diff options
Diffstat (limited to '75246-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 75246-0.txt | 5183 |
1 files changed, 5183 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/75246-0.txt b/75246-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a997140 --- /dev/null +++ b/75246-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5183 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75246 *** + + + + + + + It Pays To Advertise + + A FARCICAL FACT IN THREE ACTS + + BY + ROI COOPER MEGRUE and WALTER HACKETT + + COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY ROI COOPER MEGRUE and WALTER HACKETT + COPYRIGHT IN GREAT BRITAIN AND CANADA + COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY SAMUEL FRENCH + + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that “IT + PAYS TO ADVERTISE,” being fully protected under the copyright + laws of the United States, is subject to a royalty, and any + one presenting the play without the consent of the owner or + his authorized agents will be liable to the penalties by law + provided. Application for amateur acting rights must be made to + SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York. Applications + for the professional acting rights must be made to the AMERICAN + PLAY COMPANY, 33 West 42d Street, New York. + + NEW YORK + SAMUEL FRENCH + PUBLISHER + 28-30 WEST 38TH STREET + + LONDON + SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. + 26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET + STRAND + +Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this book without +a valid contract for production first having been obtained from the +publisher, confers no right or license to professionals or amateurs to +produce the play publicly or in private for gain or charity. + +In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, +and no performance of it may be given except by special arrangement with +Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York. + +SECTION 28—That any person who wilfully or for profit shall infringe any +copyright secured by this act, or who shall knowingly and wilfully aid or +abet such infringement shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon +conviction thereof shall be punished by imprisonment for not exceeding +one year, or by a fine of not less than one hundred nor more than one +thousand dollars, or both, in the discretion of the court. + +_Act of March 4, 1909._ + + GEORGE M. COHAN THEATRE, NEW YORK CITY, + + _September 8th, 1914_ + + COHAN & HARRIS + + IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE + + A FARCICAL FACT IN THREE ACTS BY + + ROI COOPER MEGRUE and WALTER HACKETT + + _Staged under the direction of Sam Forrest_ + + _The characters appear in the order in which they are named_ + + ORIGINAL CAST + MARY GRAYSON _Ruth Shepley_ + JOHNSON _George Schaeffer_ + COMTESSE DE BEAURIEN _Louise Drew_ + RODNEY MARTIN _Grant Mitchell_ + CYRUS MARTIN _John Cope_ + AMBROSE PEALE _Will Deming_ + MARIE _Cecile Bretone_ + WILLIAM SMITH _Harry Driscole_ + DONALD MCCHESNEY _W. J. Brady_ + MISS BURKE _Vivian Rogers_ + ELLERY CLARK _Kenneth Hill_ + GEORGE BRONSON _Sydney Seaward_ + + SYNOPSIS OF SCENES + + ACT I. Library at Cyrus Martin’s. + ACT II. The office of The 13 Soap Company + ACT III. Same as ACT I. + + + + +IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE + + + + +THE CAST + +(_In the order of their appearance._) + + + MARY GRAYSON + JOHNSON _Butler at the Martins’_ + COMTESSE DE BEAURIEN + RODNEY MARTIN + CYRUS MARTIN + AMBROSE PEALE + MARIE _Maid at the Martins’_ + WILLIAM SMITH + MISS BURKE _Clerk_ + GEORGE MCCHESNEY + CHARLES BRONSON + ELLERY + + ACT I. The library at CYRUS MARTIN’S. + ACT II. RODNEY MARTIN’S Office. + ACT III. Same as ACT I. + +AUTHOR’S NOTE: The advertising statistics used in the play are facts, not +farce. + + + + +ACT I + + + _SCENE: The library of CYRUS MARTIN’S home in New York City: a + very handsome room, in tapestry and dark oak. Doors up left, + down left, and down right. Books, chairs, divans, as necessary. + Down left is an oak typewriting table with a typewriter on it. + It is obviously out of place in the room, and is evidently only + a temporary arrangement. Handsome walnut furniture. Mantel set + on mantel. Fire dogs and irons in fireplace. All-over carpet. + Handsome busts on bookcases. Chandelier and four brackets. + Curtains on windows at back. It is seven o’clock in the + evening—early September._ + + _AT RISE: MARY GRAYSON is seated at typewriter; she strums the + keys idly and indifferently with one finger. She might hum a + turkey-trot, keeping time with a one-finger accompaniment. In + a moment JOHNSON, a typical English butler, enters from door + upper L._ + +JOHNSON. I beg pardon, Miss Grayson. + +MARY. (_Whirling about eagerly_) What is it, Johnson? Has young Mr. +Martin come in yet? + +JOHNSON. No, Miss. + +MARY. But I told you not to interrupt me until he did. + +JOHNSON. I know, Miss, but it’s that Mr. Ambrose Peale again; he’s called +four times. + +MARY. Say that Mr. Martin will be back at eight o’clock. + +JOHNSON. Yes, Miss. There’s a lady waiting, too, Miss, to see Mr. Martin +Senior. Here’s her card. + +MARY. Mme. la Comtesse de Beaurien. Tell her that Mr. Martin Senior can +see no one. + +JOHNSON. I can’t make her comprehend anything I say. She just sits and +waits. + +MARY. Oh, bring her in, then. I’ll make her understand somehow, but, +Johnson, don’t fail to let me know the minute young Mr. Martin gets home. + +JOHNSON. (_Going to door up L._) Yes, Miss. + +(_MARY rises from typewriter, takes off her sleeve-protectors and +smoothes out her skirt._) + +JOHNSON. (_Announcing_) Countess dee Beauree-en—— + +(_The COUNTESS enters from door upper L. She is a very smart-looking girl +of about twenty-six or twenty-seven, typically French in manner and does +not speak a word of English. He exits._) + +MARY. (_To COUNTESS_) How do you do? + +COUNTESS. (_Advancing to her_) Mam’selle Martin? + +MARY. Oh, no, I’m Miss Grayson, Mr. Martin’s secretary. + +COUNTESS. (_Blankly_) Sec-ree-taree? + +MARY. I’m sorry, but it’s quite impossible for you to see Mr. Martin. He +is confined to the house with a severe attack of gout. If you will write +him I will see that he gets your letter. You can address him here instead +of the office; while he is ill I come here every day for the mail. + +COUNTESS. Pardon, mais je ne comprends pas—je ne parle pas l’anglais. +Vous parlez Français peut-être? + +MARY. (_Blankly_) You see, Mr. Martin is ill.... + +COUNTESS. Je répète que je ne parle pas anglais. Mr. Martin est-il ici? + +MARY. It’s quite useless for you to talk: I don’t understand French. + +COUNTESS. Un moment, Mam’selle—peut-être je parle trop vite.... (_More +slowly_) Je désire parler à M. Martin àpropos des affaires. Je suis +riche. Mais on peut toujours être plus riche. Si je pouvais obtenir +l’agence du savon Martin pour la France ça serait une belle affaire. Je +donnerais cinquante mille francs pour cette agence. Répéter cela à M. +Martin et je suis sûre qu’il me recevra immédiatement. Vous comprenez +maintenant—— + +MARY. But I really don’t understand French. (_Slowly and loudly_) Mr. +Martin is ill—sick! He can see no one—you’ll have to go—please do—— + +COUNTESS. Mon Dieu! Vous êtes stupide.... (_Sitting down in chair L. of +table_) J’attendrai M. Martin. + +MARY. There’s no use your sitting down. (_She goes to her_) Mr. Martin +doesn’t understand French, either. + +COUNTESS. C’est bien, c’est bien, mam’selle; je ne suis pas pressée. + +MARY. I don’t understand. Please go—(_She waves her hands_) + +COUNTESS. Ah, laissez-moi donc tranquille—vous m’embêtez. + +MARY. Oh, dear! + +(_JOHNSON enters._) + +JOHNSON. Young Mr. Martin’s come in; he’ll be here directly. + +MARY. Good Heavens! (_She goes over and makes a wild sweeping gesture_) +Mr. Martin is out—out. + +COUNTESS. (_With marked accent_) Out? + +MARY. (_Nodding her head_) Oui—— + +COUNTESS. (_Rapidly_) Oui? Ah vous parlez Français? Je voudrais savoir si +Mr. Martin est ici. Je voudrais lui parler tout de suite. + +MARY. Heavens! She’s off again; let’s act it for her. Let’s see—(_She +points to JOHNSON_) That is Mr. Martin. + +COUNTESS. Eh? + +MARY. We’re pretending that is Mr. Martin. + +COUNTESS. (_Shaking her head_) Ah, non, ça ce n’est pas M. Martin. + +MARY. We’re pretending—see, pretending? Now, you see—Mr. Martin is +out—see? + +(_JOHNSON exits and enters immediately._) + +COUNTESS. (_Suddenly_) Ah, Mr. Martin n’est pas ici! Je comprends. + +MARY. Heavens, she understands, Johnson! Take her by the arm and lead her +out. (_Crosses L._) + +JOHNSON. (_Starting to do so as COUNTESS rises to go out_) Yes, Miss. + +COUNTESS. Attendez! A quelle heure M. Martin rentrera-t-il? (_She sits +again_) + +JOHNSON. Now what’s the matter? You’d better come quietly, Miss—(_He +takes her by the arm_) + +COUNTESS. (_Shaking him off_) A quelle heure rentrera-t-il? (_There +is a blank pause. To MARY_) Maintenant—faites attention à votre tour. +Regardez-moi: je suis M. Martin, vous comprenez? Moi je suis M. Martin—— + +MARY. (_Nodding_) Mr. Martin. + +COUNTESS. (_Going to door_) Mr. Martin n’est pas ici; il est sorti—il +est au bureau. Enfin s’il n’est pas au bureau c’est pas mon affaire. +Maintenant je voudrais savoir à quelle heure rentrera-t-il? + +MARY. (_As COUNTESS goes_) Heavens, she’s going. (_She turns at door_) +She’s coming back. + +COUNTESS. (_Returning to MARY_) A quelle heure M. Martin rentrera-t-il? +(_There is another pause. Suddenly the COUNTESS takes out her watch_) + +MARY. (_Eagerly_) Oh, she wants to know when he’ll be in! (_She runs over +and points to clock_) Eight o’clock—eight—o’clock. + +COUNTESS. Oui—Oui, huit heures—je comprends. Merci bien—je m’en vais +maintenant, mais je reviendrai. Au revoir. + +MARY. I can understand that! Au revoir—au revoir—good night. + +COUNTESS. (_Going_) Merci—merci—à huit heures—bonsoir—bonsoir—(_She +exits_) + +MARY. Don’t let her in here again unless you have an interpreter. + +JOHNSON. Very good, Miss. (_He exits door upper L._) + +(_MARY primps, and sits at typewriter again, and idly touches the keys +with one finger, maintaining an eager watch on the door. She hears +someone coming and hastily and busily bangs away at the typewriter. +RODNEY MARTIN enters door L. He is a young man of twenty-four with a +certain quaint frank charm, in spite of his funny little mustache, +English morning coat, spats and white carnation. He is by no means +brainless, but simply undeveloped by reason of the kind of life he has +led under appallingly frictionless conditions._) + +RODNEY. Miss Grayson! + +(_MARY’S previous business-like air has entirely disappeared, and she +assumes the fluttering airs of a timid ingenue, overdoing it for anyone +except a boy madly in love with her._) + +MARY. What a surprise! (_RODNEY goes and locks both doors L._) Why, Mr. +Martin ... what are you doing? + +RODNEY. (_Coming to her and facing her over back of chair_) I want to +talk with you. Mary, will you marry me? + +MARY. Why, really—— + +RODNEY. You love me, don’t you? + +MARY. I—I don’t know what to say—— + +RODNEY. Say Yes. + +MARY. (_Shyly_) Yes. + +RODNEY. (_Trying to grab her_) You angel! + +MARY. (_Eluding him_) Wait! + +RODNEY. We’ll be married right away. + +MARY. But suppose your father disapproves? + +RODNEY. He won’t know anything about it until we’re married, and then +what could he do? + +MARY. He might cut you off. + +RODNEY. Would you care? + +MARY. (_Hastily_) I? No, no, indeed. I was thinking of you, dear. + +RODNEY. Don’t you bother about me. We’ll be married to-morrow, and then +come home for the parental blessing. + +MARY. Oh, I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be square. I’m his private +secretary: he trusts me. To bring me here to his home and then to find +I’d married his son on the sly—we couldn’t do that. + +RODNEY. You do make it sound rather bad. I wouldn’t want us to give +father the worst of it; we’ve always been pretty good friends, he and I. +I guess I’d better tell him—in a week or so. + +MARY. Why, Rodney, if you love me, we must get this awful suspense over. + +RODNEY. But suppose he does object? + +MARY. Even then I wouldn’t give you up. + +RODNEY. Mary! + +MARY. You could go into business, make a big man of yourself, make me +proud of you—— + +RODNEY. You talk just like the heroine in a play I saw last night. +She wanted the hero to go to work, and he did, and then for four acts +everybody suffered. + +MARY. Don’t you want to work? + +RODNEY. (_Seriously_) I should say not. Imagine going to bed every night, +knowing you’ve got to get up in the morning and go to business. + +MARY. You’d be happier, wouldn’t you, if you had a job? + +RODNEY. Please don’t talk like father; he’s preached a job at me ever +since I left college. Why should I work? Father made millions out of +soap and is forever complaining that he’s always had his nose to the +grindstone, that he’s worked fourteen hours a day for thirty years, that +he’s never known what fun was, that it’s all made him old before his +time. I can’t see the sense of following an example like that—I really +can’t. He’s got enough for you, and me, and our children. Yes, and our +children’s grandchildren. I’ve explained all this to him but I can’t seem +to make him understand. But it’s simple: why work when there’s millions +in the family? And why even talk of money when you and I are in love? +Come, kiss me. (_He leans towards her; she moves away to L. He crosses +R._) + +MARY. No, you mustn’t—not till you’ve spoken to your father. + +RODNEY. You won’t kiss me till I tell him? + +MARY. No. + +RODNEY. And you will when I do? + +MARY. Yes. + +RODNEY. Then I’ll tell him right away. (_He goes toward door L. She +crosses R._) + +MARY. Oh, Rodney, you’re splendid! And don’t be afraid. + +RODNEY. Afraid! (_Pausing_) You don’t think I’d better wait till the +morning? + +(_CYRUS MARTIN knocks at the door violently, and says “ouch” in a loud +tone._) + +MARTIN. (_Off-stage_) Why is this door locked? What the devil does this +mean? + +MARY. If you don’t ask him now, I’ll never marry you. + +MARTIN. (_Off-stage_) Open the door. + +RODNEY. Coming, father, coming. (_He goes and unlocks both doors_) + +MARTIN. (_Loudly_) Ouch, ouch! The devil! (_He enters_) Why was that door +locked? + +RODNEY. Was it locked? + +MARTIN. You young fool, didn’t you just unlock it? (_Crosses to R._) + +RODNEY. (_Nervously_) So I did! + +(_MARY has gone to her typewriter and now begins typing._) + +MARTIN. Stop that noise! (_She does so. RODNEY looks at her, discouraged. +She motions to him to go on. Meanwhile MARTIN has painfully limped to a +chair down-stage by table and sinks into it. His foot gives him another +twinge._) Ouch! Oh, my poor foot! + +(_RODNEY hastily picks up footstool and comes with it to his father._) + +RODNEY. I’m afraid your foot hurts. + +MARTIN. Not at all—I just pretend that it does! + +RODNEY. (_Fervently_) I hoped you were better. + +MARTIN. Well, I’m not. What have you got there? + +RODNEY. A footstool—I thought it might make you more comfortable. + +MARTIN. How much do you want? + +RODNEY. Why, nothing, father. + +MARTIN. Well anyhow, the answer is not a nickel—— + +RODNEY. You do me an injustice. I’m just sorry to see you in pain. + +MARTIN. Well, you want something, that’s certain. + +RODNEY. Why do you say that? + +MARTIN. I know you—and whatever it is, you can’t have it. + +(_RODNEY turns appealingly to MARY. She ignores him. He turns back to his +father and tries to muster up his courage._) + +RODNEY. (_Clearing his throat_) Well, as a matter of fact, I did want—— + +MARTIN. Now we’re getting to it. + +RODNEY. I wanted to have a talk with you—an important talk—— + +MARTIN. Curious! That’s just what I wanted with you—I’ve wanted it all +day ... and now we’ll have it—Miss Grayson! + +MARY. Yes, sir? (_Rises_) + +MARTIN. Get out. (_She exits through door upper L., without noticing +RODNEY, who stands looking after her dejectedly. As he hears the door +close_) Now, what do you mean by overdrawing your allowance again? + +RODNEY. (_Innocently_) What it simply proves is that I was right when I +told you my allowance was too small. + +MARTIN. (_Aghast_) What! + +RODNEY. And if my allowance is too small for one, it’s much too small for +two. + +MARTIN. For two? + +RODNEY. Father, has it ever occurred to you that I might marry? + +MARTIN. Of course it has! You’re fool enough for anything. + +RODNEY. I don’t consider a man a fool because he’s married. + +MARTIN. That’s because you’ve never tried it. + +RODNEY. I intend to try it. + +MARTIN. Who is the girl? + +RODNEY. (_Nervously_) The girl? + +MARTIN. Yes, girl—you’re not going to marry an automobile or a polo +pony—you’re going to marry a girl, aren’t you? Some blue-eyed, +doll-faced, gurgling, fluttering little fool. Oh, why doesn’t God give +young men some sense about women? + +RODNEY. I object very strongly to your speaking in that way of Miss +Grayson. + +MARTIN. Miss Grayson? Miss Grayson? You’re not going to marry a +typewriter? + +RODNEY. Yes, sir. + +MARTIN. Does she know it? + +RODNEY. Yes, sir. + +MARTIN. Of course she knows a good thing like you when she sees it! + +RODNEY. I won’t listen to you talk of Miss Grayson in that way. + +MARTIN. You’ve got to listen. I won’t permit any such absurd, ridiculous +marriage! Thank Heaven, you had sense enough not to elope—— + +RODNEY. I wanted to, but she wouldn’t. She insisted on your being told, +so you see what an injustice—— + +MARTIN. Injustice? Can’t you see that she wished me to know, so that if +I disapproved and cut you off, she’d not be stuck with _you_ on her hands. + +RODNEY. Please, father—it’s quite useless. (_He starts to go_) + +MARTIN. No, my boy, wait a minute. Remember, I’m your friend even if I am +your father. (_Rises, goes to door R. to ring bell_) Don’t you believe +it’s only your money she wants? + +RODNEY. I know it isn’t. + +MARTIN. (_Pushing bell_) I’ll prove it is. + +RODNEY. What are you going to do? + +MARTIN. Send for Miss Grayson. + +RODNEY. You shan’t humiliate her. + +JOHNSON. (_Entering from door upper L._) Yes, sir? + +MARTIN. Ask Miss Grayson to come here at once. + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir. (_He exits_) + +MARTIN. I’ll tell that scheming secretary that if you persist in this +marriage, I’ll disinherit you! Then watch her throw you over. + +RODNEY. Even if you are my father, you shan’t insult the girl I love. + +MARTIN. Poppycock! You’re afraid to put her to the test: you’re afraid +she will chuck you. + +RODNEY. (_Quickly_) I am not afraid. + +MARY. (_Entering from door upper L._) You wanted me, Mr. Martin? + +RODNEY. (_Going to her, she crosses to C._) Mary! + +MARTIN. Wait a minute. My precious son informs me that you and he intend +to marry. + +MARY. (_Timidly_) Oh, sir—— + +MARTIN. And I wish to tell you that if he marries you, he doesn’t get one +penny of my money, and that means he’ll starve. + +MARY. Then at least we can starve together. (_They hold hands_) + +RODNEY. Mary! + +MARTIN. Making a grand-stand play, eh? You think I’m too fond of him not +to relent? Well, you’re wrong. Neither of you can get a nickel from me: +you can both starve together. + +RODNEY. We won’t starve. + +MARTIN. What can you do? You’re not a producer—you never will be. +(_Crosses to L._) You’re just an idler. You couldn’t earn five dollars +a week, but you’ll have a chance to try. You’ll get out of my house +to-night or I’ll have you thrown out. + +RODNEY. Now, father—— + +MARTIN. Not another word, sir, not another word! (_He kicks chair, and +stamps out angrily, thru lower L. door_) + +RODNEY. (_To MARY_) It’s getting more like that play every minute. + +MARY. (_Half crying_) Oh, Rodney, Rodney, what have I done? I’m so—so +sorry. + +RODNEY. You haven’t done anything—neither of us has. Father didn’t seem +to give us a chance to. He did it all—— + +MARY. Oh, Rodney—— + +RODNEY. You were bully the way you stuck up for me. When you said we’d +starve together, I just choked all up. + +MARY. (_Genuinely_) Please don’t, Rodney. + +RODNEY. Just because he’s got a lot of money he seems to think there +isn’t any left, but I’ll show him. I may not have much at the start, but +watch my finish. + +MARY. What are you going to do? + +RODNEY. I’m going to work. + +MARY. (_Excited_) You are—really? (_Rises_) + +RODNEY. Yes, indeed—father couldn’t make me do it, but you have. I’ll +work for you. + +MARY. Oh, you are splendid. Will you get a position? + +RODNEY. I should say not! Work for someone else? No, sir—I’m going in +business for myself—for you. I’m going to show the stuff that’s in me. Of +course, we can’t get married till I’ve made good. Will you wait? + +MARY. (_Shyly_) Yes, dear. + +RODNEY. You’re a dandy. + +MARY. What business are you going in? + +RODNEY. I don’t know yet. I’m going upstairs to pack a suit-case and +think. (_Crosses to R._) I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. (_He grabs her +and kisses her hastily but heartily_) + +MARY. Oh, oh—please—— + +RODNEY. Don’t mind, Mary. You’ll get used to ’em. (_Exits door lower R._) + +(_She goes over and raps three times on the door through which MARTIN +left, and backs away from it. She stands there expectantly. In a moment +MARTIN tiptoes in with no trace of a limp. She puts her fingers to her +lips to indicate silence, and points off-stage R. to indicate where +RODNEY has gone. MARTIN tiptoes nearer, nodding his head, questioning and +eager. MARY smilingly nods her head in reply._) + +MARTIN. (_In stage-whisper_) You mean our scheme worked? + +MARY. (_Delighted_) Yes, yes. + +MARTIN. You really have got him to go to work? + +MARY. I have! + +MARTIN. (_Gleefully_) By George, that’s great! + +MARY. Isn’t it! + +MARTIN. You’re sure he wasn’t just talking? + +MARY. No, he’s gone upstairs to pack and go out and make a name for +himself. + +MARTIN. You’re a wise girl. Isn’t it wonderful? + +MARY. And you said I couldn’t do it. + +MARTIN. I said I didn’t think you could, but you have, and I owe you +$2,500. (_Crosses to chair L. of table to make out check_) + +MARY. Oh, there’s no hurry. + +MARTIN. Never put off till to-morrow the money you can get to-day. + +MARY. Aren’t you proud I’ve been so successful? + +MARTIN. Proud? I’m so doggone happy I’m making this out for $5,000. + +MARY. Oh, Mr. Martin! + +MARTIN. And it’s worth $50,000 to me to have my boy really want to work, +not just to do it to please me. What a difference an incentive makes! +(_Hands her the check_) + +MARY. (_Smiling at check_) Doesn’t it? + +MARTIN. (_Crosses to L._) Especially if it’s a girl. And to think I +begged and threatened Rodney for months, and then you plan this scheme, +you invent my gout, you rehearse me, you come up here for six short weeks +and—Bing, you get him so he’s in love with you. + +MARY. Or thinks he is. + +MARTIN. But, say, what about your marriage? (_Sits in chair L. of table_) + +MARY. He said he wouldn’t marry me till he’d made good—if I’d just wait. +(_Sits in chair R. of table_) + +MARTIN. (_Anxiously_) Do you think perhaps he may really love you? + +MARY. Of course not. + +MARTIN. It’s the first time he’s actually wanted to marry anybody. + +MARY. Oh, it’s just that I’ve been very blue-eyed and baby-faced. + +MARTIN. I guess you’re right! + +MARY. Of course I am. When I break our engagement he may feel sort of +lonely for a while and give up women forever, but pretty soon some +charming girl of his world will come along—some limousine lady, and +they’ll live happy ever after. + +MARTIN. I sort of begin to wish this marriage were going to be on the +level. + +MARY. It wouldn’t work out. I’m a business woman. Even if your son did +love me—really love—I wouldn’t marry him. Just now he’s twenty-four with +an India-rubber heart that is easy to stretch and easier to snap back. +All boys at twenty-four are like that. + +MARTIN. (_Reminiscently_) I guess so. I remember when I was a young +man, there was a girl ... my heart was broken for a week—perhaps ten +days. I went down to the club one night and got spifflicated—however, +however—(_Abruptly changing the subject_) What’s my son going to work at? + +MARY. I don’t know yet. + +MARTIN. Do you think he’ll make good? + +MARY. He will if he keeps at it. (_Rises and goes R._) + +MARTIN. Well, you’ll keep him at it? (_Rises and goes R._) + +MARY. That wasn’t our agreement. I only undertook to get him to start to +work. + +MARTIN. Hum. + +MARY. (_Quickly_) Isn’t that true? + +MARTIN. Quite—quite. I was just thinking we might make some new agreement +to have you keep him on the job. + +MARY. (_Rubbing her fingers as if handling money_) I’m a business woman. + +MARTIN. What strikes you as fair? + +MARY. I’d rather the proposition came from you. + +MARTIN. What do you say to your present salary, and at the end of the +year I will personally give you a check for twenty-five per cent of what +Rodney has made. + +MARY. Oh, that wouldn’t interest me at all. + +MARTIN. What’s your proposition, then? + +MARY. (_Promptly_) My present salary doubled. + +MARTIN. Um—that’s pretty steep. + +MARY. You told me what I’d done _already_ was worth $50,000 to you. + +MARTIN. Merely a figure of speech, my dear. Let’s see, you’re getting $40 +a week, and.... + +MARY. $50, and I want $100. + +MARTIN. Sounds like a hold-up. (_Crosses R._) + +MARY. Then let’s drop it. This new contract was your idea, not mine. +Good-evening. (_She starts to go, gets to door, which she bangs as if she +had gone. She remains however in the room_) + +MARTIN. Hold on—hold on—(_He turns and sees her, and then chuckles at her +joke on him. She laughs, too_) I was simply figuring. Tell you what I’ll +do: $75 a week and 10 per cent of what Rodney makes. + +MARY. Seventy-five a week and 10 per cent of what he makes? All right, +I’ll go you. + +MARTIN. Good. + +MARY. (_Goes to desk, takes note-book_) Will you just write me a note +stating the facts and the consideration? + +MARTIN. You want it in writing? (_Crosses to table R. and sits_) + +MARY. Certainly, it’s always safer that way. (_He writes. As he writes_) +As soon as you see Rodney, you’ll have to discharge me. + +MARTIN. I will, violently. I make a pretty good actor under your +direction. How did you like that irate father stuff? + +MARY. Great! You needn’t make the note long. Just a memorandum. + +MARTIN. (_Holding up paper_) How’s that? + +MARY. (_Reading_) I think that covers it—if you’ll sign it. + +MARTIN. (_Confused_) Didn’t I sign it? + +MARY. (_Smiling_) No, and never put off till to-morrow what you can sign +to-day. + +MARTIN. (_Signing_) There you are. (_Hands MARY paper_) + +MARY. (_Sits on table_) Thanks. Now, Mr. Martin, there’s just one +question I’d like to ask. + +MARTIN. Go ahead, I’ll answer you anything. + +MARY. Why is it, when Rodney’s been out of college for _two_ years, that +it’s only the last three months you’ve been so persistent about getting +him to work? + +MARTIN. It’s like this. You know old John Clark? + +MARY. The man you dine with so often? + +MARTIN. Yes, friends and rivals for thirty years. + +MARY. He’s in Ivory Soap, isn’t he? + +MARTIN. (_Emphatically_) I should say he is—one of the big men there. +We’ve fought all our lives over soap, but he’s never been able to lick +me, and—well, I haven’t been able to lick him, either. + +MARY. Perhaps that’s why you’re such good friends. + +MARTIN. Perhaps it is. Anyhow, as it’s fifty-fifty in business, we’ve +lately narrowed the fight down to a family matter. You know old John +Clark has a son, too: Ellery—nasty, egotistical, self-satisfied young +puppy. + +MARY. I know, I’ve talked to him. + +MARTIN. Well, old Clark thinks Ellery is the prince of all modern +business, and he kept pitying me so much about Rodney’s being an idler—a +rich man’s son—it got on my nerves, so lately I made a bet with him. + +MARY. A bet! + +MARTIN. I bet him thirty thousand dollars my son could make more in a +year than his son could. So I had to get Rodney busy, and he’s got to +make good. He can’t be such a pin-head as he looks! If there’s anything +in heredity there must be something of me in him, and we’ve got to find +it—we’ve got to develop Rodney, dig deep, maybe blast. If he doesn’t win +out—— + +MARY. But he will, I’m sure he will. + +MARTIN. It isn’t just the money. I guess I’m a sentimental old fool, but +I’m proud. I want my boy to be Rodney Martin, not just Cyrus Martin’s +son, and I want to show old Clark that as a judge of character he’s a +bigger fool than I am. If I don’t get that bet—— + +MARY. But you’re going to, I’m sure you are. + +MARTIN. By George, Miss Grayson, if I weren’t a bit old and on the +shelf, I’d marry you myself. You and I could clean up all the loose +change in America. (_RODNEY enters R. MARTIN, seeing him, changes his +whole attitude. Rises_) I don’t care to discuss the matter further, Miss +Grayson: consider yourself discharged. Good evening. (_Crosses to L._) + +RODNEY. It’s all right, Mary. You can have a job in my office. (_Crosses +to C._) + +MARTIN. (_Scornfully_) Your office, ha! (_Suddenly_) Oh, my foot, my poor +foot! (_He limps painfully towards door_) Your office! It’s a joke, young +man! + +RODNEY. Oh, you needn’t laugh! I’ll show you. (_Crosses L. C._) + +MARTIN. (_Winking at MARY_) Silence, you young puppy. Oh, my poor foot! +(_He exits_) + +MARY. Oh, Rodney! (_Sits on sofa_) + +(_RODNEY goes up-stage, and passes behind sofa so that he is at the R. +end of sofa._) + +RODNEY. Gout’s an awful thing, isn’t it? (_Sits on sofa_) + +MARY. Oh, Rodney, I’m afraid I’ve spoiled everything for you—your future—— + +RODNEY. Nonsense, you’ve made my future. Without you, I’d never have got +the idea, the big idea. + +MARY. Idea for what? + +RODNEY. The idea to make money out of; that’s all you need. And, just +think, I found it in this book. + +MARY. What idea? What book? + +RODNEY. It’s a cook-book. + +MARY. What on earth——? + +RODNEY. Well, you see, when I was packing I stumbled across this book; it +fell open at this page—fate was on the job—it was a hunch. Look! + +MARY. (_Looking_) But what is it? + +RODNEY. It’s an old family recipe for making cheap soap. It says it’s the +cheapest soap in the world. Cheaper even than the manufacturers make it. +I’m going into the soap business. + +MARY. (_Amazed_) What? + +RODNEY. Sure. Father did; look at the money he made. Why shouldn’t I? + +MARY. (_Rises, goes L._) You’re joking. + +RODNEY. I’m in dead earnest. I’m going to buck the trust. (_Rises_) + +MARY. But how can you? + +RODNEY. I don’t know, but I will. You see, I’ll have all the popular +sympathy: independent young son of soap-king fights father; don’t buy +from the trust. + +MARY. But is that very nice to your _father_? + +RODNEY. Has he been nice to me? It’s great! Down with monopoly! Hurrah +for the people! I’ve heard political speeches like that. Hurrah for the +people’s soap! That isn’t a bad name, either. The People’s Soap. (_Lays +book on table_) + +MARY. But you haven’t any capital. + +RODNEY. (_Dejected_) I never thought of that. + +MARY. You’d need a lot of money. + +RODNEY. (_Bracing up_) Well, I’ll just have to get it, that’s all, and +you’ll be my secretary. Of course, till I make big money I wouldn’t +ordinarily have thought of taking you away from father—but as long as he +discharged you—well, you work for me now. What does father pay you? + +MARY. Fifty dollars a week. + +RODNEY. I’ll pay you a hundred and fifty. + +MARY. But you haven’t any money. + +(_JOHNSON enters from door upper L._) + +JOHNSON. Beg pardon, Mr. Rodney, but Mr. Ambrose Peale is here to see you. + +MARY. For the fifth time—— + +RODNEY. (_Puzzled_) Ambrose Peale? Oh, yes, I remember. Ask him to come +in. + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir. (_He exits door upper L._) + +MARY. Who is he? + +RODNEY. He’s got something to do with the theater. When I was in Harvard +two years ago I met him one night in the lobby of the theater. I haven’t +seen him since—it was the night we had our egg fight. + +MARY. You and Mr. Peale? + +RODNEY. No, no, the fellows threw eggs at the people on the stage. You +see, it was a college play—— + +MARY. Did you throw eggs? + +RODNEY. I forgot to bring any. Peale was the manager of the show and was +mighty decent to me—kept me out of jail. + +(_PEALE enters from door upper L._) + +PEALE. Well, well, Rodney Martin, how are you? (_To MARY_) How are you, +dear lady? + +RODNEY. How do you do? Miss Grayson—Mr. Ambrose Peale. + +PEALE. Ambrose Peale—that’s me absolutely. Well, I’m still in the show +business. (_To MARY_) Ever see “The Belle of Broadway”? Great show, great +girls, great cast. + +MARY. Oh, are you an actor? + +PEALE. (_Scornfully_) An actor? I should say not. I’m a press-agent. + +MARY. Oh! + +PEALE. But, say, be sure to catch that show; it may leave the city +soon—out-of-town bookings, you know—but remember the name: “The Belle of +Broadway.” And now if you’ll excuse me, Miss, I came to talk business +with Mr. Martin. + +RODNEY. Business? Surely—surely. (_Winking at MARY_) I’m a business +man—now. + +MARY. I’ll be back in a few minutes. + +RODNEY. Thank you, Miss Grayson. (_She exits door lower R._) + +PEALE. Now, I’m not much on handing myself flowers across the footlights, +but do you happen to remember what I did for you the night of the egg +fight? + +RODNEY. You fixed things with the chief of police and kept me from being +expelled. + +PEALE. By George, you do remember. And you said any time you could do +anything for me—— + +RODNEY. That’s still true. + +PEALE. You’re immense, son. Now, it’s this way—have a chair. (_He sits. +RODNEY does likewise_) Between you and me, “The Belle of Broadway” is an +awful thing—business gone to pot. Something’s got to be done. Some great +stuff pulled off to give it a boost, and that’s where you come in. + +RODNEY. I? + +PEALE. You’ve got an aeroplane, haven’t you? + +RODNEY. Yes, but—— + +PEALE. Then everything’s all right. Now you abduct the leading lady, +Julia Clark, to-morrow night, in your aeroplane—elope with her—— + +RODNEY. What? + +PEALE. Sure—some stunt, too—never been done. Julia’ll stand for it—she’s +game for any press gag—— + +RODNEY. But I couldn’t do that. + +PEALE. Certainly you can. I’m telling you Julia’ll stand for it—a bird of +a story—no performance. Why? You’re up in the air with the leading lady. +The next night standing room only to catch a look at the girl you’re +stuck on. I can see the headlines now: Soap King’s Son Takes New Star +Among the Stars—with flashlights. + +RODNEY. But it’s out of the question. (_Rises, takes chair to table_) + +PEALE. What’s the matter with it? + +RODNEY. I wouldn’t do it, that’s all. + +PEALE. Gee, that’s tough! + +RODNEY. I’m not backing down—anything in reason, but you see, there’s +someone who might object. + +PEALE. A girl? (_RODNEY nods_) Her? (_Pointing to where MARY exited_) + +RODNEY. Yes. + +PEALE. (_Rises and puts chair back_) I guess it’s cold: girls are funny +about their beaux doing a little innocent thing like eloping with some +other girl. + +RODNEY. Why don’t you try somebody else? + +PEALE. I have! You were my last card. Well, I’m fired! + +RODNEY. Fired? + +PEALE. Sure, that stunt would have kept us going, but now, on the +level—well, the show’s so bad, people won’t even go see it on a pass. +We’ll close Saturday and I’m out—— + +RODNEY. A fake story like that would really have helped? + +PEALE. Helped a whole lot: given us a fresh start, and then I’d have +pulled off some new stunts and saved my job. + +RODNEY. Oh, nonsense. If that were true, I’d feel mighty uncomfortable +at not being able to oblige you, but an obvious trumped-up lie like that +can’t be any good. + +PEALE. It can’t, eh? + +RODNEY. Oh, I know it’s advertising—— + +PEALE. You bet it’s advertising. What made Anna Held? Milk baths. What +made Gaby Deslys? A dago king. + +RODNEY. But that kind of advertising can’t be of real value. (_Sits_) + +PEALE. Oh, you’re one of those guys who don’t believe in advertising, are +you? Now, don’t get me talking advertising. That’s where I live, where +I have my town house and country estate, my yacht and motors. That’s my +home. Maybe you think love is important? Piffle. Advertising, my boy, the +power of suggestion, the psychology of print; say a thing often enough +and hard enough and the other chap’ll not only believe you, he’ll think +it’s his own idea, and he’ll fight for it. Some old gink, a professor of +psychology, showed forty Vassar girls the other day two samples of satin, +one blue, one pink, same grade, same value, same artistic worth. One he +described as a delicate warm old rose, the other a faded blue. He asked +them to choose their favorite. Thirty-nine out of the forty picked the +old rose. Why? Because they’d been told it was warm and delicate; no +faded blue for theirs! What did it? The power of suggestion—advertising! + +RODNEY. (_Amused_) You seem to know something about it—— + +PEALE. I not only seem to, I do. You heard me tell that girl of yours a +few minutes ago that “The Belle of Broadway” was the biggest hit in town. +Ask her to go to the theater. Give her her choice and I’ll bet you four +dollars to a fried egg she picks “The Belle of Broadway.” Advertising! + +RODNEY. I don’t believe it. + +PEALE. Well, try it—and say, what makes you go to the theater yourself? +I’ll tell you—it’s what you’ve read about the play or what some fellows +told you. + +RODNEY. (_Beginning to be convinced_) Why, I suppose that’s true. + +PEALE. And what he tells you, some other guy has told him. Ninety-seven +per cent of the public believe what they’re told, and what they’re told +is what the other chap’s been told—and the fellow who told him read it +somewhere. When you see a thing in print about something you don’t really +know anything about, you come pretty near believing it. And all the +advertiser has to do is to tell you right and you’ll fall. + +RODNEY. But I never read advertisements. + +PEALE. Oh, you don’t, eh? I guess you do. If I say His Master’s +Voice, you know that advertises a phonograph. You’re on to what +soap “It Floats” refers to. There’s a Reason—Uneeda—Quaker +Oats—Phoebe Show—Children Cry For it—Sapolio—Grape Nuts—Peruna—The +Road of Anthracite—Spearmint—Pierce Arrow—57 Varieties—Kodak—White +Seal—Gold Dust Twins—He Won’t Be Happy Till He Gets It—Bull +Durham—Pianola—Cuticura—Melachrino—Clysmic—Goodyear—Steinway— +Thermos—Coca-Cola—The Watch that Made The Dollar Famous. I suppose +you don’t know what any of them mean? + +RODNEY. (_Amused_) Why, I know what they all mean. + +PEALE. You bet you do. What kind of garters do you wear? + +RODNEY. Why, let me see: Boston. + +PEALE. Exactly. What do you know about ’em? Nothing. Are they any better +than any other garter? You don’t know—I don’t know—but all my life, every +magazine I’ve ever looked into has had a picture of a man’s leg with a +certain kind of garter on it—Boston—so when I go into a store to buy a +pair of garters I just naturally say Boston; so do you. What do you know +about Mennen’s Talcum Powder? Nothing, except that it has the picture +of the homeliest man in the world on the box and it’s so impressed your +imagination, you just mechanically order Mennen’s. If I say to you, E. +& W., you don’t think it’s a corset, do you? If I say C. B., you don’t +think it’s a collar, and what about the well-known and justly famous B. +V. D.’s? You don’t read advertisement? Rot! + +RODNEY. But—— + +PEALE. No ‘but’ about it: advertising’s responsible for everything. +When a department store advertises a seven-dollar shirt-waist for four +dollars, you don’t believe it’s on the level, do you? + +RODNEY. No, I don’t. + +PEALE. Neither do I, but there’s a hell of a lot of women who do. When +Bryan advertised the Grape Juice Highball, do you know that its sale went +up 652 gallons a day? + +RODNEY. How do you know it was 652? + +PEALE. I’ll let you into a little secret: I don’t know. I don’t know a +damned thing about grape juice, and as long as my health and strength +keep up, I hope I never will, but if I said I’d read in a newspaper that +the sale had gone up 652 gallons, you wouldn’t have doubted it, would you? + +RODNEY. No, I suppose I wouldn’t. + +PEALE. And you’d have told somebody else and he’d have believed you, too. +Say, do you drink much? + +RODNEY. No. + +PEALE. Can you tell the difference between a vintage wine and last year’s +champagne? Sure, you can: it costs more. Son, the world is full of bunk. +Ninety-seven per cent of the people are sheep, and you can get ’em all by +advertising. + +RODNEY. You are gradually making me come to the conclusion that you +believe in publicity. + +PEALE. Believe in it! It’s my life. What kind of eggs do you eat? + +RODNEY. Why, hen’s eggs, of course. + +PEALE. Why “of course”? Did you ever eat a duck’s egg? + +RODNEY. Why, no. + +PEALE. Do you know anything against the duck? + +RODNEY. No. + +PEALE. Exactly. When a duck lays an egg it’s a damn fool and keeps quiet +about it, but when a hen does, my boy—cluck-cluck all over the place! +She’s advertising. So you eat hen’s eggs. + +RODNEY. You’re beginning to convince me. + +PEALE. If I’m beginning to convince you, that’s advertising, too. Say, +are you for Roosevelt or against him? + +RODNEY. I’m for him strong. + +PEALE. I’m against him. I read one paper, you read another. I think he’s +a faker, you think he’s a great man. But does either of us really know +anything about him except what we’ve read? Have you ever met Roosevelt +or talked to him or known anybody who did know him? I haven’t, but the +point is, whatever we may think, good or bad, we’ve heard a lot about +him, because he’s the best advertiser in the world. And that, my son, is +the whole secret of it: get ’em talking about you, get ’em praisin’ if +you can, or get ’em cussin’, but for the love of Heaven, don’t let ’em +be quiet. Mention your name—have ’em argue about you—boost or knock—be a +hero or a villain, but don’t be a dub. Why, give me the money, a little +time, a few pages of advertising, and I can sell you shares in the +Atlantic Ocean! + +RODNEY. (_Excited_) You really believe that with proper advertising you +could build up a great business? + +PEALE. Believe! Look around you: everything’s doing it. + +RODNEY. And you are out of a job. + +PEALE. Unless you do the aero-elopement. + +RODNEY. (_Rises_) Then you’re out of it. Do you want to work for me? + +PEALE. Sure. + +RODNEY. When can you begin? + +PEALE. Now. + +RODNEY. What’s your salary? + +PEALE. I’ve been getting $60, but I’m worth $75. + +RODNEY. I’ll give you a hundred. + +PEALE. What is your business? Counterfeiting? + +RODNEY. No, it’s—— + +PEALE. Don’t tell me. As long as it don’t send me to state’s prison or +the chair, it’s all right. Could I have about $25 advance on my salary +now? + +RODNEY. Is that customary? + +PEALE. It is with me. + +RODNEY. Oh, all right. (_He gives him the money_) + +PEALE. Just as an evidence of good faith. (_He counts money_) Well, now +I’m working for you, what business are you in? + +RODNEY. The soap business. + +PEALE. (_Grinning_) Nice clean business. With father? + +RODNEY. Against him! + +PEALE. Oh! + +RODNEY. My father and I have had a quarrel. + +PEALE. I know, I know: fathers are very unreasonable these days. + +RODNEY. I’m going to fight the soap trust. + +PEALE. Well, you’re no piker. You’ve picked out a nice refined job. How +long have you been at it? + +RODNEY. Twenty minutes. + +PEALE. How’s it going? + +RODNEY. Fine, since I got an idea from you. + +PEALE. They grow all over me—help yourself. + +RODNEY. I’m going to get a factory, advertise like the very dickens: Soap +King’s son fights father—and licks him, too, by George! + +PEALE. Wait a minute, wait a minute, do you know why your father is the +soap king? + +RODNEY. I suppose because he controls all the soap business in the +country except Ivory. + +PEALE. Exactly, and the way he keeps control of it is by buying out all +his live competitors. Now, here’s a blue-ribbon champion of the world +scheme. Why don’t we make good and sell out to father? + +RODNEY. No, I don’t care to do that. I want to make good myself. + +PEALE. Well, if father is forced to buy you out, isn’t that enough? What +do you want? + +RODNEY. I’ve got to be a success on my own. I’ve got to show father, +and—Miss Grayson. + +PEALE. (_Comprehending_) Oh! Making good with the dame, eh? + +RODNEY. You see, father says I can’t earn five dollars a week. + +PEALE. He isn’t right, is he? + +RODNEY. No, sir, you’ll see. + +PEALE. I hope so. Pretty tough if you couldn’t. Some job trying to sell +soap if father’s against us. + +RODNEY. I suppose it is. + +PEALE. I tell you: why not make such a hit with the soap, advertise it so +strong, he’ll just have to back you? + +RODNEY. Now that’s settled, we’re going to lick father. + +PEALE. Yes, that’s settled. What do I do? + +RODNEY. You write the ads that make us. + +PEALE. It’s my chance. Think, I’ll never have to see “The Belle of +Broadway” again! I’ll write ads, I’ll conduct a campaign that’ll keep +your father awake, and in three months at the most he’ll be begging for a +chance to back us. + +RODNEY. I believe we’ll do it. + +PEALE. Come on, come on. Let’s get busy. What’s the name of the soap? + +RODNEY. It hasn’t been named. + +PEALE. Well, what is there about it that makes it different from any +other soap? + +RODNEY. I don’t know. + +PEALE. Well, what could there be about some soap that was different from +some other soap? + +RODNEY. Well, let’s see. + +PEALE. Where did you get it from? + +RODNEY. From this cook-book. + +PEALE. Are you kidding me? + +RODNEY. No. Half an hour ago I decided to go in to business, and I +happened to find this recipe for soap in a cook-book—it’s the cheapest +soap in the world. (_Reflecting_) That’s not a bad title: the cheapest +soap in the world. (_A pause. They reflect_) + +PEALE. You’re wrong, son. There’s an awful bunch of people that buy a +lot of expensive stuff, not because it’s better, but because it costs +more—and the poor nuts think it ought to be better—so can that cheap +stuff. + +RODNEY. Well, how about The Most Expensive Soap in the World? + +PEALE. My boy, I could kiss you. A pupil after my own heart—fifty cents a +cake. + +RODNEY. A dollar, and we’ll make it a warm delicate old rose. + +PEALE. Each cake in a separate box with a paper rose on the lid. + +RODNEY. Great. + +PEALE. But what’ll we call it? + +RODNEY. Old Rose. + +PEALE. Rotten—doesn’t mean anything. + +RODNEY. Let’s think. + +PEALE. I am thinking. I never stop. + +RODNEY. The Soap that Made Pittsburg Clean. + +PEALE. Too long, and no good anyway, because Pittsburg isn’t clean. You +need something catchy. + +RODNEY. I had an idea a while ago: The People’s Soap. + +PEALE. Not if you’re going to catch the rich boobs. + +RODNEY. That’s true. + +PEALE. We need something that’s universally appealing. What is it? What +is it? + +RODNEY. (_Looking off-stage toward where MARY went_) Love. + +PEALE. Slush. + +RODNEY. Money. + +PEALE. (_Suddenly_) I’ve got it: Superstition—everybody’s superstitious. + +RODNEY. Rot! I’m not. + +PEALE. I say, there’s a bit of luck for us right at the start—a pin with +the head toward you. (_RODNEY stoops to pick it up_) See, you were going +to pick it up! Everybody is superstitious. Oh, they say they’re not, just +as you did, but did you ever meet a guy who, if he didn’t mind walking +under a ladder, didn’t hate to spill salt, or else he wanted to see the +moon over his right shoulder—or he picked up pins, or carried a lucky +coin, wouldn’t do things on Friday? Why, the whole world’s superstitious. +Get something on that and you hit everybody. I’ve got eighty-six +horseshoes home myself. I never saw a gink that would sit thirteen at +table. We’re all crazy. (_They pause and think. They both sit on end of +table_) + +RODNEY. Could we—? + +PEALE. What? + +RODNEY. No. (_They pause_) + +PEALE. Suppose we—? + +RODNEY. What? + +PEALE. No—(_Pause_) + +RODNEY. Wait! Wait—listen! The Thirteen Soap—Unlucky for Dirt. + +PEALE. (_Coming over and kissing RODNEY on the brow_) Son, it’s all over: +the old man’ll be on his knees in a month. + +RODNEY. We open the office Monday. + +PEALE. Where’s the office? + +RODNEY. Let’s get one. + +PEALE. With furniture and everything. Say—(_MARY enters from door lower +R. Seeing her_) There’s the dame; ask her to go to the theater, just to +prove what I say. See for yourself. (_He goes up-stage_) + +RODNEY. (_Turning to her_) Oh, Mary, to celebrate, let’s go to the +theater to-morrow night? + +MARY. I’d love to. + +RODNEY. What do you want to see? + +MARY. I hear “The Belle of Broadway” is very good. + +(_PEALE yawns and stretches out his arms complacently._) + +PEALE. (_To RODNEY_) I guess I don’t know about advertising, eh? (_To +MARY_) My last official act is giving you a box for to-morrow night. (_He +writes_) + +MARY. Oh, yes, you’re with that play, aren’t you? + +PEALE. I am. (_Handing her pass_) Er—I was. + +MARY. But isn’t it an imposition? + +PEALE. Not on us, it isn’t. + +MARY. Thank you. (_Crosses to RODNEY. To RODNEY_) I didn’t mean to bother +you, but I’m so interested: I thought, regarding Mr. Peale’s business, +I’d like to hear—— + +RODNEY. It’s all settled, Mary. Mr. Peale, my general manager. Mr. Peale, +my secretary. Mary, here it is: The Thirteen Soap—Unlucky for Dirt: The +Most Expensive Soap in the World. + +MARY. (_Genuinely_) Why, that’s perfectly wonderful—who thought of it? +(_Looking at PEALE_) + +RODNEY. I did. + +MARY. (_Turning to him_) You did, really? Why, you’re splendid. + +PEALE. Youth, brains, efficiency—that’s our motto. + +RODNEY. We’ll make a hundred thousand dollars the first year—sure. + +MARY. (_Reflectively_) And ten per cent of that is—— + +RODNEY. What? + +MARY. (_Quickly_) Oh nothing, nothing—I was just figuring. + +RODNEY. We’re going to make our soap famous by advertising, and then +force father to back us. + +MARY. That sounds bully, and at the start you won’t need much capital. + +RODNEY. Capital? + +PEALE. With fifty thousand dollars I can make the Great American People +have hysterics for the Thirteen Soap. + +RODNEY. Fifty thousand dollars, and I’ve got only a thousand. Oh! (_Sits +on chair R. of desk_) + +MARY. Oh! (_Sitting on sofa_) + +PEALE. (_Sitting in arm-chair L. of table_) But can’t you raise it? + +RODNEY. (_To PEALE_) How? + +PEALE. Don’t ask me. Raising money is the only thing I never got on to—— + +RODNEY. Peale, you’re fired. + +PEALE. Well, it was a good job while it lasted. + +RODNEY. (_Rises_) Gimme back that $25. + +PEALE. (_Rises, take out money and returns it to RODNEY_) Good-bye, old +pal. + +MARY. (_Rises, and comes down-stage between RODNEY and PEALE_) But +couldn’t you start with less? + +RODNEY. Of course we could. Couldn’t we, Peale? + +PEALE. Not and do it right. No use wasting money piking when you +advertise. Splurge, my lad, splurge or let it remain dormant. + +RODNEY. I’ve got a thousand in the bank; the aeroplane’s worth four—it +cost eight. + +PEALE. Then if you’re lucky it might sell for two. + +RODNEY. The motors ought to bring another four. That’d be seven, isn’t +that something? + +PEALE. Seven thousand is not to be spoken of venomously, but in +advertising—well, going easy, it might last you a week. + +MARY. I have a—— + +PEALE. Some money? + +RODNEY. We couldn’t take money from you. + +MARY. No, I know a—a man that might put in five thousand. + +RODNEY. That’s twelve. + +PEALE. (_Suddenly_) Does your father advertise much? + +RODNEY. I don’t think so; does he, Mary? + +MARY. Not very much: he’s conservative. He doesn’t believe in reckless +advertising. + +PEALE. Nothing sensational or exciting? + +MARY. No. + +PEALE. Why, he’s licked now, and I’ll tell you why. We can advertise just +for your father’s benefit alone. + +RODNEY. I don’t quite understand your plan? + +PEALE. Why, plaster this neighborhood with Thirteen Soap advertisements. +Do the same around your father’s office so that every time he went out or +came in he’d see Thirteen Soap. We could advertise only in the newspapers +he reads. We’d send him circulars every mail. I could make a splurge just +for him that would look like we were giving up $10,000 a day. Within a +month he’d think that Thirteen Soap was the only soap in the world. + +RODNEY. How much would it take? + +PEALE. Five thousand a week. + +RODNEY. And you could land him in a month. + +PEALE. My boy! + +RODNEY. And we’ve got one thousand—all cash, and eleven thousand in +prospects. Go ahead. + +PEALE. You mean I’m hired again? + +RODNEY. Sure you are. + +PEALE. Gimme back that $25. + +RODNEY. (_Giving it back_) Certainly. + +PEALE. The best thing you ever did was to engage me. + +RODNEY. Peale, we’ll be rich men. + +PEALE. With your money and my ideas, I’ll be a millionaire. + +RODNEY. Well, I hope I will, too. + +MARY. Me, too. + +JOHNSON. (_Entering from door upper L._) Countess de Beou—ree—enn. + +MARY. Oh, that dreadful woman again. + +COUNTESS. (_Entering and coming over to RODNEY. To RODNEY_) Vous êtes M. +Martin? + +RODNEY. (_Nods_) Yes. + +COUNTESS. Ah, cher M. Martin—je suis enchantée de vous voir. + +PEALE. The dame’s looney. + +MARY. No, she’s French. + +PEALE. Same thing. + +RODNEY. What’s all this, anyhow? + +MARY. She wanted to see your father, and she doesn’t speak English. + +RODNEY. Well, let her speak to me. Fire ahead. + +PEALE. Say, can you speak French? + +MARY. (_Surprised_) Can you? + +RODNEY. No, but I can understand it. (_Going to COUNTESS_) Fire ahead. + +COUNTESS. Eh? + +RODNEY. Let me see—oh, yes. Parlez. + +COUNTESS. Ah, mon Dieu—enfin, quelqu’un qui comprend Français. + +RODNEY. Oui. + +COUNTESS. Puis-je vous parler pour cinq minutes? + +RODNEY. Oui. + +COUNTESS. Merci bien. + +RODNEY. Oui—— + +PEALE. You’re immense, kid. + +COUNTESS. (_Quickly_) Je suis madame la comtesse de Beaurien. Je désire +parler à M. Martin àpropos des affaires du savon. Je voudrais obtenir +l’agence du Savon Martin pour la France. + +RODNEY. Wait a minute—wait a minute. + +MARY. What did she say? + +PEALE. She’s a speedy spieler all right. + +RODNEY. (_To COUNTESS_) Would you mind saying that over and say it slow? + +COUNTESS. Comment? + +RODNEY. Oh.... Répétez ça s’il vous plait—pas vite. + +COUNTESS. Je suis madame la comtesse de Beaurien. Je désire obtenir +l’agence du Savon Martin pour la France. Je peux donner cinquante mille +francs pour cette agence. Et enfin, voulez-vous arranger cette affaire +pour moi? Je suis riche, j’ai beaucoup de recommendations—je suis bien +connue à Paris. + +RODNEY. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. (_To PEALE_) She wants the agency +for father’s soap for France and is willing to pay 50,000 francs for the +concession. + +PEALE. How much is that in money? + +RODNEY. Ten thousand dollars. + +MARY. Had I better tell your father? (_Goes to door lower L._) + +RODNEY. (_Inspired. Crosses to MARY_) No, no, why not keep father out of +this? We’ll sell her the agency for the Thirteen Soap—that’d be another +$10,000 for us. Peale, she’s a gift from the gods! (_Goes to COUNTESS_) + +PEALE. She is. Go to it. + +MARY. But how can you sell her your agency? + +RODNEY. I don’t know—how can I? + +PEALE. A pipe. Ask her if she’s superstitious? + +RODNEY. Oh, if I only knew how to talk French!—Madame—êtes-vous +superstitious? + +COUNTESS. Eh? + +RODNEY. I mean—superstitieuse? (_COUNTESS looks blank_) + +PEALE. She doesn’t get you. + +RODNEY. No. + +PEALE. (_He goes and takes the COUNTESS’ parasol_) Pardon me.... +(_Starts to raise it. With a cry of protest: “Faites pas ça”, she stops +him_) She’s superstitious, all right—(_To her_) It ought to be a pipe to +land you. + +RODNEY. Listen: je suis le fils de Museer Martin—vous savez? + +COUNTESS. (_Delightedly_) Oui, oui. + +RODNEY. (_Slowly_) Nous manfacturons, I mean manufacturong—un nouveau +savon—see? Savon Treize—(_He holds up his fingers to indicate thirteen_) + +COUNTESS. Oui, oui. + +PEALE. (_Impressed_) It must be great to have a college education. + +RODNEY. Savon Treize—pas—bon—pour—what the deuce is dirt? + +MARY. I don’t know. + +RODNEY. Oh, yes—sal—pas bon pour sal—— + +COUNTESS. (_Laughing_) Savon Treize—pas bon pour sal—c’est bien—c’est +bien. + +PEALE. (_Gleefully_) She likes it—she likes it. + +RODNEY. Je start—je begin—je commence—un nouveau compagnie—le très grande +compagnie de la universe—je suis le president. + +PEALE. Je suis le advertising agent. (_After laugh, JOHNSON enters from +door upper L. with a letter, and exits door lower L._) + +RODNEY. I’m the whole thing, see—and if we can do business with you for +the French agency—— + +(_MARIE enters._) + +COUNTESS. Mais non, mais non, mais non, monsieur, je ne comprends pas. + +MARIE. I beg pardon. + +MARY. What is it, Marie? + +MARIE. (_In French dialect_) Where is M. Martin? + +RODNEY. Marie! Another gift from Heaven. + +MARIE. Mr. Smith to see your father. + +RODNEY. That’s a man I might get money from. (_JOHNSON enters from door +lower L._) He’s a great friend of the family. Used to dangle me on his +knee, and all that sort of thing. (_He sees JOHNSON_) Oh, Johnson. + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir? + +RODNEY. Mr. Smith is downstairs—in one minute bring him up here. + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir. (_He exits door upper L._) + +RODNEY. Now, Marie, tell the countess you speak French. + +MARIE. Je parle Français, Madame. + +COUNTESS. Mon Dieu—enfin quelqu’un qui parle Français! Je suis Madame +la Comtesse de Beaurien—et je désire parler avec monsieur àpropos des +affaires du Savon Treize. + +MARIE. (_Back at her quickly_) Ah mais oui—je comprends parfaitement. Je +dirai à monsieur ce que vous avez dit. Ah je suis ravie d’avoir trouvé +aux Etats Unis une compatriote avec laquelle je pourrai parler ma belle +langue de France. (_They talk together violently in French, and at the +end of the speech, the COUNTESS kisses MARIE_) + +RODNEY. Mary, take them away—take them into the library. Explain to Marie +about the agency—Mary can translate your slang to Marie and she can turn +it into French. + +MARY. I’ll do my best. Come, Marie. (_Crosses to door lower R., and opens +it_) Bring the Countess. + +MARIE. Madame la comtesse, je vous montrerai le chemin—— + +COUNTESS. Bien. + +(_MARIE and COUNTESS, chattering volubly in French, followed by MARY, +exit door lower R._) + +PEALE. (_Looking after them_) Paris must be a hell of a place. + +RODNEY. I’ll tackle Smith for a loan of $10,000. + +PEALE. Will he fall? + +RODNEY. (_Grandly_) My father’s oldest friend. Why, the way I’ll handle +him, ten thousand ought to be easy. + +PEALE. Good luck. + +(_Enter MR. SMITH from door upper L._) + +RODNEY. Hello, Mr. Smith. That’s all now, Mr. Peale. + +PEALE. Yes, sir, I understand. (_Winking_) He takes 50,000 shares at par. + +RODNEY. Quite right. + +(_PEALE exits door lower R._) + +SMITH. Who the deuce is that, Rod? + +RODNEY. One of my staff. + +SMITH. (_Amazed_) One of your what? + +RODNEY. Staff—I’ve gone into business. + +SMITH. (_Laughing uproariously_) You’ve done what? + +RODNEY. I’m a business man. + +SMITH. That’s the funniest thing I ever heard of. + +RODNEY. What’s funny about it? + +SMITH. You in business! (_He laughs again_) + +RODNEY. And as a business man I’d like to talk to you regarding a very +interesting business proposition in which I am now interested. + +SMITH. Nothing doing. + +RODNEY. (_Gulping_) I thought I’d like to borrow ten—say a few thousand +dollars. + +SMITH. No. + +RODNEY. Perhaps five thousand. + +SMITH. If it was a new club or some tomfoolery, in a minute—but to put +money into your business—it’d be just throwing it away. Why don’t you get +your father to back you? + +RODNEY. Father and I don’t agree on the value of advertising. + +SMITH. Oh, that’s it, and you expect me to do what your father won’t? + +RODNEY. Well, I thought as a friend of the family—— + +SMITH. You were wrong. Where is your father? + +RODNEY. In there, I guess. (_Indicating door lower L._) + +SMITH. I’ll bet he’ll think this as funny as I do. (_He exits L. RODNEY +sinks down dejectedly into a chair. PEALE enters with contracts_) + +PEALE. Well? + +RODNEY. (_Rises_) He wouldn’t give me a cent. + +PEALE. He wouldn’t? Well, he sounds like your father’s oldest friend. + +RODNEY. What about the Countess? + +PEALE. (_Proudly_) I got her. + +RODNEY. You did? $10,000? + +PEALE. Fifteen thousand. + +RODNEY. Holy jumping Jupiter. + +PEALE. Pretty good, what? + +RODNEY. Good? Why—why—I’ll have to raise your salary. + +PEALE. Thanks, I supposed you would. + +RODNEY. Where’s the money? + +PEALE. Oh, we don’t get it till next week. + +RODNEY. (_Dejected_) Oh! + +PEALE. But it’s all right. We’re going to sign the contract with her +to-night. + +RODNEY. But we must have some more cash to start with. + +MARY. (_Entering_) The Countess wants to know how much longer she must +wait? + +PEALE. Coming now. Sign the contract. + +RODNEY. Sure, I’ll sign anything—I’ll sign it twice. (_Signs_) + +PEALE. You know, this has got the show business beat a mile. (_He exits +door lower R._) + +MARY. Oh, Rodney, did Mr. Smith lend you any money? + +RODNEY. He did not. + +SMITH. (_Re-entering_) Oh, Rod—(_Seeing MARY_) I beg your pardon. + +RODNEY. That’s all right—you needn’t go, Mary. Mr. Smith, this is the +future Mrs. Martin. + +SMITH. (_Crosses to MARY_) You don’t say so? Well, well, a thousand +congratulations! + +RODNEY. I suppose you and father had your laugh? + +SMITH. No, I didn’t tell him. + +RODNEY. Thanks for that, anyhow. + +SMITH. Of course, it sounded funny to me at first, but when I thought +things over, after all, why shouldn’t you be a success in business? + +RODNEY. (_Amazed_) What? + +SMITH. You have been in everything else you’ve tried. + +RODNEY. Yes, yes, certainly—sure. + +SMITH. Of course, you haven’t tried much. But as you said, I am an old +friend—and I figured if you gave me your word that you’d return the money +within a year—perhaps after all it would only be the act of an old friend +to take a chance. That’s what friends are for. + +RODNEY. Why, that’s simply great of you, by George! + +SMITH. How much was it you wanted? + +(_MARY holds up fingers of both hands._) + +RODNEY. (_Promptly_) Ten thousand dollars. + +SMITH. But, didn’t you say—? + +RODNEY. Oh, I’m sure I said $10,000—that’s the very least. + +SMITH. Um—well I’ll mail you a check to-night. + +(_MARY squeaks. SMITH looks sharply at her. She stops._) + +RODNEY. (_Enthusiastically_) I’ll never forget it. I tell you, old +friends do count. Thanks, thanks. + +SMITH. (_Embarrassed_) That’s all right—don’t thank me. Good-night, Miss +Grayson, and I hope you’ll be very happy. + +MARY. Good-night. + +RODNEY. Good-night. Good-night. (_SMITH exits door upper L. At door, +calling after him_) Oh, Mr. Smith, have you your car with you? + +SMITH. (_Off-stage_) Yes. + +RODNEY. Well, tell the chauffeur to drive slow and careful. (_RODNEY +grabs MARY by her two hands and dances around excitedly_) Ten +thousand—and he lent it to me. Oh, isn’t it great? (_He kisses her_) Wait +till I tell Peale. (_Exit door R._) + +COUNTESS. (_Off-stage, to RODNEY_) Oh, Monsieur, c’est une affaire +magnifique. (_She enters, followed by MARIE—to MARIE_) Je vous remercie, +Marie, de ce que vous avez fait. Ah, les Américains ce sont des gens +d’affaires superbes mais les dames—oh, là, là, qu’elles se fichent au +diable! (_Exits door upper L._) + +MARY. (_To MARIE_) What did she say? + +MARIE. She said the American men are splendid but the women were crazy +and they could all go to hell. (_Exits door upper L._) + +MARY. Oh! (_She goes over and knocks three times at door L._) + +MARTIN. (_Entering_) Well, how goes it? + +MARY. Oh, Mr. Martin, he’s perfectly splendid. So full of energy, hustle +and ideas. He’s a different man already. You were right: he only needed +development. + +MARTIN. Good! Good! You’re not saying this to flatter an old man’s vanity? + +MARY. Indeed, I’m not. We won’t have to blast. + +MARTIN. (_Shrewdly_) Would you rather take a guarantee of $2,500 +additional and give up that 10 per cent of his profits? + +MARY. I should say not. + +MARTIN. You know, Miss Grayson, you’re making me believe we’ll win that +$30,000 from old John Clark. (_Crosses down R._) + +MARY. Oh, indeed we will: you should have just seen Rodney borrow $10,000 +from Mr. Smith, without the least trouble. + +MARTIN. (_Smiling_) Oh, that was my money. + +MARY. What? + +MARTIN. When Smith told me Rodney tried to touch him—well, I thought the +least I could do was to back my son, so I sent Smith to make good with +him. + +MARY. That was nice of you. + +(_RODNEY enters from door R., with dress-suit case._) + +MARTIN. Well, I owed the boy a chance, anyhow. (_Seeing RODNEY, turns to +him, crossly_) So you’re still here, are you? + +RODNEY. Yes, sir, but I’m going. Come, Mary. (_Crosses to MARY_) + +MARTIN. Really going into business, eh? Well, when you fail, don’t come +sniveling back here! You can’t count on a dollar from me. + +RODNEY. I won’t snivel—and I don’t want your money. I don’t need it. Why, +I’d have gone to work long ago if I’d known how easy it is to raise +$10,000. + +MARTIN. (_Grinning at MARY_) You would, eh? Well, what soft easy-going +business have you picked out? + +RODNEY. The soap business. + +MARTIN. (_Genuinely annoyed_) What? Why, he can’t make any money out of +soap. (_Crosses to MARY_) That takes brains. + +RODNEY. Oh, yes, I can. + +MARTIN. I control all the important soap business in the country. + +RODNEY. I know you do, but I am going to take it away from you. + +MARTIN. What? + +RODNEY. Yes, sir, I’m going to manufacture the Thirteen Soap: Unlucky for +Dirt: The Most Expensive Soap in the World! I’m going to break the trust; +I’m going to attack monopoly. I’m going to appeal to the American people +for fair play against the soap trust. You’ve always wanted me to go into +business. Well, I’m in, and forgive me, father, but I’m going to put you +out of business. I’m going to advertise all over the world. + +MARTIN. You can’t fight the soap trust with advertising: we’re +established. + +RODNEY. Yes, yes, we can: think what advertising means: the power of +suggestion—the psychology of print. Why, 97 per cent of the public +believe what they’re told, and what they’re told is what the other +chaps have been told, and the fellow who told him read it somewhere. +Advertising is responsible for everything. People are sheep, and +advertising is the way to make ’em follow your lead. (_He is beginning to +forget the speech_) Say, what makes you go to the theater? (_PEALE enters +from door R. MARTIN starts to speak_) Don’t tell me: I’ll tell you. It’s +what you’ve read of the play or what some fellows told you, and the +fellow that told him, read it—in a newspaper. (_Remembering—rapidly_) +And that, my boy, is the whole secret of it. You’ve got to be talked +about—get ’em praisin’ or cussin’, but don’t let ’em be quiet. I want to +tell you; what kind of duck eggs do you eat? + +MARTIN. (_Aghast_) What? + +(_The curtain begins to fall._) + +RODNEY. Do you know anything against the duck? No, you don’t, but when +a duck lays an egg it’s a damn fool and keeps quiet, but when a hen +does—cluck, cluck, all over the place! Advertising! + +(_The curtain is down._) + +(_The Second curtain:—PEALE and RODNEY on either side of MARTIN, are +talking advertising, while MARY has her fingers to her ears._) + +(_The Third curtain:—MARTIN is protesting angrily to MARY, while RODNEY +and PEALE are talking gleefully to each other and shaking hands._) + +_Curtain._ + + + + +ACT II + + + _SCENE: The private office of the 13 Soap Company. A rather + commonplace room, furnished comfortably but not elaborately. + The walls have several posters extolling the virtues of 13 + Soap—such as “Do you believe in signs?” “13 Soap is unlucky for + dirt.” “Be Clean. Cheap Soap for Cheap People.” “13 Soap is the + most expensive soap in the world, one dollar a cake.” There is + a particularly large stand in the up-stage wall bearing the + legend:_ + + _“The average cake of soap gives you 56 washes. A cake of 13 + soap gives you only 24,_ + + _But + What Washes!”_ + + _There is a door on the left and two more at right. At back are + windows through which the audience sees the building across the + street literally covered with 13 Soap posters. There is a desk, + down C., with chairs, cabinets, a hatrack, a water-cooler, a + safe, etc., which complete the equipment of the room. Light oak + office furniture. Three telephones, one on stand right, one on + desk left, and one on desk center. Shades on windows. All over + carpet. Four brackets._ + + _The time is one month after the first act, about ten o’clock + in the morning._ + + _The curtain rises on an empty stage. RODNEY’S voice heard + off-stage:_ + +RODNEY. (_Enters from door upper R._) Forward march! (_Six sandwich-men +enter door upper R., bearing boards: “13 Soap—unlucky for dirt”_) Halt! +(_They stop_) Now, you understand you’re all to go down to Mr. Cyrus +Martin’s office, 226 Broadway, and parade there all day—and to-morrow +the same thing. Be in front of his house to-night at six sharp, you +understand? + +SANDWICH MEN. Yes, sir. + +RODNEY. Then forward march! (_They exit through door L. RODNEY goes to +his desk. Business with papers, etc. PEALE enters from door upper R._) + +PEALE. Hello, little boss. Holy Peter Piper, you’ve shaved off your +mustache! + +RODNEY. (_Grinning_) Yes, I’m just beginning to get on to myself. By +George, I certainly used to look like the devil. Do you observe the +clothes? + +PEALE. (_R. C. Crosses up; removes coat, and places it L. of C. corner L. +of desk_) Why, you are getting to be a regular business man. + +RODNEY. Business is great stuff. I thought it’d bore me, but it’s +immense; it’s the best game I ever played. What’s the news with you? + +PEALE. We only just got back from Buffalo this morning. + +RODNEY. We? + +PEALE. (_Sits in chair L. of desk_) Yes, your father and I. He went to +the Iroquois in Buffalo. I had all the billboards in the neighborhood +plastered thick—and 48-sheet stands along the streets to the Union +Station. From the time the old man got in until he got out, he couldn’t +look anywhere without seeing 13 Soap. I even found out the number of his +room and had a small balloon floating 13 Soap streamers right outside +his window. I took a page in all the Buffalo papers—bribed the hat boy +to keep putting circulars in his hat every time he checked it, and sent +him one of our new folders every mail. They have eight mails a day in +Buffalo. I came back with him on the train and when he went into the +washroom last night I had the porter say “Sorry, sir, we ain’t got no +Thirteen Soap, but you can’t hardly keep any on hand—it’s such grand, +grand soap.” (_Rises and crosses to R._) + +RODNEY. Gee, that’s great. (_Crosses to L._) + +PEALE. Well, what’s on for to-day? + +RODNEY. I’ve got a bully new advertising scheme. When you go into a +barber shop where do you look? + +PEALE. At the manicure. + +RODNEY. No, no, at the ceiling—we’ll put ads on all the barber’s ceilings. + +PEALE. (_Scornfully_) Old stuff! It’s been done—is that what you call a +new scheme? + +RODNEY. Well, that wasn’t my big idea. (_Goes up-stage, sits in chair +behind desk_) + +PEALE. (_Mockingly_) No? Well, what is your big idea? + +RODNEY. Plans for our new factory. + +PEALE. Plans for what? Have you gone dippy? + +RODNEY. Here they are. (_He produces large blue-print_) Pretty real +looking, aren’t they? + +PEALE. You don’t mean you’ve actually got some nut to build us a factory? + +RODNEY. No, no, they are for father. + +PEALE. Oh, yes, I must admit that is some idea. (_Takes blue-print_) + +RODNEY. If he ever does drop in to make a deal I thought we ought to have +something to make a front, something that looks like a plant. + +PEALE. _Plant_ is right. + +RODNEY. And by the way, if we can, let it leak out that it’s the Ivory +Soap people who are backing us with unlimited capital. + +PEALE. The Ivory Soap people? + +RODNEY. Sure, father’s always hated ’em in business. His oldest friend, +though, is John Clark, one of the big bugs in Ivory Soap. Clark’s got +a son, Ellery, that father dislikes because he’s such a success in +business—always held him up to me as a model son to pattern by. It’d +make father wild if he thought that old Clark was going to back us; Ivory +Soap’s the only bunch he’s never been able to lick. (_Rises and goes down +R._) + +PEALE. (_Goes down L._) Then that scheme ought to be good for a great +rise out of father. + +RODNEY. Say, by the way, I put over a corker on him this morning: I +arranged for a parade of sandwich-men up and down in front of his house. +I just sent another bunch to his office. + +PEALE. Oh, we’re bound to land him sooner or later, keeping after him the +way we have. + +RODNEY. Funny, though, nobody’s tried to buy any soap from us yet. + +PEALE. Well, it takes time to create a demand. These 200 cakes of pink +castile you bought looked swell in our old rose wrappers, didn’t they? + +RODNEY. Say, where’s Miss Grayson? Have you seen her to-day? + +PEALE. No, and it’s after eleven. + +RODNEY. I’ll bet she was here before either of us—she always is. By +George, isn’t she a corker? + +PEALE. (_Indifferently_) Oh, she’s all right. (_Takes pad and pencil from +pocket and sits in arm-chair L._) + +RODNEY. All right!? Why, the girls you read about don’t mean anything +compared to Mary. She’s got Juliet beat a mile. Every time I think of +her I want to yell or do some darn fool thing, and every time I see her +I just want to get down and kiss her shoes. I just want to walk around +after her all the rest of my life and say “Are you comfortable, my love? +Are you happy? If there is anything on the wide earth you want, let me +get it for you, Mary.” What a wonderful name that is—just like her, +simple and honest and beautiful! Mary! + +PEALE. (_Reflectively_) If we could only land one hard wallop on father +after that Buffalo business! + +RODNEY. (_Indignantly_) Didn’t you hear what I said? + +PEALE. Not a word. + +RODNEY. I was talking about Mary. + +PEALE. I know you were. That’s why I didn’t listen. + +(_MARY enters from door upper R. with MSS. case. Hangs up hat, then goes +to desk, sitting back of it C._) + +MARY. Good-morning. + +RODNEY. (_To MARY_) Ah, you’re here—now everything’s all right, it’s a +great world. + +MARY. Don’t be silly; this is a business office. + +RODNEY. By George, Mary—— + +MARY. Miss Grayson! + +RODNEY. By George, Miss Grayson, you do look simply stunning! You’re +twice as pretty to-day as you were yesterday, and to-morrow you’ll be—— + +PEALE. Hey, hey, change the record or put on a soft needle! + +MARY. (_To PEALE_) Quite right—in business hours, only business. (_Takes +list of assets and liabilities from case_) + +RODNEY. But you are the prettiest thing—— + +MARY. Never mind that—you listen to me. This firm’s broke. + +RODNEY. That we can’t be—— + +PEALE. It must be some mistake in the books—— + +MARY. Is it? I was surprised myself when I balanced our accounts this +morning. I have here a statement of our assets and liabilities. We owe +$22,818.09. + +PEALE. What’s the 9 cents for? + +RODNEY. What are our assets? + +MARY. $133.13. + +RODNEY. That’s quite a showing for a month. + +MARY. Mr. McChesney, the advertising man, was here this morning, and he +won’t wait any longer for his money. + +RODNEY. But we paid him $5,000. + +MARY. (_Looking at statement_) Yes, and owe him $9,400. And unless he has +$2,500 of it to-day he’ll put you out of business. + +PEALE. That’s the trouble of dealing with business men. They’re so +particular about being paid. Now, you take a lot of actors—— + +MARY. But what about McChesney? + +RODNEY. Yes, what are we going to do when McChesney comes here to-day for +money—cash? + +PEALE. Well, we don’t do any more business with him. + +MARY. No, I guess we won’t. + +PEALE. Well, don’t you worry, old son, we’ll fix father somehow. Nobody +can stop good advertising. Why, I met a little fellow on the train last +night. He gets $50,000 a year just for writing ads. He says a good +trade-mark is 70% of the battle, and we’ve got the best trade-mark I ever +heard of. + +MARY. You think we ought to keep on advertising? + +PEALE. Sure, if we can get credit. + +RODNEY. I suppose we might as well owe forty thousand as twenty. + +PEALE. Absolutely. Half of all modern advertising success is based on a +good trade-mark, and ours is a bird. + +RODNEY. By George, that’s true, we simply have got to keep going. We’ll +manage somehow. + +MARY. I like to hear you say that. + +PEALE. Now you’re talking. We’ll conduct the greatest campaign since +George W. Advertising was a young man. + +MISS BURKE. (_Entering with one letter from door upper R._) Here’s the +morning mail. (_RODNEY takes letter, returns front of desk, MISS BURKE +exits R._) + +PEALE. Pretty heavy mail. (_Coming down L. of RODNEY_) + +MARY. I’ll bet it’s another bill. (_Coming down R. of RODNEY_) + +RODNEY. Hurrah! Hurrah! It’s from the Countess. + +MARY. What does she say? + +PEALE. (_Grabbing letter, and looking at it_) Oh, French stuff. + +RODNEY. She says she was delayed abroad, but that she’s due to-day on the +Imper_a_tor or Rotter or whatever you call it, this morning, and that +she’s coming to see us at eleven. + +MARY. It’s half-past eleven now. Oh, dear. + +PEALE. Fear not. Remember, though a Countess, she is still a woman: give +her time. + +MARY. Does she say anything about the $15,000? + +RODNEY. No. + +PEALE. Well, I’ve got a hunch everything’s going to be all right, or she +wouldn’t have written us at all. + +RODNEY. Her $15,000’ll keep us going for quite a while. + +MISS BURKE. (_Entering from door upper R._) Mr. McChesney is here to see +you. + +MARY. The advertising man. (_Goes to typewriter desk, and pounds on it_) + +MISS BURKE. He seems very angry, too. + +RODNEY. Tell him I’m out. (_Goes to chair behind desk and sits_) + +MCCHESNEY. (_Entering from door upper R._) Thought I’d come right in +instead of waiting to have her tell me you were out. (_Going to RODNEY_) + +(_MISS BURKE exits._) + +RODNEY. (_Genially_) Why, hello, Mr. McChesney. + +PEALE. (_Trying to shake hands_) How are you, Mac? + +MCCHESNEY. (_Throwing him off_) You may be in the soap business, but cut +out the soft soap with me. Where’s my money? Have you got it? + +RODNEY. Why—er—the fact is—— + +MCCHESNEY. That means you haven’t. + +RODNEY. Well, you see—— + +MCCHESNEY. That doesn’t go with me. Do you think you can put me off? You +can bet your blooming liabilities you can’t. I think this whole concern +is bunk and I’m going after you good—— + +RODNEY. I don’t care for that kind of loud talk. Drop it. + +PEALE. Drop it. + +MCCHESNEY. (_Surprised_) What? + +PEALE. He said, drop it. + +RODNEY. It’s simply that I haven’t had time to examine your bill in +detail. This afternoon, however, I—— + +MCCHESNEY. I’ve heard that before. Now, see here, Mr. Martin—your +father’s an honest man: he won’t stand for his son not paying me my +money. I’ll see him now. (_He starts for door_) + +RODNEY. Wait a minute, wait a minute. I’ll give you a check for $2,500 on +account. I presume that will be satisfactory. + +MCCHESNEY. (_Taken aback_) Why, yes—sure—but—— + +RODNEY. You understand, Mr. Peale, that not a cent of that fifty thousand +dollars we appropriated for our October advertising campaign is to go to +him? + +PEALE. Absolutely. + +MCCHESNEY. Now, Mr. Martin, I’ll admit I’m hasty tempered. I’m sorry I +made a mistake, but a contract is a contract and—— + +RODNEY. Here’s your check. Good-day. + +MCCHESNEY. But, Mr. Martin—— + +RODNEY. Show Mr. McChesney out. + +PEALE. (_Goes to MCCHESNEY, takes his arm and leads him to door upper +R._) Come on, Mac—this way to the elevator. (_Delighted_) Watch your step. + +(_MR. MCCHESNEY exits._) + +RODNEY. (_Gleefully_) Well, I fixed him, didn’t I? + +MARY. (_Rises and goes to RODNEY_) No, you’ve only got us into more +difficulty. You know, there’s no money in the bank. + +RODNEY. But the check won’t go through the clearing-house until to-morrow +morning and by then we’ll have the $15,000 from the Countess. + +PEALE. But where is the Countess? + +MARY. I’ll go telephone now to see if the Imperator’s docked yet. + +PEALE. I’ll bet she sank in mid-ocean! + +MISS BURKE. (_Entering_) Mr. Ellery Clark to see you. + +RODNEY. How I hate that fellow! + +PEALE. What’ve you ever done to him? + +RODNEY. Nothing. I wish I could. That’s the fellow I told you about. John +Clark’s pride. + +PEALE. Oh, yes, the son of Ivory Soap. Let’s have a peek at him? + +MISS BURKE. Yes, sir. (_She exits_) + +PEALE. I never saw a model son before. + +MARY. (_She starts down R._) Oh, Rodney, find out how Ellery’s doing in +business, will you? + +RODNEY. Oh, I suppose so. + +(_MARY exits door lower R._) + +PEALE. (_Crosses to arm-chair L._) You’re spoiling that girl. She used +to be a good business woman. Now half the time, instead of using her +brains she just sits and looks at you as if you were some marvellous +antique work of art. (_Sits_) + +(_ELLERY enters door upper R._) + +ELLERY. Hello, Rodney, mind if I come in? + +RODNEY. I’m very busy to-day, Mr. Clark. + +ELLERY. Oh, I suppose you are. Must take a lot of time to get up your +advertisements. + +PEALE. (_Rises, goes to ELLERY and offers hand_) You like ’em? I write +’em! My name’s Peale! (_Goes back to chair L. Sits_) + +ELLERY. (_Turning from him, bored_) How do you do? (_Sits in arm-chair +R._) + +RODNEY. What is it, Mr. Clark? + +ELLERY. You see, it’s like this, old top. I’ve been having rather a time +with father lately—silly old man—insisted on the absurd idea of my going +into business. Beastly bore. + +RODNEY. But you wanted to do that? + +ELLERY. I should say not. + +RODNEY. But I thought you loved work? + +ELLERY. It’s a preposterous idea—men of intelligence go in for the +professions. I paint. + +PEALE. (_Half aside_) You look it! + +RODNEY. I’d heard you were a model son. + +ELLERY. But I don’t consider it a compliment to be a success in +business—think of all the blighters who are. + +PEALE. Yes, the bally rotters! + +ELLERY. Father keeps reminding me of your success every day—most +irritating. You see, of course he’s sore, because I never bothered much +about business. Oh, I have tackled a thing or two. But luck was always +against me. It just happened it didn’t work out right. Not my fault, you +understand? + +PEALE. You couldn’t be to blame. + +ELLERY. Of course, if I ever devoted myself to business! But, after all, +when you know you can do a thing you want to, why bother to do it, if it +bores you? + +PEALE. Yes, life is a damn nuisance. + +ELLERY. (_Sighing_) And father has been so offensive lately, I’ve decided +to give a little time to business and make a success of it. I can, you +know. + +RODNEY. Indeed? + +PEALE. Seems simple. + +ELLERY. Oh, rather. I have it all figured out. For my scheme I’ve got to +raise seventy-five hundred dollars, and I wanted to talk to you about it. +This idea of mine is an automobile proposition. I really need $10,000, +and I’ve only got $2,500. + +(_RODNEY and PEALE exchange looks and walk over to ELLERY, one on each +side of him._) + +RODNEY. Ellery, why do you want to go into the automobile business? It’s +dangerous—unsafe—— + +PEALE. The risk’s tremendous. + +RODNEY. Ellery, our families are old friends. Now, if you really want to +show your father you’re a money-maker, why don’t you buy some shares in +our company? + +ELLERY. I don’t care much about the idea of being in the soap +business—rather vulgar. + +RODNEY. But you don’t have to be in the business. + +PEALE. Absolutely not. + +RODNEY. It’s a very simple proposition. All you do is invest and then sit +still and deposit your checks when we pay dividends. + +ELLERY. I say, that sounds a bit better. + +RODNEY. We’re not letting the general public in—but it’d be such a joke +on your father for you to make money. + +ELLERY. Yes, wouldn’t it? (_They all laugh_) I fancy he’d be mighty glad +I had sense enough to go in with you. + +RODNEY. Yes, wouldn’t he? + +ELLERY. But is it a safe investment? + +RODNEY. Why, we’d guarantee you against loss from our assets. + +PEALE. Yes, from our assets. + +ELLERY. That sounds rather ripping. But what would I get for my +twenty-five hundred? + +PEALE. A receipt. + +ELLERY. I know, I know, but what interest in the business? + +RODNEY. Two and one-half per cent. + +ELLERY. I say, is that much? + +RODNEY. Think what two and a half per cent in the steel trust would mean. + +PEALE. And more people use soap than steel. + +ELLERY. (_Wisely_) Isn’t steel dearer? + +RODNEY. It’s quantity that counts. + +PEALE. Four cakes a year to every person in this country would represent +an annual output of 400,000,000 cakes—and think of all the babies who’ll +be born next year. They’ll all have to be washed. + +ELLERY. Very true, very true. What is the annual birth-rate? + +RODNEY. Let me see, let me see; do you know, Peale? + +PEALE. There’s one born every minute. + +ELLERY. I fancy that’s true. + +PEALE. You can bet it is. + +RODNEY. Now, what do you say, Ellery, about investing in our company? + +ELLERY. (_After a long pause, rises and shakes hands with RODNEY_) I’ll +do it. + +PEALE. God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world! (_Crosses L._) + +RODNEY. Have you the money with you? + +ELLERY. Why, no. + +PEALE. Then you’ll send us a check to-day? + +ELLERY. I don’t get the money until next week. + +RODNEY. Why not? + +ELLERY. Father didn’t promise it to me till next Monday. + +PEALE. Well, ask him for it now. + +ELLERY. Oh, I’m afraid I can’t. He’s out of town. + +RODNEY. We can’t agree to hold the matter open until next Monday. (_Goes +to chair behind desk and sits_) + +PEALE. No, not till way next Monday. Why don’t you telephone him? + +ELLERY. Yes, that wouldn’t be so distressing. If I can get him—I find him +considerably easier to talk to on the ’phone. I can always ring off. + +PEALE. Come this way—it’ll be quieter for you if he’s noisy. (_Goes to +ELLERY, takes his arm, and leads him to door lower R._) + +MARY. (_Enters door lower R._) Oh, how do you do, Mr. Clark? + +ELLERY. Oh, how do you do? (_They shake hands_) + +PEALE. (_Pushing him out_) Never mind the social chatter. Ellery, you +don’t mind my calling you Ellery—do you, Ellery? (_To her_) You see, +Ellery has work to do. (_Exit ELLERY. MARY goes to L._) If that’s a model +son, thank God I was born a black sheep! + +RODNEY. (_To MARY_) Has the Imperator docked? + +MARY. Three hours ago. + +PEALE. Then I’ll bet the Countess has been hit by a taxi! (_Drinks_) + +MARY. Oh, Rodney, did you find out how well Ellery’s doing? + +RODNEY. Oh, great! Hasn’t made a cent. Wanted to borrow some money from +me. + +MARY. Your father’d be glad to hear that. + +PEALE. Oh, where is our wandering Countess? (_Crosses to L._) + +MISS BURKE. (_Entering_) The Countess de Boureen. + +PEALE. By golly, she enters on the cue. + +RODNEY. We’re saved now. + +MARY. Oh, I do hope so. + +RODNEY. Get her right in here, quick. + +(_MISS BURKE exits._) + +ELLERY. (_Sticking his head in at door_) How do you use this ’phone? I’ve +never run a switchboard! + +MARY. Oh, I’ll come show you. (_Crosses to R._) + +ELLERY. Oh, thank you. I’m not much at mechanical problems. (_He exits_) + +RODNEY. (_To MARY as she goes_) And get his father for him; it may mean +$2,500 more for us. + +PEALE. (_Runs to door R. shouting to MARY_) Do anything: hold his +hand—kiss him! (_She exits. To RODNEY_) Do you need an interpreter for +the Countess? + +RODNEY. (_As he speaks, goes over and pulls down a shade on which is +painted an advertisement in French_) I can understand anything she says +about money. You can help me count it. + +PEALE. That’s the grandest sensation I know. (_Crosses to L._) + +MISS BURKE. (_Announcing_) The Countess de Bowreen. + +(_COUNTESS sweeps in. RODNEY delighted. Goes to her and kisses her hand._) + +RODNEY. Ah, bonjour—bonjour. + +COUNTESS. Bonjour—bonjour. + +RODNEY. (_Pointing to window shade_) Regardez. + +COUNTESS. Ah, magnifique, superbe, superbe! Je suis désolée d’être si en +retard, mais c’est très compliqué à la douane. (_Coming down in front of +desk_) + +RODNEY. Not at all. (_Going to her_) + +PEALE. Not at all. (_Going to her_) + +COUNTESS. (_Threatening_) Vous avez reçu ma lettre? + +RODNEY. Letter? Yes, I got your letter. + +PEALE. (_Leaning forward eagerly to her_) Oh, you little life-saver. + +RODNEY. (_To her_) Mon manager, you remember? + +COUNTESS. Je suis enchantée de vous revoir. + +(_PEALE bows very low._) + +RODNEY. Kiss her hand—it’s French stuff. + +(_PEALE kisses her hand._) + +PEALE. She looks like money—ask her—ask her. + +RODNEY. (_Nervously_) You have the money? + +COUNTESS. Eh? + +PEALE. (_Snapping his fingers_) Come on, kid, say yes, say yes. + +RODNEY. Vous avez argent? + +COUNTESS. Oui, oui, j’ai l’argent. + +PEALE. What does she say? + +RODNEY. She says yes. + +PEALE. Shall I kiss her? + +RODNEY. Do you want to spoil everything? Don’t kiss her till we get the +money. The money with you? + +COUNTESS. Eh? + +RODNEY. Argent avec vous? + +COUNTESS. Oui, j’ai l’argent ici. (_Opening bag and taking out check_) + +PEALE. It’s real. + +COUNTESS. C’est un chèque de Morgan Harjes pour cent mille francs. + +RODNEY. (_Looking at it_) Draft for $20,000 in full payment for French +rights of the 13 Soap. + +COUNTESS. Je vous donnerai ce chèque pour vingt mille dollars, mais comme +je ne vous dois que quinze mille, vous pourrez me donner votre chèque +pour cinq mille. Cela finira notre affaire. + +PEALE. Slip it to me, kid, slip it to me. I’m dying on my feet. (_Takes +check from RODNEY_) + +RODNEY. She says she’ll give us the draft for $20,000, but as she only +owes us $15,000, we must give her back our check for $5,000. + +PEALE. That seems simple, give her the check. + +RODNEY. But we haven’t any money in the bank. Suppose we get her check +cashed first. Then we can pay her. + +PEALE. Sure, great! I’ll go right over to the bank to get it certified. +(_COUNTESS takes check from PEALE and tears it up_) What’s the matter +with you? What’s the matter? + +(_COUNTESS is smiling._) + +RODNEY. She’s crazy—— + +COUNTESS. Ah mais non, l’affaire c’est fini maintenant—— + +PEALE. Talk French to her. + +RODNEY. Pourquoi tear it up—pourquoi—pourquoi? + +COUNTESS. Gee, but you’re funny! + +RODNEY. She spoke English! She’s a fake. (_RODNEY and PEALE stare at her +speechless, PEALE pointing toward the draft_) + +PEALE. The draft was phoney, too. + +COUNTESS. (_Smiling_) Sure it was. + +PEALE. But what’s the idea, kid? + +COUNTESS. (_Sits on desk_) You see, I was going to trim you out of your +$5,000 check, but as long as you haven’t any money, your check’s no good, +so you’ve busted up my whole scheme. + +PEALE. But why pick on us? + +COUNTESS. I didn’t start out to: you wished it on yourselves. I came to +trim your father. You remember, I wanted to see him, but I looked so +soft you thought you’d grab me off and sell me the French agency of your +Thirteen Soap. I didn’t think your father could be as big a boob as you +were, so I changed my plans. Do you get me? + +PEALE. Yes, I get you and now I’m going to get the cops to get you. +(_Starts up-stage_) + +COUNTESS. (_Laughs. Crosses down L._) I should burst into laughter. Why, +you pikers, I’m on: you’re busted. You haven’t any money and you have got +a phoney company. + +RODNEY. Now, see here—(_Goes to her_) + +COUNTESS. Preserve it. Preserve it. (_Crosses to center_) Don’t forget, +I’ve understood everything you two guys were talking about. + +PEALE. Whew! (_Sits in arm-chair R._) + +RODNEY. Gee! (_Goes to arm-chair L._) + +COUNTESS. (_To RODNEY_) “Kiss her hand—it’s French stuff.” (_To PEALE_) +“Ah, there, you little life-saver.” (_To RODNEY_) “The money with +you—argent avec vous?” Gee, your French is rotten. (_To PEALE, who moves +away_) “Shall I kiss her?” (_A pause_) Send for the cops and I’ll blow +the whole thing to the papers. (_A pause_) Well, I guess we’re quits. If +you had any money I’d ask for a piece of change to keep me quiet, but as +it is, I can’t waste my time. + +RODNEY. (_Rises_) You’re not French at all? + +COUNTESS. I was educated over there—immense, wasn’t I? You never tumbled +at all. + +PEALE. (_Rises_) But why the foreign stuff? + +COUNTESS. Well, I can talk good French—but my English is punk. (_Sits on +desk_) + +RODNEY. You won’t say anything now? + +COUNTESS. No, I don’t hit a fellow when he’s down. Anyhow, we’re all in +the same class. Three fakes. + +PEALE. She has spilled the beans. + +RODNEY. Great Scott! And McChesney has our check for $2,500. + +PEALE. (_To RODNEY_) Gee! We will just have to get that $2,500 from +ELLERY. + +RODNEY. What’s happened to Ellery? Let’s find him. (_They start for door +R._) + +PEALE. If he falls down on us—— + +ELLERY. (_Entering_) Can I see you a moment? + +RODNEY. I should say you could. + +PEALE. You seem very beastly pleased, Ellery. + +ELLERY. Oh, I am. + +RODNEY. Then everything’s all right about father? + +ELLERY. Oh, yes, so to speak—in a way. + +RODNEY. Ah? + +PEALE. (_Suddenly suspicious_) What do you mean—so to speak, in a way? + +ELLERY. Well, I couldn’t reach the old man on the ’phone, and that did +make matters so much easier. I don’t fancy talking to father on the +’phone. + +PEALE. Why couldn’t you reach him? + +ELLERY. (_Smiling happily_) Why, he’s on his yacht somewhere on the +Sound—he won’t be home till Monday, so I can’t possibly get the money for +you to-day. + +(_RODNEY and PEALE walk up-stage while the COUNTESS drops her +handkerchief. ELLERY picks it up and smiles back delightedly at her. MARY +enters from door lower R._) + +MARY. Look out. McChesney’s coming back here—I just saw him across the +street. + +PEALE. Try and keep him out. + +MARY. I’ll do my best. (_She exits door upper R._) + +RODNEY. Ellery, you’ll have to go—we’ve got a big job on our hands. Au +revoir, Countess. + +COUNTESS. Au revoir, Monsieur. (_With marked accent_) Is there no one to +see me to my taxi? These American buildings are so big I am lost. + +RODNEY. Ellery, you take the Countess. + +ELLERY. Oh, I’d love to. + +RODNEY. Madame la comtesse de Beaurien—Ellery Clark. + +COUNTESS. Dee-lighted. + +ELLERY. So am I. + +RODNEY. (_Opens door lower L._) You can go out the private entrance. + +ELLERY. (_Going toward left_) Oh, certainly. + +COUNTESS. (_As they go_) You speak the French? + +ELLERY. No, not at all. + +COUNTESS. A pitee. + +ELLERY. But I can speak German. + +COUNTESS. Aber prachtvoll—Ich habe die Deutche sprache so furchtbar gern. + +ELLERY. Ich auch—— + +COUNTESS. Warum laden sie mich nicht zum Biltmore zum Thee ein? + +ELLERY. Mit dem grössten—— + +COUNTESS. Vergnuegen? + +ELLERY. (_Relieved_) Yes, that’s the word—Vergnuegen. + +PEALE. I’ll bet there’s a Berlitz in her family somewhere. + +COUNTESS. Au revoir, Mr. Martin—(_Turning to RODNEY_) Vous êtes trop +aimable. Je vous remercie beaucoup de votre politesse. Au revoir—(_Goes +to PEALE—in undertone_) So long, kid, call me up sometime. (_And then, +chattering a stream of German to ELLERY, they exit door left_) + +RODNEY. (_Closes door after COUNTESS exits_) Well, I’ve got to hand it to +her. The Countess is a fake. Ellery is a flivver and McChesney’s on his +way here with that phoney check. (_Goes to his chair behind desk_) + +PEALE. I can see Sing-Sing from here. (_Goes to chair L. corner, sits +quickly_) + +(_MCCHESNEY bursts in, followed by MARY._) + +MCCHESNEY. No, I won’t wait. You’re two swindlers. I’ve just come from +the bank. Your check’s no good. + +RODNEY. No good! That’s impossible. + +PEALE. Absolutely. + +MCCHESNEY. You haven’t any money in the bank. + +RODNEY. It must be some mistake on the part of our cashier. + +MCCHESNEY. Yes it is—ask him. + +RODNEY. He’s at lunch. + +MCCHESNEY. I’m going to the sheriff now, and unless you make the check +good at my office in an hour, I’m going to cancel your advertising, cover +up your billboards and send you both to jail, and that goes. (_He exits_) + +MARY. Can’t you pay him? + +RODNEY. With what? + +MARY. What happened to the Countess? Didn’t she give you the money? + +RODNEY. No, and she nearly got us for five thousand dollars. + +MARY. What? + +RODNEY. She’s a fake. + +MARY. The swindler! And the man from the Edison Company is here to say +that unless they get some money at once they’ll cut off the current from +all our signs, and the agent of the landlord is waiting for the rent. He +seems very suspicious and wants to be paid for last month right away. +What can I say to them? + +(_RODNEY shakes his head._) + +PEALE. I don’t know. + +MARY. Oh, please send for your father and give in. + +RODNEY. No. + +MARY. You know I want you to succeed, but there’s no use fighting odds +like these—you haven’t any money, you’re way in debt, and you mustn’t be +disgraced. Please send for your father. I’m sure he’ll help you. + +RODNEY. I wonder if I’d better? What do you think, Peale? + +PEALE. I don’t know. + +MARY. Do telephone him right away. (_Crosses to door lower R._) Now I +must try to fix the Edison man and the landlord, or they’ll be in here. +(_To PEALE_) What can I say to them? + +PEALE. I don’t know. + +MARY. Oh, I’ll say you’re both out. (_She exits door lower R._) + +PEALE. That’ll be a new one. + +RODNEY. Do you happen to know the sheriff? + +PEALE. Not yet. I’d like to have a pull enough to get a cell with a +southern exposure. + +RODNEY. What are we going to do? + +PEALE. I don’t know. + +RODNEY. What are you here for? + +PEALE. I know, but I can’t think. + +MISS BURKE. (_Entering_) Mr. Cyrus Martin to see you. + +PEALE _and_ RODNEY. Who? + +MISS BURKE. Mr. Cyrus Martin. + +RODNEY. Have him wait. + +PEALE. Have him what? (_Rises and goes to RODNEY_) + +RODNEY. Just a minute till I think. When I ring, show him in. + +MISS BURKE. Yes, sir. (_She exits_) + +PEALE. He must be here to make a deal. Our scheme worked—we’ve put it +over, and what did it? Advertising. + +RODNEY. But father’s no fool. We’ve got to be very careful. How’ll we +handle it? I’m not used to putting it over on father. + +PEALE. Don’t forget the factory and the Ivory Soap people and the plans, +and get busy. You know. (_He makes motions and brings letter-file from +rack and throws contents on desk_) That rubber-stamp stuff. + +RODNEY. But isn’t this playing it rather low down on father? + +PEALE. Oh, don’t get cold feet now? + +RODNEY. We really haven’t anything to sell him. + +PEALE. Yes, we have—a trade-mark. You know it’s good, so do I. We only +need your father to back us and we’ll make a lot of money for him in +spite of himself. + +RODNEY. I guess that’s true. + +PEALE. Sure it is, and anyhow all’s fair in love and business. + +ELLERY. (_Coming in at private door left_) Oh, I beg pardon, but I was so +fascinated at meeting the Countess, I forgot my stick. + +RODNEY. Can’t see you now, Ellery. (_He goes over and pulls down two +windows shades on which are painted ads of 13 Soap_) + +PEALE. (_Giving him gloves_) No, can’t ever see you again, Ellery. Here’s +your cane. Now, hurry, Ellery. (_He starts to lead him to door_) + +ELLERY. The Countess is perfectly delightful— + +RODNEY. (_Suddenly goes to ELLERY_) Hold on, hold on, Ellery, can you +wait in there five minutes? + +ELLERY. (_Pausing_) But the Countess is downstairs in a taxi. + +RODNEY. Oh, she’ll wait for you, and charge the taxi to Mr. Peale. He’ll +be right in and explain everything to you. + +PEALE. Oh, yes, I’ll explain. + +ELLERY. I don’t want to detain the Countess too long. Hate to keep a lady +waiting—all that sort of thing. You know what women are. (_He exits left_) + +PEALE. Now, what is it, what do you want that gink for? + +RODNEY. Don’t you see? + +PEALE. No, I’m near-sighted. + +RODNEY. He’s the son of Ivory Soap. Coach him with some important message +from old John Clark to us about a merger, and when father begins to +wabble, have Ellery come in with the message. That’ll send father kerflop +to the mat. + +PEALE. (_Going_) Master! Great, great, I get you. I’ll fix Ellery. This +is your father’s Waterloo. (_At door_) As soon as I’ve taught Ellery his +lesson I’ll be right back. I’ll tell him when we ring the bell twice, to +bust in with his little recitation. + +RODNEY. But don’t let him get on to our game. + +PEALE. He couldn’t get on to anything but a weighing machine. (_He goes +out left_) + +(_RODNEY pushes the buzzer and then takes up the ’phone, keeping his eye +on the door. In a moment CYRUS MARTIN enters._) + +RODNEY. No, much obliged, but we can’t consider it. No stock for +sale—it’s quite out of the question. Good-bye. (_Ringing off and then +pretending to be surprised, turns and sees his father_) Why, hello, +father. + +MARTIN. Hello, son. + +RODNEY. (_RODNEY gets very busy with papers and rubber-stamp_) Sit down, +won’t you? Be with you in just a minute. + +MARTIN. (_Drily_) Thanks. + +(_RODNEY very busy again with filing papers and opening and closing +drawers. MARTIN looks at him in astonishment._) + +RODNEY. Have a cigar? (_He abstractedly passes him a box_) + +MARTIN. Thanks—(_He bites off end and lights it, and as he does so, +RODNEY again gets busy with similar business_) Surprised to see me, I +suppose? + +RODNEY. Not a bit. (_He starts signing a contract. MARTIN, who has risen, +attempts to glance at it, and as he does so, RODNEY calmly turns it over +and blots it. MARTIN turns away_) There, that’s done! Now, father, what +can I do for you? + +MARTIN. Well, my boy—I just dropped in for a social call. The fact is, +I’ve rather missed you. + +RODNEY. I’ve missed you too, father. + +MARTIN. (_Abruptly_) Thought I’d have a look in and find out how things +were going. (_Sits in arm-chair R._) + +RODNEY. Fine—fine—everything’s breezing right along. Of course, I’m +always glad to see you, but right now, father I’m pretty busy, so you’ll +excuse me if—(_He gets busy again with rubber-stamp_) + +MARTIN. (_With a certain sarcasm_) Well, if you can spare the time, I’d +like a little business talk with you, Rodney. + +RODNEY. Certainly, in just a minute. (_Gets busy with papers. Pushes the +buzzer_) + +PEALE. (_Entering_) Oh, excuse me. + +RODNEY. That’s all right, come right in. Father, you remember Mr. +Peale—Peale, my father—— + +PEALE. Indeed yes, I recall very well—— + +MARTIN. (_Gruffly cutting him off_) How are you? + +PEALE. (_Sitting in chair left_) A bit tired—just back from Buffalo where +I’ve been conducting a big campaign. + +MARTIN. Then it is to you I should address myself? + +RODNEY. Either or both of us. + +MARTIN. (_Rises and goes to desk_) Then both of you listen to me. You’ve +got to cut out this nonsense you call advertising. + +RODNEY. What nonsense? + +PEALE. (_Weakly_) Yes, what? + +MARTIN. This morning there was a parade of sandwich-men in front of my +house for two hours. I had to have them arrested. I got to the office to +find another bunch. It annoys me. + +RODNEY. I’m sorry, father. + +MARTIN. You’re trying to make a fool of me. I open a letter. It’s a +circular for 13 Soap. I open my newspaper—you have a page ad. I look +out of the window—there’s a billboard—I take a train, the damned porter +apologizes because he’s all out of 13 Soap. + +RODNEY. Well, of course, all that proves how wonderful our publicity is. + +MARTIN. (_Grimly_) You’re a grand young bluff, my son. + +RODNEY. Why, father, what do you mean? + +MARTIN. I’ll tell you exactly what I mean: I’ve let you ramble on to see +just how far you would go, but you’ve been spending a lot of money on +ridiculous advertising, hoping that by annoying me I’ll buy your business +to get rid of you. Well, I’m not going to. Now what have you got to say +to that? Eh—eh? + +PEALE. (_Rises quickly_) Nothing—absolutely nothing. (_Sits_) + +RODNEY. (_Quickly_) But I have a lot to say. We may not have a big +business now, but we have got a trade-mark, the catchiest trade-mark ever +invented for soap. We’re a growing concern. Just because our advertising +annoys you, you mustn’t think it’s valueless. Why, it’s so good that +capital is chasing us: our money is practically unlimited. Is that a fair +statement, Peale? + +PEALE. (_Dazed at RODNEY’S bluff_) Very fair—very fair indeed—— + +MARTIN. Bluff, son, bluff! + +RODNEY. Not at all. And since you’re so skeptical, father, I don’t mind +letting you see the plans for our new factory. (_Takes plans from desk_) + +MARTIN. New factory? + +RODNEY. Yes, father—these are the offices, this is Miss Grayson’s office, +this is Mr. Peale’s office, and this is mine. + +MARTIN. Well, aren’t you going to make any soap? + +RODNEY. Right here, where our capacity will be—— + +MARTIN. Who’s putting up the money? + +RODNEY. (_Reprovingly_) Now, father, you cannot expect me to divulge a +business secret to you, a rival manufacturer. + +PEALE. Oh, why not tell him, he is your father? + +RODNEY. Well, Peale, if you really think it is wise? + +PEALE. Oh, yes, I think it’s quite wise. + +RODNEY. It’s the Ivory Soap people. + +MARTIN. (_At once impressed and annoyed_) The Ivory Soap people? + +PEALE. (_Rises and goes to desk. Rubbing it in_) Yes, the Ivory Soap +people. + +MARTIN. You mean John Clark? + +RODNEY. Yes. + +PEALE. Absolutely. (_MARTIN turns and reflectively walks up-stage. PEALE +very obviously picks up push-button and pushes buzzer twice; it rings off +left. There is a pause, and then in a moment, ELLERY enters_) + +ELLERY. Oh, excuse me. I didn’t know your father was here. + +RODNEY. (_Very genially_) That’s all right, Ellery. + +PEALE. (_The same_) Come right in. + +ELLERY. How do you do, Mr. Martin? + +MARTIN. (_Gruffly_) How are you, Ellery? + +ELLERY. Well, I really can’t wait any longer. The party downstairs in the +taxi—you follow me? + +PEALE. Yes, Ellery you told us that—— + +ELLERY. Well, good-bye, then. + +RODNEY. Was that all you came in to say? + +ELLERY. (_Remembering_) Oh, yes, of course. If you’ll keep it open until +Monday I’ll get the money for you then. + +RODNEY. But we can’t wait till Monday. + +ELLERY. But Mr. Peale told me—— + +PEALE. (_Interrupting quickly_) We’ll see what we can do, but just now, +Ellery, we’re very much occupied. (_He has him by the arm_) + +RODNEY. Oh, just a minute: you’d better give your father back the +plans—say they’re quite satisfactory. (_Gives plans to PEALE_) + +ELLERY. What plans? + +PEALE. Don’t you know? + +ELLERY. No. + +PEALE. That’s too bad. Well, good-bye, Ellery. + +ELLERY. I say, I do find business very confusing. (_He exits_) + +PEALE. (_As he comes back_) Ellery talks too much. + +RODNEY. He is very indiscreet—if it had been anybody but father he’d have +given our whole plan away. + +MARTIN. What’s he doing here—acting for his father? + +PEALE. Absolutely. + +MARTIN. You’re not going to take him in—that pin-head? Why, he didn’t +even seem to know what he was _trying_ to get at. + +PEALE. No, he didn’t, did he? + +RODNEY. But after all, he does represent Ivory Soap. + +PEALE. Great soap, Ivory! Over 99 per cent pure. (_Sits in arm-chair L._) + +MARTIN. (_Grunting_) Ivory Soap? (_He walks up and down while RODNEY +and PEALE exchange gleeful glances. After a considerable pause_) Well, +thinking things over, why should you and I fight? + +RODNEY. You began it, father. + +MARTIN. Quite true, and therefore I should be the one to call it off. +Now, son, here’s the idea: I’d rather have you with me than against +me—the money doesn’t matter much. In your way, while I don’t endorse that +kind of publicity, I suppose you boys think your sensational ads are good. + +PEALE. (_Rising_) Thank you, sir. + +MARTIN. Not at all. (_To RODNEY_) And if you’re going to have a backer, +wouldn’t I be better than the Ivory Soap people? + +RODNEY. After all, blood is thicker than business. What do you suggest? + +MARTIN. Suppose I buy you out—including your trade-mark and goodwill? + +PEALE. Oh, you have our goodwill now, sir. (_Rises and bows very +profusely, then sits_) + +RODNEY. (_Reflectively_) Buying us out might be expensive for you, +father. + +MARTIN. Oh, I guess it won’t take all the money I’ve got. What’s your +proposition? + +RODNEY. What’s yours? + +MARTIN. Well, I’ll give you $50,000 for your business as it stands. + +RODNEY. But we don’t want to give up our business. I like business. + +PEALE. (_Grandly_) We wish to continue in our chosen profession. + +MARTIN. Well, suppose you take 25% of the profits in addition? + +RODNEY. It’s a wonderful autumn, isn’t it? These crisp cold bracing +mornings. + +MARTIN. Well, I hardly thought you’d grab at that. What will you take? + +RODNEY. (_Rising quickly_) One hundred thousand dollars cash, you assume +all the contracts and obligations of this company, give us 40% of the +profits, a contract for me at $20,000 a year; for Miss Grayson at +$10,000, (_PEALE coughs_)—and another for Mr. Peale at the same figure. + +MARTIN. Done. (_Shakes hands with RODNEY_) + +(_PEALE and RODNEY exchange looks and shake hands._) + +RODNEY. I congratulate you, father. + +MARTIN. You needn’t. Your trade-mark might appeal to a lot of +superstitious idiots, but as a business proposition I don’t think much of +it. But now I’ll show old John Clark he can’t butt into my family affairs +or get Ellery mixed up with my boy’s business. + +RODNEY. Yes, father, we’d much rather have you than Ellery. + +PEALE. Oh, _much rather_. + +MISS BURKE. (_Entering_) Oh, Mr. Martin! + +RODNEY. Yes? + +MARTIN. Yes? + +RODNEY. (_Going to her_) That’s for me, father. (_To MISS BURKE_) What is +it? + +MISS BURKE. The agent for the landlord says he’s got to see you +immediately. + +RODNEY. (_Motioning her to be quiet_) I’ll be right out. (_To MARTIN, +very nervously_) You see, father, we’re thinking of taking larger +offices. Come, Peale. We’ll be right back, father. + +PEALE. Yes, father, we’ll be right back. (_They hurriedly exit_) + +MARTIN. (_Stands there watching them proudly. MISS GRAYSON enters door +lower R._) Hello, Miss Grayson, it’s mighty good to see you again—I—— + +MARY. Oh, Mr. Martin, I’m so glad Rodney finally sent for you. + +MARTIN. (_Surprised_) Sent for me? (_Goes in front of desk_) + +MARY. Have you talked to him? + +MARTIN. Oh, yes, he just went out for a minute to see the agent of the +landlord—— + +MARY. Oh, then he told you about that? (_Goes to him_) + +MARTIN. (_Puzzled_) Yes, he told me—why not? + +MARY. I am so glad to think he wasn’t ashamed to tell you the truth. + +MARTIN. Oh, Rodney always was a truthful lad. + +MARY. Oh, I’m so happy you’ve settled with him! You have settled, haven’t +you? (_Goes to arm-chair R._) + +MARTIN. Yes, sure. + +MARY. Oh, good. Isn’t it wonderful for him? (_Very sweetly_) Just think! +Without you he couldn’t have lasted out the day. (_Crossing down in front +of desk_) + +MARTIN. Couldn’t have lasted out the day, ha, ha! Then our little scheme +to put Rodney on his feet didn’t work? + +MARY. But everything’s all right now. You’re going to help him—— + +MARTIN. Everything’s great now—(_Knocked off his feet, then recovering +himself_) Oh, by the way, in our negotiations the one thing that Rodney +didn’t fully go into was the nature of the assets. + +MARY. The assets! They must have made even you laugh. Why, we haven’t +any! (_She laughs_) + +MARTIN. (_Trying to laugh_) Haven’t any! Ha—ha—by the way, there was a +report on the Street to-day that the Ivory Soap people were going to make +a deal with Rodney—build him a factory— + +MARY. (_Innocently_) Oh, there’s nothing in that. + +MARTIN. Are you sure? As I got here, I thought I saw Ellery Clark leaving. + +MARY. Oh, he didn’t come here on business: Ellery came to borrow some +money from Rodney—isn’t that funny? + +MARTIN. Oh, yes, very funny—but the plans? + +MARY. Rodney showed you some plans? He must have been joking! + +MARTIN. (_Changing his whole manner_) The young scoundrel! (_Starts to go +up-stage_) + +MARY. What! + +MARTIN. (_Stops_) Thank you, Miss Grayson, for telling me. Do you know +what he tried to do to me? Hold me up for a hundred thousand dollars, +make me think Ivory Soap was backing him, too—and but for you, he’d have +succeeded. + +MARY. What have I done? + +MARTIN. You saved me a lot of money and kept me from being a fool. Thank +you! Good-morning. (_Starts for door upper R._) + +MARY. You mean at last he’d succeeded in getting you to back him? + +MARTIN. At last! (_Coming to her, lays hat on desk_) So that was his +scheme all the time, was it? He didn’t go into business on the level, +but just for my benefit? And you were helping him. Well, he can thank you +again for having failed. + +MARY. It’s all my fault. + +MARTIN. Yes it is, from the start. You got up the plan of my pretending +to put him out of the house—— + +MARY. Oh, but I tell you, you must help him. + +MARTIN. Help him yourself. You’ve got $5,000. + +MARY. But I gave it to him. + +MARTIN. My son took money from you? + +MARY. He didn’t know—I pretended it was from a friend. + +MARTIN. Well, you got him in; now you can get him out. + +MARY. But your bet—you bet $30,000 with John Clark. You don’t want to +lose that? + +MARTIN. Well, if Ellery’s trying to borrow money from Rodney it looks +like an even break—and anyhow I’d lose the bet twice over rather than +have my son think he could make a fool of his father. + +MARY. But he is a good business man: he’d make you proud of him. You +don’t know how hard he’s worked, how fine he’s been; he’s simply +wonderful. If he could keep on a little longer, I know he’d succeed. If +you’ll just help him, he’ll make money. You’ll see he will. + +MARTIN. Of course, you want him to make money. You’re thinking of that +percentage contract with me. + +MARY. I’m not! Oh, I’m not! I can’t see him fail. Listen: I’ll try to +give you back what you’ve given me—I don’t care anything about the +contract. I’ll tear it up now if you’ll just help him. + +MARTIN. By George, I believe you really are in love with him! + +MARY. (_Proudly_) Yes, I am—now. But that doesn’t matter. We’ve got to +save him—save his business. + +MARTIN. I won’t give him a nickel. Good-bye! (_Starts to go_) + +MARY. But you can’t go like this: he’ll be disgraced! He’s in debt. + +MARTIN. Let him get out of it—it’ll do him good. I’ve been a sentimental +fool. I’ve made it all too easy for him. (_Coming down R._) + +MARY. But that’s your fault, too. + +MARTIN. Yes it is, and I don’t propose to repeat the error. He’s lied to +me all the way through. We’ll let him face the truth; now we’ll see what +he’s made of. + +(_RODNEY and PEALE enter._) + +RODNEY. (_Coming in_) Well, we’re going to move. (_Goes to desk and sits_) + +PEALE. Yes, nice chap, that fellow. (_Coming down R._) + +RODNEY. Well, Mary, have you heard about our deal? + +MARTIN. The deal’s off. + +MARY. But—(_Sits in arm-chair L._) + +RODNEY. (_Back of desk_) Off! + +PEALE. Off! (_Goes up-stage to window_) + +MARTIN. Yes, off. + +RODNEY. But, why—why? + +MARTIN. Because you took me for a bigger fool than I am. My own son can’t +do that to me. I’ve found out now that you’re broke. + +MARY. Oh, Mr. Martin! + +MARTIN. (_Stopping her_) No! (_To RODNEY_) And all the time you were +lying to me about the Ivory Soap people and the factory they were going +to put up. You thought you could make an ass of me—get the best of me, +did you? Well, you can’t. I’m finished with you and your 13 Soap. You’ve +got a swelled head, you’re a smart alec, you’re a complete fake, you’re a +cheat, young man—— + +RODNEY. (_In utter dejection_) I guess you’re right. + +MARTIN. (_With satisfaction_) Ah! + +RODNEY. I did try to be smart. I was stuck on myself. I thought business +was a cinch. But you’re right. I have been a fake. This whole thing never +seemed real—it was just fun—like a game; but I’ve waked up, and now +it’s serious. I tried to get the best of you, but I’ll take my licking. +I don’t want any charity: I know what’s coming to me and I’ll take my +medicine. + +MARTIN. (_Relenting a little_) Well, maybe I’ve said a little too much—— + +RODNEY. No, it’s all true. + +MARTIN. But, see here, I don’t want you disgraced—I—— + +RODNEY. You told me never to come back to you for a nickel, and I won’t. +I told you, too, that I wouldn’t snivel—well, I’m not going to. Good-bye, +father—— + +MARTIN. Now, see here—— + +RODNEY. Please, father, it’s up to me and nobody else, to get out of +this. Please go. (_He holds out his hand_) + +MARTIN. (_Gently_) Good-bye, son. (_He shakes his hand. He exits_) + +(_RODNEY sits in chair dejected._) + +PEALE. (_Coming down to RODNEY_) Now, see here, little boss—— + +RODNEY. Peale, I’m sorry, but you’re fired. + +PEALE. (_Coming over and putting hand on his shoulder_) Say, little boss, +you can’t fire me. I’m just going to stick around, whatever happens. + +(_MARY touches PEALE on the arm and motions him to go out. He nods +understandingly and exits upper R. MARY comes to RODNEY._) + +MARY. Oh, Rodney, Rodney, it was all my fault. Your father had no idea of +the truth—I didn’t understand; I thought you sent for him to help you. I +told him about our company. I did it all—betrayed you. + +RODNEY. But you didn’t mean to: it’s all right, Mary. + +MARY. You forgive me? + +RODNEY. Why, of course: I love you. + +MARY. Oh, Rodney, I’m so sorry. + +RODNEY. (_Changing completely. Rises_) But if father thinks just because +he laced it into me I’m licked, he’s wrong. Maybe I have been a fake but, +by George, I won’t be any longer. (_Goes down R._) + +MARY. You’re really going on? (_Goes down L._) + +RODNEY. When I’ve got you, you bet I am. Say, do you really think a long +speech from father and no money to work with are enough to stop me? No, +sir; what father said got me for a minute, but I’m not a quitter, and +I’ll prove it. There must be something of father in me: I can’t be such +a pin-head as I look. I’ll get out of this mess the best way I can, and +then I’ll shine shoes or sell peanuts. I’ll start at the bottom instead +of finishing there. I’ll make money—I’ll—— + +MARY. Oh, Rodney, Rodney, now I am proud of you! (_She kisses him +unexpectedly and heartily_) + +RODNEY. (_Overjoyed_) What! That’s the first time you ever really kissed +me—all by yourself—like that. By George, you must love me! + +MARY. You bet I do. (_She kisses him again and they clinch as PEALE +enters excitedly, coming down R._) + +PEALE. (_Entering_) Say, I didn’t mean to interrupt! + +RODNEY. (_Still with MARY in his arms_) Nothing in the world can +interrupt me—What is it? + +PEALE. A telegram. It’s the first we ever received, and—I was afraid to +open it. + +(_MARY, taking it, looks at it nervously._) + +MARY. What awful thing can it be? (_Goes in front of desk_) + +RODNEY. Gee, I wonder what it says? (_Crosses to her_) + +PEALE. Read it. Read it. (_Crosses to her_) + +MARY. (_Having opened it_) “Rodney Martin, President 13 Soap Company, 226 +Broadway”—— + +PEALE. Go on, we know the address—— + +MARY. “Ship at once, collect, 50,000 cakes 13 Soap. Marshall Field, +Chicago.” + +RODNEY. Somebody really wants to buy some soap! + +PEALE. I don’t believe it. + +MARY. (_Handing RODNEY the telegram_) But here it is. + +RODNEY. (_Reading_) Fifty thousand cakes—it’s true. + +PEALE. We’ve started—we’ve begun! We’re actually going to sell some soap. + +RODNEY. The tide’s turned—didn’t I tell you advertising pays? We’ll sweep +the country—Europe—Asia—Africa! Go in with father? Not for a million +dollars! (_Starts up-stage_) + +PEALE. I’ll wire Marshall Field right away. (_Starts for door upper R._) + +RODNEY. Go ahead. + +MARY. (_Suddenly_) Great Heavens! + +PEALE. What is it? + +RODNEY. What’s happened? + +MARY. That order is no good. + +PEALE. What! (_Coming down R._) + +RODNEY. Why? (_Coming down L._) + +MARY. We can’t fill it: we’ve never made any soap. (_Start stand staring +at each other aghast_) + +RODNEY. What’ll we do? + +PEALE. Let’s think. (_They sit staring straight ahead_) + +(_RODNEY sits in chair L. MARY sits on table. PEALE sits in chair R._) + +RODNEY. (_Slowly_) We must get some soap. + +PEALE. (_Slowly_) Yes, I thought of that. + +MARY. (_Slowly_) Where can we get it? + +PEALE. From a soap factory! + +MARY. (_Slowly_) But they all belong to father. + +RODNEY. (_With dawning hope. Rises_) But he can’t know about this +Marshall Field order—maybe we could buy some soap before he’d have a +chance to stop them selling to us? + +(_PEALE and MARY rise._) + +PEALE. Great idea—let’s get busy. + +MARY. How? + +RODNEY. Where’s the ’phone book? (_She grabs red classified directory +from desk_) We’ll call up two or three of his branch offices. (_He has +hurriedly begun turning over pages, as PEALE on one side and MARY on the +other, help him_) Skins, skates, shirts—where’s soap? + +MARY. (_Over his shoulder_) Skylights, skates, slides—— + +PEALE. (_The same_) Smelters, smoke-stacks, snuff. + +RODNEY. Ah, here it is! Soap manufacturers—(_Skimming down page_) 276 +Broad—here’s one of father’s factories. + +PEALE. I’ve got one, too—374 Schuyler. + +MARY. So have I: 480 Audubon. (_They drop book and each dashes to a +’phone. As they give the number of ’phone, curtain. During two curtains, +till they finish lines_) + +(_Together_) + + RODNEY. 276 Broad. + + MARY. 480 Audubon. + + PEALE. 374 Schuyler—and hurry, sweetie—— + +RODNEY. (_Holding wire_) It’ll have to be Old Rose. + +PEALE. Castile is the cheapest. + +MARY. Order small cakes. + +(_Together_) + + RODNEY. Hello, this is the Martin Soap Company—we want to get + some soap—pink castile—small cakes—40 or 50,000 cakes immediate + delivery—what’s the price? + + MARY. Hello, 480 Audbon. I want to find out if I can buy a lot + of soap right away—Old Rose—castile—50,000 cakes; we want it + this afternoon. + + PEALE. Hello, son, I want to buy a lot of soap: 50,000 + cakes—got to have some of it to-day—smallest size castile cakes + you keep. If you haven’t Old Rose—pink’ll do. Who am I? None of + your business. + +(_And as all three are talking together violently in their separate +’phones,_ + +_The curtain falls._) + + + + +ACT III + + + _SCENE: The scene is the same as that of ACT I, except that it + is five o’clock in the afternoon of a day in late October._ + + _MARTIN is discovered behind the desk, right. Before him is + a pile of evening papers and some unopened letters. As the + curtain rises he opens one, displaying to the audience on its + back page a page-advertisement of 13 Soap. In a moment he turns + over to others, gives an annoyed exclamation and tosses it + aside. He picks up one of the letters, opens it, gives an angry + grunt, mutters disgustedly “13 Soap”, and throws it into the + waste basket._ + +JOHNSON. (_Entering door upper L._) Miss Grayson is here to see you, sir—— + +MARTIN. (_A bit surprised_) Miss Grayson? Well, show her in. + +JOHNSON. Very good, sir. (_He exits. MARTIN opens another paper, again +sees an advertisement of 13 Soap and with considerable irritation sweeps +the whole pile off the desk as JOHNSON enters, followed by MARY_) Miss +Grayson. (_JOHNSON exits_) + +MARY. How do you do, Mr. Martin? + +MARTIN. Come to get your job back, I suppose? + +MARY. No, sir. + +MARTIN. Well, you can have it—at the old salary. + +MARY. I don’t want it. + +MARTIN. Oh, Rodney sent you to plead for him? + +MARY. No, sir. + +MARTIN. Then, what are you here for? + +MARY. To make you a business proposition. + +MARTIN. Why doesn’t Rodney make it himself? + +MARY. He doesn’t know I’m here. + +MARTIN. That’s something in his favor: can’t see much use in women tying +up in men’s business. + +JOHNSON. (_Entering_) Mr. Rodney Martin and Ambrose Peale. + +MARTIN. Oh, the whole firm! Send ’em in, Johnson. + +JOHNSON. Very good, sir. (_He exits_) + +(_RODNEY and PEALE enter._) + +RODNEY. Hello, father. (_Crosses to table_) + +PEALE. How do you do, sir? (_Coming down L._) + +(_MARTIN grunts to them both._) + +RODNEY. (_Seeing MARY_) Mary, what on earth are you doing here? + +MARY. I came to tell your father about Marshall Field’s order. + +RODNEY. That’s why we’re here, too. + +PEALE. Absolutely. + +MARTIN. Let me tell you right now, I won’t back any fake company. + +RODNEY. But we’re not a fake any longer. + +PEALE. We’ve actually sold some soap. + +MARY. Fifty thousand cakes. + +RODNEY. To Marshall Field. + +MARTIN. Then why did you send ’em only five thousand cakes? + +RODNEY. Because after we’d got that much from one of your branch +factories you shut off our supply. + +PEALE. And we couldn’t get any more soap anywhere. + +MARY. (_Accusingly_) And you knew it very well. (_Crossing to R. side of +MR. MARTIN_) + +RODNEY. We’ve still got 45,000 cakes to deliver, if we can get ’em from +you. Why let all that money get out of the family? It’s a business +proposition. + +MARTIN. No, it isn’t. Don’t fool yourself: I sent that telegram. + +RODNEY. What telegram? + +MARTIN. The telegram from Marshall Field’s ordering the 50,000 cakes. + +MARY. You sent it? + +MARTIN. That day at the office you were pretty game, son, and to tell the +truth, I felt so sorry for you, I kind of had to do something, so I sent +that wire—— + +RODNEY. So that success is all a bluff, too? (_Sits on sofa_) + +MARY. But what did you do it for? + +MARTIN. Well, I figured an order like that would stall off your +creditors, and then I had fixed it with one of our factories to let you +have 5,000 cakes at three cents a cake. I knew it would mean some ready +cash for you from Marshall Field—— + +PEALE. But how did you square Marshall Field? + +MARTIN. Oh, I just wired ’em I’d be responsible, and, say—(_Turning to +RODNEY, who rises_) you had a nerve to charge ’em sixty cents a cake—and +I had to pay the bill! That shipment cost me $3,000 for $150 worth of +soap. (_PEALE laughs_) That isn’t funny, young man. + +RODNEY. No, it isn’t: I thought we’d really made good, and all the time +it was you behind us—— + +MARTIN. You see, my boy, even if you did nearly trim me, I’ve got a sort +of sneaking fondness for you. Look here, son, why not quit? There’s no +market for dollar soap. + +RODNEY. But how do you know? + +MARTIN. I had a letter from Marshall Field a few days ago asking me what +to do with the soap. They hadn’t sold a cake. I told ’em to dump it in +the Chicago River; it might help to clean it up. + +RODNEY. But you didn’t give our advertising a chance. + +PEALE. We only finished a great big advertising campaign in Chicago two +days ago. + +RODNEY. I know the soap’ll make good—with that trade-mark. + +MARTIN. If your trade-mark was so marvelous, somebody besides your poor +old father would have bought your soap. + +PEALE. Oh, what’s the use? He doesn’t believe in advertising! + +MARTIN. Oh, yes, I do: sound, conservative advertising, but not the +crazy, sensational stuff you go in for. + +MARY. Oh, you’re just mad because the soap trust didn’t think of 13 Soap +itself. + +MARTIN. Why, we wouldn’t touch a fool thing like that. If you deliver the +goods, your goods will advertise you—that’s always been our policy. + +RODNEY. I’m sorry, father, but you are old-fashioned to knock the modern +way of advertising. Why, do you know, the National Biscuit Company was on +the verge of failing until they hit on the title, Uneeda Biscuit? + +MARY. And since then, they have had over four hundred lawsuits to protect +it. + +RODNEY. Their trade-mark made ’em. They value that trade-mark now at six +million dollars. + +PEALE. Great stuff. (_Turning to MARTIN_)—and Spearmint Gum just as a +trade-mark is worth seven millions. + +RODNEY. And the Fairbanks people count their trade-mark, The Gold Dust +Twins, at $10,000,000. + +MARY. Ever hear of the Gillette Safety Razor? + +MARTIN. I use it myself. + +MARY. Tell him about it, Rodney. + +RODNEY. It costs you five dollars. Don’t you know there’s a mighty good +safety razor for a quarter, and dozens at a dollar, but you use the +Gillette because Gillette was there first; you buy his razor at a high +price simply because of its trade-mark. + +MARY. (_With gesture_) Advertising. + +RODNEY _and_ PEALE. (_With gesture_) Absolutely. + +PEALE. Ivory Soap in the magazines alone used $450,000 worth of space +in 1913—and at three cents a cake wholesale, that represents 15,000,000 +cakes for magazine advertising alone. + +MARTIN. I don’t believe it. + +PEALE. Yes, and a lot of other guys didn’t believe that iron ships would +float or that machines heavier than air would fly, or that you could talk +to ’Frisco on a wire or send a message across the Atlantic without a +wire. Pardon me, sir, but you want to get on to yourself. + +RODNEY. Yes, father, you certainly do. + +MARY. And you’d better hurry up. + +MARTIN. You’ve got a fine lot of theories, but what have they done for +those 5,000 cakes of 13 Soap out at Marshall Field’s? + +PEALE. Why, we haven’t really spent enough money advertising. + +RODNEY. That’s true. Every time the American Tobacco Company puts out a +new cigarette they start off by appropriating $200,000 to boom it. + +PEALE. And I suppose they are a lot of boobs? + +RODNEY. And think what other firms spend! I’ve gone into this thing, +father—— + +MARY. Yes, Rodney, let’s show him our list. + +RODNEY. Sure, it’s an absolutely accurate list of what some of the big +advertisers spent in the thirty-one leading magazines last year. Eastman +Kodak, $400,000, Postum Coffee, $125,000, Arrow Collars, $400,000, +Melachrino Cigarettes, $100,000, Welch’s Grape Juice, $100,000. + +PEALE. Grape Juice, my friend! + +MARY. Uneeda Biscuit, $150,000. Spearmint Gum, $140,000. + +MARTIN. That’s enough. + +RODNEY. I’ve only just begun. Grape Nuts, $228,000. + +MARY. Colgate’s Dental Cream, $230,000. + +PEALE. Campbell’s Soups, $186,000. + +MARY. Kellogg’s Toasted Cornflakes, $200,000. + +RODNEY. Quaker Oats, $367,000, and these are only a few. You can’t see +how it pays, but you do know that it must pay or they wouldn’t do it. + +MARY. Does that mean anything to you? + +PEALE. Yes. Does it when you realize that those thirty-one magazines have +only about 10,000,000 readers? + +RODNEY. And that there are a hundred million people in this country. Why +just to appeal to one-tenth of the population, fifty million dollars was +spent in magazines last year, and each year people are getting better +educated—more people are wanting to read. It won’t be long before there +are 25,000,000 people buying magazines, and you can reach all of them +by advertising—get a new market, a new population to deal with. Think +what national advertising is accomplishing! It sells automobiles, vacuum +cleaners, talking machines, rubber heels, kodaks, washing machines, +foods, clothes, shoes, paints, houses, plumbing, electric irons, fireless +cookers—mostly to a lot of people who’d never even hear of ’em if it +weren’t for advertisements. + +PEALE. But nowadays it isn’t only people who have stoves to sell +or tooth-brushes, that are spending money on publicity. Banks are +advertising for money, nations for immigrants, colleges for students, +cities for citizens, and churches for congregations, and you sit there +thinking it doesn’t pay to advertise. + +MARY. Six hundred and sixteen million dollars were spent last year in +magazines and newspapers, billboards and electric signs. + +RODNEY. Bringing education and comfort and fun and luxury to the +people of the United States. It’s romance, father, the romance of +printing-presses, of steel rails, of the wireless, of trains and +competition, the romance of modern business, and it’s all built on +advertising. Advertising is the biggest thing in this country, and it’s +only just begun. + +MARTIN. (_After a pause_) Why didn’t you boys go into the advertising +business? You seem to know something about that? + +PEALE. (_Fairly tearing his hair_) Oh, what’s the use! He’s the old +school—we’re new blood. (_Coming to L. of C._) + +RODNEY. (_With enthusiasm_) Youth has got it on old age. + +MARY. (_Coming down between PEALE and RODNEY_) You bet it has! + +MARTIN. When you boys get through talking and you’re flat broke and down +and out, come around and see me: I’ll show you an old business that has a +lot of money that isn’t radical and manages to keep going without wasting +a fortune in fool advertising. + +RODNEY. Then you won’t let us get any soap. + +MARTIN. Risk my business reputation on a silly scheme like Dollar Soap? I +should say not! + +PEALE. Oh, come on. What’s the use of talking to a man whose brain is +deaf? (_Exit door upper L., keeping in step, single-file_) + +MARTIN. (_Rises and comes to center_) Say when you get a new line of +patter, come around. I like to hear you. Dollar Soap! + +JOHNSON. (_Enters_) I beg pardon, a gentleman to see you, sir. (_JOHNSON +hands MARTIN a card on silver tray_) + +MARTIN. “Mr. Charles Bronson.” What does he want? + +JOHNSON. He says he’s from Marshall Field. + +MARTIN. Oh, a kick, I suppose? Send him in. + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir. (_He exits_) + +(_Enter BRONSON._) + +BRONSON. (_Inquiringly_) Mr. Martin? + +MARTIN. Yes. + +BRONSON. I just arrived from Chicago. I am here in reference to the 13 +Soap. + +MARTIN. Be seated. Well, what about it? (_Sits in chair L. of table_) + +BRONSON. (_Sits in chair R. of desk_) While, of course, we understand +that the 13 Soap is made by your son, Mr. Rodney Martin, at the same time +as you wired us you would be responsible for that order, Marshall Field +felt that I should first see you in the matter. + +MARTIN. Humph! + +BRONSON. We realize, of course, that you are backing your son—— + +MARTIN. (_Gruffly_) Well, why shouldn’t I back him? + +BRONSON. Of course, of course. That is why we’d like to place our order +through you. + +MARTIN. (_Amazed_) Place your what? + +BRONSON. Through some error we received only 5,000 cakes, instead of +50,000 but that’s all gone. + +MARTIN. All gone? What happened to it? + +BRONSON. We’ve sold it. + +MARTIN. Sold it? + +BRONSON. Yes, and we want the balance of the original order you were kind +enough to throw our way, and as much more soap as we can get. + +MARTIN. But only the other day I had a letter from Marshall Field saying +they hadn’t sold a cake. + +BRONSON. (_Laughing_) I know, I know. We felt at first that of course +there could be no popular market for a dollar soap; we weren’t as +far-sighted as you were. (_MARTIN clears his throat_) But of course, +when those extraordinary advertisements appeared, so different from your +usual conservative publicity, the sales began immediately! We sold the +5,000 cakes in two days. + +MARTIN. And the advertising did it? + +BRONSON. Of course, what else? Now we want to handle your goods +exclusively in the west—with extensive immediate deliveries. Can that be +arranged? + +MARTIN. It ought to be. What do you offer? + +BRONSON. I dare say we would contract for a quarter of a million cakes of +soap. + +MARTIN. (_Amazed_) A quarter of a million! + +BRONSON. (_Misunderstanding him_) Of course we might do a little better +if we could settle the matter at once. + +MARTIN. I should have to consult my son first. + +BRONSON. (_Rising_) Oh, then perhaps I ought to go see him? + +MARTIN. (_Rising_) Not at all—not at all. I’ll attend to it. + +BRONSON. But we thought that you would have full power. + +MARTIN. As a matter of courtesy I should like to talk things over with my +own boy—— + +BRONSON. But you control the product? + +MARTIN. Bronson, you can trust me to handle this thing. + +BRONSON. Of course, of course. When can I see you again? + +MARTIN. In half an hour. + +BRONSON. Very well. I’ve some matters to attend to. I’ll be back in half +an hour. (_Going to door upper L._) It’s a wonderful soap, Mr. Martin. + +MARTIN. (_Dryly_) Oh, wonderful. + +BRONSON. See you in half an hour. (_BRONSON exits_) + +MARTIN. Wonderful soap—plain pink castile, I’ve got to get in on this. +(_He goes to ’phone_) 1313 Bryant. Hello, is this the 13 Soap Company? + +JOHNSON. (_Enters_) Oh, beg pardon, sir, but— + +MARTIN. Just a minute. Is Mr. Rodney Martin in? No? Never mind who I am. +Good-bye. Johnson, call up my son’s office every ten minutes and let me +know the minute he comes in. Don’t tell ’em who’s calling. (_Crosses to +R._) + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir. + +MARTIN. And when Mr. Bronson comes back, be sure to have him wait for me. + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir. There’s a lady to see you, sir. She speaks English now. + +MARTIN. She does, eh? That’s unusual, isn’t it? + +JOHNSON. I mean, sir, when she was here two months ago she could only +talk French. + +MARTIN. Indeed! Well, I’m not interested in the languages she speaks. Who +is she, and what does she want? + +JOHNSON. She wishes to see you about the French rights of the 13 Soap. + +MARTIN. The what? + +JOHNSON. The French rights. + +MARTIN. Great Scott! Send her right in. + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir. The Countess de Bowreen. (_He exits_) + +COUNTESS. (_Enters_) How do you do? + +MARTIN. (_Comes down in front of table_) How do you do? + +COUNTESS. I am the Countess de Beaurien. Your son have told you of me! + +MARTIN. No. + +COUNTESS. I bet he have not. He is a cheat—he trick me. + +MARTIN. Now, my dear lady—— + +COUNTESS. Attendez, you listen to me: two months ago there in that very +room, I buy the French rights for the 13 Soap. I pay him 15,000 dollar +and now I cannot get any soap. + +MARTIN. You will have to see my son. + +COUNTESS. But I have seen him, and he give me no satisfaction. If I +cannot get any soap, I must have my money, one or the other, or I put him +in the jail. He is a cheat. I have here ze contract. I sue him in the +court. + +MARTIN. My dear lady, you mustn’t feel that way. + +COUNTESS. Feel! Ah, mon dieu—I trick no one, I play fair, I am an +honest woman. Mais je vous dis que je suis honnête, très honnête dans +mes affaires. Monsieur votre fils m’a donné le contrat, et j’insiste +qu’il est très malhonnête. Je n’ai pas l’habitude d’être si maltraitée, +monsieur, et je répète que je ferai tout mon possible d’obtenir les +quinze mille dollars que me doit Monsieur votre fils, et s’il ne me les +donne pas, je le poursuivrai sans cesse. Comprenez-vous, Monsieur? (_She +takes the contract from him_) + +MARTIN. But I don’t understand French. + +COUNTESS. Pardon, Monsieur, always I am excited I speak the French. But! +If you love your son, you pay me back, or else he go to jail. What you +say? + +MARTIN. But $15,000 is a lot of money. + +COUNTESS. Yes. But it is more to me than it is to you. You pay me, or he +go to prison. Now what you say? + +(_JOHNSON enters._) + +MARTIN. What is it? + +JOHNSON. I beg pardon, a gentleman to see you, sir. + +MARTIN. (_Comes to JOHNSON_) Is it Bronson? + +JOHNSON. No, sir. (_JOHNSON hands him card_) + +MARTIN. By George, just the man I want to see! Show him right in. Hold +on, hold on. Now, Duchess, if you don’t mind, just step in this room a +minute. (_Indicating room lower R._) + +COUNTESS. No, no, I do not like that room: I have been there before. + +MARTIN. Here is a nice room. (_Points to room lower L._) You will find it +very comfortable. + +COUNTESS. Very well, I wait. (_Crosses to left_) But in fifteen minutes +if I do not get the 15,000 dollar, I go to my lawyers, and your son—poof! +he is done. (_Talking in French as she exits_) + +MARTIN. (_To JOHNSON_) Did you get my son’s office? + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir—he hasn’t come in. + +MARTIN. If you reach him while Mr. Peale’s here don’t mention Rodney’s +name; just call him “that party.” I’ll understand. (_Crosses R._) + +JOHNSON. Yes, sir. (_He exits_) + +(_PEALE enters door upper L._) + +MARTIN. Now, see here, young man! + +PEALE. Now, one moment, Mr. Martin. I just want to say that I am a man of +few words—that this isn’t advertising, it’s personal. I know you don’t +like me. + +MARTIN. Why do you say that? + +PEALE. Because I’m a pretty wise gink. + +MARTIN. Well, you are a bit—— + +PEALE. Fresh? Well, I guess that’s right, too. But that’s me—I’m not your +style. Here’s the idea: your son has been immense to me. Great kid, and +it struck me the reason you wouldn’t back him was because I was mixed up +in his business. So I just came to say if that’s the situation, why I’m +out, that’s all. You go ahead with him alone. + +MARTIN. You’re not a partner? + +PEALE. I should say not. I’m just a hired hand. He could can me any +moment, but he’s not the kind of guy who’d do that. + +MARTIN. Then you haven’t power to sign, to make a deal? + +PEALE. I should say not. Why, he and Miss Grayson do all the signing. +If I could have signed contracts, I’d have spent a million dollars in +advertising. And believe me, you ought to back him, because, honest, Mr. +Martin, it’s a great scheme—the 13 Soap, on the level, if it’s handled +right and the publicity end is—— + +MARTIN. Now don’t get started on advertising. + +PEALE. That’s right, too. Well, I guess that’s all. I wanted to tell +you how I stood about Rodney. That’s off my chest, so good afternoon. +(_Starts to go_) + +MARTIN. Wait a minute. What did you boys mean by trimming that poor +Countess on the French rights? + +PEALE. Jumping Jupiter; has she been here? + +MARTIN. She’s here now. + +PEALE. What did she come to see you for? + +MARTIN. She said she’d put Rodney in jail for fraud unless I made good +that $15,000. I’ve got to pay her—can’t see the boy disgraced. + +PEALE. Say, if you’d like to save that $15,000, I’ll fix it for you. + +MARTIN. But she’s got a contract. + +PEALE. I’ll get it for you cheap. Pardon me, sir, but I know how to +handle dames like her. + +MARTIN. Mr. Peale, I like you. (_Slaps him on shoulder_) + +PEALE. Huh! + +MARTIN. Have a cigar? + +(_PEALE crosses R. He takes it as JOHNSON enters._) + +JOHNSON. I just telephoned _that party_, he is at his office now. + +MARTIN. Good, good. Peale, I’ve got to go out on an important soap deal. +(_He starts to go, then goes to PEALE_) Oh, by George, I nearly forgot. +There’s another matter I must attend to first. Peale, you’ll find the +Countess in there. Do the best you can—we’ll settle the details when I +get back. Make yourself at home. + +PEALE. Sure. This cigar’s great company. + +MARTIN. Good cigar, eh? + +PEALE. Corker. + +MARTIN. Johnson, send over half a dozen boxes of these cigars to Mr. +Peale’s house. He’ll give you the address. (_He exits left_) + +PEALE. And, say, Johnson, wrap ’em up now and I’ll take ’em with me. + +JOHNSON. Very good, sir. (_He exits. PEALE walks over to the window and +looks out at the 13 Soap signs_) + +PEALE. (_The telephone rings. PEALE looks at it, it rings again, he goes +over to desk and raises it_) Yes, Sweetie—this is the garage. How long +does it take to go to Coney Island? How in hell do I know? (_Business of +changing money and watch to different pockets. Goes to door L., and opens +it_) Countess de Bull Run. (_He goes into some fake French_) De juis—de +joie—politesse noblesse oblige. + +COUNTESS. You ought to take up French—your accent’s immense. Well, little +sweetheart? + +PEALE. Say, what are you doing in these parts? + +COUNTESS. Oh, I came to see Mr. Martin. + +PEALE. What for? + +COUNTESS. What do you think? + +PEALE. See here, now, if you’re aiming to trim the old man, I won’t stand +for it. + +COUNTESS. Ambrose, do me a favor. + +PEALE. What is it? + +COUNTESS. Don’t tell old Martin what I tried to do to you boys. He’s the +kind that would put me in jail. I’ll be on the level. I did come here +to try to trim him, but I’ll cut it out. Honest, I will. Oh, Ambrose, I +don’t like being a grafter. I’ve had to do a lot of things I didn’t want +to. You don’t know how hard it is for girls like me. I never had a show. +I ran away from home when I was a kid. I’ve been pretty much up against +it. Is what I’ve done to other guys going to butt in and queer me? + +PEALE. Nix, nix—— + +COUNTESS. Give me a chance to be on the square. It ain’t easy for a girl +to fight it out all by herself when she’s all alone: no money—no friends +and you got to live—live on five a week. You got a lot for a good time, +haven’t you? God, I’ve been lonely sometimes; you’ve got to be pretty +smart to steer straight—but I’ve done it, I’ve done it, I’ve done it. +(_She breaks down and sits on chair R. of desk_) + +PEALE. (_Kindly_) Now, see here, Countess—(_He pats her on back_)—don’t +do that—don’t, don’t—(_She is sobbing a little_) Oh, quit it. (_A pause_) +Keep it for some poor boob who’ll fall for it. + +COUNTESS. (_Tearfully_) Oh, Ambrose, don’t talk like that—— + +PEALE. Say, honest, it’s foolish wasting it on me, kid. + +COUNTESS. (_Completely changing to a radiant smile. Rises_) Well, it’s +always worth trying once. + +PEALE. (_Genially_) Sure it is. Why, you had me winging for a minute, +but when you pulled that wheeze about “I’ve done it,” three times in +succession, I knew it was phoney. + +COUNTESS. But, honest, I was on the level about old Martin. + +PEALE. Nix, nix, you came here to trim him for the $15,000 on the French +rights. + +COUNTESS. Gosh, have you seen him? + +PEALE. Yes, he left me here to settle it. Where’s the contract? Come +on—gimme—gimme—— + +COUNTESS. You mean you’ve been on all the time? + +PEALE. Sure. + +COUNTESS. And you let me sit there and emote all over the place. + +PEALE. Gimme—gimme—— + +COUNTESS. Oh, I suppose I’ve got to. Oh, I’m sick of soap anyhow. 13 may +be a lucky hunch for you boys, but it has been a hoodoo for me. + +PEALE. And now, my little hearts of lettuce, this concludes your portion +of the evening’s entertainment. + +COUNTESS. But at that, don’t give me away, will you? + +PEALE. I like you, you’ve got brains. Most chickens are just chickens. + +COUNTESS. You are 18-karat, kid. + +(_MARY, followed by RODNEY, enters hurriedly and sees PEALE._) + +RODNEY. Oh, have you seen father? Is he here? + +PEALE. I’m waiting for him now. + +MARY. It’s most important. + +PEALE. You remember the Countess? (_All bow embarrassed. Pause_) + +COUNTESS. Well, I guess I’m not wanted, so I’ll trot. I’ll trot. (_Goes +to door upper L._) So long, you 13 Soap suds. (_Exits_) + +MARY. Where is father? + +PEALE. Yes, what’s the excitement? + +MARY. Just after we got to the office there was a letter from Macy’s. + +RODNEY. Ordering 10,000 cakes of 13 Soap. + +MARY. Now what do you think of that? + +PEALE. Pinch me, I’m dreaming! (_Going down R._) + +RODNEY. They say our advertising’s wonderful and has created such a +demand they want to handle the soap in town. (_Goes around table down R._) + +PEALE. (_Wonderingly_) Then all the things we said to your father are +really true? (_Goes up center_) + +MARY. Of course they are. + +RODNEY. (_Protesting_) Now, see here, old man— + +PEALE. Gosh! (_Coming down in front of table_) + +RODNEY. You see, when I show father this letter from Macy’s he’s got to +admit we’ve won out, and supply us with soap. + +MARY. Isn’t it a shame that you can’t get soap from anybody but him? + +RODNEY. He certainly has got the soap business tied up tight. + +PEALE. Yes, if he busted, the whole world would go dirty. + +MARY. Suppose he’s still stubborn and won’t help you? What’ll you do? + +RODNEY. Oh, I’ll just have to plod along. + +PEALE. Don’t plod—gallop, son—gallop—gallop. + +RODNEY. You’re a great pal. + +MARY. (_Crosses to PEALE_) Do you know, Mr. Peale, I’d like you awfully. + +PEALE. Call me Ambrose. + +MARY. (_Coyly goes to L._) Ambrose. + +RODNEY. If we ever do come out of this, you’re going to be my partner, +50-50. + +PEALE. Aw, shut up. + +JOHNSON. (_Entering_) Mr. Charles Bronson; shall I show him in? + +PEALE. You have my permission—(_Crosses to L. MARY crosses to table R._) +This isn’t my house. (_BRONSON enters. JOHNSON exits_) This way, sir. + +BRONSON. Oh, I beg pardon—I expected to find Mr. Martin. + +RODNEY. I am Mr. Martin. + +BRONSON. (_Eagerly_) Mr. Rodney Martin? + +RODNEY. Yes. + +BRONSON. Just the very man I wanted to see—on private business. + +RODNEY. Oh, these are my partners. You can talk before them. This is Mr. +Peale and Miss Grayson, may I present—Mr.——? + +BRONSON. Mr. Charles Bronson, of Marshall Field. + +MARY. (_Stunned_) Marshall Field? + +PEALE. (_Falls in chair R. of desk_) Marshall Field? + +BRONSON. Now, about your soap——? + +PEALE. We’re very sorry—(_Rises and goes to BRONSON_) + +MARY. We are; but a bargain is a bargain. (_Rises_) + +BRONSON. Sorry? Why, your 13 Soap the last few days has had a most +remarkable sale at our store. + +(_MARY and PEALE, speechless, look at each other._) + +RODNEY. (_Gasping_) You mean it is really selling? + +BRONSON. Rather! + +MARY. It’s really selling? + +BRONSON. Why, you seem surprised—— + +MARY. Oh, no—not a bit. + +RODNEY. Oh, not a bit. + +PEALE. You mean people are actually coming into the store and buying it? + +BRONSON. At a dollar a cake. + +(_MARY and RODNEY take arm-chair from L. of table and place it in center +of stage._) + +RODNEY _and_ MARY. Have a chair? + +PEALE. Give me your hat! (_Takes hat and fans himself_) + +MARY. It was those page advertisements in Chicago that did it. + +PEALE. Absolutely. + +BRONSON. Extraordinary advertisements they were, too. + +RODNEY. Oh, nothing to what we will do. + +BRONSON. You’ll keep up your campaign? + +RODNEY. Double it. + +PEALE. Triple it. + +BRONSON. Good, good. We foresee a tremendous sale for your goods. It’s an +amazing soap. + +RODNEY. It’s more than that—— + +PEALE. Absolutely. + +BRONSON. Do you control the company yourself? + +RODNEY. Oh, entirely. + +BRONSON. Then I can deal with you. + +RODNEY. With us—all of us. + +BRONSON. We would be glad to contract now for 250,000 cakes. (_PEALE just +flops into chair_) With deliveries to begin next week. + +MARY. Our capacity just at present is limited. + +RODNEY. Yes, we have so many orders on hand. + +BRONSON. Naturally, but how much soap can you deliver now? + +RODNEY. I don’t quite know. (_To MARY_) Do you? + +MARY. Not quite. (_To PEALE_) Do you? + +PEALE. Not quite. + +BRONSON. Well, under the circumstances, what can we do? + +MARY. That’s the question. + +PEALE. What’s the answer? (_Rises. A pause_) + +RODNEY. Here’s an idea: in view of our pressing orders, would you +consider for the moment paying us merely for the use of our trade-mark +without any soap at all? + +BRONSON. Yes, I think we would. + +PEALE. You would? + +BRONSON. Your trade-mark is of course your biggest asset. + +RODNEY. Yes, of course. + +BRONSON. You would naturally give us your formula? + +PEALE. Yes, if we still have that cook-book. + +BRONSON. I beg pardon? + +PEALE. Nothing, nothing. Have a cigar? + +RODNEY. You can have the formula. + +BRONSON. With a license from you to use the title, we could probably +arrange to have the soap manufactured by Cyrus Martin of the soap trust. + +RODNEY. Oh, you think you could—? + +MARY. How much would you be willing to pay us for the trade-mark? + +BRONSON. I should have to call up our Chicago office, but I think I can +safely say we would be prepared to offer you at least two hundred and +fifty thousand dollars. + +PEALE. (_Grasping_) Indeed! + +BRONSON. Can I have an option at that figure? + +(_Together_) + + MARY. No! + + PEALE. Yes! + + RODNEY. Yes—— + +MARY. (_Loudly_) No! + +RODNEY. No! + +PEALE. No, but I hate to say it. + +BRONSON. But if you control the company, why not settle matters now? + +RODNEY. Why not, Mary? + +PEALE. Yes, why not, Mary? + +MARY. Hadn’t we better discuss the matter a little more fully first among +ourselves? + +BRONSON. Perhaps I could wait somewhere for a few minutes while you talk +things over? + +MARY. (_Opening door left_) Yes, do, please—in the library. + +BRONSON. I am very glad to have met you. + +RODNEY. Not half as glad—— + +PEALE. Not half so glad—— + +MARY. —not half as glad as we are to have met you. + +PEALE. No, not half as much! + +(_BRONSON exits L. lower door._) + +RODNEY. Why not give him an option at a quarter of a million? + +PEALE. Yes, why not? For the love of gee whiz, tell us that! + +MARY. Because maybe we can get more money than that out of your father. + +(_JOHNSON enters with letter, and crosses to table R._) + +RODNEY. Mary, you are a wonder. + +PEALE. Gosh, I wish you were going to marry me! + +MARY. Johnson, oh, Johnson, you know I’ve always liked you—— + +JOHNSON. I beg pardon, Miss? + +MARY. Will you do me a favor? + +JOHNSON. Why, yes, Miss. + +MARY. When Mr. Martin comes back, don’t tell him that Rodney and Mr. +Peale are here, or Bronson, either; say I’m alone. + +JOHNSON. Yes, Miss, but Mr. Martin just drove up in his car, he’ll be +here directly—— + +MARY. Hurry up, then, tell him I’m here, waiting for him. + +(_JOHNSON exits._) + +RODNEY. But I don’t understand? + +PEALE. Neither do I. + +MARY. I do. I’ve got a great idea. You two boys go into that room, +(_Indicating lower R._) and stay there. When I ring this buzzer twice, +you call me on this ’phone—there’s a switch in there—and never mind what +I say. Hurry now, both of you. + +RODNEY. But what’s your plan? + +MARY. I’m going to try to make a deal with your father. + +PEALE. Well, I’ll slip you something that may help you when you see +father. You tell him that I’ve got that contract. He’ll understand. + +RODNEY. But I don’t know what any of this is about? + +PEALE. Neither do I. Come on, she’s got more brains than both of us. +(_They exit R._) + +(_MARY settles herself in chair L. of desk, as MARTIN enters._) + +MARTIN. Hello, Miss Grayson, this is a pleasant surprise. Where is Rodney? + +MARY. That doesn’t matter. I’m here. + +MARTIN. Where’s that—that Mr.——? + +MARY. Mr. Peale—oh, Mr. Peale’s gone back to the office—but he told me to +tell you that he’d got that contract—— + +MARTIN. Great, great! He’s a smart boy. + +MARY. We are all smart—it’s a smart firm. We just got a letter from +Macy’s for 10,000 cakes of 13 Soap, and this time you didn’t send a +telegram—— + +MARTIN. Macy’s, eh? Well, well. Now, I’ll be frank. I want Rodney to come +in with me—and you’ve got to help. You started this scheme. Now finish it +up. + +MARY. What’s changed you all of a sudden? + +MARTIN. Well, Macy’s, for one thing. That shows sensational advertising +does pay. Those boys are right. I’ve been too conservative, but anyhow +I’ve got the whip hand: Rodney can’t get his soap for Macy’s except from +me, and if I’m going to furnish three-cent soap that he sells wholesale +for sixty cents, I’m going to be in on the profits. Any young man who can +do that is just bound to have me for a partner whether he wants me or +not. What do you say, Miss Grayson? + +MARY. I’ll do all I can for Rodney. + +MARTIN. You have authority to close the deal? + +MARY. Absolutely. + +MARTIN. Good. Now, what’s your proposition? (_Sits_) + +MARY. Five hundred thousand dollars cash. + +MARTIN. (_Rising_) What! + +MARY. (_Calmly_) Sit down. That isn’t all: we get 51% of the stock, you +put up a factory and give Rodney $50,000 a year, Peale, $30,000, and me +$20,000. + +MARTIN. As my son once observed, what a lovely autumn we’re having! (_He +leans back and lights a cigar. As he does so, MARY pushes the buzzer +twice. N. B. The audience must hear this buzzer. Almost instantly the +’phone rings. MARY quickly takes ’phone_) + +MARY. Shall I answer it? + +MARTIN. Go ahead—say I’m out. + +MARY. (_In ’phone_) Oh, hello—(_To MARTIN_) It’s for me. Hello, +Rodney—you’ve seen Bronson? + +MARTIN. (_Sitting up_) Bronson? + +MARY. (_In ’phone_) He did? Why, that’s a splendid offer. I hardly dared +think Marshall Field would be so generous. + +MARTIN. (_Promptly. Rises_) I’ll accept your proposition, Miss Grayson. + +MARY. Wait. (_In ’phone_) Have you closed with Bronson yet? + +MARTIN. What’d he say? + +MARY. Oh, you haven’t? + +MARTIN. Good. + +MARY. No, I think you’d better come right up from the office and see me +before you sign anything. + +MARTIN. Here, let me talk to him. (_He reaches for ’phone_) + +MARY. (_Quickly_) Oh, hello, hello. (_She jiggles ’phone_) Oh, dear, +we’ve been cut off. Still, it doesn’t matter; it’s all settled now. + +MARTIN. That’s splendid, Miss Grayson. I’m mighty grateful to you. + +MARY. (_Nervously_) Shall we sign a memorandum now? + +MARTIN. Sure—sure—just the rough details. + +MARY. Sure, never put off till to-morrow what you can sign to-day. + +MARTIN. (_He crosses to table R., sits and makes memoranda. Writing_) +Fifty-one per cent—Rodney—fifty thousand. And what’s that young man’s +name again—Spiel——? + +MARY. Peale. + +MARTIN. That certainly is one hell of a name—thirty thousand—Grayson +twenty thousand. There. (_To MARY_) You sign here. + +MARY. No, you sign first. (_MARTIN grunts and signs_) Now I’ll sign for +Rodney. (_She does so gleefully_) + +MARTIN. That’s great. (_Rises and goes L._) + +MARY. You don’t know how great it is. (_MARY starts for door_) Now, I’ve +a big surprise for you. Rodney’s not at the office—he’s in there. + +MARTIN. What do you mean? + +MARY. Only that I thought I’d handle you less sentimentally than he +would. You see, once before I spoiled Rodney’s plan. This time I thought +I ought to fix it up for him. (_Opening door_) Rodney—Ambrose. + +MARTIN. Say, what is all this? + +(_RODNEY and PEALE enter._) + +RODNEY. Hello, father! + +MARY. Rodney, it’s all settled. Your father has gone in with us. I’ve the +contract. + +RODNEY. Then we can get some soap! + +MARTIN. All you want. + +RODNEY. Then I don’t care what the arrangement is—now that we can make +good—twenty per cent of the profits, and any old salary. + +MARTIN. Twenty per cent! Why, she buncoed me out of fifty-one per cent +and half a million down. + +PEALE. (_Gasping_) Half a million! + +RODNEY. (_To MARY_) You did? Mary, you are a peach! + +PEALE. Absolutely. + +MARY. (_To RODNEY_) And by the terms of my contract with you, you now owe +me 10% of what Rodney has made: $50,000. + +RODNEY. What contract? + +PEALE. I don’t get you. + +MARTIN. So that’s why you held me up, eh? Just to get your 10%. Say, +young lady, I’ve got a lot of other money that you are overlooking. + +RODNEY. Father, what do you mean? + +MARTIN. (_To RODNEY_) I’ll tell you what I mean. She got engaged to you +to make you go to work—she only left me to keep you on the job because +I promised her 10% of what you earned. All the time that she’s been +pretending she would marry you, she’s been making use of you. (_Goes to +R. of table to sign check_) + +RODNEY. Mary, you did this to me? + +PEALE. I don’t believe it. + +MARY. (_To MARTIN_) You owe me fifty thousand dollars—can I have the +check, please? + +MARTIN. Yes, if you’ll quit now—get out of here for good. + +MARY. Certainly. + +MARTIN. I’m disappointed to think you’d treat my boy like this. + +MARY. What’s the difference? If I’d really loved him, you’d have objected +to his marrying only a typewriter. + +MARTIN. Objected! If you’d been on the level I’d have been proud to have +you for my daughter. (_Handing check to RODNEY_) + +RODNEY. (_Gleefully_) Hurrah, Mary, it’s all right! + +PEALE. I don’t get you. + +MARTIN. What is this—a joke? (_Rises_) + +RODNEY. Certainly it is: you two put up a joke on me, and Mary and I +thought we’d put up one for you. Mary told me about that fool contract +weeks ago. + +MARTIN. You mean you’re going to marry her? + +RODNEY. Certainly not. + +PEALE. Now see here—— + +MARTIN. Why aren’t you going to marry her? + +RODNEY. Because we were married this morning, and we thought before we +told you of our marriage we’d get her percentage for a wedding present. +(_Hands check to PEALE. He gives it to MARY_) + +MARY. And it’s bigger than we ever hoped for. + +MARTIN. By George, you boys were right: I am an old fool. Anyhow, I’ll +win that bet from old John Clark. + +MARY. And now for Bronson. (_Goes to door L. lower_) Oh, Mr. Bronson? + +MARTIN. You boys know Bronson? + +MARY. Oh, yes, we had a long talk, with him, right in this room, about a +proposition from Marshall Field—— + +(_Enter BRONSON._) + +BRONSON. (_Crosses to MARTIN, SR._) Mr. Martin—Mr. Peale. + +RODNEY. (_To BRONSON_) Now you talk to father. + +MARY. Yes, you talk to him, father. + +PEALE. Yes, father, you talk to him. + +BRONSON. (_To RODNEY_) But I thought I was dealing with you? + +MARTIN. No, sir, with me—now what’s your proposition? + +BRONSON. A quarter of a million cash just for the trade-mark. + +MARTIN. A quarter of a million? Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself +to try to trim these poor boys like that. You know that 13 Soap is worth +half a million in Chicago alone, and you try to take advantage of these +kids’ ignorance. Why, it’s outrageous, but you can’t trim me! No, sir, we +wouldn’t take a million. Do you know that the Uneeda trade-mark is valued +at six million, the Gold Dust Twins at ten million and our trade-mark is +better than theirs! We’re going to advertise all over the world. That’s +what advertising means: the power of suggestion—the psychology of print. +All you have to do is to say a thing often enough and hard enough, and +ninety-seven per cent of the public’ll fall. Say, what kind of garters +do you wear? Boston! Why? Because all your life every time you opened a +magazine you saw a picture of a man’s leg with a certain kind of a garter +on it—Boston! + +_Curtain._ + +[Illustration: IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE + +ACT I & III] + +[Illustration: IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE + +ACT II] + + + + +PROPERTY LIST + + +ACT I. + +STAGE PROPERTIES + + Typewriter desk + Typewriter + Office swivel chair + Library table + Couch + Six large chairs (living room chairs) + Footstool + Writing set on large table + (Pen, ink, etc.) + Magazines and books + Check book on large table + Stenographer’s note book + Walking stick + Telephone on desk + Telephone on table + Clock (?) + Carpet or rugs + Push bell on Right flat near Door R. I E. + Telephones may be connected. + Three telephones in Third act may be connected to be ready for second + Act and may remain through as two are used in Third Act too. + +SIDE PROPERTIES + + Walking stick—Martin + Book of passes—Peale + Pencil—Peale + Parasol—Countess + Suit case—Rodney + Cook book—Rodney + Two contracts—Peale + Money for Rodney + Letters for Johnson + Salver for Johnson + Calling cards—Johnson + Martin’s foot tied up + + +ACT II. + +STAGE PROPERTIES + + Large flat-top desk + Typewriter desk (same one as Act I) + Typewriter paper, etc. + Small table or desk for telephone stand + Three telephones and three books (directories) + Box of cigars in desk + Plane in drawer of desk + File cabinet + Letter file on cabinet + Letters in file cabinet + Signs for walls + Sandwich men signs (6) + Rubber stamp and pad on big desk C. + Ledger—or ledger sheets for MSS. case + Buzzer connected up on Desk C. + Buzzer connected up on Desk L. + About six office chairs + Two swivel office chairs + Papers, check book, etc. Desk C. + Papers like contracts for Rodney to sign + Hat rack + +SIDE PROPERTIES + + MSS. case—Mary + Pencil and pad—Peale + Peale—telegram + Letter—Mary + Draft—Countess + Cane—Ellery + Hand bag—Countess + Handkerchief—Countess + + +ACT III. + +STAGE PROPERTIES + + Same furniture as Act I—Arranged + Same, except might have small table where desk was in Act I. + Newspapers on desk C. + Letters sealed on desk for Martin to open + Circulars in these letters + Advertisements on N. Y. papers: 13 soap + Waste paper basket + Check book on Table C. with ink, etc. + Buzzer connected at typewriter desk + +SIDE PROPERTIES + + Letter seal on large table + New York papers with ads of 13 soap + Cigar—Peale + Contracts—Countess + List of Advertisers—Rodney + Card and Tray—Johnson + Bronson’s hat + Cigar for Martin + Matches—Martin + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75246 *** |