
+choice when it pleased her.
+
+STRUeBEL. But that doesn't seem to me a particularly lofty aspiration, my
+dear young lady.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Lofty as the heavens, my friend.
+
+STRUeBEL. My princess would be of a different opinion.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Do you think so?
+
+STRUeBEL. For that's merely the ideal of every little country girl.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Not her ideal--her daily life which she counts as naught.
+It is my ideal because I can never attain it.
+
+STRUeBEL. Oh, I say, my dear young girl! It can't be as bad as that! A
+young girl like you--so charming and--I don't want to be forward, but if
+I could only help you a bit!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Have you got to be helping all the time? Before, it was
+only a cheap lunch, now it's actually----
+
+STRUeBEL. Yes, yes, I'm an awful donkey, I know, but----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling._] Don't say any more about it, dear friend! I
+like you that way.
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Feeling oppressed by her superiority._] Really, you are an
+awfully strange person! There's something about you that--that----
+
+THE PRINCESS. Well?
+
+STRUeBEL. I can't exactly define it. Tell me, weren't you wanting to go
+into the woods before? It's so--so oppressive in here.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oppressive? I don't find it so at all--quite the contrary.
+
+STRUeBEL. No, no--I'm restless. I don't know what--at all events, may I
+not escort you--? One can chat more freely, one can express himself more
+openly--if one----
+
+     [_Takes a deep breath._
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling._] And you are leaving your far-away princess
+with such a light heart?
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Carelessly._] Oh, she! She won't run away. She'll be sitting
+there to-morrow again--and the day after, too!
+
+THE PRINCESS. And so that is your great, undying love?
+
+STRUeBEL. Yes, but when a girl like you comes across one's path----
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_Hurrying in and then drawing back in feigned
+astonishment._] Oh!
+
+LIDDY AND MILLY. [_Similarly._] Oh!
+
+STRUeBEL. Well, ladies, didn't I tell you that you wouldn't find her?
+Princesses don't grow along the roadside like weeds!
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_Disregarding him--ceremoniously._] The infinite
+happiness with which this glorious event fills our hearts must excuse in
+some measure the extraordinary breach of good manners which we are
+committing in daring to address Your Highness. But, as the fortunate
+subjects of Your Highness's most noble fiance, we could not refrain
+from----
+
+STRUeBEL. Well, well! What's all this?
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF.--from offering to our eagerly awaited sovereign a
+slight token of our future loyalty. Liddy! Milly! [LIDDY _and_ MILLY
+_come forward, and, with low court bows, offer their bouquets_.] My
+daughters respectfully present these few flowers to the illustrious
+princess----
+
+STRUeBEL. I beg your pardon, but who is doing the joking here, you
+or----?
+
+     [FRAU V. BROOK _enters_. THE PRINCESS, _taken unawares, has
+     retreated more and more helplessly toward the door at the left,
+     undecided whether to take flight or remain. She greets the arrival
+     of_ FRAU V. BROOK _with a happy sigh of relief_.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. [_Severely._] Pardon me, ladies. Apparently you have not
+taken the proper steps toward being presented to Her Highness. In
+matters of this sort one must first apply to me. I may be addressed
+every morning from eleven to twelve, and I shall be happy to consider
+your desires.
+
+FRAU V. HALLDORF. [_With dignity._] I and my children, madame, were
+aware of the fact that we were acting contrary to the usual procedure;
+but the impulse of loyal hearts is guided by no rule. I shall be glad to
+avail myself of your--very kind invitation.
+
+     [_All three go out with low curtsies to_ THE PRINCESS.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. What forwardness! But how could you come down without me?
+And what is that young man over there doing? Does he belong to those
+people?
+
+     [THE PRINCESS _shakes her head_. STRUeBEL, _without a word, goes to
+     get his hat, which has been lying on a chair, bows abruptly, and is
+     about to leave_.
+
+THE PRINCESS. Oh, no! That wouldn't be nice. Not that way----
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. [_Amazed._] What? What! Why, Your Highness----!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Let me be, Eugenie. This young man and I have become far
+too good friends to part in such an unfriendly, yes, almost hostile
+fashion.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Your Highness, I am _very_ much----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_To_ STRUeBEL.] You and I will certainly remember this
+hour with great pleasure, and I thank you for it with all my heart. If I
+only had a rose with me, so as to give you your dear wish! Eugenie,
+haven't we any roses with us?
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Your Highness, I am _very_ much----
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Examining herself and searching among the vases._] Well,
+how are we going to manage it?
+
+STRUeBEL. I most humbly thank--your Highness--for the kind intention.
+
+THE PRINCESS. No, no--wait! [_Her glance falls upon the hat which she is
+holding in her hand--with a sudden thought._] I have it! But don't think
+that I'm joking. And we'll have to do without scissors! [_She tears one
+of the roses from the hat._] I don't know whether there are just
+twenty--[_Holding out one of the roses to him._] Well? This rose has the
+merit of being just as real as the sentiment of which we were speaking
+before--and just as unfading.
+
+STRUeBEL. Is this--to be--my punishment? [THE PRINCESS _smilingly shakes
+her head_.] Or does your Highness mean by it that only the Unreal never
+fades?
+
+THE PRINCESS. That's exactly what I mean--because the Unreal must always
+dwell in the imagination.
+
+STRUeBEL. So that's it! Just as it is only the _far-away_ princesses who
+are always near to us.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Permit me to remark, Your Highness--that it is _high_
+time----
+
+THE PRINCESS. As you see, those who are near must hurry away. [_Offering
+him the rose again._] Well?
+
+STRUeBEL. [_Is about to take it, but lets his hand fall._] With the
+far-away princess there--[_pointing down_] it would have been in
+harmony, but with the--[_Shakes his head, then softly and with
+emotion._] No, thanks--I'd rather not.
+
+[_He bows and goes out._
+
+THE PRINCESS. [_Smiling pensively, throws away the artificial flower._]
+I'm going to ask my fiance to let me send him a rose.
+
+FRAU V. BROOK. Your Highness, I am _very_ much--surprised!
+
+THE PRINCESS. Well, I told you that I wasn't sleepy.
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE STRONGER
+
+BY
+
+AUGUST STRINDBERG
+
+
+AUGUST STRINDBERG
+
+August Strindberg, Sweden's foremost dramatist, was born at Stockholm in
+1849. He attended the University of Upsala but did not graduate. In 1872
+he wrote _Master Olaf_, which was for six years steadily refused by
+managers. When it did appear it inaugurated the Swedish dramatic
+renascence. By turns Strindberg was schoolmaster, journalist, dramatist,
+writer of scientific and political treatises, and writer of short
+stories. In 1883 he left Sweden and travelled extensively in Denmark,
+Germany, France, and Italy. He died in 1912.
+
+As a dramatist Strindberg's chief strength lies not so much in dramatic
+technique as it does in his trenchant and searching power of analysis of
+the human mind. His chief plays are very exact and narrow views of the
+feminine soul. Some of his own domestic bitterness finds expression in
+the feminine studies in his plays. He is very fond of showing the power
+of one character over another.
+
+His important one-act plays are _The Outlaw_, _Countess Julie_,
+_Creditors_, _Pariah_, _Facing Death_, and _The Stronger_. _The
+Stronger_ has a dramatic intensity that few plays possess. Though but
+one character speaks, the souls of three are skilfully laid bare.
+
+
+PERSONS
+
+    MRS. X., _an actress, married_
+    MISS Y., _an actress, unmarried_
+
+
+
+
+THE STRONGER[M]
+
+
+     SCENE: _A corner of a ladies' restaurant; two small tables of
+     cast-iron, a sofa covered with red plush, and a few chairs._
+
+     MRS. X. _enters, dressed in hat and winter coat, and carrying a
+     pretty Japanese basket on her arm_.
+
+     MISS Y. _has in front of her a partly emptied bottle of beer; she
+     is reading an illustrated weekly, and every now and then, she
+     exchanges it for a new one_.
+
+MRS. X. Well, how do, Millie! Here you are sitting on Christmas Eve, as
+lonely as a poor bachelor.
+
+     [MISS Y. _looks up from the paper for a moment, nods, and resumes
+     her reading_.]
+
+MRS. X. Really, I feel sorry to find you like this--alone--alone in a
+restaurant, and on Christmas Eve of all times. It makes me as sad as
+when I saw a wedding party at Paris once in a restaurant--the bride was
+reading a comic paper and the groom was playing billiards with the
+witnesses. Ugh, when it begins that way, I thought, how will it end?
+Think of it, playing billiards on his wedding day! Yes, and you're going
+to say that she was reading a comic paper--- that's a different case, my
+dear.
+
+     [_A waitress brings a cup of chocolate, places it before_ MRS. X.,
+     _and disappears again_.
+
+MRS. X. [_Sips a few spoonfuls; opens the basket and displays a number
+of Christmas presents._] See what I've bought for my tots. [_Picks up a
+doll._] What do you think of this? Lisa is to have it. She can roll her
+eyes and twist her head, do you see? Fine, is it not? And here's a cork
+pistol for Carl.
+
+     [_Loads the pistol and pops it at_ MISS Y. MISS Y. _starts as if
+     frightened_.
+
+MRS. X. Did I scare you? Why, you didn't fear I was going to shoot you,
+did you? Really, I didn't think you could believe that of me. If you
+were to shoot _me_--well, that wouldn't surprise me the least. I've got
+in your way once, and I know you'll never forget it--but I couldn't help
+it. You still think I intrigued you away from the Royal Theatre, and I
+didn't do anything of the kind--although you think so. But it doesn't
+matter what I say, of course--you believe it was I just the same.
+[_Pulls out a pair of embroidered slippers._] Well, these are for my
+hubby--tulips--I've embroidered them myself. H'm!--I hate tulips--and he
+must have them on everything.
+
+     [MISS Y. _looks up from the paper with an expression of mingled
+     sarcasm and curiosity_.
+
+MRS. X. [_Puts a hand in each slipper._] Just see what small feet Bob
+has. See? And you should see him walk--elegant! Of course, you've never
+seen him in slippers.
+
+     [MISS Y. _laughs aloud_.
+
+MRS. X. Look here--here he comes.
+
+     [_Makes the slippers walk across the table._ MISS Y. _laughs
+     again_.
+
+MRS. X. Then he gets angry, and he stamps his foot just like this:
+"Blame that cook who can't learn how to make coffee." Or: "The
+idiot--now that girl has forgotten to fix my study lamp again." Then
+there is a draught through the floor and his feet get cold. "Gee, but
+it's freezing, and those blanked idiots don't even know enough to keep
+the house warm."
+
+     [_She rubs the sole of one slipper against the instep of the
+     other._ MISS Y. _breaks into prolonged laughter_.
+
+MRS. X. And then he comes home and has to hunt for his slippers--Mary
+has pushed them under the bureau. Well, perhaps it is not right to be
+making fun of one's own husband. He's pretty good for all that--a real
+dear little hubby, that's what he is. You should have such a
+husband--what are you laughing at? Can't you tell? Then, you see, I know
+he is faithful. Yes, I know, for he has told me himself--what in the
+world makes you giggle like that? That nasty Betty tried to get him away
+from me while I was on the road. Can you think of anything more
+infamous? [_Pause._] But I'd have scratched the eyes out of her face,
+that's what I'd have done, if I had been at home when she tried it.
+[_Pause._] I'm glad Bob told me all about it, so I didn't have to hear
+it first from somebody else. [_Pause._] And, just think of it, Betty was
+not the only one! I don't know why it is, but all women seem to be crazy
+after my husband. It must be because they imagine his government
+position gives him something to say about the engagements. Perhaps
+you've tried it yourself--you may have set your traps for him, too? Yes,
+I don't trust you very far--but I know he never cared for you--and then
+I have been thinking you rather had a grudge against him.
+
+     [_Pause. They look at each other in an embarrassed manner._
+
+MRS. X. Amelia, spend the evening with us, won't you? Just to show that
+you are not angry--not with me, at least. I cannot tell exactly why, but
+it seems so awfully unpleasant to have you--you--for an enemy. Perhaps
+because I got in your way that time [_rallentando_] or--I don't
+know--really, I don't know at all----
+
+     [_Pause._ MISS Y. _gazes searchingly at_ MRS. X.
+
+MRS. X. [_Thoughtfully._] It was so peculiar, the way our
+acquaintance--why, I was afraid of you when I first met you; so afraid
+that I did not dare to let you out of sight. It didn't matter where I
+tried to go--I always found myself near you. I didn't have the courage
+to be your enemy--and so I became your friend. But there was always
+something discordant in the air when you called at our home, for I saw
+that my husband didn't like you--and it annoyed me--just as it does when
+a dress won't fit. I've tried my very best to make him appear friendly
+to you at least, but I couldn't move him--not until you were engaged.
+Then you two became such fast friends that it almost looked as if you
+had not dared to show your real feelings before, when it was not
+safe--and later--let me see, now! I didn't get jealous--strange, was it
+not? And I remember the baptism--you were acting as godmother, and I
+made him kiss you--and he did, but both of you looked terribly
+embarrassed--that is, I didn't think of it then--or afterwards, even--I
+never thought of it--till--_now_! [_Rises impulsively._] Why don't you
+say something? You have not uttered a single word all this time. You've
+just let me go on talking. You've been sitting there staring at me only,
+and your eyes have drawn out of me all these thoughts which were lying
+in me like silk in a cocoon--thoughts--bad thoughts maybe--let me think.
+Why did you break your engagement? Why have you never called on us
+afterward? Why don't you want to be with us to-night?
+
+     [MISS Y. _makes a motion as if intending to speak_.
+
+MRS. X. No, you don't need to say anything at all. All is clear to me
+now. So, that's the reason of it all. Yes, yes! Everything fits together
+now. Shame on you! I don't want to sit at the same table with you.
+[_Moves her things to another table._] That's why I must put those
+hateful tulips on his slippers--because you love them. [_Throws the
+slippers on the floor._] That's why we have to spend the summer in the
+mountains--because you can't bear the salt smell of the ocean; that's
+why my boy had to be called Eskil--because that was your father's name;
+that's why I had to wear your color, and read your books, and eat your
+favorite dishes, and drink your drinks--this chocolate, for instance;
+that's why--great heavens!--it's terrible to think of it--it's terrible!
+Everything was forced on me by you--even your passions. Your soul bored
+itself into mine as a worm into an apple, and it ate and ate and
+burrowed and burrowed, till nothing was left but the outside shell and a
+little black dust. I wanted to run away from you, but I couldn't. You
+were always on hand like a snake, with your black eyes, to charm me--I
+felt how my wings beat the air only to drag me down--I was in the water
+with my feet tied together, and the harder I worked with my arms, the
+further down I went--down, down, till I sank to the bottom, where you
+lay in wait like a monster crab to catch me with your claws--and now I'm
+there! Shame on you! How I hate you, hate you, hate you! But you, you
+just sit there, silent and calm and indifferent, whether the moon is new
+or full; whether it's Christmas or mid-summer; whether other people are
+happy or unhappy. You are incapable of hatred and you don't know how to
+love. As a cat in front of a mouse-hole, you are sitting there. You
+can't drag your prey out, and you can't pursue it, but you can outwait
+it. Here you sit in this comer--do you know they've nicknamed it "the
+mousetrap" on your account? Here you read the papers to see if anybody
+is in trouble, or if anybody is about to be discharged from the theatre.
+Here you watch your victims and calculate your chances and take your
+tributes. Poor Amelia! Do you know, I pity you all the same, for I know
+you are unhappy--unhappy as one who has been wounded, and malicious
+because you are wounded. I ought to be angry with you, but really I
+can't--you are so small, after all--and as to Bob, why, that does not
+bother me in the least. What does it matter to me, anyhow? If you or
+somebody else taught me to drink chocolate--what of that? [_Takes a
+spoonful of chocolate; then, sententiously._] They say chocolate is very
+wholesome. And if I have learned from you how to dress--_tant
+mieux!_--it has only given me a stronger hold on my husband--and you
+have lost where I have gained. Yes, judging by several signs, I think
+you have lost him already. Of course, you meant me to break with him--as
+you did, and as you are now regretting--but, you see, _I_ never would do
+that. It wouldn't do to be narrow-minded, you know. And why should I
+take only what nobody else wants? Perhaps, after all, I am the stronger
+now. You never got anything from me; you merely gave--and thus happened
+to me what happened to the thief--I had what you missed when you woke
+up. How explain in any other way that, in your hand, everything proved
+worthless and useless? You were never able to keep a man's love, in
+spite of your tulips and your passions--and I could; you could never
+learn the art of living from the books--as I learned it; you bore no
+little Eskil, although that was your father's name. And why do you keep
+silent always and everywhere--silent, ever silent? I used to think it
+was because you were so strong; and maybe the simple truth was you never
+had anything to say--because you were unable to think! [_Rises and picks
+up the slippers._] I'm going home now--I'll take the tulips with
+me--your tulips. You couldn't learn anything from others; you couldn't
+bend--and so you broke like a dry stem--and I didn't. Thank you,
+Amelia, for all your instructions. I thank you that you have taught me
+how to love my husband. Now I'm going home--to him! [_Exit._
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+
+
+COLLECTIONS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+     _The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays._ The Atlantic Monthly Press,
+     Boston, 1921.
+
+     Baker, Geo. Pierce. _Plays of the 47 Workship_ (two volumes) and
+     _Plays of the Harvard Dramatic Club_ (two volumes). Brentano's, New
+     York City, 1918-20.
+
+     Clark, Barrett H., _Representative One-Act Plays by British and
+     Irish Authors_. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1921.
+
+     Cohen, Helen Louise, _One-Act Plays by Modern Authors_. Harcourt,
+     Brace and Company, New York, 1921.
+
+     Eliot, Samuel A., _Little Theatre Classics_, one-act versions of
+     standard plays from the modern and the classic plays. Four volumes
+     now issued. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1918.
+
+     Mayorga, Margaret Gardner, _Representative One-Act Plays by
+     American Authors_. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1919.
+
+     Moses, Montrose J., _Representative One-Act Plays by Continental
+     European Authors_. Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1922.
+
+     Shay, Frank, and Loving, Pierre, _Fifty Contemporary One-Act
+     Plays_. Stewart and Kidd Company, Cincinnati, 1920.
+
+     _Wisconsin Plays_, First and Second Series. B. W. Huebsch, New York
+     City, 1914, 1918.
+
+     Smith, Alice M., _Short Plays by Representative Authors_. The
+     Macmillan Company, New York City, 1921.
+
+     _A Volume of Plays from the Drama_, 59 East Van Buren Street,
+     Chicago, is announced for 1922.
+
+     _A Volume of One-Act Plays_ from the work of Professor Franz
+     Rickaby, of the University of North Dakota, is under way.
+
+     _A Volume of One-Act Plays_, from the work of Professor Frederick
+     H. Koch, of the University of North Carolina, is under way.
+
+
+
+
+LISTS OF ONE-ACT PLAYS
+
+     _Bibliography of Published Plays Available in English._ World Drama
+     Promoters, La Jolla, California.
+
+     Cheney, Sheldon, _The Art Theatre_. (Appendix: _Plays Produced at
+     the Arts and Crafts Theatre, Detroit_.) Alfred A. Knopf, New York,
+     1917.
+
+     Clapp, John Mantel, _Plays for Amateurs_. _Bulletin of The Drama
+     League of America_, Chicago, 1915.
+
+     Clark, Barrett Harper, _How to Produce Amateur Plays_. Little,
+     Brown and Company, Boston, 1917.
+
+     Dickinson, Thomas H., _The Insurgent Theatre_. (Appendix: _List of
+     Plays Produced by Little Theatres_.) B. W. Huebsch, New York, 1917.
+
+     Drummond, Alex. M., _Fifty One-Act Plays_. _Quarterly Journal of
+     Public Speaking_, Vol. I, p. 234, 1915.
+
+     Drummond, Alex. M., _One-Act Plays for Schools and Colleges_.
+     _Education_, Vol. 4, p. 372, 1918.
+
+     Faxon, F. W., _Dramatic Index_. Published from year to year,
+     Boston.
+
+     French, Samuel, _Guide to Selecting Plays_. Catalogues, etc. Samuel
+     French, publisher, New York.
+
+     Johnson, Gertrude, _Choosing a Play_. Lists of various types of
+     one-act plays in the Appendix. The Century Company, New York, 1920.
+
+     Kaplan, Samuel, _Actable One-Act Plays_. Chicago Public Library,
+     Chicago, 1916.
+
+     Koch, Frederick H., _Community Drama Service_. A select list of
+     one-act plays. Extension Series, Number 36, in _University of North
+     Carolina Record_, Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1920.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _The Technique of the One-Act Play_ (Appendix:
+     _Contemporary One-Act Plays_). John W. Luce and Company, Boston,
+     1918.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _The One-Act Play in Colleges and High Schools_.
+     A select list of fifty one-act plays. _Bulletin of Extension
+     Division of University of Utah_, Series No. 2, Vol. 10, No. 16,
+     Salt Lake City, 1920.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _One Hundred Representative One-Act Plays_, in
+     _The Drama_, April, 1921, Vol. 11, No. 7, Chicago.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland. _Bulletin on the One-Act Play_, prepared for The
+     Drama League of America. Contains a selected list of one hundred
+     and fifty one-act plays, with analyses, etc. The Drama League of
+     America, Chicago, Illinois, 1921.
+
+     McFadden, E. A., _Selected List of Plays for Amateurs_, 113 Lake
+     View Avenue, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1920.
+
+     Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, _The Little Theatre in the United States_
+     (Appendix: _List of Plays Produced in Little Theatres_). Henry Holt
+     & Company, New York, 1917.
+
+     Mayorga, Margaret Gardner, _Representative One-Act Plays by
+     American Authors_ (Appendix: _Selective List of One-Act Plays by
+     American Authors_). Little, Brown & Company, Boston, 1919.
+
+     Merry, Glenn Newton, _College Plays_. University of Iowa, Iowa
+     City, Iowa, 1919.
+
+     Riley, Alice C. D., _The One-Act Play--Study Course_. Three issues
+     (February, March, April) of _The Drama League Bulletin_, 1918,
+     Washington, D. C.
+
+     Riley, Ruth, _Plays and Recitations, Extension Division Record_,
+     Vol. 2, No. 2, November, 1920. University of Florida, Gainesville,
+     Florida.
+
+     _Selected List of Christmas Plays._ Drama League Calendar, November
+     15, 1918, New York.
+
+     _Selected List of Patriotic Plays and Pageants Suitable for
+     Amateurs._ Drama League Calendar, October 1, 1918, New York.
+
+     _Selected List of Plays for Amateurs._ The Drama League, Boston.
+     Also Doubleday, Page & Company, New York, 1917.
+
+     Shay, Frank, _Play List, Winter, 1921._ Frank Shay, 4 Christopher
+     Street, New York.
+
+     Shay, Frank, and Loving, Pierre, _Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays_
+     (Appendix: _The Plays of the Little Theatre_). Stewart & Kidd
+     Company, Cincinnati, 1920.
+
+     Stratton, Clarence, _Two Hundred Plays Suitable for Amateurs_. One
+     hundred of them are one-act plays. St. Louis, Missouri, 1920. The
+     Drama Shop, 7 East 42d Street, New York.
+
+     Stratton, Clarence, _Producing in Little Theatres_ (Appendix
+     contains a revised list of one-act plays). Henry Holt & Company,
+     New York City, 1921.
+
+     Swartout, Norman Lee, _One Hundred and One Good Plays_. Summit, New
+     Jersey, 1920.
+
+
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY OF REFERENCE ON THE ONE-ACT PLAY
+
+     Andrews, Charlton, _The Technique of Play Writing_, Chapter XVIII.
+     Home Correspondence School, Springfield, Massachusetts.
+
+     Cannon, Fanny, _Writing and Selling a Play_, Chapter XXII. Henry
+     Holt & Company, New York, 1915.
+
+     Cohen, Helen Louise, _One-Act Plays by Modern Authors_,
+     Introduction. Harcourt, Brace and Company, New York, 1921.
+
+     Corbin, John, _The One-Act Play_, in the New York _Times_, May,
+     1918. Vol. IV, p. 8, col. 1.
+
+     Eaton, Walter P., _Washington Square Plays_, Introduction.
+     Doubleday, Page & Company, Garden City, New York, 1917.
+
+     Gibbs, Clayton E., _The One-Act Play_, in _The Theatre_, Vol.
+     XXIII, pp. 143-156, March, 1916.
+
+     Goodman, Edward, _Why the One-Act Play_?, in _The Theatre_, Vol.
+     XXV, p. 327, June, 1917.
+
+     Gregory, Lady Augusta, _Our Irish Theatre_. G. P. Putnam's Sons,
+     New York, 1913.
+
+     Hamilton, Clayton, _The One-Act Play in America_, in _The Bookman_,
+     April, 1913. Appears as Chapter XXII in _Studies in Stagecraft_,
+     Henry Holt & Company, New York, 1914.
+
+     Johnson, Gertrude, _Choosing a Play_, Chapter III, _Why the One-Act
+     Play?_?The Century Company, New York, 1920.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _The Technique of the One-Act Play_. John W. Luce
+     & Company, Boston, 1918.
+
+     Lewis, B. Roland, _The One-Act Play in Colleges and High Schools,
+     Bulletin of the University of Utah_, Extension Series No. 2, Vol.
+     X, No. 16, 1920. Extension Division, University of Utah, Salt Lake
+     City.
+
+     Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, _The Little Theatre in the United
+     States_, some interesting comments on various one-act plays. Henry
+     Holt & Company, New York, 1917.
+
+     Middleton, George, _Tradition and Other One-Act Plays_,
+     Introduction, 1913; _Embers, Etc._, Introduction, 1911;
+     _Possession, Etc._, Introduction, 1915. All published by Henry
+     Holt & Company, New York.
+
+     Middleton, George, _The Neglected One-Act Play_, in _The Dramatic
+     Mirror_, January 31, 1913, pp. 13-14, New York.
+
+     Moses, Montrose J., _The American Dramatist_, comment on the
+     one-act play. Little, Brown & Company, Boston, 1917.
+
+     Neal, Robert Wilson, _Short Stories in the Making_, Chapter I.
+     Oxford University Press, New York, 1914.
+
+     Page, Brett, _Writing for Vaudeville_. Home Correspondence School,
+     Springfield, Massachusetts, 1915.
+
+     _Poole's Index_, for articles on the one-act play in the magazines.
+
+     _The Reader's Guide to Periodical Literature_ for articles on the
+     one-act play in the magazines.
+
+     Schitzler, Arthur, _Comedies of Words_, Introduction by Pierre
+     Loving. Stewart & Kidd Company, Cincinnati, 1917.
+
+     Underhill, John Garrett, _The One-Art Play in Spain_, in _The
+     Drama: A Quarterly Review_, February, 1917.
+
+     Wilde, Percival, _Confessional, and Other One-Act Plays_, Preface.
+     Henry Holt & Company, New York, 1916.
+
+     The several volumes dealing with the short story are suggested as
+     collateral study: Pitkin, Neal, Williams, Grabo, Baker, Esenwein,
+     Notestein and Dunn, Canby, Albright, Smith, Cross, Barrett,
+     Mathews, Pain, Gerwig.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY ON HOW TO PRODUCE PLAYS
+
+     Beegle, Mary Porter, and Crawford, Jack, _Community Drama and
+     Pageantry_. The Appendices in this volume contain excellent
+     bibliographies on almost every aspect of dramatic production. It is
+     a most valuable work. Yale University Press, New Haven, 1917.
+
+     Chubb, Percival, _Festivals and Plays_. Harper and Brothers, New
+     York, 1912.
+
+     Clark, Barrett H., _How to Produce Amateur Plays_. Little, Brown &
+     Company, Boston, 1917.
+
+     Crampton, C. Ward, _Folk Dance Book_. A. S. Barnes & Company, New
+     York, 1909.
+
+     Hughes, Talbot, _Dress Designs_. The Macmillan Company, New York,
+     1913.
+
+     Johnson, Gertrude, _Choosing a Play_. The Century Company, New
+     York, 1920.
+
+     Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, _Costumes and Scenery for Amateurs_.
+     Henry Holt & Company, New York, 1915.
+
+     Mackay, Constance D'Arcy, _How to Produce Children's Plays_. Henry
+     Holt & Company, New York, 1915.
+
+     Rath, Emil, _Esthetic Dancing_. A. S. Barnes & Company, New York,
+     1914.
+
+     Rhead, G. N., _Chats on Costume, or Treatment of Draperies in Art_.
+     F. A. Stokes Company, New York, 1906.
+
+     Stratton, Clarence, _Producing in the Little Theatres_. Henry Holt
+     & Company, New York, 1921.
+
+     Stratton, Clarence, _Public Speaking_, has a chapter on Dramatics.
+     Henry Holt & Company, New York, 1920.
+
+     Taylor, Emerson, _Practical Stage Directing for Amateurs_. E. P.
+     Dutton & Company, New York, 1916.
+
+     Waugh, Frank A., _Outdoor Theatres_. Richard G. Badger, Boston,
+     1917.
+
+     Young, James, _Making Up_. M. Witmark & Sons, 114 West 37th Street,
+     New York.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Copyright, 1914, by Charles Scribner's Sons. All rights reserved.
+
+[B] Copyright, 1913, by George Middleton. All rights reserved.
+
+[C] Copyright, 1921. All rights reserved.
+
+[D] Copyright, 1912, 1921, by Percy Mackaye. All rights reserved.
+
+[E] The head and face of the Figure are partly hidden by a beak-shaped
+cowl. Momentarily, however, when his head is turned toward the fire,
+enough of the face is discernible to reveal his narrow iron-gray beard,
+shaven upper lip, aquiline nose, and eyes that twinkle in the dimness.
+
+[F] Copyright, 1919, by _The Stratford Journal_.
+
+[G] Copyright, 1914, by Bosworth Crocker. All rights reserved.
+
+[H] Pronounced _niece_.
+
+[I] Copyright, 1917, by Little, Brown & Co. All rights reserved.
+
+[J] Copyright, 1917, by Oscar M. Wolff. All rights reserved.
+
+[K] Plans for this clock may be had by addressing Professor N. B. Knapp,
+of the Manual Training Department, University of North Dakota,
+University, North Dakota.
+
+Copyright, 1922, by the Dakota Playmakers.
+
+[L] Copyright, 1909, by Charles Scribner's Sons. All rights reserved.
+
+[M] Copyright, 1912, by Charles Scribner's Sons. All rights reserved.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Contemporary One-Act Plays, by Various
+
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