path: root/75848-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75848 ***

Transcriber’s Note: Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by
underscores, _like this_.




                          Hearts _and_ Clubs

                        A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

                        _By Amy E. Blanchard_

                            [Illustration]

                             PHILADELPHIA
                     THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
                                 1913




            COPYRIGHT 1896 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY




                           HEARTS AND CLUBS




                          CAST OF CHARACTERS


   MR. FOSSIL                 _An elderly gentleman, with a hobby_
   TOM BESTMAN                            _A nephew of Mr. Fossil_
   MR. ALLJOY                       _A gentleman fond of his club_
   MISS DOTING          _A spinster who adores Beauty and Emerson_
   MINTRA TRIPTOE                            _Miss Doting’s niece_
   MRS. ALLJOY                                _A would-be invalid_
   MRS. FRISK      _A stout lady, an advocate of physical culture_
   MRS. BODKIN      _A thin lady, an advocate of physical culture_
   MISS STEIN                      _A teacher of physical culture_

          MRS. PALLIDE AND OTHER LADIES OF THE X. Y. Z. CLUB


                          COSTUMES--MODERN.

In Act I, Scene II, ladies should wear free, easily fitting dresses
or gymnasium suits. Miss Doting’s dress is always gay and coquettish.


                 TIME IN REPRESENTATION--ONE HOUR AND
                           FIFTEEN MINUTES.




                           HEARTS AND CLUBS




                                ACT I

  SCENE I--_A seaside hotel._ MRS. ALLJOY’S _sitting-room, prettily
     furnished. Table and chairs_ R. _Sofa_ L. _Doors_ R. _and_ L.
     _At rise of curtain_ MR. ALLJOY _is discovered seated_ R. _of
     table reading a newspaper_. MRS. ALLJOY _is lying upon sofa_.

MRS. ALLJOY. (_sighing_) O dear!

MR. ALLJOY. (_looking over top of paper_) What is the matter now,
Lolly?

MRS. ALLJOY. The same old thing, this pain in my side, and there is a
strange feeling in the back of my head. I wonder what it is!

MR. ALLJOY. Oh, you want something to distract you. Come, jump up,
and let us go down-stairs and hear the music. You might as well be at
home as moping up in this room. Come, it will do you good.

MRS. ALLJOY. O Joey! I couldn’t possibly dress and go down to-night.
Just suppose I should faint!

MR. ALLJOY. Well, suppose you do; you are not likely to, you know.
You would soon get over it, and you wouldn’t be a mile from your own
room.

MRS. ALLJOY. You are so heartless. I think it is cruel of you to talk
that way. Even if I didn’t faint, those parlors are so draughty, and
the music always makes my head ache.

MR. ALLJOY. Very well, we needn’t go. (_Silence, excepting the
rustling of the paper._)

MRS. ALLJOY. Joe, can’t you read without making such a noise with the
paper? It does distract me so. My poor nerves cannot stand much.

MR. ALLJOY. I cannot very well spend my evening spelling out the
advertisements on one side of the paper. (_Sarcastically_) Perhaps
I may be able to find a newspaper of a single sheet only--one of
those patent-inside arrangements--if so, I certainly shall take it.
(_Getting up_) Since I am so unpleasantly distracting, I had better
leave you in peace. They don’t mind speaking above a whisper at the
club. (_Throws down paper and takes up his hat_) Good-night; don’t
sit up for me. (_Goes out_, R.)

MRS. ALLJOY. (_burying her head in the pillow and sobbing_) There
he goes again to that hateful old club, leaving poor forlorn me all
alone. Oh, these heartless men! (_A knock at the door_, R.)

                        (_Enter_ MRS. FRISK.)

MRS. FRISK. Why, Lolly, what is the matter?

MRS. ALLJOY. (_sitting up and wiping her eyes_) O Anna! I am so glad
you came in! It is the same old story, of course. Joe has gone over
to the club, leaving me alone with nothing to do; I cannot do fancy
work, it makes my back ache; I cannot read, for it makes my head
ache, and so here I am deprived of everything, even my husband’s
society. I am a perfect martyr.

MRS. FRISK. (_laughing_) Laura, you do make me laugh, you are so bent
upon being miserable. Now, don’t put on that injured look. I have
something to tell you.

MRS. ALLJOY. (_brightening up_) Have you? What is it? I am dying to
hear.

MRS. FRISK. First, look at me. Do you see this new gown?

MRS. ALLJOY. Yes. How well you look in it.

MRS. FRISK. (_triumphantly_) That is just it. I am one inch longer in
the waist than I was two months ago, and it is all due to physical
culture.

MRS. ALLJOY. Physical culture?

MRS. FRISK. Yes. You have no idea what it does for one, and it would
be just the thing for you.

MRS. ALLJOY. Oh, no! I never could swing those dreadful Indian clubs
and jump over a rope four or five feet high or squirm in and out of
little square places like a snake. As for a trapeze, I have a perfect
horror of one.

MRS. FRISK. Nonsense! That isn’t what you have to do. Why, it is as
simple as can be, to begin with, and has cured more headaches and
backaches than I could begin to tell you of. See, I will show you a
few of the first exercises. (_Rises, and goes through a few movements
rather awkwardly_) There, now, that isn’t so dreadfully hard, is it?
Come, Laura, say you will join our club.

MRS. ALLJOY. Club! Did you say you had a club?

MRS. FRISK. Yes; one must do something in Lent, and it is awfully
stupid down here, so we have organized a club, the X. Y. Z. The
culmination of knowledge, you see, as opposed to A. B. C. The X. Y.
Z. Club, composed of about a dozen ladies who are seeking different
ends through the same means; I, for instance, am bent upon decreasing
my size; even “add a cubit to my stature,” and it would not come
amiss if I were able to stretch up to it and out of my avoirdupois.
Mrs. Bodkin, on the contrary, pines for flesh, for breadth of chest,
and mightiness of muscle. Miss Doting, the dear soul, thinks the
movements “such lines of beauty,” and her prophetic eye sees herself,
though spare of flesh, an undulating, willowy figure, gliding before
some hero’s vision and into his heart; while dear Mintra, her niece,
who has come down here with her, does it all “just for the fun of the
thing.”

MRS. ALLJOY. Well, I really believe I will join you, since Mr. Joe is
so absorbed in his club, and I will show him that I can have a club,
too. Yes, I really will join you.

MRS. FRISK. (_delightedly_) That is right. We meet to-morrow in Mrs.
Bodkin’s rooms at three o’clock. Now I must go. Good-night. Don’t get
up.

MRS. ALLJOY. Oh! I feel better already. I will go to the door with
you. (_They go toward door_, L.)


                               CURTAIN


  SCENE II--MRS. BODKIN’S _drawing-room, handsomely furnished. Large
     table with lamp down_ R. _Doors_ R. _and_ L. _and_ C. _in flat.
     Ladies are all present and are preparing for a meeting of the
     Club_. MRS. FRISK _and_ MRS. ALLJOY _down_ C.

MRS. FRISK. Now, Lolly dear, you see us as we are, absolutely
afraid of our teacher, each other, and our own selves. Mrs. Bodkin,
(_addressing_ MRS. B., _who stands near_) do you know I have lost a
whole pound, and I am at least an inch longer in the waist.

MRS. BODKIN. Really? Well, I have found your pound, and am
triumphantly wearing it; and, as for your inch, I have added that to
my chest measure.

MRS. ALLJOY. You have? What is that Mrs. Pallide is saying, “Ma za?”
Is she seeking a rhyme?

MRS. FRISK. (_laughing_) No, that is for exercising the muscles of
the mouth, and so is the sentence she is practicing now, “Most men
want poise and more royal margin.”

MRS. ALLJOY. Do you suppose we really need to exercise the muscles
of our mouths? I fancy our husbands will hardly think so.

MRS. FRISK. Rank treason, my dear! Do they not need to exercise their
biceps?

MRS. ALLJOY. Do look at Miss Doting. Is she invoking Juno?

MRS. FRISK. No, she would never invoke any one but Venus, my dear.

MISS DOTING. (_who has been going through some of the arm movements
most extravagantly, shakes her finger at the three ladies as she
approaches_) Ah, my dears, I see you laughing at me, but as that
dear Emerson says in his ode to “Beauty,” “Unmake me quite, or give
thyself to me.” And, oh! (_clasping her hands in a soulful way_) I do
so long for “Beauty;” not the tender tints of spring, not the rose
flush of June, but the beauty of autumn. Oh, surely, surely I may
consider that I am not too late in seeking that aftermath.

MRS. ALLJOY. Oh, surely, surely not too late, Miss Doting.

MRS. FRISK. You look so well to-day.

MRS. BODKIN. That is a most becoming costume.

MISS DOTING. Oh! do you think so? Pet laughed at me, and though she
is too dear a child to say so, I know she thinks me too old to wear
pink; but, as I said to her, “Beauty is its own excuse for being,”
and the rosy streaks of sunset are as beautifully tender as the
auroral glow of morn. And why may I not be clad like the sunset?

MRS. FRISK. Why, of course you may. (_Aside_) There is no one to
say you may not; but can you, and not look like a guy, that is the
question. (_Aloud_) Speaking of Pet, is Mintra not here? Ah, there
she is.

 (MINTRA _enters and_ MRS. ALLJOY _meets her, goes front; other
    ladies go through different gestures very awkwardly, laughing
    and talking with one another_.)

MRS. ALLJOY. Mintra, dear, I want so much to see you for a moment. I
must enlighten you in a matter upon which I happen to be informed,
and you do not. Old Mr. Fossil is here.

MINTRA. (_starting_) Is he?

MRS. ALLJOY. Yes, and Tom Bestman told my husband--you know what old
friends they are, and you will forgive it, I know--he told my husband
that his uncle was furious with him. Your aunt does not know of your
engagement, does she?

MINTRA. No, indeed; I have told her nothing about it. She has only
seen Tom twice, and doesn’t know he has an uncle. You know mamma
could not have told her, for she did not stop in Philadelphia at all.

MRS. ALLJOY. Well, Tom’s uncle vows he shall never marry any one but
a strong-minded daughter of the soil; at least--not exactly that--but
he advocates only sensible women, as he calls them, and objects in
the most strenuous manner to high heels, small waists, and society
foibles and follies.

MINTRA. Well!

MRS. ALLJOY. Not at all well. You dear, silly little goose (_putting
her arm affectionately around her_), do you know what that means?
Why, it means that your dear Tom is thrown off to shift for himself,
and instead of having a very comfortable berth he will have nothing
at all; and though he is by no means a fool, yet it will be years
before he is in a position to marry, if he doesn’t marry to please
his uncle, and his uncle has conceived a frantic dislike to you.

MINTRA. Me?

MRS. ALLJOY. Yes, “me” (_mimicking her_), and “me” must go to work
and disabuse the old gentleman of his ridiculous ideas.

MINTRA. But how?

MRS. ALLJOY. My dear goosie, you see the means before you. Physical
culture, of course. Send to the city for low-heeled shoes; increase
your waist measure at least four inches; be an enthusiastic walker;
stand up straight; give him the idea that your one aim in life is
to be sensible, that your ideal of perfection is a healthy peasant,
and--well, that is all.

MINTRA. (_enthusiastically_) I’ll do it.

MISS DOTING. (_approaching_) Ah, Pet, dear! you see I was right to
wear my pink gown. I have received many compliments, I assure you. “I
builded better than I knew,” as dear Emerson says. I want to tell you
something, I met such a charming man just before I came upstairs.

MINTRA. (_indifferently_) Who was it, auntie? You meet so many
“charming men.”

MISS DOTING. (_coquettishly_) Now, Pet, how can I help it if they
make themselves charming to me? Surely I do nothing to attract them,
and you know how terribly soon my ideals vanish. But this time!--O
Pet! (_theatrically_), “When half gods go, the gods arrive!” and Mr.
Fossil is Jove-like in his dignity.

MINTRA. (_excitedly_) Mr. Fossil?

MISS DOTING. Yes, Mr. Fossil; and O Pet! he is so interested in our
club, and he asked me--well (_coyly_), perhaps he should not have
done so upon so short an acquaintance; but when I told him that we
proposed giving an exhibition of our talent to the guests of the
house, at a later date, he asked me (_giggles_), he asked me if he
might come, and I said yes.

MINTRA. (_laughing_) Well, auntie, I don’t think that was so terribly
forward. I shall not object, for one.

MRS. BODKIN. O Mrs. Frisk! do you know your lesson? (_Proceeds with a
stanza of_ “Young Lochinvar,” _hesitates and breaks down_.) There! I
knew I could not do it.

MRS. FRISK. Oh! never mind. You will be all right. At any rate, there
are plenty to keep you company. I wonder where Miss Stein is.

MRS. PALLIDE. She will be a little late, I think, for I saw her
talking to Mr. Fossil, and you know his hobby. Do you know I cannot
remember that neck movement to save my life.

SEVERAL. Oh! can’t you? Why, this is it. (_All proceed to show her,
differently._)

MRS. PALLIDE. I don’t see that I am any wiser than I was before.
However, I will ask Miss Stein to show me. Do, somebody see if I say
this correctly. (_Begins another stanza of_ “Lochinvar,” _but stops
to giggle_) Now, Mrs. Frisk, if you look at me in that way I cannot
say it. I’ll tell Miss Stein of you. There she is now. (_All rush up
to_ MISS STEIN, _who enters the room_, C.)


                               CURTAIN




                                ACT II


  SCENE--_Porch of hotel. Gravel walk across stage in front of
     porch. Exits_ R. _and_ L. _Main entrance to hotel_ C. _in flat.
     Full-length windows_, R. _and_ L. _Wicker chairs scattered about
     porch._ MR. FOSSIL _and_ MR. BESTMAN _discovered seated down_ L.

MR. FOSSIL. (_rising_) Yes, sir, I say that the young men of the
present day are idiots. Yes, sir, brainless idiots. Do you suppose
for one instant, sir, that I intend my money to go toward supporting
a race of wasp-waisted, deformed, hollow-chested women? (_Walking
about porch excitedly_) Not for my right hand. I would rather see you
married to a German peasant with thick ankles and a thick head than
to a simpering silly society girl tottering along on her high-heeled,
pointed-toed shoes. (_Stopping before_ TOM) Look at that. (_Takes a
slipper from his pocket_) That is the kind of shoe I mean. Now, can
you deny that this is the same style of footgear that your charming,
lovely Mintra wears? (_Takes out a photograph_) I found this stuck
in your mirror. Look at that waist. No wonder she stands with her
back to you. I should think she would be ashamed to show her face.
How does she breathe? Where are her lungs? Where is her heart? No,
sir, it is time this folly--no, it is worse than folly--this crime,
I call it--should be stopped, and I, for one, give no consent toward
the encouragement of monstrosities. Now, you have my answer. You can
marry your high-heeled, wasp-waisted, narrow-chested deformed ninny
if you want to; but if you do, you leave my office at once, and every
cent of my money shall go toward the founding of gymnasiums for women.

TOM. But, uncle, you do not expect me to give up the girl I love
simply because she does not measure a yard around her waist. What
in the world has that to do with her moral character or her lovely,
amiable qualities?

MR. FOSSIL. It has everything to do with them. A girl that distorts
the body the Lord gave her hasn’t proper moral perception, and as for
her charming qualities, I suppose you can live on them.

TOM. But, uncle, it is ridiculous to take a dislike to a girl you
have never seen. Let me present you, and--

MR. FOSSIL. No, and I do not wish to see her. I hope I never shall.
I know enough of the species already. I shall go back to the city
to-night, and I expect you to go with me.

TOM. Now, sir, that is a little too much. She is just like all girls.
I mean she isn’t like all girls, but she has had no opportunity for
doing differently because she has had no example before her, and you
surely do not expect me to--

MR. FOSSIL. I expect nothing, and if her nonsensical style suits you
my ideas do not, so there is an end of it. (_Exit_ C.)

(_Enter_ MINTRA, R.) Tom, is that you?

TOM. (_rising_) Yes; what is left of me.

MINTRA. Why, what is the matter?

TOM. Oh, nothing but what I shall have to stand. Uncle expects me to
go back to the city with him to-night.

MINTRA. Well, never mind. You can come back again. Now, Tom, don’t
look so glum. You know I want you to stay, but old people are apt to
be a bit cranky, and it is best to humor them sometimes, then they
get over their little tempers sooner. You should see how I have to
manage Auntie. Was he so very angry when you--when you told him about
me? (_shyly._)

TOM. (_savagely_) Yes. Confound his impudence!

MINTRA. Now, Tom, don’t be so savage. You know “the course of true
love,” and if it is only this I don’t mind. As long as you are my own
dear boy, the whole world may turn against me. We’ll have him on our
side yet, you see if we do not.

TOM. You dear little girl (_puts his arm around her_), if he could
but see you once, he couldn’t help being on your side.

MINTRA. Tom, have I such a very small waist?

TOM. Yes, you are quite like a wasp.

MINTRA. Oh, you mean thing. I am not like one of those horrid, shiny,
blue wasps.

TOM. No, I didn’t mean a wasp. I meant a dear little busy bee.

MINTRA. The reason I asked is--but, please promise not to tell any
one.

TOM. All right, I promise.

MINTRA. You know there is a club organized here, just to fill up this
stupid season, and you know how dull it is for me when you are not
here, for I cannot write to you every hour in the day. Well, at first
I wasn’t a bit interested, but I really am now. You see I had never
thought of narrow chests, or little bits of waists being so very
injurious. I thought it was just a fad of old people, like Auntie;
but when I heard Miss Stein talk--you know she has come down to give
us lessons--I was converted at once, it all seemed so sensible. And
so I have joined the club for Physical Culture, and--

TOM. (_rapturously_) You have!

MINTRA. Yes. Are you glad? Do you approve?

TOM. Approve! I should think so.

MINTRA. I am so glad. Well, now you see, I practice often, oh! real
often, and Tom, although you don’t seem to think so, I am ever and
ever so many inches larger in the waist. And now the funny thing I
was going to tell you is this: I sent to the city for some low-heeled
shoes, for I have discarded all my high heels; but last night as I
was going to close my shutters, one of them stuck. I couldn’t quite
reach the catch, so I took up one of my high-heeled slippers--for the
heel makes an excellent hammer--and as the catch sprang suddenly,
it knocked the slipper out of my hand and it went flying out of the
window. Of course, it was dark, but I told one of the hall boys to
try and find it, and this morning he said he had hunted everywhere,
but it was not to be seen. Now, who in the world do you suppose could
have picked it up?

TOM. Ha! ha! ha! That is funny! Forgive me, my darling, but it is so
funny, I can’t help laughing. I think I could tell where it is.

MINTRA. O Tom! did you find it?

TOM. Never mind who found it. I have seen it, and that is all I shall
tell you. It is perfectly safe.

MINTRA. Well! I think you are very mean. Do, please, throw it away
where no one can find it. Do, like a good boy. Now I must go. You
must not worry, dear.

                          (_Exit, both_, L.)

                      (_Enter_ MRS. ALLJOY, C.)

MRS. ALLJOY. I am so glad no one is here. Now I can practice a little
without being heard. (_Begins_) Ma-za-sca-ah. (_Goes through some
gestures._)

                       (_Enter_ MR. ALLJOY, R.)

MR. ALLJOY. Why, Laura, what are you doing?

MRS. ALLJOY. (_looking at him steadfastly and seriously_) Most men
want poise, and more royal margin.

MR. ALLJOY. So they do; so they do. (_Aside_) Good gracious, now
did she hear of that little speculation? I might as well own up.
(_Aloud_) I know, my dear, I should have had more poise; but you know
I don’t often lose my head, and a man certainly does need a royal
margin when he is dabbling in stocks.

MRS. ALLJOY. Joseph Alljoy, are you crazy?

MR. ALLJOY. No. Are you?

MRS. ALLJOY. Not at all. My mind is perfectly clear.

MR. ALLJOY. I, Joseph Alljoy, being of sound mind--

MRS. ALLJOY. Joseph, you certainly are insane. I presume you have
left at the club the small amount of brains you once possessed. Now
at my club--

MR. ALLJOY. Ye powers above! She has a club! Clubs are trumps, and we
seem to hold a full hand. How fortunate that you are my partner! I
thought you always called for diamonds though?

MRS. ALLJOY. Well, I don’t get them if I do--not when you deal.

MR. ALLJOY. Now, Lolly, don’t let’s quarrel. We have done so much of
it lately, and you have seemed so like your old self, for the past
few days, that I hoped--indeed, I did hope that our old happy days
might come back.

MRS. ALLJOY. But you didn’t go to the club, then.

MR. ALLJOY. Neither did you. No, hearts were trumps, and they are
best after all. Clubs! They are a man’s refuge

    “From ev’ry stormy wind that blows,
     From ev’ry swelling tide of woes;”

but a woman and a club are about as incongruous as a woman and a
base-ball bat. You didn’t need clubs before we were married.

MRS. ALLJOY. Neither did you.

MR. ALLJOY. No; for you were very entertaining then, and did not need
to be coaxed to go walking or driving. You cannot go anywhere with me
now; but you are well enough to go to clubs.

MRS. ALLJOY. You will be sorry you spoke to me in this way. I meant
to tell you all about it, but I shall not now.

MR. ALLJOY. Now, Laura, do.

MRS. ALLJOY. Aha! Curiosity is it?

MR. ALLJOY. Oh! no! But it is your duty to tell me.

MRS. ALLJOY. (_scornfully_) Duty!

(_They walk off_, L., _talking and gesticulating in an animated
manner, as enter_ MISS DOTING _and_ MR. FOSSIL, C.)

MISS DOTING. O Mr. Fossil! it is cruel of you to leave us so soon,
but you naughty men are so uncertain; however, we must try and be
contented, for Emerson says “Discontent is the want of self-reliance;
it is the infirmity of will.” Now you must promise me again before
you go that you will surely return to witness our little attempt to
illustrate Physical Culture.

MR. FOSSIL. Well, really, Miss Doting, I--ahem!--I do not know
whether my business will permit me--but--

MISS DOTING. (_with a little scream of dismay_) O Mr. Fossil! you
surely will not disappoint us, I may say, disappoint me. Your
presence wanting will cast the gloom of discouragement over us all,
for we had hoped our champion would surely support us. You know
(_coyly_) we are only debutantes, and need a great deal of coaxing
and petting. (_with another little scream_) Oh, no! I don’t mean
petting. I mean--encouragement. As dear Pet, my niece, says: “Auntie,
you will never be anything but a child,” and indeed, as Emerson so
beautifully expresses it:

    “Spring is still spring in the mind
       When sixty years are told,
     Love wakes anew this throbbing heart,
       And we are never old.”

MR. FOSSIL. Very true, very true, Miss Doting.

MISS DOTING. Now, Mr. Fossil, we can depend upon you, I know. I
should so like you to see Pet, my dear niece. We are like sisters,
and in this little club of ours she is so in sympathy with me. Fancy
the dear child discarding all her pretty slippers, and wearing low
heels; fancy her clothing her dear young form in the garb of a true
dress reformer. You should see her pretty, graceful movements, free
as the bird that wings its way over yon ocean; free as the curling
wave that laps the bleaching sand. Oh, those exquisite movements
of grace! O Beauty! Beauty! how I adore thee! Yes, Mr. Fossil, you
should see my dear, heroic little niece.

MR. FOSSIL. I should like to see her, madam. A girl nowadays who is
willing to elevate this degenerate race by discarding its follies and
vanities, is a girl after my own heart. Miss Pet must be a niece to
be proud of, and it speaks well for the teachings of her aunt, that
she is so tractable and amiable as to follow her suggestions. I wish
my nephew were as obedient.

MISS DOTING. You have a nephew, Mr. Fossil?

MR. FOSSIL. Yes, madam, my dead sister’s son, to whom I have been a
father, and who now despises my counsels and derides my opinions.

MISS DOTING. O Mr. Fossil! how can he? One so good, so noble, so
truly wise in his judgments should be listened to as we listen to
truth.

MR. FOSSIL. Thank you, thank you, Miss Doting. I think I must try and
manage to get down to your little exhibition, and I anticipate much
pleasure in meeting your niece. And now, my dear madam, I must make
my adieux, for I fear it is train time.

MISS DOTING. Good-bye, Mr. Fossil, or rather, _au revoir_. (_Stands
gazing after him as he goes off_ R. TOM _and_ MINTRA _appear_ L.
MINTRA _goes up porch_. TOM _goes off_ R., _lingeringly, turning back
several times, while_ MINTRA _waves her hand_.)


                               CURTAIN




                               ACT III


  SCENE I--_Parlor of hotel, furniture removed. The X. Y. Z. Club, in
     costume, gives its exhibition._

             _If so desired, this scene may be omitted._

_For suggestions, see Shoemaker’s “Advanced Elocution,” “Delsartean
Pantomimes,” or “Drills and Marches,” published by the Penn
Publishing Company, Philadelphia._


  SCENE II--_Same as above, with furniture. Arch with curtains_ C.
     _in flat. Entrances_ R. _and_ L. _The company distributed in
     groups about the stage._ MISS DOTING _and_ MINTRA, _still in
     costume, and_ MR. FOSSIL, _down_ L.

MISS DOTING. And how were you pleased, Mr. Fossil?

MR. FOSSIL. Charmed, madam, charmed.

MISS DOTING. (_turning to_ MINTRA) Pet, dear, allow me to present Mr.
Fossil. You have heard me extol his wisdom and good taste. And he has
heard of you, haven’t you, Mr. Fossil?

MR. FOSSIL. Indeed, yes, Miss Pet, I cannot express to you the great
pleasure it gives me to meet a young lady so admirably sensible.
Your aunt tells me you are an enthusiast in the matter of Physical
Culture. “Strength before beauty” is my motto.

MISS DOTING. O Mr. Fossil! but beauty!

MR. FOSSIL. Pardon me. I should say, “Strength is beauty.” The beauty
of the vine depending upon the strength of its support, though it
be nothing but the solid ground; the beauty of the rose taking
its strength from the parent stalk. Fill nature with weakness and
disease, and there you have ugliness, repulsive distortion. Ah, my
dear young lady, I wish all women could realize that it is strength
of body which makes beauty. You are fond of walking?

MINTRA. Oh, yes! I can walk miles.

MISS DOTING. And return rosy and unwearied.

MINTRA. But you know, auntie, how the English women walk; and look at
our own country girls. Why, even our little children walk miles to
school. Of course, if I wore little nippy heels, and went tripping
along like a Chinese lady, I should soon get tired.

MR. FOSSIL. Most sensibly spoken.

MINTRA. Thank you, Mr. Fossil. I knew you must be an advocate of
fresh air. Isn’t it delightful to take in great draughts of pure
oxygen and expand your lungs till you feel so invigorated that you
long to dwell on a mountain top for the rest of your life? (_Aside_)
I’ve been rehearsing those speeches for a week.

MR. FOSSIL. Admirable! Excellent! (_Aside_) A remarkably fine girl,
Miss Doting. (_Aloud_) What charming costumes you are wearing,
ladies. How much better those old Greeks knew how to dress than we
do. But the day is dawning! Ah, Miss Pet! I wish that you were my
niece! (MISS DOTING _looks very coyly conscious_.)

MINTRA. Are you sure, Mr. Fossil?

MR. FOSSIL. Quite sure. If my scapegrace of a nephew would only ask
me to sanction his choice of such a girl, I tell you I should not be
long in giving my consent.

MINTRA. Take care, Mr. Fossil; one never knows what may happen.
Suppose I hold you to your word some day?

MR. FOSSIL. May the day soon come, my dear young lady, is my hearty
wish. (_Bows, ladies walk away, music is heard and all go out_ C.
_but_ MINTRA, _who stands listening_.)

                      (_Enter_ TOM BESTMAN, R.)

TOM. O my darling! I wondered where you were. I saw you were not
in the music room, so I came in here, hoping to find you. (_Takes
her hand_) Dear, I saw you talking to my uncle, and naturally I am
anxious to know what he--I mean what you thought of him.

MINTRA. (_innocently_) Why, Tom, he is a dear, lovely old fellow, and
he paid me no end of compliments. He actually said he wished I were
his niece.

TOM. He did?

MINTRA. Yes, he did.

TOM. Well, I vow!

MINTRA. (_mocking him_) “Well, I vow,” you’re polite. Is it such a
very astonishing thing that an old gentleman should make such a wish?

TOM. (_pulling his mustache_) No--but--at least, not all old
gentlemen, but this old gentleman isn’t like all old gentlemen; in
fact, he is a very cranky old gentleman, and I didn’t expect--

MINTRA. Didn’t expect! Never mind what you expected (_irritatedly_),
I do not know that I especially indorse his wish; indeed, as I come
to think of it, I am quite sure I do not. (_Turns away, pouting._)

TOM. (_bewildered_) Why, my dear girl, what do you mean? Do you
want me to understand that you do not care for me any more? (MINTRA
_remains silent_.) My darling, don’t trifle with me. I have been
terribly upset lately, and if I am stupid or dense you must overlook
it.

MINTRA. (_turning to him, and putting out both hands_) O Tom, you are
dense! I thought you would be so happy; I am. Don’t make me say so.
Cannot you see how easy it all is?

TOM. Why--yes--I suppose so, only when you are dealing with a cranky
uncle--

MR. FOSSIL. (_entering suddenly_, C.) What’s this I hear? Cranky
uncle! Cranky uncle, is it? (_Turning to_ MINTRA) Don’t let this
young man make you believe his tales, Miss Pet.

MINTRA. (_laughingly_) Ah, Mr. Fossil, remember what you said awhile
ago. You do not know to what tales I may be listening.

MR. FOSSIL. I certainly indorse anything I may have said to you, Miss
Pet.

MINTRA. Do you? Very well (_aside to_ TOM), present me as your
_fiancée_. Do hurry, Tom.

TOM. (_looking rather dazed_) Uncle, let me present you to my
promised wife, Miss Mintra Triptoe.

MR. FOSSIL. (_looking very much surprised_) Your promised wife?
Miss Mintra Triptoe? Why, I imagined this young lady to be Miss
Doting--Miss Pet Doting.

MINTRA. No, Mr. Fossil, auntie is Miss Doting. I am her sister’s
child, and all the family call me Pet.

MR. FOSSIL. Well, I am amazed. Nevertheless, my dear, I am delighted
as well. You little cajoler. Ha! ha! ha! Pretty well done. Ha! ha! ha!

       (_Enter_ MISS DOTING, C. TOM _and_ MINTRA _go out_, R.)

MR. FOSSIL. Ah, Miss Doting, it seems that there is a possibility of
our being more nearly related, and that your niece may be my niece,
and my nephew your nephew.

MISS DOTING. O Mr. Fossil! this is so unexpected. How have I won such
a prize?

MR. FOSSIL. Prize? I am not sure about there being any great prize
won, excepting on my side. If all is, as I hope it is, the prize will
be won by my side of the house.

MISS DOTING. O Mr. Fossil! what an adept you are in the language of
love!

MR. FOSSIL. I? Not a bit of it. Well, perhaps I may have been rather
effusive to the lady; but I hope she did not think too much so.

MISS DOTING. Too much so! How can you imagine it? What so delightful
to a woman’s ears as the graceful appreciation of the man she
admires--respects--adores--(_puts out both hands._)

MR. FOSSIL. (_taking her hands_) Well, Miss Doting, I had no idea
that your niece was so impressed by my unworthy self, but she shall
find me a warm friend. Yes, madam, we are to be congratulated. I will
do my best for the young couple, and Tom will understand that his old
uncle hasn’t such poor judgment after all.

MISS DOTING. (_withdrawing her hands_) Your nephew! My niece!
I--I--do not understand.

MR. FOSSIL. Neither did I, at first; but the sly things told me they
were engaged. My nephew, Tom Bestman, to your niece, Miss Pet--no, I
mean Miss Mintra Do--no, I mean Triptoe.

MISS DOTING. O, cruel! cruel! not to have told me at once.

MR. FOSSIL. Not at all! not at all! Now, Miss Doting, pray do not
take it in that way. Young folks like a little secret. I don’t blame
them. Come, come, we old folks must give them our blessing and be
happy with them.

MISS DOTING. (_aside_) Old folks! O, crueller still! Ah well, “What
does not come to us is not ours.” (_Aloud_) I suppose I must not be
too harsh, Mr. Fossil; let us find them; but we should remember that
Emerson says “the passion of which we speak, though it begins with
the young, does not forsake the old,” and you are scarcely old yet,
Mr. Fossil. (_Takes his arm and they walk off_, R.)

     (_Enter_ MR. _and_ MRS. ALLJOY, MRS. FRISK _and others_, L.
                 MR. _and_ MRS. ALLJOY _go down_ L.)

MRS. ALLJOY. Now, Joe, you see my club is perfectly harmless.

MR. ALLJOY. I congratulate you, Laura, I do, indeed. You are a trump.
By George! but it was a revelation to me. I hadn’t an idea you women
could be so limber. You looked stunning, too.

MRS. ALLJOY. And you’ll find it doesn’t stop here. I’ll take a
five-mile walk with you to-morrow, if you say so.

MR. ALLJOY. Good! we’ll do it.

MRS. ALLJOY. And, Joe, you may rustle the paper all you choose, and
if you go to the club, remember, I’m going too. Somehow I’ve given up
being an invalid, so you’d better not let me be alone too much, with
all this newly acquired energy.

MR. ALLJOY. I shall not want to go to the club if you will only be
good company for me. To tell you the truth, the club is getting to be
an awful bore, and I am about sick of clubs. That is a fact.

MRS. ALLJOY. Then we’ll begin all over again.

MRS. FRISK. (_coming down_) Isn’t she a lively invalid, Mr. Alljoy?
You may thank me for it.

MR. ALLJOY. I do, most heartily. She’s her old self, indeed. Ah, here
comes Tom and Mintra.

  (_Enter_ TOM _and_ MINTRA, L., MR. FOSSIL _and_ MISS DOTING, R. MR.
     _and_ MRS. ALLJOY _go toward them_. _All meet centre._)

MISS DOTING. O Pet! why didn’t you tell me?

MINTRA. What? About Tom? I was afraid to. (_looking roguishly at_ MR.
FOSSIL) I was afraid you’d tell Mr. Fossil.

MR. FOSSIL. You little intriguer! Remember, I haven’t given my
consent.

TOM. But, you do, give it, sir.

MR. ALLJOY. Oh, yes! Mr. Fossil!

MRS. ALLJOY. You do give it, Mr. Fossil?

MR. FOSSIL. I do, indeed.

TOM. Then we must thank--

MINTRA. The Heart suit, for although Clubs were trumps, Hearts have,
as usual, won at last.



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75848 ***