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Please Pass the Cream, by Charles Nevers Holmes—A Project Gutenberg eBook
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 68147 ***</div>
<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt="" /></div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="" /></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="titlepage">
<h1><span class="smcap">Please Pass the Cream</span></h1>
<p><span class="large">A COMEDY</span></p>
<p>BY<br />
<span class="large">CHARLES NEVERS HOLMES</span></p>
<p>AUTHOR OF<br />
<i>“Their First Quarrel” and “Smith’s Unlucky Day.”</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/titlepagelogo.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>CHICAGO<br />
<span class="large">T. S. DENISON & COMPANY</span><br />
<span class="smcap">Publishers</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span>
<p class="ph2">PLEASE PASS THE CREAM</p>
</div>
<div class="blockquot">
<hr class="tb" />
<table>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Mr. John Clark</span></td><td class="tdr"> <i>A “Self-Made” Man</i></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Mrs. John Clark</span>    </td><td class="tdr"> <i>A Former Schoolma’am</i></td></tr>
</table>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Place</span>—<i>Anywhere</i>.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Time</span>—<i>Breakfast</i>.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Time of Playing</span>—<i>Twenty Minutes</i>.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="center">COSTUMES.</p>
<p class="center">
<span class="smcap">Mr. Clark</span>—<i>Breakfast Attire</i>.<br />
<span class="smcap">Mrs. Clark</span>—<i>Morning Gown</i>.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="center">PROPERTIES.</p>
<p class="center">All listed in description of stage setting.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="center">STAGE DIRECTIONS.</p>
<p><i>R.</i> means right of the stage; <i>C.</i>, center; <i>R. C.</i>, right center;
<i>L.</i>, left; <i>1 E.</i>, first entrance; <i>U. E.</i>, upper entrance; <i>R. 3 E.</i>,
right entrance up stage, etc.; up stage, away from footlights;
down stage, near footlights. The actor is supposed to be
facing the audience.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY T. S. DENISON & COMPANY.</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span>
<p class="ph2">PLEASE PASS THE CREAM</p>
</div>
<div class="blockquot">
<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <i>Dining-room of the</i> <span class="smcap">Clarks</span>, <i>cosily furnished in
dark; dining-table in center, two chairs at opposite ends,
table set with plates, knives, forks, spoons, glasses, coffee pot
and cups at right end, with sugar and a cream-pitcher;
plate, knife, fork, spoons, glass at left end; also a carafe
of water; butter, salt and pepper boxes, napkins, etc. A
sideboard with silver. Rug under table. Modern hanging
lamp over it. Doors at right and left. Window at back
beside sideboard. Telephone on small table in left corner.</i>
<span class="smcap">Mr. Clark</span>, <i>about 40 years of age, stout and easy going,
seated in chair at left end of table</i>. <span class="smcap">Mrs. Clark</span>, <i>about 35
years old, rather slim and nervous, at the right end. As the
curtain rises both are eating some meat and potatoes, a clock
in hall behind door at right striking the hour of eight.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Clark</span> (<i>raising her napkin to her mouth</i>). I wish
you wouldn’t say “it don’t,” John. That isn’t grammatical!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Clark</span> (<i>raising a piece of potato on his knife to his
mouth</i>). It ain’t—why isn’t it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>dropping her napkin to the floor, in a voice of
utter horror</i>). Oh, John, John! How many, <i>many</i> times
have I besought you not to use that terrible, <i>terrible</i> word
“ain’t”?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>very cheerfully, raising another piece of potato
on his knife</i>). I dunno, Martha. I never was much good
at mental arithmetic.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>picking up her napkin, mournfully</i>). John,
don’t you remember that you <i>promised</i> me when we were
engaged never more to utter that abominable word.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>cutting awkwardly at his meat</i>). I <i>ain’t</i> quite
sure that I made such a promise, Martha.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>sharply</i>). John Clark, you <i>certainly</i> did make
such a promise—not once but <i>several</i> times!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>starting to raise a piece of meat to his mouth,
letting it fall</i>). But, Martha, that was <i>only</i> an engagement<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span>
promise, and engagement promises <i>ain’t</i> no wise binding,
so to speak, after the wedding march is ended.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>angrily, again dropping her napkin</i>). Mr.
Clark, if you utter that word <i>again</i> I shall withdraw from
the table!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>still cutting away awkwardly at the meat</i>). All
right, Martha. I won’t use that word no more.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>picking up her napkin, sharply</i>). John Clark,
what you have just said is also ungrammatical. It is <i>very</i>
incorrect for you to say “I won’t use that word no more.”</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>raising another piece of potato on his knife</i>).
But, my dear, I don’t see <i>why</i> it is incorrect for me to say
that I won’t use the word “ain’t” again. <i>Now</i> you’re blaming
me for <i>not</i> using it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>a little confused</i>). You know <i>very</i> well what I
mean! (<i>Suddenly and more sharply.</i>) John, how many
times have I requested you not to <i>eat</i> with your knife?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>letting his knife fall out of his hand to the
floor</i>). But what is a knife for if it isn’t to eat with?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>in tone of utter disgust</i>). Oh, won’t you <i>ever</i>
speak correct English. Why <i>couldn’t</i> you have said, “What
is the purpose of a table-knife if it is not to use in eating?”</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>very cordially, reaching down to pick up the
fallen knife</i>). You are <i>exactly</i> right, my dear. I agree
wholly with you—the purpose of a table-knife is to be used
in eating.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>very sharply</i>). But a table-knife is <i>not</i> a
freight elevator, John Clark!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>starting to raise more potato on his knife</i>).
No, Martha, a fork is the proper instrument with which
to convey a piece of meat from one’s plate to one’s mouth.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>rising hastily, speaking quickly</i>). John, <i>stop</i>
that! <i>Never</i> use a knife, even at home, that has fallen to
the floor! (<i>Goes to the sideboard, opens a drawer, takes
out a table-knife and exchanges this knife for the one just
dropped by</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span>) There! (<i>Resuming her seat.</i>) Don’t
you <i>dare</i> to misuse <i>this</i> knife as you misused the other one,
John Clark!</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>rather humbly</i>). No, ma’am! Still, it’s ever so
much easier to eat with my knife than with my fork.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>decidedly, beginning to eat again</i>). No, it isn’t!
Besides, it’s <i>very</i> vulgar—and dangerous, too.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>now using his fork</i>). Yet I’ve read somewhere—I
know I have—that George Washington ate with his
knife in the same way that I did.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>quickly</i>). Oh, well, forks were not invented
then.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>drinking from his glass of water</i>). They never
should have been invented. Fingers are ever so much better
than forks.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>rising from her seat to go again to the sideboard</i>).
I expected you to say that fingers were invented
before forks. How <i>did</i> it happen that you forgot to make
that remark—again?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>using his napkin very clumsily</i>). Really I can’t
see why an honest hungry man should be ashamed of eating
with his knife.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>returning to her seat with the sugar tongs</i>).
Well, it’s not the correct thing socially. Mrs. James’s husband
<i>never</i> eats with <i>his</i> knife. (<i>Quickly.</i>) John, that isn’t
a wash towel; it’s a napkin.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>dropping the napkin to the floor</i>). I wish that
Mrs. James’s husband would pay that $100 he has owed
me for a year.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>beginning to pour out the coffee</i>). You should
feel proud that a gentleman of <i>such</i> high social position as
Mr. James owes you a hundred dollars.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>picking up the napkin</i>). Well, when a dozen
other gentlemen of high social position have each owed me
a hundred dollars for more than a year I don’t feel so
proud of Mr. James’s owing me a hundred plunks.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>beginning to put in some sugar with the tongs
into the cup of coffee</i>). Not a hundred <i>plunks</i>, dear. You
mean a hundred <i>dollars</i>.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>a little crossly</i>). I mean <i>just</i> what I say—a hundred
<i>plunks</i>! Perhaps if he ate with his knife and said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>
“ain’t” the way I do he would never have borrowed them
hundred plunks.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>in utter horror</i>). “<i>Them</i> hundred plunks!”
Oh, John!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>angrily</i>). Ye-es, <i>them hundred “bucks”</i>!
(<i>More angrily.</i>) Now, see here, Martha Smith, I am a <i>ve</i>-ry
<i>patient</i> man. My father was a patient man and my mother
was the most patientest woman you ever did see; but they
have had their limits, and so have I. (<i>Bringing his hand
down firmly upon the table.</i>) And when I get <i>real</i> riled
I ain’t nearly as agreeable as aforetimes. (<i>Pauses for a
moment as though to emphasise his remarks.</i>) As I said,
I am a ve-ry <i>patient</i> man, but I have my limit. Now,
Martha Smith, you have been a-pestering me all breakfast
time, and a-correcting me on my expressions of speech.
Also, you have been fault-finding with my table manners,
and I have got <i>ve</i>-ry tired of it. Now, I want you to understand,
Martha Smith, right <i>here</i>, that I won’t tolerate another
word from you (<i>he rises and then bangs his fist hard
upon the table</i>), and I’ll say “it ain’t,” “it hain’t,” “it don’t”
as often as I <i>darn</i> please! And I’ll eat with my knife or my
fingers as often as I <i>darn</i> please! (<i>Raising his voice still
more.</i>) Do you understand <i>that</i>, Martha Smith? (<i>He
glares angrily at her.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>very coolly and very deliberately</i>). Mr. Clark,
you are <i>so</i> amusing when you get “real riled.” If you could
only <i>see yourself</i> (<i>mimics him</i>) “when you ain’t nearly as
agreeable as aforetimes.” Now, I <i>never</i> get angry myself,
<i>never</i>. And at any rate not after seeing you in a tantrum.
It’s too disgusting. You are <i>not</i> a handsome man, even
when you are <i>agreeable</i>, Mr. Clark; but when you are really
“riled,” <i>my!</i> you’re <i>homely</i>, as homely as—well, words <i>fail</i>
me! (<i>She laughs somewhat irritatingly.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>walking furiously up and down the left side of
the room, savagely</i>). If you only was a man for a minute!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>more coolly and deliberately</i>). I wish I were
for only <i>half</i> a minute.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>walking more furiously, speaking more savagely</i>).
It is no wonder your <i>first</i> husband died!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>rising quickly from her chair</i>). What do you
<i>mean</i>, Mr. Clark? (<i>Then she reseats herself just as quickly.</i>)
No, I never get angry myself, <i>never</i>, and I’m <i>not</i> going to
become angry this time. (<i>She rises again and carries the
cup of coffee she has poured out, placing it at his end of
the table.</i>) You see how <i>calm</i> I am, Mr. Clark—how <i>very</i>
calm. (<i>She returns to her seat with a martyr-like smile.</i>)
If I were you I should drink that coffee before it gets cool.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>pausing in his walking angrily</i>). I don’t <i>want</i>
any coffee! (<i>More angrily.</i>) Martha Smith, I asked you
if <i>you</i> understood?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>with great dignity</i>). Mr. Clark, please remember
that I am Mrs. Clark.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>in a lower tone</i>). Guess I’ll never forget <i>that</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>beginning to pour out some coffee for herself</i>).
Don’t you think you had better drink your coffee? It must
be getting cool.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>with a flash of anger</i>). Oh, <i>darn</i> the coffee!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>putting in two lumps of sugar</i>). Just as you
please, Mr. Clark, just as you <i>please</i>.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>sitting down sulkily in his seat</i>). Martha Smith,
this <i>nagging</i> of yours is getting on my nerves.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>pouring from the cream-pitcher into her coffee</i>).
I remarked a short while ago that I am <i>Mrs. Clark</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>settling down into his chair</i>). Well, because you
are Mrs. Clark doesn’t give you any right to nag me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>stirring her coffee</i>). I am <i>not</i> nagging you. I
have <i>never</i> nagged anybody in my life, but when you said
“them hundred plunks”—oh, horrors!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>beginning to finger his coffee spoon</i>). But what
<i>should</i> I have said?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>still stirring her coffee</i>). What <i>should</i> you have
said? Why—why—“those hundred dollars,” of course.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>in a grumbling tone</i>). It’s too blamed bad that
a man can’t speak as he wants to in his own home.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>sipping her coffee</i>). You <i>may</i>, John, providing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span>
that you follow the rules of grammatical English, as are
observed by our best society.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>less sulkily, still fingering his coffee spoon</i>).
What do you mean by our best society, Martha?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>a little perplexed</i>). Our best society? Oh—yes—er—why,
our best society means those that are <i>in</i> the best
society—those who are the recognized leaders of society—the
men and women who are socially “it.”</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>quickly</i>). Martha! “Socially it”? I <i>am</i> surprised
to hear such an expression fall from your lips. “Socially
<i>it</i>”! Why, <i>what</i> a vulgar phrase. You <i>should</i> have
said, “Our best society consists of those men and women
who are the leaders of <i>élite</i> society!”</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>with much dignity</i>). Your coffee <i>must</i> be cold
by this time, John. Let me give you another cup?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>rather gleefully</i>). No, Martha, this coffee is all
right; but haven’t you forgotten something?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>still with dignity</i>). What is it I have forgotten?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>cheerfully</i>). The milk, Martha, the <i>milk</i>. Please
pass the milk.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>reprovingly</i>). Of course you mean the <i>cream</i>,
John. (<i>Passing the pitcher.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>receiving the pitcher</i>). No, I mean the <i>milk</i>.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>rather sharply</i>). But, my dear, it isn’t milk;
it’s <i>cream</i>.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>obstinately</i>). It is <i>not</i>! It’s <i>milk</i>. (<i>Spelling it.</i>)
M-i-l-k, <i>milk</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>stirring her coffee</i>). It is not <i>milk</i>, John. Milk
is what the cows give—this is <i>cream</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>with a grin, still holding the pitcher</i>). I never
knew before that cream does not come from milk. <i>Very</i>
remarkable!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>a little confused</i>). Now don’t try to misunderstand
me. Of course milk comes from cream, and that
pitcher contains cream, <i>not</i> milk.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>with another grin</i>). Martha, I never knew before
that milk comes from cream.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>with dignity</i>). That was a slip of my tongue.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>gleefully</i>). Yes, just as when you say that this
pitcher contains cream.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>sharply</i>). It <i>does</i> contain cream, and <i>not</i> milk!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>pouring some of it from the pitcher into a glass</i>).
Now, see <i>there</i>. Do you call <i>that</i> cream? <i>Cream!</i> It’s more
like skim milk.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>wearily</i>). Can’t you comprehend, John? <i>Socially</i>
it is cream. You never ask for milk in your coffee
but always for cream.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>impatiently</i>). I don’t care one continental what
it is socially. <i>Practically</i> it is milk. (<i>Drinking from the
glass into which he has poured from the pitcher.</i>) <span class="smcap">Yes</span>,
that’s <i>milk</i> all right. (<i>Pushing the pitcher towards</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span>)
Taste it yourself Martha. See if it isn’t milk.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>nervously sipping her coffee</i>). That isn’t the
point at all. Of course when it’s in a drinking glass it <i>may</i>
be milk, but when it’s in a cream-pitcher it is <i>always</i> cream.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>still more impatiently</i>). But pouring it into a
drinking glass doesn’t change its <i>real</i> nature. If it’s milk,
it’s milk, and if it’s cream, it’s <i>cream</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>again sipping her coffee</i>). Yes, it is <i>just</i> the
same in the pitcher as it is in the glass, only we call it,
politely, cream when it is in the pitcher and milk when in
the glass.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>crossly</i>). Well, what has politeness to do with
it, anyway? If it’s milk in the glass it will be milk when
it’s in the pitcher.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>sipping her coffee with a half smile</i>). Don’t
you <i>see</i>, John, that it’s cream when it’s in the cream-pitcher?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>still more crossly</i>). I suppose that if that pitcher
contained only water it could be called cream!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>putting down her spoon and drinking her
coffee</i>). You are <i>aw</i>-fully stupid—when you want to be,
my dear.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>rising quickly and going over to the telephone</i>).
You needn’t take <i>my</i> word for it. We’ll have some one
else’s opinion. (<i>Takes down the receiver.</i>) Hello! Give me
Main 203. (<i>Turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span>) I’m going to talk with Joe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span>
Williams. He’s head of the Wholesale Milk Company.
(<i>Speaking into ’phone.</i>) Hello! Is this Joe? I’m John
Clark. You see, Joe, my wife and I have had a slight dispute.
She declares up and down that the milk we are
using on our breakfast table is cream, and not milk at all.
I say that it’s <i>milk</i>—no matter whether it’s in a cream-pitcher
or not. She says that as long as it’s in a cream-pitcher
it’s cream and <i>not</i> milk. Now, Joe, am I <i>right</i>?
It’s milk, because I have drunk some of it and I remember
that Mrs. Clark told me this morning the milkman had
forgotten to leave the cream. (<i>Pauses a moment.</i>) What’s
<i>that</i>? You <i>think</i> I am right, but you are going to ask your
wife and will call me up soon? Thank <i>you</i>, Joe. (<i>He
replaces the receiver and returns to his chair.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>with a sweet smile</i>). I am sorry, John, that
you have had to call for assistance, but Mrs. Williams will,
I am sure, wholly agree with me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>sourly</i>). Well, I was brought up on a farm
and I ought to know the difference between milk and cream.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>with a very sweet smile</i>). I guess you were
brought up on a farm all right.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>angrily</i>). So were <i>you</i>! I found it out only a
short time ago. (<i>Laughing softly.</i>) Ha! ha! ha!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>mimicking him</i>). Ha! ha! ha! <i>ha!</i> Now, I’m
<i>not</i> going to lose my temper, whatever you may say. I
<i>never</i> get angry myself—no, <i>never</i>!</p>
<p class="center">(<i>The telephone rings.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>hastening to the telephone</i>). <i>Now</i> we shall see!
(<i>Takes down the receiver.</i>) Hello! Hello, Joe. Oh, good
morning, Mrs. Williams. How do you do? Yes, thank you,
both my wife and I are pretty well. <i>What</i> did you say?
(<i>Listens while she is speaking.</i>) Is that so? It is? I understand.
<i>What</i> did you say? Oh, of course <i>socially</i>—yes—yes!
No, our dispute is not serious; only a difference of
opinion. As I told your husband a very <i>slight</i> difference.
<i>Thank</i> you for your trouble, Mrs. Williams. Will you
please ask Mr. Williams to come to the telephone a moment?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>
O! He has gone for the day? Thank <i>you</i>—good-<i>bye</i>.
(<i>Impatiently hangs up the receiver.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>laughing heartily</i>). Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
<i>ha!</i> What did I tell you, John? Didn’t Mrs. Williams agree
<i>wholly</i> with me?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>reseating himself</i>). Yes, of <i>course</i> she did. I
expected <i>that</i>, but Joe, I’m sure, believes that I am <i>right</i>.
You see he didn’t <i>dare</i> to tell me his real opinion when his
wife was there. Probably he will visit us a little later and
convince you that you are wrong. But he didn’t have the
courage to say so in the presence of his wife. Isn’t it <i>too</i>
bad, Martha, that Joe hasn’t some of <i>my</i> independence?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>a little angrily</i>). I hope that Mr. Williams is
not as stupid as you are—<i>sometimes</i>. (<i>More angrily.</i>)
John, how <i>very</i> obstinate you are! You know well enough
that <i>I</i> have the right of it, and yet you won’t admit it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>slowly stirring his coffee</i>). After all, Martha,
I think I’ll have some coffee. Will you please pass me the
milk?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>with considerable temper</i>). John Clark, I
<i>never</i> get angry myself, <i>never</i>, but certainly you do try my
patience—sorely. Now, I don’t want you to call that cream
milk—<i>again</i>! <i>Not again!</i> (<i>She rises from her chair.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>still stirring his coffee</i>). Martha, will you please
pass me the—milk?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>angrily stamping her foot</i>). John Clark, how
<i>dare</i> you!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>calmly</i>). Martha, will you <i>please</i> pass me the
milk!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>in a furious temper, stamping her foot and
then pounding upon the table</i>). It <i>ain’t</i> milk—it <i>ain’t</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>with mock seriousness</i>). <i>Martha!</i> It <i>ain’t</i>!
That is <i>not</i> grammatical. Oh, that terrible, <i>terrible</i> word—<i>ain’t</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>very furiously</i>). I never said ain’t—never—<i>never</i>—<i>never</i>!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>very mournfully</i>). You did, Martha—you <i>did</i>.
I heard you. You said, “<i>It ain’t no milk!</i>”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>wildly seizing the cream-pitcher and suddenly
dashing it and its contents to the floor, in view of the audience</i>).
<i>There—darn it!</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>rising quickly</i>). Hold on! That is Grandmother
Smith’s old cream-pitcher!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>in despair</i>). Oh, <i>what</i> have I done! (<i>She
stands for a moment, looking silently at the ruins of the
prized cream-pitcher, and then sinks into her chair, pulling
out her handkerchief and weeping hysterically.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C.</span> (<i>standing as though dazed, gazing upon the shattered
pitcher.</i>) Gee <i>whiz</i>! (<i>Taking a step forward towards</i>
<span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span>, <i>speaking kindly, placing his right hand gently upon
her shaking shoulders</i>.) Well, Martha, don’t feel so badly
about it—it ain’t any use to “cry over spilt milk!”</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. C.</span> (<i>suddenly rising from her chair, glaring at</i> <span class="smcap">Mr.
C.</span>). It isn’t spilt milk—it’s spilt <i>cream</i>!</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Curtain.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<div class="transnote">
<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:</p>
<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p>
</div></div>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 68147 ***</div>
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