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diff --git a/old/64607-0.txt b/old/64607-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c532c5c..0000000 --- a/old/64607-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8314 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Seeking His Fortune, and Other Dialogues, by -Horatio Alger, Jr. - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Seeking His Fortune, and Other Dialogues - -Author: Horatio Alger, Jr. - O. Augusta Cheney - -Release Date: February 21, 2021 [eBook #64607] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: David Edwards and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEEKING HIS FORTUNE, AND OTHER -DIALOGUES *** - - - - - - SEEKING HIS FORTUNE, - AND - OTHER DIALOGUES. - - BY - HORATIO ALGER, JR., - AND - O. AUGUSTA CHENEY. - - LORING, Publisher, - COR. WASHINGTON AND BROMFIELD STREETS, - BOSTON. - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by - A. K. LORING, - In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. - - - - - To - - MY FATHER AND MOTHER, - - This Volume - - IS DEDICATED, BY THEIR AFFECTIONATE DAUGHTER, - - O. AUGUSTA CHENEY. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -Nearly all the dialogues in the present collection were originally -contributed to a juvenile magazine in New York. Many of them have been -used at exhibitions in different parts of the country, and met with a -degree of favor which has led to their publication in this more permanent -form. While intended for representation, it is hoped that readers may -find them a source of entertainment. - -It is proper to add that only the first dialogue belongs to me. The -remainder are written by my sister, whose name appears with mine on the -title-page. So far as these are concerned, my part has been merely that -of an editor. - - HORATIO ALGER, JR. - -NEW YORK, May 1, 1875. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - SEEKING HIS FORTUNE 11 - - ONE WEEK AN EDITOR 27 - - KEEPING GENTEEL BOARDERS 37 - - MRS. SKINFLINT’S BARGAINS 57 - - MRS. GRUNDY’S TYRANNY 67 - - AUNT HANNAH’S VALENTINE 79 - - MR. BLISS’ VISION 95 - - HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS 105 - - BOARDING ON A FARM 115 - - TAMING A WIFE 127 - - JOHN SMITH’S TRIALS 139 - - AUNT RACHEL’S FRIGHT 149 - - THE HYPOCHONDRIAC CURED 161 - - AUNT PATIENCE’S EAR-TRUMPET 169 - - THE GHOSTLY VISITATION 183 - - PRACTICAL HUSBANDRY 193 - - MR. SMITH’S DAY AT HOME 207 - - THE COUNTRY COUSIN 217 - - TAKING POISON 231 - - DEACON ROBINSON’S PRESENT 237 - - MRS. MARDEN’S LESSON 249 - - THE MAGIC MIRROR 257 - - - - -SEEKING HIS FORTUNE. - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. - - DEA. ELNATHAN PETERS, a Farmer. - MRS. ALMIRA PETERS, his Wife. - JONATHAN PETERS, his Son. - THOMAS HAMPTON, a Commission Merchant. - SAMUEL JENKINS, his Clerk. - - - SCENE I.—_An old-fashioned kitchen. MRS. P. is paring apples, - R. DEA. P. nodding over a newspaper, L. JONATHAN, a tall, - countrified-looking specimen, sits moodily, C., with chair - tipped back, and his hands in his pockets._ - -JONATHAN. Well, marm, I’ve made up my mind I shan’t stay in Beanville any -longer. - -MRS. PETERS. Why, Jonathan, how you dew talk! What’s got into you? - -J. I’ve got tired of Beanville, marm, that’s what’s the matter. I aint -goin’ to stay here all my life, raisin’ cabbages, and hoin’ taters. I’m -fit for somethin’ better. - -DEA. PETERS (_rousing from his nap_). What’s the boy talkin’ about, -mother? - -J. I might as well tell you fust as last, dad. I’m goin’ to Bostown. - -MRS. P. Massy sakes! Bostown’s a hundred miles off. What you goin’ there -for? - -J. To make my fortin. - -DEA. P. ’Taint so easy as you think for, Jonathan. You’d a plaguy sight -better stay round here and help me. - -J. I can’t do nothin’ here, dad. I have to work till I get all tuckered -out, just to make a livin’ and can’t never wear anything better than -overalls. Now, if I was in the city, I could wear store clothes all the -time, like that are fellow that boarded up to the tavern last summer. - -MRS. P. I’m afraid, Jonathan, you’re gettin’ proud. You aint no call to -be ashamed of wearin’ overalls. They’re what me and your father always -wear. - -DEA. P. (_slily_). Yes, mother, you _do_ wear the breeches sometimes. - -MRS. P. (_in a deprecating tone_). Now, father, you’d orter be ashamed. -You know I didn’t mean that. (_To_ JONATHAN.) I mean, Jonathan, your -father and me aint ashamed of wearin’ workin’ clothes. I’m afraid you’re -gettin’ proud, and pride’s a deadly sin. - -J. Can’t help it, marm. When that feller passed me in the field last -summer, he turned up his nose at me, and I aint goin’ to stand it. I’m as -good as he is, any day. - -MRS. P. So you be, Jonathan. - -J. And I want, to dress as well. So I’ve made up my mind to go to -Bostown, and go into business there. - -DEA. P. What sort of business? - -J. As to that, I aint partic’lar. Anything that I can make money by. - -DEA. P. Perhaps you’ll lose it. They’re pooty sharp in Bostown, I’ve -heard tell. Most likely you’d get cheated out of all you’ve got. - -MRS. P. Yes, Jonathan, listen to what your dad says; he’s had more -experience than you hev. - -J. He don’t Know much about Bostown, anyway. - -DEA. P. (_complacently_). Yes, Jonathan, I know a good deal about the -city. I’ve been there three times. Fust time was just after me and your -mother was married. - -MRS. P. Thirty-one years ago. - -DEA. P. Yes, Almiry, thirty-one year. Then again, I went down to sell a -yoke of oxen for Squire Peabody. - -J. That time you had your pocket picked, and had to borrow money to git -home. - -DEA. P. (_coughing_). Ahem! yes, I believe it was that time. Then again, -I went seven year ago, and stayed to the Mechanics’ Fair. That are was a -great sight. - -J. Well, dad, I haint never been at all, and I’m goin’,—that’s all. - -MRS. P. You aint nothin’ but a boy, Jonathan. - -J. Aint I, though? I’m twenty-one year old, and taller’n father, and I -weighed myself down to the store, yesterday, and weighed a hundred and -eighty. I should think I was old enough and big enough to be trusted away -from home. - -MRS. P. The city is a wicked place, Jonathan. Who knows but you’d get to -drinkin’ and swearin’? - -J. There aint no danger of that, marm. I tasted some whiskey, the other -day, down to Hiram Johnson’s, and it most turned my stummik. I shan’t -drink anything stronger’n cider. - -DEA. P. That’s right, my son. Cider’s good, for we know what it’s made -of. Apples are healthy, and when a body’s tired, a mug of cider goes to -the right spot. - -MRS. P. (_doubtfully_). Yes, father, but you know Sam Wilson got drunk -on cider one town meetin’ day, and smashed forty panes of glass in the -meetin’-house. - -DEA. P. Wal, wal, he drank more’n was good for him. But, Jonathan, to -come back to your plans, have you thought what you shall do when you get -to the city? - -J. Why, dad, I calc’late there must be plenty of work to be did. I reckon -I should like to tend in a store. - -DEA. P. Lazy business, Jonathan. - -J. That’s what I like it for, dad. I’ve had hard work enough, and I want -to take it easy awhile. Maybe I shall go into business on my own hook, if -I get a good chance. There aint no reason why I shouldn’t get rich as -well as other folks. - -MRS. P. (_hastily_). I hope, Jonathan, you aint goin’ to take that two -hundred and fifty dollars out of the Savings Bank, that yer Aunt Betsey -give you in her will. - -J. Of course I be. How can a feller go into business without capital? - -MRS. P. (_solemnly_). You’ll lose every red cent of it, take my word for -it. - -J. And earn five times as much more, marm; I guess I know how to make -money as well as other folks. - -MRS. P. Deacon, do say somethin’ to git him off this foolish plan. He’ll -fail, sartain, an’ it’ll make his aunt rise from her grave, if he loses -all the money that she earned by knittin’ an’ dryin’ apples. - -DEA. P. (_reflectively_). I don’t know, Almiry, but the boy might as well -try his luck, seein’ he’s sot on it. Perhaps he may do well, arter all. - -J. (_delightedly_). That’s the talk, dad. - -MRS. P. Well, I dunno. It seems to me mighty resky. However, if he must -go, he’ll have to wait till I’ve knit him some winter stockings. He’s -most out. - -J. I kin buy some in Bostown, marm. They’ve got plenty there. - -MRS. P. (_contemptuously_). And what are they worth I should like to -know? Boughten stockin’s won’t stand any wear at all. Then, there’s your -shirts; you aint got but three. - -J. Well, there’s enuff; I kin wear one a week, an’ three’s enough to -shift with. - -DEA. P. You’ll have to be more partic’lar in the city. I’ve heard that -some folks in the city wear as many as three clean shirts in a week. - -MRS. P. They must be awful dirty to need changin’ so often. But I guess, -Jonathan, you’d better have one more made. - -J. Well, you kin send the shirt and the stockin’s to me by express. I’ve -made up my mind to go next week. - -MRS. P. An’ what’ll Mary Jane Parker say to that? - -J. I don’t care. - -MRS. P. I thought you were sweet on her only a little while ago. - -J. Wal, she aint anything but a country gal. Maybe I shall find a -good-lookin’ city gal that’s got the tin. - -MRS. P. O Jonathan, I’m afeard you’re gittin’ vain. “Vanity of vanity! -All is vanity!” says the Scripters. Mary Jane would make you a real -capable wife. She can make butter an’ cheese equal to any gal in -Beanville, an’ she made fifteen dollars, last summer, sellin’ eggs. - -J. (_contemptuously_). What’s fifteen dollars? - -MRS. P. The time may come when you’ll be glad to git fifteen dollars. - -J. Now, marm, don’t go to discouragin’ a feller; I’m bound to be rich, -and when I’ve made money enuff, I’m going to buy you a silk gownd. - -MRS. P. Thank you, Jonathan; I allus thought I should like a new silk -gownd. I aint had a new one for twenty year. - -J. Well, marm, you shall have it jist as soon as I’ve made my pile. - -MRS. P. Pile of what, for the land’s sake? - -J. Made my fortin, I mean. And I’ll buy father a new Sunday go-to-meeting -coat. - -DEA. P. I guess you’ll want your money for other things, Jonathan. Don’t -count your chickens before they’re hatched. - -J. Can I have the horse to-morrow, dad? - -DEA. P. What for? - -J. I’m goin’ over to the bank to get my money. - -DEA. P. Yes, I reckon so. - -MRS. P. You’d better go with him, father. He might git robbed on the way -home. I shan’t feel safe with such a lot of money in the house. - -J. Well, ’twon’t be in the house long. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_JONATHAN, in a blue suit with brass buttons, stands - R. C., waiting for the stage. Beside him is a blue chest - containing his worldly effects. DEACON and MRS. PETERS stand - near the door, R._ - -J. (_looking toward L._). I hear the stage, marm. - -MRS. P. Yes, it’s just comin’ over the hill. Hadn’t you better change -your mind, Jonathan, and stay to hum, arter all? - -J. Not by a jug-full. No, marm, the dice is cast, and I’m bound to be -somebody. No more diggin’ taters for me. - -DEA. P. Well, Jonathan, I wish you all success, but I kinder have my -misgivin’s. - -MRS. P. Is the money safe, Jonathan? - -J. Yes, marm, I’ve got it in my trowsers’ pocket. - -MRS. P. Hadn’t you better leave part of it to hum? You might have your -pockets picked, you know. - -J. They won’t catch this child so easy. Don’t you be alarmed. - -MRS. P. I declare I’ve forgotten them doughnuts. - -DEA. P. (_looking toward L._). Stage is just at the corner. - -MRS. P. They’ll wait a minute. - -J. (_starting towards L._). Can’t wait, marm. I’ll buy some dinner at the -tavern. - -MRS. P. It’ll be wastin’ your money. - -DEA. P. Never mind. - -J. (_going slowly toward L._). Good-by. - -DEA. P. AND MRS. P. Good-by. Be sure and write. - -J. I’ll write just as soon as I get to the city. - - (_Exit L._) - -MRS. P. (_with her apron to her eyes_). It’s an awful resk, Deacon, -Jonathan’s going away from home. - -DEA. P. Cheer up, mother. He’s a man grown. He may make a fortune, after -all. - - (_Exeunt, R._) - -(_JONATHAN returns L. for his chest._) - -J. (_solus_). Good-by to Beanville. When I come back, I’ll make the folks -stare. Mary Jane’ll have to look up another feller. I’m goin’ to look -higher. - - (_Exit L._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_A small room in the fifth story of a Boston hotel. - JONATHAN, C., sits poring over the advertising columns of the - Boston Herald._ - -J. I had no idee there was so many houses in the world. Bostown’s a -big place, to be sure. But I don’t see where they pastur’ all their -cows. I didn’t see none in that big lot in front of the State House. -I guess folks must have a power of money to live in such fine houses. -The State House must have cost twice as much as our meetin’-house, and -p’r’aps more. Anyway I’m bound to see if I can’t make my fortin here. -The landlord told me I might find a chance for business in this paper. -I guess I’ll look over it, and see what I can find. (_Reads the paper -intently for a few minutes._) Why, here’s the very thing! Let me spell it -out again. (_Reads aloud._) - -“TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS A YEAR! Wanted, a young man with a small capital, -to engage in a lucrative business, which is sure to pay him at least two -thousand dollars a year. Call at once on Samuel Jenkins, 15 S—— street.” - -J. (_jumping to his feet in excitement_). Where’s my hat? I say that’s an -all-fired good chance! Two thousand dollars a year! Why, it takes away my -breath, thinkin’ of it. Here I’ve been workin’ for dad for ten dollars -a month, and that aint but a hundred and twenty dollars a year. Our -minister don’t get but three hundred dollars and his house-rent. Guess -he’ll hev to look up to me ef I git this chance. I must go right off, or -some other feller’ll be ahead of me. - - (_Puts on hat, and exit L. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE IV.—_A small office. SAMUEL JENKINS sits R., in a - lounging attitude, smoking a cigar. A knock is heard L. He - jumps up hastily, and admits JONATHAN._ - -J. (_bashfully_). Be you Mr. Jenkins? - -SAM. (_bowing_). I am, at your service. - -J. I seen the advertisement what you writ in the papers, about wanting a -partner,— - -S. J. With a small capital? - -J. Yes, with a small capital, and I thought I’d call and see if you’d -take me. - -S. J. (_aside_). The fellow’s just from the country. I must impress him a -little. I wonder how much money he’s got. (_Aloud._) Well, as to that, I -can’t say, positively. I must ask you a few questions. Have you lived in -the city long? - -J. Wal, no, I live to Beanville, when I’m ter hum. - -S. J. (_reflectively_). Beanville! I don’t think I ever heard of the -place. - -J. Sho! I thought everybody’d heard of Beanville. - -S. J. Then I suppose you have never been in business. - -J. (_hesitatingly_). Wall, no, not exactly; but I tended in our store two -days when the other feller was gone. - -S. J. That is nothing;—but perhaps you could learn. - -J. (_eagerly_). Oh, yes, I kin learn pooty quick, ef you’ll only try me. - -S. J. Then about the capital. How much money have you got? - -J. I hed two hundred and fifty dollars when I left hum, but I guess -I’ll have to leave some to pay my board. I kin invest two hundred and -twenty-five dollars. - -S. J. (_aside_). That isn’t as much as I hoped, but I’m dead broke, and -that’ll do to till I take in another flat. - -J. (_anxiously_). Will that do? - -S. J. Why, it isn’t as much as I expected; considering the large income -which you will receive, it is very small. - -J. I will come for less than two thousand, if you’ll only take me. - -S. J. No, I will pay what I guaranteed. I suppose you have references. - -J. I’ll write to our minister to send me a character. - -S. J. Never mind. I have a knack at reading faces, and I can tell by -yours that you are honest and industrious. - -J. (_gratified_). Then you will take me? - -S. J. Have you got the money with you? - -J. Yes; shall I pay it now? - -S. J. You might as well, and the partnership shall begin at once. - -J. (_drawing out his pocket-book, and counting out some bills_). Two -hundred, two hundred and ten, two hundred and twenty-five. I guess you’ll -find it right. - -S. J. (_looking over the bills carelessly_). Yes, quite correct. Stay, I -will give you a receipt. What is your name? (_Writes._) - -J. Jonathan Peters. - -S. J. (_passes him receipt_). Mine is Jenkins. Success to the firm of -Jenkins and Peters. I’ll see about a sign. - -J. (_surprised_). Do you do it here? I don’t see nothin’ to sell. - -S. J. Oh, it’s a commission business. I’ll attend to that, and you’ll do -the writing. I suppose you can write a good hand. - -J. Oh, yes, I’ve been to writin’ school two winters. I can’t write very -fast. - -S. J. Never mind, you’ll learn. Practice makes perfect. I think I’ll have -you begin to-day. Do you see that book? (_Points to an old ledger on the -desk._) - -J. Yes. - -S. J. Well, there’s a blank book. I want you to copy out of the ledger -into the book, beginning at the first page. - -J. All right. I kin do it. - -S. J. Be very particular not to make any mistakes. - -J. I’ll do my best. - -S. J. (_taking his hat_). I’ve got to go round to the bank to deposit -this money, and will be right back. See how much you can copy while I am -gone. - -J. Yes, I’ll work faithful. - - (_Exit S. J., L._) - -J. (_solus_). Well, aint that a streak of luck! Here I am, just come to -the city, and earnin’ a salary of two thousand dollars a year. Won’t it -make dad stare? I guess marm’ll be glad I come now. Wonder what Mary -Jane’ll say? She’ll be mighty sorry I’ve gone and left her. But she aint -fit for the wife of a merchant like me! I must write to dad to-night. I -would now, only my time belongs to the firm. Two thousand dollars a year! -Why, that’s six dollars a day, and more, almost as much a day as I used -to git in a month. Guess I’ll buy a watch after I git my first month’s -pay. Holloa, what’s that? - - (_Enter THOMAS HEMPTON, R._) - -H. (_looking at JONATHAN with surprise_). What are you doing here? - -J. (_with dignity_). Tendin’ to business. - -H. And how do you happen to be attending to business in my office? - -J. Look here, mister, I guess you have made a little mistake. This aint -your office. It’s mine and Jenkins’. - -H. (_sarcastically_). Indeed! And I suppose that is your ledger that you -have before you? - -J. Of course it is. - -H. Well, you’re a mighty cool customer, though you look rather green than -otherwise. Perhaps you can tell me who this Jenkins is. - -J. He’s the boss of this concern. That is, him and me are the two bosses. - -H. Well, you’re about right there. You look more like bossies than -anything else. If you ever lived in the country, as I should judge from -your appearance you had, you will know what that means. - -J. (_advancing in a threatening manner, and brandishing a ruler_). I say, -stranger, quit that. None of your sarse, or I’ll break yer head. - -H. (_with dignity_). Enough of this, young man. Put down that ruler. Now, -tell me, have you given this man, Jenkins, any money? - -J. Yes; two hundred and twenty-five dollars, and he’s took me into -partnership. - -H. When did you see him last? - -J. He went out an hour ago. - -H. You’ll never see him, I’m afraid, or your money either. - -J. (_terrified_). What’s that, stranger? - -H. In short, he’s swindled you. Jenkins is not his real name. He is a -clerk of mine, of whom, for some time, I have had suspicions. He took -advantage of a three days’ absence of mine in New York, to put an -advertisement in the paper, which has taken you in. He’s got your money, -and that will be the last we shall see of him, unless the police pick him -up. - -J. (_crying_). He’s carried off all my money. Boo! hoo! and I aint -earnin’ two thousand dollars a year after all. Aunt Betsey’s money gone. -Boo! hoo! What’ll marm say? - -H. I’m afraid your money’s gone past recovery, but if you want to stay -in the city, there’s a friend of mine wants a good, strong fellow in a -grocery store. He will give you two dollars a day. - -J. (_drying his tears_). Well, that’s pooty good. It’s a good deal more’n -I kin make in the country. I’ll take it. (_Enter boy, R., with a note._) - -H. (_opening it hastily_). Young man, here is good news. The police, -having some suspicions of Jenkins, arrested him as he was on the point -of leaving the city for New York, and he is now in custody. You will -probably recover your money. - -J. (_executing a double shuffle in his delight_). O crackey! my money -safe. Now I shan’t be ashamed to write home. You won’t forget about that -grocery place? - -H. No, I will see my friend to-day, and I have no doubt he will take you. -By the way, where are you boarding? - -J. At the Blank House. - -H. The board is pretty high there. - -J. My room is high, anyway, in the fifth story but they charge me only -three dollars a week. - -H. Three dollars a day, you should say. - -J. By gracious, you don’t mean it! - -H. Certainly; some of the hotels charge four and five. - -J. How do they expect a feller can eat three dollars’ worth of victuals -in a day? - -H. You’d better leave there at once. I’ll give you the address of a place -where you can get boarded for six dollars a week, while you’ll be earning -twelve. - -J. We kin git board up to Beanville for two dollars a week. - -H. Beanville and Boston are two different places, and differ greatly in -some important respects. If you will wait here a few moments, I’ll go out -and speak to my friend about this place that you want. - - (_Exit R._) - -J. (_solus_). Well, I wouldn’t ’a’ thought that Jenkins was such a tricky -feller. I’d like to jist git hold of him once, and ef I wouldn’t give him -a kick that would land him in the middle of next week, it’s because I’d -lost the use of my foot, that’s all. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -ONE WEEK AN EDITOR. - - -CHARACTERS. - - FERNANDO CLAPP, Editor pro tem. - EPHRAIM SIMPSON, a Country Farmer. - DR. JOHN JENKINS, Vender of Salve. - EUGENE SNOW, Printer’s “Devil.” - ARAMINTA ELLIS, a Sentimental Young Lady. - GEO. CRANE, a Mechanic. - DR. WM. RANDALL, Proprietor of Anti-Dyspepsia Pills. - HENRY PERKINS, a Fierce-looking Individual. - - - SCENE I.—_A country printing office. EDITOR pro tem. sitting R. - before a table C. covered with MSS. Piles of newspapers upon - the floor on either side of him. A pair of scissors in one hand - and a pen in the other. Enter EPHRAIM SIMPSON, L._ - -EPHRAIM SIMPSON. Is this the office of the “Petersville Post”? - -EDITOR (_with some curiosity_). It is. - -E. You are the editor, I reckon? - -ED. You are right. - -E. Well, you see my name is Ephraim Simpson, and I live over to -Greenfield. I’ve been workin’ this summer hayin’, but I found it was too -hard work, and I reckoned I’d come to you and see if you couldn’t give me -a chance to edit a little. - -ED. Why, you know it is quite a difficult thing to learn to edit a paper. -It requires education, judgment, and a variety of other qualifications. - -E. Oh, as to that, I guess I can satisfy you. I have tended school in our -deestrict for four winters, and can read, write and cipher like a book. - -ED. That is all very well, but you know one must be able to compose as -well as write. - -E. Oh, compositions you mean. Well, I have written them some. Don’t you -want me to try my hand and show you what I kin do? - -ED. I am not in particular need of an assistant just now, but perhaps -you might as well sit down and try your hand at writing an editorial. -(_EPHRAIM sits down, R._) - -(_Enter, L., a rusty-looking individual, with a tin trunk under his arm._) - -JOHN JENKINS. Are you the editor of the “Post”? - -ED. I am. - -J. J. Then, sir, allow me to present you with a box of my famous salve -(_hands box to him_). - -ED. Thank you. - -J. J. Perhaps you’d be willing to insert this little paragraph about it. -I wrote it off to save you trouble (_hands paper to editor_). - -ED. (_reading aloud_). We have received from Dr. Jenkins a box of his -Magnetic Salve, which is warranted to cure every description of cut -or bruise in an incredibly short space of time. We know a boy who -accidentally cut off one of his fingers. His mother being absent, he -bethought himself of Dr. Jenkins’s salve, which she had bought the day -previous. He applied it to the injured finger, and before night there was -not even a scar to indicate where the wound had been. - -ED. (_looking up_). You want me to insert this? - -J. J. (_in an insinuating tone_). Yes, sir. - -ED. But I don’t know the boy referred to. - -J. J. My dear sir, aint you rather new in the business? - -ED. (_indignantly_). Well, and what if I am? - -J. J. (_smiling sarcastically_). I thought you were, or you’d understand -that this is the way they always do things. - -ED. We are a little more conscientious than editors generally. However, -you assure me that the salve is good? - -J. J. (_warmly_). Nothing better in the whole world, sir. - -ED. And you think it would be safe to speak well of it? - -J. J. Sir, you will be conferring a blessing on the community. - -ED. Very well, I will write a little puff for you. - -J. J. Thank you, sir. - - (_Exit, L._) - -PRINTER’S DEVIL (_entering, R._). More copy, sir. - -ED. Here it is (_handing him a paper_). - - (_Exit P. D._) - -(_A knock is heard at the door, L._) - -ED. Come in. - -(_Enter young lady, L._) - -YOUNG LADY. Please, sir, I am Araminta Ellis, the authoress of “Lines on -a Faded Buttercup.” - -ED. I am delighted to see you, Miss Ellis. Did the—the poem you speak of -appear in the “Post”? - -A. E. (_surprised at his ignorance_). No, sir, it was contributed to the -“Weekly Bulletin.” I have never written anything for the “Post,” but -should be willing to do so. What are your terms? - -ED. (_blandly_). Three dollars a year. - -A. E. I do not mean the subscription price of the paper, but how much do -you pay your poetical contributors? - -ED. We—ahem—that is, our friends are kind enough to make us a free gift -of their productions in that line. - -A. E. (_insinuatingly_). But don’t you pay for superior poetry? I have -here a poem which I would like to see transferred to your columns -(_passes manuscript to him_). - -ED. (_taking the poem_). Seventy-seven stanzas! That would be too long -for our columns. Couldn’t you shorten it? - -A. E. Not without marring its symmetrical proportions. But I will write -another and a shorter one soon, which will perhaps suit you better. - -ED. Thank you, Miss Ellis. That will undoubtedly be better suited to our -columns. - - (_Exit A. E., L._) - -(_Enter, L., GEORGE CRANE excitedly._) - -GEORGE CRANE. Sir, don’t you regard it as a part of an editor’s duty to -unmask villany and expose it to the world? - -ED. Certainly, sir. - -G. C. Then I should like to furnish you with some information respecting -a neighbor of mine, named Henry Perkins. He is a hypocrite, sir! He -professes a good deal, but secretly practises petty acts of meanness. -I have every reason to believe that he beats his wife; and he has been -suspected of robbing his neighbor’s hen-roosts. Just write an article -touching him up, and I’ll subscribe to your paper for a year. - -ED. (_cautiously_). Cash in advance? - -G. C. (_promptly_). Yes. - -ED. Very well, then. I’m your man. - - (_G. C. hands ED. five-dollar bill, and receives two dollars - back as change. Exit G. C., L. Enter WILLIAM RANDALL, L._) - -WILLIAM RANDALL. Is Mr. Clark in? - -ED. No, sir; but as his substitute I shall be happy to serve you. - -W. R. You must know, sir, that I have been laboring for some years past -on the preparation of a remedy for dyspepsia. At length, after great -labor and research, I have prepared a pill which I am sure will prove an -infallible cure in the most obstinate cases. I have the pleasure, sir, of -presenting you with a box of Dr. William Randall’s Anti-Dyspepsia Pills -(_passes box to him_). - -ED. Thank you. - -DR. R. (_preparing to leave_). By the way, I suppose you will favor me -with a notice? - -ED. (_hesitating_). Ye-es. - - (_Exit DR. R., L._) - -(_ED. sits down to write. After a moment’s pause EPHRAIM SIMPSON, who has -been writing (when not gazing at visitors), starts up._) - -E. S. Well, Mister Editor, how’s that? (_handing him a paper._) - -ED. (_reading aloud_). The hoss.—The hoss is a noble animal. He is also -interestin’ and knows a good deal. Some folks get very much attached to -their hosses. I knowed a Frenchman once, that thought so much of his hoss -that he even went so far as to call his own mother a _mare_ as a pet -name. Hosses are very interestin’ animals when they don’t rare up. Not -havin’ any more to say on this subjick, I will stop. - -ED. (_gravely_). That is very good; but, on the whole, I don’t think -there is any need of an assistant just yet. If there should be a time -when I stand in need of one, I will certainly _think of you_. - -E. S. (_disappointed_). Then you haint got anything for me to do? - -ED. Not just now. - -E. S. Then I must go. - - (_Exit E. S., L._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_Printing office. ED., C., looking complacently at - a newspaper spread out to its full proportions on the table - before him._ - -ED. (_soliloquizing_). And this is the result of my first week’s labor as -an editor. Excellent as my friend Clark has heretofore made the “Post,” -I think he will acknowledge that I have made some improvements in it. -(_Glances complacently down the page. His eye is suddenly arrested by a -paragraph which startles him._) What! What’s this? (_Reads._) - - “MR. FERNANDO CLAPP,—_Dear Sir_: I am instructed by your tailor - to present, for immediate payment, his bill amounting to - twenty-one dollars, eighteen cents and three-quarters. You are - requested to pay immediate attention to it, as otherwise the - law will take cognizance of your delinquency. - - “TIMOTHY PETTIGREW, _Att’y at Law_.” - -ED. (_furiously to P. D. entering R._). How did this get into the paper? - -P. D. (_smiling_). You gave it out as copy, sir. - -ED. When? - -P. D. The first day you were here. - - (_Exit P. D. as DR. RANDALL enters L. He is evidently very much - excited. He holds in his hand a copy of the “Post.”_) - -DR. R. (_pointing to an item_). Did you write that? - -ED. (_coolly_). Yes. I hope it suits you. - -DR. R. Suits me! Confound your impudence! Suits me! What do you mean by -that, sir? - -ED. You seem angry—why, I am at a loss to guess. - -DR. R. Sir, in noticing my medicine, you have insulted me. - -ED. (_surprised_). In noticing your medicine! How? - -DR. R. (_placing paper within two inches of ED.’S nose, he repeats_), -“_He says it will cure the most obstinate case of dyspepsia. Perhaps it -may._” I demand an explanation, sir. - -ED. (_stepping back_). It is very easily given. I only intended to say, -that personally I had no experience of the matter, and not being able to -speak positively, I said “_perhaps_!” - -DR. R. (_suspiciously_). Is that true? - -ED. Certainly. But, if you wish, I will recall the statement in our next -issue. - -DR. R. That would be more satisfactory to me. - - (_Exit, L._) - -(_Enter, L., a fierce-looking individual._) - -HENRY PERKINS (_in a threatening tone_). Are you the editor? - -ED. (_with quaking heart_). Yes. - -H. P. (_sneering_). I suppose you don’t know who I am? - -ED. No, I don’t. - -H. P. (_fiercely_). I am that Henry Perkins whom you have so atrociously -libelled in your paper of this morning. Don’t think, sir, that such -conduct is to go unpunished! I stand upon my rights, sir, as a citizen, -and I will not be trampled upon. - -(_MR. P. seizes ED. by the collar of his coat and shakes him vigorously._) - -ED. (_struggling_). Unhand me, sir! - -H. P. (_still shaking him_). There, you little blackguard! I guess you -won’t slander me again in a hurry. - -ED. (_passionately_). I’ll have the law of you, you villain! - -H. P. You will, eh! Then I must give you your pay in advance. - -(_He continues to shake him a moment. Then making a low, mocking bow, he -goes out._) - -ED. (_furiously_). I won’t stand this. I’ll leave a note for Clark, and -go home this moment. There’s no knowing what may come next. It is as -much as one’s life is worth to be an editor. - - (_Exit hurriedly._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -KEEPING GENTEEL BOARDERS. - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. - - MRS. JONES, Keeper of a Boarding-House. - AMANDA, Her Daughter. - MRS. SIMPERTON, ⎫ - ISADORA MALVINA, ⎪ - COUNT HENRI DE FRIPON, ⎪ - ABIGAIL TRIST, ⎬ Applicants for Board - ZACHARY WINFIELD TAYLOR SCOTT, ⎪ - JETHRO BURBANK, ⎪ - MRS. WESTWOOD, ⎭ - SHERIFF. - MR. RANDALL. - BRIDGET. - - - SCENE I.—_A room in the house of MRS. JONES. MRS. J., R., and - her daughter, L., present, both seated._ - -MRS. JONES. Well, Amanda, now that we have taken a large house and -prepared it for boarders, the next thing will be to fill it. - -AMANDA. Advertise in the “Herald,” mamma. - -MRS. J. It may be a good plan. We ought to make money; but when I -consider that we have a large rent to pay, I can’t help thinking that -there is some risk about it. You know we were able to live comfortably on -the money your poor father left, and without any care or exertion on our -part. - -A. (_scornfully_). _Comfortably_, mamma! You know how we had to pinch -ourselves. I could hardly afford one bonnet a year, and, as to dresses, -I had to wear them so long a time I was positively ashamed. Other people -make money by keeping boarders, and why can’t we? - -MRS. J. You may be right, Amanda. But about the advertisement. How shall -we express it? - -(_AMANDA sits down at the table and writes._) - -A. How will this do, mamma? (_Reads._) - -WANTED.—A few first-class boarders, by a genteel family whose object is -to surround themselves by a pleasant social circle, rather than to make -money. Address “Boarders,” Herald office. - -MRS. J. But, my dear, my object is to make money. - -A. Of course, mamma; but it sounds well to seem indifferent to it. - -MRS. J. Perhaps you are right. (_A pause._) I wonder when the -advertisement will appear. - -A. To-morrow morning, probably, and we may expect applications at any -time afterward. - -MRS. J. Then it would be best to fix on a price for board at once. - -A. Yes, I suppose so. - -MRS. J. How would twelve dollars a week do? - -A. It wouldn’t do at all. We couldn’t pay expenses. - -MRS. J. But I’m afraid if we charge such high prices we shall not be able -to fill our rooms. - -A. That’s just the means to accomplish it. Many people judge of the style -and reputation of a house by the price asked. You ought to insist on at -least fifteen or twenty dollars for the best rooms, and a little less for -those not so desirable. - -MRS. J. But that won’t correspond with the advertisement, where I say I -take boarders for company, rather than to make money. - -A. I don’t think that will ever be noticed; but if it should, you can say -with truth, that you could not pay your expenses if you charged less. - -MRS. J. Well, I hope we may be successful, for I have made such an outlay -in fitting up the house, that our income will this year be far less than -usual, and our expenses correspondingly larger. - -A. There’s no doubt of our success. Three months from now we shall be -able not only to defray our necessary expenses, but also to replace the -money which you were obliged to draw to pay for the furniture. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_The same. AMANDA, L., present. She is looking over - the morning paper. Enter MRS. JONES, R._ - -MRS. JONES. Ah, has the paper come, Amanda? - -AMANDA. Yes, and the advertisement is inserted, and reads well. (_Passes -paper to her mother._) - -MRS. J. That seems to be right—(_listens—sound of bell is heard_). But -hark! Isn’t that the door bell? - -A. Yes; I hope it may prove an applicant for board. - -(_Servant ushers in MRS. SIMPERTON and her daughter, L._) - -MRS. SIMPERTON. This is Mrs. Jones, I believe. - -MRS. J. You are right. That is my name. - -MRS. S. (_affectedly_). I must introduce myself as Mrs. Simperton. And -this is my daughter, Isadora Malvina. (_MRS. J. bows._) We saw your -advertisement in this morning’s “Herald,” and when we called at the -office, were directed here. - -MRS. J. Yes, my daughter and myself wished for company. It is rather -lonely for two persons to live by themselves in a large house like this, -with no one near but servants. - -MRS. S. It must be so, and I do not wonder that you wish for companions. -My daughter and myself are thinking of boarding this winter, and I wish -to make some inquiries concerning your rooms. I suppose they are newly -furnished. - -MRS. J. Yes, they all contain new furniture. - -MRS. S. And is it black walnut, with marble tops to the bureau and -tables? - -MRS. J. Yes, a part of the rooms are furnished in that style. - -MRS. S. I suppose we could have our meals in our own rooms. - -MRS. J. (_hesitating_). Well—yes—perhaps it could be arranged so. - -MRS. S. And I suppose we could have them at whatever hour we chose. - -MRS. J. I think so. - -MRS. S. That seems to be favorable. May I ask your terms? - -MRS. J. For my best rooms, with private meals, I should be obliged to -charge twenty dollars a week apiece. If the meals came at unusual hours, -it would be worth more. - -MRS. S. (_with emphasis_). Your charge is exorbitant. Such accommodations -are not worth more than half the sum you name. Still I am willing to pay -twenty-five dollars for both of us. - -MRS. J. I couldn’t think of such a thing. I shouldn’t be able to pay my -expenses at such low rates for board. - -MRS. S. I thought you didn’t keep boarders for profit, but only for the -sake of company. - -MRS. J. That is very true. I don’t take boarders for profit, but neither -do I intend to take them at a loss. I shouldn’t consider their company to -be of sufficient value to compensate for that. - -MRS. S. Very well; I see we must look further. I don’t believe we should -be suited here. Come, Isadora Malvina. (_Goes out, L., with a lofty air, -followed by her daughter._) - -A. What airs people do put on sometimes! I’m glad she didn’t decide to -stay. I shouldn’t want her for a boarder at any price. (_Bell rings. -Enter COUNT DE FRIPON, L._) - -COUNT (_with a polite bow_). Can madame accommodate me with a suite of -rooms? - -MRS. J. I think so. What rooms do you desire? - -C. I should like a _chambre à coucher_—what you call a bedroom; also a -parlor in which I could receive my friends. - -MRS. J. You would require board, too, I suppose. - -C. Oui, madame,—yes, you are right. I should wish board for myself, and -sometimes I might bring a friend with me to dine. - -MRS. J. Certainly. We shall always be glad to see any of your friends. In -regard to terms— - -C. (_with a deprecating gesture_). Pardon, madame, but—I never trouble -myself with these trifling matters. At the end of every month you will -send in your bill to me, and I shall pay it to you at once. - -MRS. J. That will be satisfactory. But what name shall I put down? - -C. (_with a courtly air_). Count Henri de Fripon, madame. Here is my -card. (_Passes it._) - -MRS. J. (_bows, while a pleased smile overspreads her face_). And when -would you like to come? - -C. I shall come to you next Monday, in the morning. I have the honor to -wish you good day, madame; bon jour, mademoiselle. - - (_Exit, L., with low bow._) - -MRS. J. That’s a boarder after my own mind. He never inquired the terms, -and will be ready to pay when the bill is presented. I wish we might -secure others of the same kind. - -A. And he’s one of the nobility, too. His presence will give quite a -distinguished air to the house. - -MRS. J. Yes; he’s quite an acquisition. (_Bell rings._) Besides, who -knows but—(_Enter MISS TRIST, L._) - -MISS TRIST. Good mornin’, ma’am. Good mornin’, miss. (_MRS. J. and A. -both bow._) I’ve come to see about gettin’ boarded. - -MRS. J. I think we can accommodate you. What kind of a room would you -like? - -MISS T. It don’t make no sort o’ difference to me. I only want a shelter. -’Taint likely I shall be spared long to need one. - -MRS. J. (_with sympathy_). Are you an invalid? - -MISS T. No, I aint sick yet, but there’s no knowin’ how soon I may be. My -mother died _young_, and died suddenly, too. I expect to go in the same -way. - -MRS. J. I hope not. (_A pause._) We have rooms which, with board, vary -from twelve to twenty dollars per week. - -MISS T. My sakes! That’s an awful price, aint it? But then I might as -well spend my money for board as to leave it for my relations to quarrel -over. - -MRS. J. That certainly is a better way. - -MISS T. (_mournfully_). Perhaps you wouldn’t think it, from my comin’ -here to get boarded; but I’ve got three sisters and two brothers, and -they’re all watchin’ to see if I aint goin’ to get sick an’ die, so they -can have my money. - -MRS. J. You’d better come here to board, then. I dare say it would be the -means of prolonging your life. - -MISS T. Do you think so? I wish I could believe it, though (_dismally_) -I haint got nothin’ to live for. But then, if I aint to live long, it -would be a comfort to spend my last days in peace. I’ve had a great many -troubles and trials in my time. - -MRS. J. I am sorry to hear it. - -MISS T. Yes, I lost my best friend just six days before we were to be -married. If he’d only lived one week longer, I might have been a desolate -relict instead of a lonely single woman. - -MRS. J. It must have been a great disappointment. - -MISS T. Yes; but then ’twas my luck. I don’t place no dependence on -anything now. (_Rising._) There’s no knowin’ what may happen; but I’ll -come, to stay, next Monday, if I’m alive an’ well. - - (_Exit, L._) - -A. (_drawing a long breath_). Oh, I’m so glad she’s gone. I hope -something will happen to prevent her coming. It’s as dismal to have her -round as to be alone in the house on a drizzly day in November. - -MRS. J. We can’t refuse any one who is willing to pay our price. But -hark! some one is coming. (_Enter MR. SCOTT hurriedly._) - -MR. SCOTT (_nervously_). I have come to get boarded here madam. (_With -deprecating gesture._) Don’t refuse me, for I shall certainly commit -suicide if you do. You see I’ve set my heart on boarding with you and -your charming daughter. - -MRS. J. (_benignantly_). There is no occasion for my refusing you. We -have still a few rooms left that are not engaged. - -MR. S. (_in a hurried manner_). And what are your terms—though that will -make no difference. I shall come, whatever they may be. - -MRS. J. We have one room, at fifteen dollars, that may perhaps suit you. - -MR. S. (_with a theatrical air_). Fifteen dollars! Ask me not to pay such -a paltry sum. I would never pay less than twenty-five. - -MRS. J. Very well, you can pay any sum you choose. - -MR. S. Then I choose to pay twenty-five dollars. But there’s another -inquiry that I wish to make. Can I have a piano in my room? - -MRS. J. There is a piano in the parlor, which the boarders are at liberty -to use when they feel inclined. - -MR. S. But that will not suit me. Perhaps I should wish to play when some -one else was using it. No, I must have one in my own room. (_Earnestly._) -I’m willing to pay extra for it—five, fifteen, or even fifty dollars a -week, rather than not to have it. - -MRS. J. Certainly; if you are willing to pay for it I will have one put -into your room for you. - -MR. S. You relieve my mind greatly. I will be here to commence boarding -to-morrow. Here is my card. (_Passes it._) Good-morning, ladies. - - (_Exit hastily, L._) - -A. What a strange man! It isn’t often that one meets with a person who -sets so little value on money. - -MRS. J. His name is as strange as his actions. - -A. (_with curiosity_). What is it? - -MRS. J. Zachary Winfield Taylor Scott. - -A. (_with interest_). Perhaps he is a son of General Scott. I’ve heard it -said that the families of great men are often eccentric. - - (_Bell rings. Enter JETHRO BURBANK, L._) - -JETHRO BURBANK. I’ve come to see as how, could I get boarded. - -MRS. J. We have some rooms still vacant, if the price is such as to suit -you. - -J. B. (_unheeding her remark_). You see, I’ve come all the way from -Hatchville, State of Maine, to see if I could get a situation here in -the city, and the fust thing is to get a boarding-place. What do you -calc’late to charge me now? Don’t set it too high. - -MRS. J. The lowest-priced rooms we have left are fifteen dollars per -week, with board. - -J. B. Gewhittaker! That’s an all-fired big sum. You don’t mean that’s -your lowest price. - -MRS. J. Certainly. This is a first-class house, and we do not take any -boarders who can’t afford to pay our prices. - -J. B. Wal, I don’t know what you call fust-class boarders, but marm -boards the schoolmaster, and the editor of the paper, and I guess they -aint second to nobody. - -MRS. J. (_smiling_). And what does she charge for board? - -J. B. Wal, she charges jest two dollars a week. That’s what I call a -reasonable price. But I knowed that prices were higher in the city, and -I calc’lated I’d have to pay as much as five dollars; but to pay three -times that, is more than I can stand. Why, the price of a year’s board -would buy me a good farm down to Hatchville. - -MRS. J. Then I’m afraid you’ll have to go back there. - -J. B. Wal, I shan’t give it up so. I’m going to try further. - - (_Exit J. B., L._) - -A. It is getting late. I don’t believe we shall have any more applicants -to-day. - -MRS. J. You are mistaken, for here is one now. - - (_Enter MRS. WESTWOOD, L._) - -MRS. WESTWOOD. Good-afternoon, ladies. Am I too late for a place? Are -your rooms all taken? - -MRS. J. No. We have several left. There are two in particular that I -think you would fancy. One is a very large and pleasant room. The other -is a little smaller. - -MRS. W. Oh, I must have the large one, by all means. - -MRS. J. The larger one, with board, will be twenty dollars a week. - -MRS. W. Very well, I will pay it. I’ve got plenty of money at present. -My husband died a year ago, and left me with a large farm and a quantity -of stock. But I wasn’t going to be immured in a dismal farm-house—not -I. So I’ve sold the farm, and come to the city to board till my money -gives out. Perhaps then you’ll take me as a partner in the boarding-house -business. - -MRS. J. I find it takes considerable money, even for that business. - -MRS. W. Oh, well, I’ve got enough—a couple of hundred thousand dollars. -But I’m not ready to go in yet. I want to see a little of city life -first. If I meet a good-looking gentleman that invites me, perhaps I -shall become his partner instead of yours. But time will show. - -MRS. J. What time would you like to commence? - -MRS. W. It might as well be now as any other time. I can send for my -trunks. - -MRS. J. Very well; I will show you the two rooms, though I think you will -prefer the larger one. - -MRS. W. Oh, I am sure I shall. - - (_Exit MRS. J. and MRS. W., L._) - -A. (_sola_). Quite a number of the rooms are already engaged, and I think -we may congratulate ourselves on having made a good beginning. How much -better it will be to keep a genteel boarding-house than to tend shop or -keep school for a living. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_The same. MRS. JONES present, R. Enter AMANDA, L._ - -AMANDA. Did you send for me, mamma? - -MRS. JONES. Yes. I think it is necessary for us to have a consultation -about our affairs. - -A. (_surprised_). I thought you were getting along charmingly. I’m sure -the house is full of boarders at good prices, and has been ever since we -commenced. What more could you wish for? - -MRS. J. Everything would be quite satisfactory if the boarders would only -pay up promptly. But Mrs. Westwood and Miss Trist are the only ones that -I can depend on. The butcher and baker have sent in heavy bills, and this -morning I have received grocery and gas bills, as well as bills for extra -furniture that was required. Then, too, a month’s rent is due for the -piano in the parlor and that in Mr. Scott’s room. - -A. Ask Mr. Scott for the money due you for his board. - -MRS. J. I have done so repeatedly, but he has such a way of evading it -that I can’t get anything. Indeed, sometimes he gets so excited that I am -almost frightened, and glad enough to leave him, even without my money. - -A. But surely the count has paid you. - -MRS. J. Not a cent. I was to send in my bill three days ago, but before -I was able to do so he asked for an interview, and said that he had been -disappointed about receiving money which he expected, and asked me to -wait a week longer. He seemed so sorry about it that I couldn’t help -accommodating him. - -BRIDGET (_entering, R._). An’ did ye take the silver, mum? I haven’t seen -a sight of it since I left it on the table after cl’aning it this morning. - -MRS. J. (_surprised_). I haven’t taken it away. Was the front door locked? - -B. Yis, I thried that same, an’ it was locked as usual. But jist as I -went to look if it was fast, the postman came, an’ brought this letter. - -MRS. J. (_opening it hastily, and glancing at signature_). Why, this is -from the count. (_Reads._) - - “Dear Mrs. Jones: I write to let you know that I have just - received the money I expected, and which I was only able to get - by selling your silver, which I gathered up this morning for - that purpose. As the jeweller said it wasn’t first quality, - I got less than I hoped for, so I sha’n’t be able to settle - my board bill at present. You will find the silver, also your - daughter’s watch and rings, at the shop of Willis and Turner. - Yours, - - “COUNT HENRI DE FRIPON.” - -A. (_excited_). What! My watch and rings. How could he have got them? - -B. Oh, the murtherin villain! An’ didn’t I tell Kate, the cook, that he -had too much blarny about him for an honest man? - -MRS. J. (_troubled_). What shall we do? - -B. Send the perlice after him. - - (_Enter MISS TRIST, L._) - -MISS T. Oh, my poor head! I can’t stand it any longer. - -MRS. J. What’s the matter, Miss Trist? - -MISS T. That Mr. Scott, whose room is right opposite mine, is all the -time playing on the piano. If it was sacred music I wouldn’t mind; but -it’s the quickest kind of dancing tunes. - -A. Why don’t you knock at his door and tell him how much it disturbs you? -There is no one in the parlor, and he can play there all the afternoon if -he wishes. - -MISS T. Perhaps I will do so, for I’m afraid I shall go distracted. - - (_Exit, L._) - -B. An’ I must tell ye, mum, that Katy an’ me’ll be afther lavin’ here -intirely, if our month’s wages aint paid by to-morrow. - -MRS. J. Very well, I will attend to it. You can go now. (_Exit BRIDGET, -R._) I’m sure I don’t know what we’re going to do. I have received -two letters from Lawyer Snap about the last month’s rent. The second -one stated that if it was not paid immediately legal steps would be -instituted. - -(_At this moment hurried steps are heard, L., and MISS TRIST rushes into -the room, closely followed by MR. SCOTT; her cap strings flying, and -both hands are placed on her devoted head, as if fearing a blow there. -Her companion dashes madly after her, holding a heavy music-book in a -menacing way._) - -MRS. J. Miss Trist, Mr. Scott—what is the matter? - -MR. S. (_standing still for a moment, speaks in a fierce manner_). That -woman (_looking toward MISS T._) has been tormenting me. I was engaged in -improvising music, an opera which would have far exceeded anything that -Verdi or Meyerbeer ever composed, and was just arranging one of the most -delicate passages, when that woman knocked at my door. (_Enter SHERIFF -and keeper by entrance back of MR. S._) Of course the interruption was -fatal to my opera. And what did she come for? Why, she wanted me to go to -the parlor piano, because my music disturbed her. And through her means, -that divine opera is lost to the world. (_In a loud tone._) I will kill -her! (_more fiercely_) I will annihilate her! I will crush her to atoms! -(_AMANDA faints, MRS. J. clasps her hands with a deprecating gesture, and -MR. S. dashes after MISS T., who has sunk with a frightened air into a -chair in the farther corner. The SHERIFF seizes MR. S. from behind. The -latter struggles furiously, but vainly._) - -SHERIFF. Here, Randall, take charge of this man. He’s that lunatic who -escaped from the asylum six weeks ago. They’ve searched most everywhere -for him. - -MR. S. (_who is quiet for a moment—with a smile_). I was too cunning for -them. (_Again furious._) You shall not restrain me. I must annihilate -that woman, and then finish my opera. (_RANDALL takes MR. S., screaming -and struggling furiously, from the room._) - -MRS. J. (_to SHERIFF_). How can I thank you, sir, for delivering us from -that madman? - -SHERIFF. I am happy to have been of service to you in that way; but -my errand here was to give you trouble. (_MRS. J. looks expectantly -toward him. MRS. WESTWOOD enters, R._) I have been instructed to levy an -attachment on your furniture, on account of your refusing to pay your -rent. - -MRS. J. I am sorry it so happens. I depended on the money which I was to -receive from my boarders to pay my expenses; but, of fifteen boarders, -these two ladies are the only ones who have paid. - -MRS. W. (_coming forward_). That’s a shame. Mr. Sheriff, what’s the -amount of your bill? - -SHERIFF. Rent $125, and costs $25 more. - -MRS. W. Here’s the money, $150. Now give me a receipted bill. - -SHERIFF. Here is one, though I didn’t expect to need it (_gives bill and -takes money_). Thank you, ma’am. - - (_Exit SHERIFF, L. MRS. J. gazes in astonishment._) - -MRS. W. Mrs. Jones, what do your other unpaid bills amount to? - -MRS. J. About five hundred dollars. - -MRS. W. Well, I’ve got a proposal to make to you. In the first place, -however, I must explain a little. Do you remember hearing your husband -speak of his sister, Sarah Jane, who went to California to become a -teacher, some twenty odd years ago? - -MRS. J. Yes; she went away just before I became acquainted with him. He -frequently spoke of the circumstance; but the vessel was wrecked, and he -supposed, as he heard no further tidings, that she must have been lost -with the other passengers. - -MRS. W. Well, she wasn’t lost, but returned a couple of months ago, and -now stands before you. - -A. And are you my Aunt Sarah? - -MRS. W. Yes. I went, as you know, to San Francisco with the intention of -teaching, but on board the steamer I became acquainted with Mr. Westwood, -who had started for California to seek his fortune. He and myself and one -other passenger were the only persons saved from the wreck. He persuaded -me to abandon my original plan, and marry him. I did so, and we went into -the country, where he bought a sheep ranch. He was prospered in all his -undertakings, and, last year, died, leaving me, by will, all he possessed. - -MRS. J. But why haven’t you written to us in all these years? - -MRS. W. We were intending, from year to year, to come back soon to -surprise my brother, but circumstances constantly arose to prevent -it. After my husband died, I determined to come at once and seek my -relatives; but when I arrived I learned of my brother’s death. I then -sought a boarding-place, and in looking over the paper met with your -advertisement. Although the name was the same, I had no idea you were his -widow till I saw his portrait hanging in the parlor. Though grown older, -his features had not yet changed, and I recognized him at once. I engaged -board with you, thinking if I enjoyed stopping here I would propose to -become a permanent member of your family. I now propose to take the -house, pay your debts and all the future expenses of house-keeping, in -return for the society of yourself and daughter. What do you say to the -plan? - -MRS. J. I should be very glad to have it so, but I am afraid you do not -realize what you are taking upon yourself. - -MRS. W. Trust me for that. I know what I am about. - -MRS. J. Then there’ll be no more anxiety and worriment about unpaid bills. - -A. And no desire to continue the experiment of Keeping Genteel Boarders. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -MRS. SKINFLINT’S BARGAINS. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MRS. SKINFLINT, a very Parsimonious Woman. - EZEKIEL ONTHANK, a Yankee Peddler. - SARAH JANE HOBBS, Ezekiel’s Sweetheart. - MRS. HOBBS, Sarah Jane’s Mother. - - - SCENE I.—_MRS. SKINFLINT’S sitting-room. MRS. SKINFLINT, a - tall, bony woman, with a sharp, pinched face, is sitting in a - rocking-chair, C., knitting._ - -MRS. SKINFLINT (_soliloquizes_). I declare I’ll never buy another thing -at Thompson’s store. I paid fifteen cents a yard for my last kaliker -dress, and Mis’ Hobbs bought one of a peddler yesterday, jest as good, -for thirteen cents and three quarters. It’s a shame! On twelve yards I -lost fifteen cents. That’s too much money to lose in these hard times. I -wish that peddler would come along. I need a sight o’ things, and if I -couldn’t beat him down, my name aint Betsy Jane Skinflint. - -(_A knock is heard at the door, R. MRS. S. rises and opens it. The -visitor proves to be EZEKIEL ONTHANK, a Yankee peddler, with a large pack -on his back. He enters._) - -EZEKIEL. Mornin’, marm. Anything in my line to-day? Dress-patterns, -hoop-skirts, shawls, laces, ribbons, jewelry, spectacles, buttons, -scissors, needles, pins— - -MRS. S. Massy sakes! don’t tell any more of ’em. I shall forget what you -sed fust. You haint got no good clocks, hev ye? - -EZEK. Haint I though! I kin beat everybody on clocks. I’ve got some that -cum clear from Switzerland. I imported ’em myself. Here’s one (_taking it -from his pack_), the pootiest and best little timepiece ever you see. - -MRS. S. Does it keep good time? - -EZEK. I guess it does—tip-top. It goes ahead of anything ever you set -your eyes on. - -MRS. S. (_cautiously_). What d’ye charge for it? - -EZEK. (_hesitating_). Well, I hev been sellin’ on ’em all along for -twelve dollars apiece, but seein’ it’s you, I’ll let you have it for ten. - -MRS. S. (_throwing up her hands_). Ten dollars! D’ye think I’m made o’ -money? Besides, the clock aint wuth half that. But I don’t mind givin’ -you five for it. - -EZEK. That don’t pay the cost of importin’ ’em; but, ef you’re goin’ to -buy consider’ble, I’ll say five for it. What’s the next thing? - -MRS. S. I want ter git a pair o’ spettercles. As I was ridin’ to meetin’, -last Sunday, mine fell off, and the wheel run right over ’em, and smashed -the glass all to pieces. I cared more about ’em ’cause they’d ben in the -famerly so long. Marm and granny both used ’em afore me. - -EZEK. Mebbe they might be mended. Let’s see ’em. - -(_MRS. S. produces a pair of heavy, iron-bowed spectacles. EZEKIEL looks -at them dubiously._) - -EZEK. I s’pose they might be fixed, but it’s my opinion ’twouldn’t pay. -Besides, the bows are too heavy to wear. Didn’t nobody ever tell ye that -wearin’ heavy-bowed specs sometimes made folks round-shouldered? - -MRS. S. (_straightening up_). No. Dew tell! - -EZEK. But I’ve got somethin’ here that’ll suit you to a T. Jest try ’em -on (_handing her a pair of spectacles_). That’s jest the article you want. - -MRS. S. (_trying them on and looking up_). Well, they’re pooty fair. But -I s’pose you’ll charge as much as a dollar for ’em. - -EZEK. A dollar! Why, woman alive, you don’t think I’d sell them specs for -a dollar. They’re the real genuine periscopic Scotch pebble. They’re well -wuth five dollars, but I shall only charge you three for them. ’Taint -often you can get such a good article so cheap. - -MRS. S. I’ll give you two dollars for ’em. - -EZEK. No, I can’t afford to sell ’em so low. But I’ll tell you what I -will do. I’ll split the difference, and let you have ’em for two-fifty. -They’re very becomin’ to you—make you look ten years younger than the -others did. - -MRS. S. (_smiling at the compliment_). Well, I s’pose I shall have to -take ’em. But I shouldn’t think ’twould take you long to get rich at that -rate. - -EZEK. The fact is, I’m growin’ poorer every day. I ought not to sell my -goods so cheap; but the wimmen have such captivatin’ ways that I can’t -resist ’em. What’s the next thing? - -MRS. S. Well, I want some caliker for a new gown. I bought enough for one -at Thompson’s, the other day; but I want another. - -EZEK. I’ve got jest the thing for you (_showing her a piece of calico -with stripes of red and yellow_). That’s exactly your style, and it’s -only twelve and a half cents a yard. - -MRS. S. Will it wash? - -EZEK. Like white cloth. I’ve sold yards and yards of that same pattern. -It takes so well that one factory don’t make nothin’ else. - -MRS S. Twelve and a half cents a yard is too much. I can’t afford it, but -I’ll give you a dollar for twelve yards. - -EZEK. Couldn’t do it. Think of a nice dress pattern like that -(_displaying the goods in a tempting manner_) bein’ sold for a dollar. -No, marm, I can’t sell it any less. - -MRS. S. (_looking at it longingly_). I’ll give you a dollar and a quarter. - -EZEK. Well, as you’re taking consider’ble, I’ll let you have it for that; -but you mustn’t say nothin’ about it. Why, Mis’ Hobbs bought some of it, -and paid full price. I’m boardin’ there at Mis’ Hobbs’s. She’s got a -pooty daughter—that Sairy Jane. Between you and me, that’s the reason I -went to boardin’ there, for Mis’ Hobbs aint much of a cook. - -MRS. S. (_elated_). I allers knew that. She never did hev much of a -bringin’ up (_MRS. S. passes him money._) - -EZEK. (_preparing to leave_). Thank ye, marm. Well, aint there sumthin’ -more? You’ll want some hooks and eyes, and thread to make your dress -with, don’t ye? - -MRS. S. Oh, you’ll throw them in, won’t ye? The store people do. - -EZEK. That’s askin’ a little too much. - -MRS. S. Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a mince pie -for ’em. I made some fresh ones to-day. What d’ye say? You know yer -boardin’-place aint anything to boast of. - -EZEK. Well, I don’t mind doin’ it for once. (_MRS. SKINFLINT passes him -pie from the table._) But I think I’d better be goin’. It don’t pay much -to trade with you. You’re a deal too sharp. (_Taking his pack, he leaves -the house._) - -MRS. S. (_self-complacently soliloquizes_). I think I did make a good -trade. Trust me for that. I saved enough on them trades to buy me a set -of furs, next winter. They don’t cost but eight dollars, and I daresay I -could get ’em for five. But there, it’s most twelve o’clock. I must be -gettin’ dinner ready. - - (_Exit._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_A curtain arranged from front to back, dividing the - stage into sitting-room, L., and kitchen, R., as both must be - seen at once. There must be a door between. MRS. HOBBS is in - the sitting-room, sewing, R. MRS. SKINFLINT enters, L._ - -MRS. S. How d’ye do, Mis’ Hobbs? - -MRS. HOBBS. Why, how d’ye do, Mis’ Skinflint? I’m glad to see you. -Sit right down in the rockin’-chair, do. (_She sits down, L._) It’s a -pleasant evenin’. - -MRS. S. Yes, very pleasant. I cum over this evenin’, Mis’ Hobbs, to -see if there’s a peddler stoppin’ here. I bought a clock of one, this -mornin’, and he sed he boarded here. The clock don’t go, and I want him -to come and fix it, or give me another one. - -MRS. H. Yes, that’s him; jest come into the kitchen. He’ll be right in, I -guess. He always sits in here, evenin’s. - -(_Just then voices are heard in the kitchen. SARAH JANE is seen knitting, -L. EZEKIEL enters, R._) - -SARAH JANE. Well, what adventures have you had to-day, ’Zekiel? - -EZEK. The richest was with Mis’ Skinflint. Mis’ Deacon Pettengill told me -she was as mean as dirt (_here MRS. S. starts, but, on second thoughts, -waits to hear what is coming next. MRS. HOBBS smiles, grimly_), and I -thought I see if I couldn’t sarcumvent her. - -S. J. What did you do? - -EZEK. I offered her a clock for twelve dollars, and she beat me down to -five. I usually sell ’em for a dollar and a half. - -S. J. I suppose ’twasn’t worth even that. - -EZEK. It doesn’t go much, but when it does, it makes up for lost time. -Then she wanted some _spettercles_. She took a pair for two dollars and a -half that I generally get seventy-five cents for; but I’ll warrant they -won’t magnify any too much, for there’s nothing but winder-glass in ’em. - -MRS. S. (_emphatically_). The villain! - -S. J. You was rather too bad, ’Zekiel. - -EZEK. Not at all. She bought some calico, and asked if it would wash. I -told her it would wash like white cloth, and I guess ’twill. After two or -three washings, there won’t be a bit of color left in it. - -MRS. S. Oh, the wretch! Won’t I give it to him! (_MRS. HOBBS smiles. She -evidently enjoys the scene._) - -EZEK. But the cream of the joke was that she wanted some hooks and eyes -and a spool of thread, and gave me a mince pie for them. I tasted it, but -it was such wretched stuff that I couldn’t eat it, so I threw it into -the river for the fishes. - -(_MRS. SKINFLINT dashes into the kitchen with arms akimbo. EZEKIEL -shrinks back with mock terror. SARAH JANE and her mother come forward, -smiling, to see what will be done._) - -MRS. S. What do you mean, you wretch, by cheatin’ me in such a way? - -EZEK. I didn’t cheat you. You tried to keep me from gettin’ any profit on -my goods. I put a price on them, and you could take them or not, as you -pleased. You was willin’ to pay what I asked for them; so I don’t see how -I cheated you. - -MRS. S. You didn’t tell me the truth about ’em (_furiously_). Then you -called the nice pie I gave you wretched stuff. I shouldn’t ’a thought of -givin’ it to you ef ye hadn’t said you didn’t git anythin’ fit to eat -here. - -MRS. H. (_starting forward_). What’s that? What did he say? - -MRS. S. (_gloating over her discomfiture_). He said you wasn’t much of -a cook, and, ef it warn’t for courtin’ Sairy Jane, he couldn’t stand it -boardin’ here. - -MRS. H. (_to EZEK._). So that’s the way you repay my kindness in taking -you in, is it, you miserable villain? I’m mad enough to pull your hair—if -you only had enough to pull. - -EZEK. (_glancing sideways at her_). I shouldn’t dare to pull yours, -marm, for fear ’twould come off in my hand. - -MRS. H. (_advancing with a threatening air, and catching up the tongs as -she goes_). Get out of the house, you insultin’ creature, and never let -me set eyes on you again! - -(_EZEKIEL goes out as if in fear, R., slyly beckoning to SARAH JANE to -go too. She nods and goes out by another door, R. MRS. HOBBS throws -EZEKIEL’S pack after him._) - -MRS. H. (_going toward MRS. S. with tongs upraised_). Now, old Skinflint, -do you go too. You’ve made mischief enough here. I don’t blame the man -for throwin’ your miserable pie away. I hope it wont pizen the fishes. - -MRS. S. (_looking back as she goes out, R._). I guess you’ll find you’ve -got enough to look after, without ’tendin’ to your neighbors’ business -(_pointing_). There goes Sairy Jane with that peddler’s arm round her -waist. - - (_Exit MRS. SKINFLINT from one door, R., while MRS. - HOBBS dashes out from another, R. Curtain falls._) - - - - -MRS. GRUNDY’S TYRANNY. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MR. CHARLES GOODENOW, ⎫ - MR. EDWARD HENDERSON, ⎬ Merchants. - MR. FRANK BURLEY, ⎭ - MRS. BURLEY, Mr. Burley’s Wife. - MRS. STOCKBRIDGE, ⎫ Mrs. Burley’s Friends. - MRS. WHEELER, ⎭ - JAMES, A Customer. - BRIDGET MURPHY, ⎫ Owners of Fruit Stands. - KATE O’CALLAHAN, ⎭ - - - SCENE I.—_CHARLES GOODENOW, R., sits in a chair, tipped back, - gazing thoughtfully into the upper distance. His head rests - upon his hands which are clasped behind it. Enter FRANK BURLEY, - L._ - -FRANK. Hallo, Charlie. In the land of dreams? If so I won’t disturb you. - -CHARLES (_not answering immediately_). Not exactly dreaming. There was -too much reality about my thoughts for that. But sit down, Frank. - -F. (_sitting down_). And what were you thinking about, if I am allowed to -ask? - -C. I was thinking what slaves we were to Fashion and Mrs. Grundy. I don’t -know of one of my acquaintances who would have courage enough to do -anything which would conflict with the usages of so-called good society. - -F. Don’t include me in that category. I have too much independence to be -subject to the dictation of others. - -C. You think so, my dear fellow; but you don’t realize your own weakness. - -F. On the contrary, I am confident of my strength, and am willing to -wager you one hundred dollars against fifty that I will follow out any -plan you may promise to test my courage. - -C. I accept the stakes, and feel sure of winning them. Now what shall the -plan be? Let me see. (_Covers face with his hands for a moment—pauses._) -I have it. Frank, you must tend a peanut and apple stand in the Park for -one whole day. - -F. (_quickly_). I am willing to do it. - -C. (_emphatically_). Remember, you must tend it the whole day long, -without absenting yourself for any cause, except to take an hour for -dinner. - -F. I agree to that; nay, I will go further, and will promise to dine at -the stand. - -C. When shall the trial take place? - -F. As soon as possible, that you may know how well I shall succeed. Let -_to-morrow_ be the day. - -C. Very well; but there is to be one condition about the matter. No one -must suspect your reasons for doing this, as, in that case, there would -be no test at all. If you even hint anything about it, you will lose the -wager. - -F. I agree to that. - -C. Well, I’ll call round on you to-morrow, occasionally, to see how you -make out in the new business. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II. _In the Park. Two apple-stands at the back of stage. - They are several feet apart, and presided over by BRIDGET - MURPHY, R., and KATE O’CALLAHAN, L. Enter FRANK BURLEY, who - stands a little in front, but between them, gazing first at one - and then at the other._ - -MRS. O’CALLAHAN (_rising—with her knitting in her hand_). Some peanuts, -sir, or apples—nice apples three cents apiece? - -MRS. MURPHY (_wiping apples on apron_). Here’s where you’ll find your -nice apples—three cents apiece, and a good deal bigger than the other -woman’s. - -F. (_approaching MRS. M.’S stand_). What will you sell your whole stock -to me for, my good woman? - -MRS. M. (_regarding him attentively_). And what do the likes of you want -of it? - -F. I want to buy your stock, and tend this stand to-day. - -MRS. M. (_doubtfully_). Honor bright? - -F. Yes. To-morrow you can have it back again, and I’ll give you the stock -that’s left over. - -MRS. M. (_shrewdly_). What’ll you give for it? - -F. I don’t know what it’s worth, but I’ll give you ten dollars for the -lot. - -MRS. M. (_quickly_). You can have ’em all for that. - -MRS. O’C. That’s four times more’n they’re all worth. - -MRS. M. You’d better mind yer own business, O’Callahan. There comes a boy -that wants an apple maybe. (_Boy comes in, looks at apples and passes -out._) - -F. You’ll have to tell me how you sell the things. I don’t know anything -about the prices. - -MRS. M. The apples are three cents apiece. Some of the peaches are three -cents, and some two cents, and them bananas are ten cents apiece. If you -sell a dozen of ’em at once, you’ll sell at a little less price. - -F. That’ll do. I guess I shall get along well now. - -MRS. M. Shan’t I lend you my apron to shine the apples with? - -F. No, I thank you; I guess they look well enough. - -(_MRS. M. went out, L., going past MRS. O’C.’S stand, and holding the -bill which she had received exultingly towards her. JAMES enters, L._) - -JAMES (_to O’C._). How do you sell your apples? - -MRS. O’C. Three cents apiece. - -J. (_to F._). How do _you_ sell _yours_? - -F. Two cents apiece. - -J. Well as yours are bigger and lower priced I’ll take four of them. -(_Takes them and pays for them and exit._) - -(_Several other persons pass in and buy of FRANK, to all of whom he sells -under price._) - -MRS. O’C. (_coming towards him with threatening gestures_). What do you -mean by coming here, and interfering with a respectable woman? - -F. I am not interfering with you. - -MRS. O’C. Aint you, though? I call it interferin’ with my rights when you -come and sell your apples under price. - -F. I’ll tell you what it is, my good woman, I’ve sold most of my apples, -and I will buy some of yours. - -MRS. O’C. (_somewhat mollified_). And what’ll ye pay me for them? - -F. Three cents apiece. - -MRS. O’C. (_surprised_). And you’re goin’ to sell ’em agin for two cents? - -F. Yes, there’s nothing like keeping trade lively. - -MRS. O’C. Well, you’re the quairest man I ever did see. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_MRS. BURLEY’S parlor. MRS. B. present, R. MRS. - STOCKBRIDGE and MRS. WHEELER enter L. They cross the room and - shake hands cordially with MRS. B._ - -MRS. STOCKBRIDGE. How do you do, my dear Mrs. Burley? - -MRS. WHEELER (_to MRS. B._) How do you do? I am delighted to see you -looking so well. - -MRS. BURLEY. Thank you; I am well, and glad to see you both. Take seats, -won’t you? - -MRS. S. (_aside to MRS. W._) _She_ doesn’t know of it, I’m sure. (_To -MRS. B._) Have you heard the news about Mr. Walters? - -MRS. B. (_interested._) No. What is it? - -MRS. S. He is hopelessly insane. - -MRS. B. That is very sad. But what was the cause? - -MRS. S. Overwork, I believe. Is it not so, Mrs. Wheeler? - -MRS. W. That is the report, and it is said his wife doesn’t dare to be -alone with him. - -MRS. S. I heard that, yesterday, he jumped from a window in the second -story, and injured himself very much. - -MRS. B. How shocking! - -MRS. W. He said he intended to kill himself, and was sorry he didn’t. - -MRS. B. No wonder his wife feels timid. I dare say he will make another -attempt at suicide. - -MRS. W. There’s no doubt of it. In fact he told his wife so. - -MRS. S. He has threatened her life too; several times I believe. (_To -MRS. B. in significant tone._) By the way, Mrs. Burley, is _your_ husband -well? - -MRS. B. (_startled_). Certainly. But why do you ask? - -MRS. S. Oh, I merely inquired. - -MRS. B. But you had some motive in asking. What was it? - -MRS. S. Tell her, Mrs. Wheeler. - -MRS. W. Oh, it’s nothing I dare say. Still, some things look a little -singular. - -MRS. B. (_anxiously_). Pray explain. - -MRS. S. Was your husband at home to dinner to-day? - -MRS. B. No, he said he should be too busy, and would dine down-town. - -MRS. S. He didn’t state the nature of his business, did he? - -MRS. B. No, but I supposed he was detained at the store. Do you know -anything of it? - -MRS. S. Yes; he’s been tending an apple-stand all day to-day. - -MRS. B. (_surprised_). It cannot be. You are surely mistaken. - -MRS. S. Not at all. It has been the town talk. - -MRS. B. (_meditatively_). It is very strange. - -MRS. S. Insanity is not hereditary in your husband’s family, is it? - -MRS. B. Oh, no; and yet—let me see. Yes, I am sure he told me that his -grandfather died insane. But Frank never could be in such a state. He has -too strong a mind for that. - -MRS. S. Still, you can’t help thinking it is a little singular. - -MRS. B. Ye—es. But I cannot credit it. It seems impossible. - -MRS. W. Suppose you walk down to the Park and satisfy yourself. - -MRS. B. (_eagerly_). I will do so if you will go with me. I am too -nervous to go alone. - -MRS. S. We are willing to accompany you. Is it not so, Mrs. Wheeler? - -MRS. W. Certainty. We could not desert you while you are in such trouble. - -MRS. B. (_excitedly_). I will get my bonnet at once. I will not detain -you but a moment. - - (_Exit MRS. B., R. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE IV.—_Same as Scene II., except that MR. B. has charge of - MRS. MURPHY’S stand. Enter JAMES, who examines fruit at each - of the stands. MRS. B. and two companions are seen at side - entrance, L., looking furtively at MR. B. They talk aside._ - -MRS. S. Arc you satisfied that it is he? - -MRS. B. Yes, it is certainty Frank; but (_perplexed_) what can he be -there for? - -MRS. S. Why don’t you ask him? - -MRS. B. I hardly know what to do. - -MRS. S. There are two gentlemen coming. Wait and see what they say. - -(_Enter MR. GOODENOW and MR. HENDERSON. MRS. B. beckons to policeman, and -talks with him._) - -MR. HENDERSON. Hallo, Mr. Burley; haven’t you got into a new business? - -MR. B. Yes, I have (_smiling_). - -MR. H. (_quizzically_). How do you enjoy it? - -MR. B. Very much, of course, or I should not have entered into it. - -MR. H. Going to make a permanent business of it? - -MR. B. Can’t tell till I have tried it a week or two. - -MR. H. (_amused_). Burley, you play your part well, that’s a fact. - -MR. B. (_in apparent surprise_). Play my part well! What do you mean? - -MR. H. Well, this is what I’ve got to say: If you are not tending this -stand you must be insane. (_Turning to MR. G._) Don’t you think so, -Goodenow? - -MR. GOODENOW. It looks like it, certainly. (_Enter MRS. G. and her -friends, L._) Ah! here comes Mrs. Burley. - -(_MR. G. and MR. H. gaze at them with curiosity. MR. B. looks -apprehensively._) - -MRS. B. What are you doing, Frank? - -MR. B. Tending an apple-stand, my love. - -MRS. B. And pray what do you mean by disgracing your family in such a way? - -F. I don’t see any disgrace about it. A dollar earned in this way is as -good as one gained in Pearl street. - -MRS. O’C. (_who has been listening interestedly_). An’ it’s little enough -money you’ll make out of this business. Sure an’ the sooner you give up -yer stand the richer you’ll be. - -JAMES (_to F._). Here you, I say give me two of them bananas. (_Pays for -them, and exit, eating._) - -MRS. B. (_aside to ladies_). Well, I can’t bear this any longer. -Something must be done. - -MRS. W. What shall it be? - -MRS. S. One can see plainly enough he is insane. - -MRS. B. (_turning to policeman_). You can see that he is evidently insane. - -POLICEMAN. He does act strange, don’t he? A rich merchant like him, to -tend an apple-stand! But what shall I do? - -MRS. B. I don’t know. This is probably the first stage of the disease. -I’m afraid he may become violent. - -P. Would you advise me to arrest him? - -MRS. B. (_whose thoughts revert to MR. WALTERS_). I am so distressed I -hardly know; but it seems as if he ought to be prevented from doing any -mischief. Perhaps it would be better to do so. That would bring matters -to a crisis, and we should know the worst. - -(_Policeman goes round and comes in at an entrance back of MR. B. -Before the latter realizes it, he is handcuffed. He starts up at once, -indignant._) - -MR. B. What do you mean by insulting me in this manner? Take these irons -off this instant. Do you hear? - -MRS. S. (_to MRS. B._). He is getting worse, you see. - -P. I couldn’t do it, my man. You better come with me. (_Takes him by the -shoulder._) - -MR. B. Stop. First tell me what all this means. - -P. Certainly. No gentleman in your position would think of leaving his -business and tending an apple-stand if he was in his right mind. So I -have put on these bracelets to prevent your doing any violence. - -MR. B. Ha, ha, ha! “So fades my dreams!” Goodenow, you must give me -credit for sustaining my part of the agreement, as far as I alone am -concerned. But circumstances have conspired against me. (_Turning to -his wife._) My friend and myself laid a wager that I had not sufficient -courage to tend an apple-stand one whole day without giving any -explanation thereof. In attempting to do this it seems I have laid -myself under suspicion of being insane. I therefore abdicate in favor of -Mrs. Bridget Murphy, trusting she may find the position a pleasant and -more lucrative one than I have done. (_He comes forward and MRS. MURPHY -enters and takes his place._) Henceforth, like a dutiful subject, I will -restrain all improper inclinations, and confess that, like my friends and -neighbors, I, too, am a slave of Mrs. Grundy. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -AUNT HANNAH’S VALENTINE. - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. - - MRS. CYNTHIA LELAND, a Farmer’s Wife. - MRS. MONTGOMERY, a Friend and former Schoolmate of Mrs. L. - HANNAH LELAND, Mr. Leland’s Sister. - OBADIAH RAKESTRAW, a Bachelor. - CARRIE LELAND, Mrs. L.’s Daughter. - HERBERT WALTON, Carrie’s Lover. - ADOLPHUS FITZ-WILLIAM, Mrs. M.’s Nephew. - CALEB LELAND, Carrie’s Brother. - - - SCENE I.—_In the field. CARRIE enters, R._ - -CARRIE (_soliloquizing_). So Mrs. Montgomery’s nephew is coming to-day. -I hope he is agreeable. I wonder if he is engaged. It must be nice to -marry a rich man, and live in the city, and go to balls, parties, and -the theatre. I don’t understand why Mrs. Montgomery doesn’t feel so. She -married a merchant, and can live in fine style in the city, but yet she -prefers the country. And to-day her nephew is coming here. He thinks -people on a farm are countrified, but I guess we can show him they are -not all so. I’ve a good mind to flirt with him a little, by way of -variety. I don’t believe it would be very difficult to captivate him. -Perhaps, I can teach him a lesson. (_Enter HERBERT, L., with a rake in -his hand._) Ah, Herbert—just going to work? - -HERBERT. Yes. Won’t you go, too? - -CAR. What inducement have you to offer? - -H. A ride home on the hay after it is put into the wagon. - -CAR. That might be sufficient sometimes, but not now, for I must hurry -home. Do you know, Herbert, we are to have a new-comer at our house, this -afternoon? - -H. No. Who is it? - -CAR. Mrs. Montgomery’s nephew. Adolphus Fitz-William is his name, I -believe. His aunt says he has never been in the country at all, and he -thinks farmers’ families are countrified to the last degree. She has his -picture, and it looks very foppish. - -H. And he is coming to-day, is he? - -CAR. Yes; he’s expected in the first afternoon train, and it’s about time -for that to be here. (_Hears a step, and turns toward L._) I guess that’s -he now. I must go. (_She hurries out, R._) - -(_ADOLPHUS enters, L. He wears eye-glasses, and carries a cane; speaks -affectedly._) - -ADOLPHUS. Can you tell me, aw, where Fawmer Leland lives, Jawnathan? - -H. (_leaning carelessly on rake—aside_). I think I’ll humor him. -(_Aloud._) Wal, there now, who’d ’a’ thought you’d known what my name -was? Who told yer? - -A. (_disdainfully_). You’re vewy familiah. Do you know where Fawmer -Leland lives? - -H. (_eagerly_). You aint come to court his daughter, be ye? - -A. Ah, has he a daughter? - -H. He has that, an’ a pooty one, too. Rosy cheeks an’ bright eyes she’s -got. I tell ye, she’s harnsome. I think some o’ sparkin’ her myself. - -A. (_contemptuously_). You, aw! Impossible! She wouldn’t look at such a -fellaw. - -H. You dunno. Love goes whar it’s sent, an’ mebbe it’ll be sent to me. - -A. But, aw, you haven’t answered my question. Can you tell me, aw, where -Fawmer Leland lives? - -H. Oh, yes, I remember. But, ’say, did yer come from the city to-day? - -A. No, aw didn’t. - -H. Is that so? I swar, I thought yer did—yer look so ’mazin’ spruce. How -long be yer goin’ to stay, now? - -A. No mattaw. - -H. Sho, now, don’t go ter gittin’ mad over it. - -A. (_angrily_). Will you tell me, aw, where Fawmer Leland lives or will -you not, aw? - -H. In course I will; but you needn’t git so mighty mad. Ye haint asked me -yit. - -A. (_emphatically_). I’ve asked you fower sevewal times. - -H. It’s no sich a thing. Ye asked me if I could tell yer where he lived -and ef I knowed where he lived. In course I couldn’t arnser a question -’fore ’twas put. I was eddicated to be perlite even ter my inferiors. -When yer _ask_ the question, I’ll arnser it. - -A. (_in a loud voice_). You impertinent fellaw, where does Fawmer Leland -live? - -H. Don’t go to puttin’ on airs, now. D’ye see them chimblys over there? -(_pointing R._). - -A. Yes, aw do. - -H. Well, then, make a bee-line for ’em. Them’s the chimblys to Farmer -Leland’s house. (_Exit A., R._ _H., solus._) If he’d been a civil feller, -I’d ’a’ shown him the path. Now he’ll have to climb four rickety stone -walls, and I dunno as how he can do it safely with them tight breeches -on. But I must go to work. _Tempus fuggit_, as the schoolmaster says. - - (_Exit, L., with rake on his shoulder. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_MRS. LELAND’S sitting-room. CALEB, sitting, R. C., - peeling apples. CARRIE, L. C., dusting furniture. Enter AUNT - HANNAH, R._ - -AUNT HANNAH (_in a complaining tone_). Well, I declare, haint you begun -your baking yet, Car’line? It’s nigh onto noon, and you won’t get dinner -ready in season. - -CAR. Well, you know I can’t make my pies till the apples are ready. -You’ll have to talk to Caleb. I’ve been trying to hurry him. - -A. H. (_to CAL., severely_). I should be ashamed, if I was a boy, to be -so long peeling a few apples. - -CAL. Oh, what’s the use in hurrying? There’s plenty of time. - -A. H. (_testily_). In my young days things didn’t go on so. Good -house-keepers got their bakin’ done by eight o’clock in the morning. They -didn’t spend all day in the kitchen, as they do now. - -CAR. Don’t be troubled, Aunt Hannah; everything will be finished early, -and dinner on the table at the usual time. - -A. H. Well, I hope ’twill, but things don’t look much like it now. - - (_Exit A. H., L._) - -CAL. Aunt Hannah is never happy except when she’s finding fault with -somebody. She’s gone off mad, and I’m glad of it. I hope she’ll stay away. - -(_Enter ADOLPHUS, L._) - -ADOLPHUS. I’ve been looking for you, Miss Carwy. Will you, aw, go out and -walk with me this morning? - -CAR. I don’t think I could. Mother is away, you know, and I have all the -housework to do. - -A. Couldn’t I, aw, assist you, so you could go? - -CAR. I think not. I’m afraid there’s none of my work that you could do. - -CAL. (_shaking his head in a significant way_). You jest make me that -offer, Mr. Fitz. I’ll warrant you I won’t refuse. I know you’ll be able -to do _my_ work. And I can show you round a great deal better than Carrie -can. - -(_A. deigns no reply to CAL., but gazes earnestly at CAR._) - -CAR. I declare, I’m afraid my bread is burning. I nearly forgot it. -(_Goes out, R._) - -CAL. Heigho! I don’t feel like peeling apples. I guess I’ll see what girl -loves me best. (_Lifts the entire skin of an apple, which he has taken -off in one long strip, and swings it slowly three times round his head, -then drops it on the floor behind him. He stoops and examines it eagerly, -then claps his hands._) Sure’s the world, that’s an L, an’ stands for -Lizy Blake. I was most sure ’twould be so. That sign always comes true. - -A. (_who had been looking on with interest_). What are you doing, aw, -Caleb? - -CAL. I’ve been finding out who was my true love. Want to try your hand at -it? - -A. (_glancing round to see that no one else is present_). Well, aw, I -might try. - -CAL. That one’s broken, but I’ll soon make you another. (_Takes an apple, -peels it, and passes the skin to A. The latter swings it very awkwardly -round his head, staggering as he endeavors to do so without breaking it. -At last he drops it on the floor behind him._) - -CAL. I declare, Mr. Fitz, you’re about as graceful as a cow. - -A. (_unheeding his remark, and examining the skin, which lay curled up on -the floor_). That’s a C, aw, plain enough. - -CAL. (_looking at it closely_). It’s an exact H. Who can that stand for? -Oh, I know. It must be that you’re going to marry Aunt Hannah. - -A. What do you mean, aw, by such a fawlshood? (_Attempts to strike CAL. -with his cane, but CAL. leaps behind a chair, which he lifts, and uses as -a protection. Enter CAR._) - -CAR. Why, what’s the matter? - -CAL. Nothing, only Mr. Fitz has been telling me who his sweetheart is, -and he don’t like it ’cause I won’t promise not to tell anybody. - -CAR. You’d better go out in the kitchen, and finish your work. I’m in a -hurry for the apples. - - (_Exit, CAL., R. CAR. sits down, C._) - -A. You must be tired, aw, with your labors. - -CAR. Oh no, indeed; but I am waiting for that lazy Caleb to finish the -apples, so I can be making my pies. - -A. (_deliberately spreading his handkerchief upon the floor before her, -and kneeling upon it_). Miss Leland—Carwy, I have long sought, aw, this -opportunity to confess, aw, my love for you. Do not deny me, aw, and doom -me to dwead despair. - -(_A sound of approaching footsteps is heard._) - -CAR. (_hurriedly_). Mr. Fitz-William, rise, I beseech you. - -A. Not until you give me a favorable answer to my suit. - -CAR. I cannot—I—(_Enter CAL., R. A. rises._) - -CAL. (_laughs quite loud_). Ha! ha! ha! (_Enter MRS. MONTGOMERY and AUNT -HANNAH, L._) - -MRS. MONTGOMERY. What can be the matter? - -A. H. What’s all this noise about? Anybody’d think the house was afire, -to hear such a racket. - -A. It’s that impertinent young wascal, aw, who’s been scweaming like a -locomotive whistle. - -CAL. Who wouldn’t ’a’ laughed, if they’d come in, as I did, and seen Mr. -Fitz-William on his knees asking Carrie to marry him? - -MRS. M. Why, Adolphus, I thought you were engaged to Helen Lindsay, who -lives in the city. - -CAL. And ’twarn’t more’n ten minutes ago that he spoke about marryin’ -Aunt Hannah. (_The spinster smiles benignantly._) - -A. I did not, aw. I’d sooner marwy Beelzebub’s daughtaw than such a -she-dwagon. - -A. H. (_seizing a broom and chasing him around the stage._) You would, -would ye? Then, you just git out o’ this house. You shan’t stay in it a -minute longer. - -CAL. (_waving his hand_). That’s it, Aunt Hannah. Pitch into him lively. -Go ahead, an’ I’ll help yer. - - (_Exit A., L., followed by A. H. and CALEB._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_The same. Time, six months later. MRS. LELAND, - sitting at table, R. C., and CALEB, L. C. Enter AUNT HANNAH, R._ - -A. H. (_going to MRS. L._). Is this stockin’ goin’ to be large enough for -Calup? - -MRS. LELAND (_examining stocking_). I guess so. It is larger than the -last pair. - -CAL. Aunt Hannah thinks my understanding is increasing pretty fast. - -A. H. (_bluntly_). It’s a pity ’taint your politeness instid o’ your feet -that’s agrowin’. - -MRS. L. (_looking up_). Take another chair, Caleb, and let your aunt have -the rocking-chair. - -CAL. (_rising and taking another chair_). Of course—age before good looks. - -A. H. (_sinking down into rocking-chair_). In my day, children warn’t -allowed to make fun of their relations. - -MRS. L. Caleb doesn’t mean anything, Aunt Hannah, but he ought not to -speak so. - -A. H. (_severely_). P’r’aps he don’t. This aint the fust time he’s been -sassy to me. - -CAL. Well, why can’t you be jolly, like other folks? I have to make fun -so’s to make up for your lookin’ an’ talkin’ so dismal. - -A. H. (_sighing_). Well, I shan’t always be here to trouble you with my -looks. When I’m gone, maybe you’ll wish you hadn’t laughed at me as you -have. (_Bell rings._) - -CAL. (_eagerly_). There’s the door-bell. Shall I go, mother? - -MRS. L. Yes, for I must go upstairs to get some pieces to mend this coat -with. - - (_Exit_, R.) - -(_CAL. goes out, L., and immediately returns with a letter. He pretends -to be studying the address._) - -CAL. M-m-iss Lel-land. - -A. H. Calup, that letter’s for me. Give it to me this minute. - -CAL. (_holding it behind him_). It aint a letter; it’s a valentine. It’s -got all sorts of pretty figures on the envelope. Promise, Aunt Hannah, -that you’ll let me see the inside of it, and I’ll give it to you right -off. - -A. H. (_rising, and laying knitting on the table_). I shan’t make any -promises. Give me that letter, Calup. (_CAL. runs round stage with -letter. His aunt, running after him, tries in vain to catch him._) - -MRS. L. (_from outside_). Ca-leb! Ca-leb! - -CAL. (_darting across the room in a tantalizing way, lays letter on the -table_). By the time you get it read, Aunt Hannah, I’ll be back all ready -to see it. - - (_Exit, R._) - -A. H. (_takes letter eagerly, and sits down, L. C._). It is a valentine, -as sure as I’m alive. Who could have sent it? (_Reads._) - - “My dearest One: This is St. Valentine’s, the day when every - person is privileged to write tender epistles to their loved - ones. So I have seated myself to write to you. I did think of - asking you a question which my past attentions have, no doubt, - led you to expect. But, on second thoughts, I have concluded to - call on you and ask the question in person. I am sure you will - have no difficulty in recognizing - - “YOUR DEVOTED VALENTINE.” - -A. H. (_laying valentine on table, sits back in chair, clasps her -hands together, rocking, and apparently meditating_). Well, there’s a -perspective proposal, and I’m sure it couldn’t come from anybody but -Obadiah Rakestraw. His mother’s just died, and he used to go to singing -school with me when I was a girl (_complacently_), and he’ll be here -to-night. I guess I’ll go and fix up a little, as long as he’s sent me -word he’s coming. - - (_Exit A. H., R. Enter CARRIE by same door._) - -CAR. (_soliloquizing_). Oh, dear, how unhappy I am! it is six months -since Herbert went away, and I know it was because he thought I liked -that popinjay Adolphus. Of course, he doesn’t know that it was nothing -but a flirtation, and that I couldn’t endure the sight of Adolphus -afterwards. I didn’t think Herbert would have gone off so suddenly, -without even writing me a note to say he was going. Six months ago, and -I’ve been so miserable all this weary time! (_Suddenly sees the letter._) -What’s this, a valentine, addressed to Miss Leland? Why, that’s my name, -and, of course, I have a right to read it. (_Opens it, and notices -contents._) Yes, it was intended for me, and is in Herbert’s handwriting -(_joyfully_), and he is to be here this evening! But how came it opened? -(_With sudden thought._) It must be that Aunt Hannah has opened and read -it, thinking it was intended for her. I guess I’ll place the letter where -I found it (_lays it down_), and leave the room till the time comes for -Herbert to arrive. - - (_Exit CARRIE, L., and enter CALEB, R._) - -CAL. Well, that’s pretty treatment, for Aunt Hannah to go off when I told -her partic’larly I was coming right back; and most likely she has carried -the valentine with her. (_Looking round, his gaze falls on the letter._) -No, she hasn’t, either. By George! she was quite good, for her. (_Takes -letter, which he opens and reads. Looks up with ludicrous expression._) -So Aunt Hannah has really got a beau! Who can he be? I guess he don’t -know her as well as some folks do. Let’s see (_Consulting the letter._) -He’s coming here to-night to ask her that question. It’ll be worth a -great deal to see anybody making love to Aunt Hannah. How can I manage -to be round to see how it’s done? (_Looks around._) Oh, this is just -the thing. (_Goes behind a curtain, which he draws, thereby concealing -himself. A. H., dressed in black silk and wearing a gay headdress, -enters, R._) - -A. H. (_taking letter, which she puts in her pocket_). Well, there, I was -rather ventur’som in leaving this valentine on the table. It’s a wonder -that Calup didn’t come in an’ get hold of it. If he had, I’d never have -heard the last of it. (_A knock at the door, L. A. H. opens it, and -ushers in OBADIAH RAKESTRAW._) - -A. H. Good evening, Mr. Rakestraw. - -OBADIAH RAKESTRAW. Good-evening, Miss Leland. So you’re all alone -this evening. (_They sit down with their backs to CALEB’S place of -concealment._) - -A. H. Yes, I happen to be just now, but I suppose the rest of the folks -will be in soon. (_Aside._) I wonder if he won’t take the hint. - -CAL. (_aside._) Oh, my! aint she sly? - -O. R. I thought I’d just come in and make a neighborly call this evening. - -A. H. Just so. I’m glad the spirit took ye. It be kind o’ lonesome for -you at home. - -O. R. Wall, ’tis so sometimes. - -A. H. Ye ought to get married. - -O. R. I’m afraid nobody’d have me. - -A. H. Oh, you’re too shy. There’s nothin’ like tryin’. To-night is St. -Valentine’s, and there aint no time like the present. All ye’ve got to do -is jest ask the question. I’ll warrant you’ll get a favorable answer. - -CAL. (_aside_). Don’t she drive business? - -O. R. Wall, I’ve a good mind to take your advice. As you say, ’tis kind -o’ lonesome, an’ I can’t more’n get refused (_rising_); so I’ll jest go -over an’ ask Hitty Trumbull if she’ll marry me. - -A. H. (_indignantly, rising_). Mehitable Trumbull! You don’t mean you’re -going to offer yourself to her. - -O. R. That’s jest what I mean. - -A. H. Well, it’s downright dishonorable treatment, after the letter you -sent me to-day. - -O. R. (_surprised_). I haven’t sent you any letter. - -A. H. (_taking it from pocket_). Didn’t you write that valentine? - -O. R. (_glancing over it_). I never saw it before; and, between you and -me, I don’t think it was intended for you. - -A. H. Do you mean to insult me by saying I open other folks’ letters? - -O. R. Not exactly, but I think this was written to your niece. It aint -the kind o’ valentine one would be likely to send to a person of your age. - -A. H. (_in a high tone_). You mean to twit me about my age, do you? I’ll -just let you know that I’m six years younger than Mehitable Trumbull. But -I won’t listen to any more of your insultin’ remarks; so just leave this -house, or I’ll call somebody to help you. - -O. R. It’s lucky I didn’t offer to marry you, as you asked me to. I see -your temper hasn’t improved any since we used to go to singing-school -together. - - (_Exit O. R., L. A. H., almost frantic, paces back and forth._) - -A. H. The villain! to treat me so. But it’s lucky none of the folks know -anything about it. I must change my dress before any of them come in. - - (_Exit A. H., R._) - -CAL. (_coming forward_). Wasn’t that rich? To think of Aunt Hannah, who -“wouldn’t marry the best man living,” offering herself, and then, after -all, that her love should be refused. (_Voices outside._) But who’s that? -Perhaps, she’s coming back again. She mustn’t find me here. (_Hides -behind the curtain. Enter HERBERT and CARRIE, talking earnestly._) - -CAR. It was only by accident that I happened to see your letter at all. -Aunt Hannah received and read it, and thought it was sent to her. - -H. Who could she have supposed sent it? - -CAR. I don’t know, I’m sure. - -CAL. (_peeping out, aside_). I know all about it. - -H. But you haven’t answered the question it contained. - -CAR. (_demurely_). Did it contain one? I thought the note said you -intended to ask a question; but, as you didn’t do so, I supposed you’d -changed your mind. - -H. You needn’t pretend ignorance. I can’t propose with the same grace -that Adolphus did, but you can’t help knowing that I meant to ask you to -marry me. (_Taking her hand._) Will you be my wife, Carrie? - -CAR. (_archly_). I suppose it wouldn’t do to say anything but “Yes,” -especially as, if I refuse, I couldn’t return your letter, since Aunt -Hannah has taken possession of it. - -H. I shouldn’t be satisfied with any other answer. Now, let’s go and tell -your mother about it, and then we’ll set the wedding day. - - (_Exeunt, arm in arm._) - -CAL. (_coming forward_). Well that was a little addition I didn’t expect. -I’ve always wondered how folks popped the question, but I’ve found out -all about it, and now I can do it like a book. I guess I’ll go down and -see ’Lizy Blake before I forget how it’s done. If she says “Yes” we’ll -have a loaf of wedding-cake as big as our new school-house. (_With sudden -thought_) I don’t know though, but I ought to write a valentine, and send -to her, first, to let her know I’m coming. That’s the way Herbert did. -But then, just as likely as not, her aunt Lizy’d get it, thinking ’twas -for her. She’s cross-eyed, an’ wears false hair an’ store teeth, an’ I -couldn’t have her on my hands. No, I guess I’ll go right down, an’ do my -sparkin’ in good style, an’ wind up by askin’ ’Lizy if _I_ shan’t be her -Valentine. - - (_Exit L. Curtain falls._) - - - - -MR. BLISS’ VISION. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MR. HIRAM BLISS, A Wealthy Bachelor. - DICK WELLINGTON, His Nephew and Prospective Heir. - MRS. MARIAN PAYNE, A Widow. - SERVANT. - - - SCENE I.—_MR. BLISS’ parlor. MR. B. present, pacing back and - forth._ - -MR. BLISS (_soliloquizing_). Sixty years old to-day! Well, well, how -time passes! It seems but yesterday since I was a lad, going to school, -and making love to the girls, instead of studying the lessons which -Master Winthrop gave out. It seems strange how persons change as they -grow older. Then, I was a favorite with the girls, and always escorted -one or more to every party, husking, or apple-bee. Now, when called upon -to entertain a marriageable person of the other sex, I’m thrown into a -decided flutter. It’s ridiculous for one of my age and experience, but -still it is a lamentable fact. There was Minnie Warren, a blue-eyed -little fairy to whom I got very much attached; in tact, we were engaged. -I believe if she hadn’t left Cherryville as she did, I should have -finally married her. I was indignant enough when I heard that her father -had bought the Union Mills, and the family were going to leave town. She -finally married, I heard, and made some man happy. (_A pause._) Well, -some say every one has their share of good and ill fortune; but the fact -is, I believe that some are fated to be happy, and some to be miserable -in this world. - -DICK (_entering, L._). Hallo, uncle; have you got the blues? What right -have you to talk about being miserable—you, who have everything that -wealth can procure to make you happy? - -MR. B. I know I have everything comfortable here, but the fact is, Dick, -I’m lonely in this great house. You, who pass most of your time in a -store, with people constantly coming and going, take pleasure in spending -a week or two in a quiet place, and among new scenes; but there’s no -novelty in it to me, who have lived here for twenty years with no one in -the house but servants. - -D. It must be rather lonesome to live here all the time (_glancing -furtively at his companion_). I expect you’ll be marrying one of these -days, uncle. - -MR. B. I might have done so once, but it’s too late now. I’ve got settled -down in my bachelor ways, and cannot depart from them. - -D. (_mischievously_). You may be forced to depart from them, uncle. - -MR. B. (_alarmed_). What do you mean, Dick? - -D. You remember the widow Payne, that we have met several times lately? - -MR. B. (_interested_). Yes. What of her? - -D. She has been heard to express a very favorable opinion of you. - -MR. B. That amounts to nothing. - -D. But you know that this is leap year, when ladies are privileged to -propose. - -MR. B. (_startled_). But you don’t think she would do such a thing? - -D. (_solemnly_). It is impossible to say. She is a widow, and you know -the race of men has been warned, by an astute observer of human nature, -to beware of that class of humanity. If she has any sympathy with the -“Woman’s Rights” movement, I’m afraid you’re fated, uncle. - -MR. B. I couldn’t stand that. But what shall I do, Dick? Leave town? - -D. There wouldn’t be any use in that, unless you staid away the remainder -of the year. - -MR. B. (_nervously_). I couldn’t do that. - -D. Then be courageous and bear it like a man. Of course you’d refuse the -honor (_questioningly_)? - -MR. B. Of course I should. I wouldn’t accept under any consideration. - -D. Then that’s all settled. But if you should get into any kind of a -scrape, just let me know, and I’ll get you out of it—trust me, uncle. - -MR. B. Well, I think I will. No doubt you know more about those things -than I do. - -D. (_smiling_). I dare say I do. - -MR. B. (_rising_). Well, I must go and take my morning walk. Will you go -too? - -D. (_rising_). Yes; where shall we go? - -MR. B. We might as well go and call on the widow, and take a survey of -the situation, as I don’t mean to be entrapped by any of her wiles. - -D. (_sharply scrutinizing MR. B.—aside_). I must look out for this uncle -of mine. He may himself propose to the widow, instead of her proposing -to him, and that would be death to my prospects. I must look out and not -lose the property. (_Takes out a couple of cigars, which he offers to his -uncle.—Aloud._) Have a cigar, uncle? - -MR. B.—Thank you, I don’t care if I do. (_Takes one._) - - (_Exeunt, L. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_The same. Time, evening. MR. BLISS sits alone, R., - with his feet resting on the table, smoking and reading the - evening paper. A lady (DICK disguised as MRS. PAYNE) enters L., - wearing bonnet and shawl, and closely veiled. MR. BLISS starts - up in excitement and offers his hand._ - -MR. B. Good-evening, Mrs. Payne. I am very happy to see you. (_Leads her -to a seat._) Lay aside your bonnet and shawl, won’t you? - -MRS. PAYNE. No, I thank you. I cannot stop long. I only came in to make a -call. - -MR. B. I am afraid this smoke is offensive to you. - -MRS. P. Oh, not at all. I enjoy the fragrance of a good cigar. - -(_MR. B. lays down his cigar._) - -MRS. P. It is quite cool out, this evening. - -MR. B. Yes—no—that is, it may be—but I haven’t been out this evening. - -MRS. P. I haven’t seen you at our house for several days. - -MR. B. (_nervously_). No—I—have been very busy and couldn’t come, but -have thought of you, and meant to come. - -MRS. P. So you have thought of me. I am glad of that. I have thought of -you, also. - -MR. B. (_startled_). Ah! Th—thank you, but— - -MRS. P. (_interrupting_). I dare say you couldn’t guess my errand -to-night. - -MR. B. (_nervously_). Oh—no, of course not. - -MRS. P. I have long loved you, and have felt certain that I was not -disagreeable to you—and, knowing your timidity, I have availed myself of -the privileges of Leap Year to come and offer myself to you. (_Rises and -throws her arms around his neck._) Hiram, I love you,—do you reciprocate -my affection? - -MR. B. (_almost overpowered, and looking around, nervously_). I—I—must -take time to think of it—it is so sudden. - -MRS. P. It may be sudden—and yet why delay our happiness? (_Her head -droops on his shoulder._) - -MR. B. I—I need time to consider (_a sound of approaching footsteps is -heard_)—I—I must go—let me go. I have an engagement at nine. - -MRS. P. Then give your consent to our marriage. - -MR. B. (_struggling frantically to free himself_). I cannot—I—(_a sound -is heard as of a person at the door_). Let me go—let me go—(_in an -imploring tone_) quick—somebody’s coming. - -MRS. P. Say yes, then, dearest Hiram. - -MR. B. (_in an agony of fear_). Yes, yes—anything, if you will only -leave me. (_MRS. P. imprints an audible kiss upon his forehead and turns -to leave the room. Apparently by mistake she grasps the bell-knob and -pulls it vigorously. She goes out by one door, L., as servant enters by -another, R._) - -SERVANT. Did you ring, sir? - -MR. B. Ring? N—no. I don’t wish for anything. - -S. That’s strange. The bell rang distinctly, and so loud that I thought -you was in a hurry. - -MR. B. Well, it’s of no consequence. I don’t need anything. - - (_Exit SERVANT, R._) - -MR. B. (_pacing the room and soliloquizing_). What have I done? Engaged -myself to this widow, notwithstanding all my resolutions to the contrary. -But something must be done about it. What shall it be? I might leave -town—but that would be cowardly. Besides, I shouldn’t want to shut up -the house. I might write, saying I had changed my mind; but I’m afraid -that wouldn’t be just the thing. (_Paces back and forth a few moments -without speaking._) The fact is, I shall be obliged to marry the widow. -There seems to be no other way left me, after giving my promise to her. -But I won’t say a word to Dick about it. (_A pause._) After all, I might -do a worse thing. She would be a credit to my establishment, and the -presence of a woman _would_ brighten up the house. I guess I must go -there in the morning and talk the matter over. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_MRS. PAYNE’S sitting-room. MRS. PAYNE present - sewing, R. MR. BLISS enters, L._ - -MRS. P. Good-morning, Mr. Bliss. - -MR. B. Good-morning, and a charming morning it is. I came, Mrs. Payne, to -speak further on the matter we were talking of last evening. - -MRS. P. Last evening? You mean a week ago. - -MR. B. No, I mean last evening. - -MRS. P. But you were not here last evening. - -MR. B. (_perplexed_). Certainly not; but you called on me. - -MRS. P. What do you mean, Mr. Bliss? - -MR. B. (_smiling_). I mean that you made a leap-year call on me last -evening, and offered me your heart and hand, which I accepted. - -MRS. P. (_casting down her eyes_). I am sorry to dispute you, but I had a -severe headache last evening, and did not leave the house. - -MR. B. (_in a disappointed tone_). Is that so? But certainly some one -bearing your semblance called on me last evening. (_A pause._) It must -have been one of Dick’s harum-scarum tricks. - -MRS. P. No doubt it was. He is full of mischief. - -MR. B. Mrs. Payne— - -MRS. P. (_smiling_). Well, Mr. Bliss. - -MR. B. (_fidgeting nervously_). Couldn’t we make my vision of last -evening a reality? - -MRS. P. Possibly we might, if you desired it very much. But I’m afraid -you haven’t counted the cost. You have been a bachelor so long, that you -might soon tire of a wife, and consider her an intruder. - -MR. B. I am satisfied it would not be so. Besides it seems as if I had -known you before; where can I have met you? - -MRS. P. Why, don’t you remember? I knew you at once—I was formerly Minnie -Warren. - -MR. B. Then I claim you by right of an engagement made between us -forty-six years ago—when you were twelve and I was fourteen. Have you -forgotten it? - -MRS. P. Oh, no, I remember it perfectly well; and how I cried when we -left town because you could not go too. - -MR. B. (_drawing his chair nearer and placing his arm around her_). -There is a good deal of change in the age and size of your lover as he -was and as he is. Are you not afraid of repenting if you should marry him? - -MRS. P. (_archly_). Oh, no. It is a good trade to exchange a little Payne -for a greater bliss. I am satisfied as far as I am concerned. - -DICK (_entering, L._). Hallo! What’s all this? I’m afraid I’m intruding. -(_Looks anxiously at his companions._) - -MR. B. Not at all. Allow me to present you to your future aunt. - -DICK (_bowing low—aside_). There’s my inheritance gone to the dogs, and -by my own act. (_Aloud to uncle._) This is something new, isn’t it? How -did it all come about? - -MR. B. (_significantly_). I had a leap-year vision last evening, and have -concluded, this morning, to make it a reality. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS. - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. - - MISS EVELYN MONTAGUE, A lady of Wealth. - KATY MAGUIRE, ⎫ - ANN FLAHERTY, ⎪ - BRIDGET MAGLONE, ⎬ Her Servants. - MARY FINNEGAN, ⎪ - JAMES DUNN, ⎪ - PAT. GARVEY, ⎭ - ELLEN SWEENY, ⎫ - JULIA GRIFFIN, ⎬ Servants of Mrs. Bradley. - CORNY REILLY, ⎭ - - - SCENE I.—_MISS EVELYN’S chamber. KATY MAGUIRE, R., dressed in - blue silk, standing before a mirror. She is putting on a lace - collar._ - -KATY. It is my private opinion that this blue dress is the purtiest of -the lot, an’ as long as Miss Evelyn won’t wear it, there’s no reason why -Katy Maguire shouldn’t. It won’t be long before it’ll be out of fashion; -an’ it might as well be doin’ a little good to somebody, first. - -(_She takes out from jewel-case several sets of jewelry, and fastens -them in conspicuous places on the waist of the dress. She puts all the -bracelets she can find on her wrists, and places around her neck a gold -chain, and also a string of cornelian beads. Taking a richly-embroidered -handkerchief in her hand, she gazes complacently at herself in the -mirror._) - -K. There, Katy Maguire (_courtesying to the image reflected_), you look -like a lady born and bred. If your mistress should see you now, she -wouldn’t need to ask if you was an experienced dressing-maid. There aint -many that shows such fine taste in dressin’, or has enough jewelry to -set off the dress with. What an ilegant trail it has, sure! (_glancing -complacently back at the dress, and taking two or three steps forward to -see the effect. Enter MARY, R._) - -MARY (_starting back in surprise_). Well, Katy, who ever’d ha’ thought of -this being you? What are you rigged up in Miss Evelyn’s finery for? - -K. (_loftily_). I am Miss Maguire, now, and I expect you’ll treat me -like a lady, as I am. I shall give a reception this evenin’ in the -drawin’-room, an’ when you go downstairs, you can invite Miss Flaherty, -Miss Maglone, an’ Mister Dunn to be present. An’ if Miss Flaherty thinks -best, she might send in to the next house, an’ invite our friends there -to come in. - -M. What do you suppose Miss Evelyn will say? - -K. (_sarcastically_). If you feel anxious to know ye might ask her when -she gets home. The entertainment’ll be over before that time. But yer -better be goin’ down now to deliver the invitation, as it’s gitting late -(_walks along a few steps, swinging her dress_). - -M. (_with a look of hatred which changes to a malicious smile_) I’ll be -after goin’, thin, Miss Maguire. (_With a mocking bow she leaves the -room, R._) - -K. It’s aisy to see that Mary is jealous of my good looks. But I pity the -poor crathur, for she’s as homely as a sick duck. I must go downstairs -now. It’s most time for James to be home from drivin’ Miss Evelyn to the -party. He’s a nice lad, an’ I’ll be much surprised if he aint took wid my -charms. - - (_Exit, R._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_Kitchen. ANN FLAHERTY, R., BRIDGET MAGLONE, R. C., - JAMES DUNN, L. C., and PAT. GARVEY, L., present. Enter MARY, L._ - -M. (_excitedly_). Well, I never seen sich doin’s before! (_All come -forward expectantly._) - -BRIDGET. An’ what is it, Mary? - -PATRICK (_eagerly_). What’s the row upstairs? Anybody kilt? - -M. Katy’s been up to Miss Evelyn’s chamber an’ rigged up in her clothes, -an’ she says she’s goin’ to give a grand party in the drawin’-room this -avenin’, an’ invites all to be prisint. - -JAMES (_rubbing his hands_). Ah! Katy’s a jew’l. - -ANN. Av course we’ll all accept the invitation. - -M. She says if ye thought best, he might sind in to the next house an’ -invite the frinds there. - -B. Sure an’ we _do_ think best. Pat., jist run over to Mr. Bradley’s an’ -ask the cook an’ all the rest to come over here an’ pass the avenin’. -We’re going to have a grand party here. Tell ’em to come right away. - -P. I’ll bring ’em all in, in five minutes. - - (_Exit L., swinging his hat._) - -M. An’ what d’ye think Miss Evelyn will say? - -B. Arrah now, Miss Evelyn will niver know anything about it. We’ll be all -through with the party before she comes home. - -A. Indade an’ ye may trust Katy to get through’t safely. She’s lived with -the quality before now, an’ knows how things is done. She’s shrewd, Katy -is. - -J. That’s thrue for you. An’ how can Miss Evelyn come home till I go -after her? She tould me to have the carriage there at half-past twelve -o’clock, an’ it isn’t ulleven yit. - -A. I’m thinkin’ we ought to have a trate before the party is over. - -B. Av coorse we must have some refrishments. - -J. I ixpect you ladies can manage that. - -A. We’ve got plinty o’ presarves and cake an’ wine. But we’ll want some -ice-crame. - -J. I’ll furnish that same. I’ll sind Pat. for it whin he comes back. - -B. Thin we’ll go upstairs now. - -A. The rest of yez go, an’ I’ll lay the table all ready for the trate. It -won’t be long before I’ll be wid yez. - - (_Exit all but ANN. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_MISS EVELYN’S drawing-room. KATY seated on sofa, - C., with the skirts of her dress spread out so as to make as - great a display as possible. Enter ANN, BRIDGET, MARY and - JAMES, R. All but MARY make low bows to her. She acknowledges - the salutations by a slight inclination of her head._ - -J. This must be a very select party, when Miss Maguire didn’t invite more -persons to be prisint. - -B. Sure we don’t know how many invitations she has sint out. Fashionable -people don’t come very airly. We’ll have more byme-by. (_Bell rings._) -They’re beginnin’ to arrive now. - -K. Misther Dunn ye’ll oblige me by goin’ to the door, if ye plaze. - -(_JAMES goes out, and soon returns L., with CORNY REILLY, ELLEN SWEENY -and JULIA GRIFFIN. He conducts them to KATY._) - -J. Miss Maguire, this is Miss Sweeny, Miss Griffin, and Misther Reilly. - -CORNY (_bowing with many flourishes_). My respects to yez, Miss Maguire. -(_The other two visitors bow, and KATY returns the salutations of all._) - -J. Miss Maguire, won’t ye favor us with a little illegant music? - -M. It’s little enough of that kind ye’ll get. - -K. If ye’ll esquort me to the pianner, I’ll play pervidin’ yez will all -sing. - -A. (_who has just entered_). Av coorse we will. - -M. I aint a-goin’ to sing anyway. - -K. (_sarcastically_). Yer vice won’t be missed, Miss Finnegan. - -J. Allow me to lade yez to the pianner. - -(_KATY takes his arm and goes to the piano, L. C., where she seats -herself._) - -K. (_turning around_). What can ye sing, ladies? - -J. You choose the song for us. - -K. Well, thin, it’s a midley I’ll play, an’ then ye can sing what ye -plaze. - -(_She commences drumming on the piano, and her companions, grouped around -her, sing, each one a different piece, a short one. Enter PAT., R., who -dances round the stage till the close of the singing._) - -P. (_going to KATY and speaking in a low tone, but loud enough for all -to hear_). Say, Katy, I’ve been down-town, an’ got some ice-crame. It’s -downstairs now. We’re going to have a big trate byme-by. - -K. (_smiling graciously_). Is that so, Pat.? - -P. Yis, an’ the things on the table looked so timptin’ that I stopped an’ -refreshed mesilf wid a little cake an’ wine. (_Begins to sing some Irish -air._) - -J. Look here, Pat.; what did ye meddle with that wine for? Ye spalpeen, I -b’lave ye’re dhrunk. - -P. (_slyly_). Sure, that’s where ye’re wrong, Misther Dunn. I jist took a -wee dthrop to keep my sperits up. (_Begins to dance._) - -J. It’s more like ye’ve put all the sperits down yer throat, yer thafe of -the world! - -P. Owin’ to my partic’lar good nature, I shan’t notice that little -insinivation o’ yours. But say, now, let’s have a dance. If you aint -goin’ ter play, Katy, jest be my partner, will yer? - -J. Miss Maguire’s engaged ter me. - -K. Yis, I’m engaged to Misther Dunn. - -P. Whew! That’s the way the wind blows, thin. Well _dunn_, Jimmy! (_All -laugh._) - -J. (_pushing PAT._). Jist be a little more respectful to your betters, ye -blackguard! (_Turning to KATY politely_) Will you allow me, Miss Maguire? -(_Offers his arm, which KATY takes, and they take their places for the -dance._) - -P. Say now, who’s goin’ to fiddle for us? Or is we goin’ ter dance widout -any music? - -C. Miss Sweeny plays on the pianner at our house. - -K. Then perhaps Miss Sweeny will do us the favor ter play for us. - -(_In imitation of JAMES’ example, PAT. immediately rushes up to ELLEN, -saying with many flourishes:_) - -P. Allow me, Miss Sweeny. (_She takes his arm and goes to piano and seats -herself._) - -(_PAT. goes to MARY, and offers his arm for the dance, but she turns -disdainfully from him, and goes out with a lofty air. PAT. then goes to -JULIA, who accepts him as a partner. CORNEY, at the same time, takes -BRIDGET and ANN (one on either arm), and all have taken their places. At -the sound of the piano, they break into an Irish jig of the wildest sort. -PAT. cuts up the maddest capers. A bell rings outside, but in the uproar -it is unheard by the dancers. A moment later, MISS EVELYN appears at the -door, L. She stands for a moment, dumfounded at the scene before her. At -first she is not seen by any of the company, but ELLEN, happening to look -up, beholds her and clasps her hands in alarm. The dancers, not hearing -the sound of the piano, look toward it to discover the cause. They -observe the dismay pictured in ELLEN’S face, and, following the direction -of her eyes, they behold MISS EVELYN. They stand with startled faces._) - -MISS EVELYN (_sternly_). What does all this mean? - -M. (_triumphantly_). It’s all Katy’s doin’s, miss. - -K. (_Darting a withering glance at the speaker, and then turning to MISS -E._). We were only indulgin’ in a little innocent amusement, ma’am. I -hope you’re not offended. - -MISS E. But who gave you leave to deck yourself in this manner? - -K. Sure I was only airin’ the dress, ma’am, as it had hung so long in the -closet. - -MISS E. Well, I don’t approve of any such airs. Leave the room, every one -of you! The idea of my drawing-room being the scene of a servants’ party! -You will all receive your discharge to-morrow morning. - -(_The servants leave the room, R., looking crestfallen enough—all but -KATY, who sweeps out of the room with a lofty air, determined to keep up -her character to the last._) - -P. (_aside to ANN, who goes out last_). An’ aint we goin’ to have our -trate then? - -A. (_aside_). Whist! Yis. Say nothin’. We’re goin’ to have it right away. -Miss Evelyn never comes down below at this time o’ night. - - (_Exeunt._) - -MISS E. (_seating herself C. in disgust_). Was there ever any annoyance -equal to that of keeping servants? Mine are a constant source of trouble. -I have threatened to discharge them all to-morrow morning. But what shall -I gain by it? I shall have another set who will perhaps try my patience -even more than these have done. Servants understand their importance, -and realize their power over their employers. It is becoming a species -of tyranny. If I could only do without them I most assuredly would do -so. (_A shout of laughter is heard in the distance. MISS E. stands up._) -What! haven’t they done yet? Probably they are gormandizing, downstairs, -at my expense. (_To the audience—a little sarcastically:_) I have heard -some persons wish for wealth, so that they could afford to keep servants -to wait on them. They do not realize the emptiness of their desires. -A person who has few wants, and can minister to them himself, is more -independent than the wealthiest person living. Those who keep a multitude -of servants are dependent on _their whims_, and should not be surprised -at frequent outbursts of High Life Below Stairs. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -BOARDING ON A FARM. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MRS. MONTGOMERY, A Lady who is seeking Country Board. - MR. MONTGOMERY, her Husband. - FLORENCE MALVINA, ⎫ Their Children. - GEORGE ALEXANDER, ⎭ - MRS. JONES, A Farmer’s Wife. - JONATHAN, ⎫ Servants. - PATTY, ⎭ - - - SCENE I.—_Parlor. MR. MONTGOMERY, L., reading paper. MRS. - MONTGOMERY, R., sewing._ - -MRS. MONTGOMERY. Mr. Montgomery. - -MR. MONTGOMERY. Well, my dear. - -MRS. M. We must go into the country this summer. - -MR. M. Is it absolutely essential to your happiness? - -MRS. M. (_with suppressed eagerness_). Of course I should enjoy it very -much. But I wasn’t thinking of myself. The children need it far more than -I do. They are both quite feeble and need fresh air and country living. - -MR. M. I hadn’t noticed that the children were not as well as usual. - -MRS. M. No, I dare say not. Men never notice such things. But they are -both ailing; and if I didn’t doctor them all the time, they’d be down -sick. - -MR. M. We can’t afford to pay the extravagant prices charged for country -board. - -MRS. M. I don’t expect to go to a fashionable place. But we might get -boarded, at a low rate, at some farm-house where we could get fresh -fruits and vegetables, and those things which can only be found in the -country. I’m sure it’s better to pay one’s money for such things than to -spend it for medicine. - -MR. M. The sea-breeze is better than the country air. You might take a -trip with the children to Hingham or Nahant once or twice a week. - -MRS. M. (_slightly ruffled_). How foolishly you talk! But then it’s what -I might expect. These short trips always fatigue people more than they -benefit them. When it’s too late to help the children, perhaps you’ll -think of my advice and wish you’d followed it. - -MR. M. If it’s as serious a matter as you suppose, and this is the only -remedy, I should say go, by all means. - -MRS. M. You must judge for yourself. - -MR. M. But I don’t believe it is possible to find such a place as would -suit you at a reasonable price. - -MRS. M. (_eagerly_). I found an advertisement in last week’s paper -describing a place that I thought would be just such us we would like. -Here it is. (_Takes paper from table—reads._) - - “COUNTRY BOARDING.—Those who are leaving behind them the noise - and dust of the city, and wish to refresh themselves by a - communion with nature, will find a desirable summer retreat at - Honeysuckle Villa, in the beautiful town of Hillsdale. It is - within five minutes’ walk of the railroad, in the midst of a - country rich in vegetation, and smiling under the liberal eye - of a bountiful Providence. A beautiful lake, at the distance - of a quarter of a mile, presents strong attractions for the - angler, while a boat which has recently been placed upon it - will enable the visitor to enjoy the luxury of a sail. No pains - will be spared to render this a delightful retreat for the - denizens of the metropolis. - - “ELIPHALET JONES.” - -MR. M. That sounds well enough. But what proof have you that things are -as represented? - -MRS. M. I wrote to Mr. Jones, and received a very gentlemanly reply. As -he says, the terms are quite moderate. Mrs. Livingston pays nearly twice -as much. - -MR. M. What are the terms? - -MRS. M. Thirty dollars per week for you, myself, and the two children. - -MR. M. But are there trains at hours to accommodate me? - -MRS. M. Yes, I took pains to ascertain that. - -MR. M. Very well, then, make whatever arrangements you choose. We can but -give it a trial. - - (_Exit MR. M., L._) - -MRS. M. (_triumphantly_). That’s one point gained. The next thing is to -make preparations for our journey. I was determined not to be cooped up -in the city another summer, when all our acquaintances are boarding in -the country. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_Country railway station. MRS. MONTGOMERY, C., and - two children, R., sitting with outer garments on. Two trunks, a - bandbox and travelling-bag on the floor. Enter JONATHAN HODGE, - L., wearing a coarse frock and carrying a whip._ - -JONATHAN (_to MRS. M._). Be yeaou the folks what’s going to the Joneses? - -MRS. M. Yes, we wish to go to Mr. Jones’, at Honeysuckle Villa. - -J. Honeysuckle Villa. Wal, that’s a good un. Ha, ha, ha! - -MRS. M. (_aside_). Is it possible that they have deceived me? But I shall -soon learn. (_Aloud._) Is the carriage ready? - -J. (_laughing_). Ya—as, the kerridge is waitin’. You can see it from the -door (_nods toward door, L._) - -MRS. M. (_looks out with some curiosity_). I don’t see any carriage. -There’s nothing but a farm wagon in sight. - -J. That’s the kerridge that’s come for ye, anyway. Mr. Jones thought -mebbe you’d hev a lot of baggage, so he sent the hay-riggin’. - -MRS. M. But there are no seats. - -J. Yes, there’s a board to put across, after we get loaded up. - -MRS. M. (_indignantly_). And we are expected to ride in such a vehicle as -that? - -J. There aint no use in callin’ it names. It’s easy enough ridin’ in it. - -MRS. M. But we cannot all sit on one seat. - -J. The children can set on the trunks. (_Takes up one of the trunks to -carry it out. Exit, L._) - -GEORGE. Say, mother, have we got to ride in that old, ricketty wagon? -It’ll jolt like everything, I know ’twill. - -MRS. M. (_in a soothing tone_). We’ve only got to ride a few steps. - -J. (_entering_). Don’t know ’bout that. I reckon it’s a good mile down -there, and the roads aint none of the best. - -MRS. M. (_indignantly_). Mr. Jones’ advertisement stated that his house -was only five minutes’ walk from the station. - -J. Mr. Jones got the schoolmaster to write that notice for the paper. He -came up to the house one night and did it. Jones told him to put it in -pretty strong. The marster read it out ’loud after he’d writ it, an’ I -declair to goodness, I shouldn’t ha’ knowed ’twas the same place we lived -in. - -MRS. M. (_decidedly_). Well, if I don’t like the place, we shan’t stay, -that’s all. - -J. (_smiling incredulously_). Oh, mebbe you’ll like it, after all. Folks -need a change sometimes. (_Takes out another trunk, L._) - -FLORENCE. Mother, I’m thirsty. - -MRS. M. There isn’t anything to drink here. We’ll soon get to Mr. Jones’. - -FLOR. (_impatiently_). I want something to drink now. - -MRS. M. Wait patiently a little longer, and then you can have a drink of -nice, fresh milk. (_Enter JONATHAN._) - -J. (_aside_). I shouldn’t be a mite surprised if they was disapp’inted in -their expectations. I guess they won’t find many delicacies at Joneses. -Leastways, I never did. (_Aloud_) Kerridge is ready, folks. (_Takes -bandbox and bag and goes out L., MRS. M. and children follow._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_Dining-room at country farm-house. Table is set for - dinner. MRS. JONES brings in pie, R._ - -MRS. JONES (_turning as she enters, and addressing PATTY in next room_). -Dish up the beans, Patty, and be spry now. (_Places pie on table and goes -out, R. FLORENCE enters L., and sits down._) - -(_MRS. J. enters with potatoes, and PATTY with a dish of baked beans, -both of which are placed on table. PATTY goes out, R._) - -MRS. J. (_addressing FLORENCE_). Go and tell your mother dinner’s ready, -child. - -FLOR. (_bridling_). My name’s Florence Malvina Montgomery. - -MRS. J. (_glancing over the table to see if everything needful is upon -it_). Yes, I know it. Go and tell your mother dinner is ready. - -(_FLORENCE goes out L., and soon returns with her mother and brother._) - -MRS. J. Dinner’s ready, Mrs. Montgomery. Take that chair if you’re a mind -to (_indicating it_), and the children can set, one on each side of you. -(_They sit._) Will you have some baked beans, ma’am? - -MRS. M. Thank you, no, I never eat them. - -MRS. J. Don’t eat beans! Why, they’re the wholesomest victuals there -is. I’m sure I don’t know what I can give you to eat, then. I haint got -nothin’ else but some cold corned beef, and was savin’ that for dinner -to-morrer. - -MRS. M. I might, perhaps, eat a little of the cold meat. - -MRS. J. (_in a loud voice_). Patty, bring in the cold beef that was left -yesterday. - -PATTY (_outside_). Yes’m. (_Brings in meat R., then exit._) - -MRS. M. Haven’t you any new potatoes yet? - -MRS. J. Yes, but we thought, as we had these left, we’d use ’em up first. - -MRS. M. But these are watery, and not fit to eat. - -MRS. J. Oh, they aint bad for the time o’ year. Mr. Jones carried the new -potatoes to market this morning. They bring a good price now. - -MRS. M. Well, I’m sure I cannot eat these. You may give me a piece of -pie, if you please. - -GEO. Mother, I can’t cut the pie-crust. - -MRS. M. I’ll cut it for you. (_Tries to cut it, but it is so tough the -knife slips and falls to the floor._) - -MRS. J. Let me cut it. (_She, with some effort, cuts it and returns it to -GEORGE._) - -MRS. M. Haven’t you any strawberries? - -MRS. J. Yes, we’re goin’ to have some on the table Sunday. We send them -to market every day, the first of the season, they bring such a good -price. - -MRS. M. (_sarcastically_). I suppose you sell your cream too. - -MRS. J. Yes, we find we can make more money that way than by makin’ -butter and cheese. So we buy our butter at the store. - -MRS. M. (_indignantly_). We came to the country expecting to get fresh -fruit and vegetables. But it seems we are more likely to find them in the -city. I am half inclined to go directly back; however, I will perhaps -remain one week. It depends on how we are treated whether we stop any -longer. - - (_Exit with children, L._) - -MRS. J. Lor’ now, what airs these city people do put on! Seems to me -there’s no end to their whims and wants. They don’t have the least -thought about economy. (_In a loud voice_) Patty, you and Jonathan come -to dinner. - -P. (_outside, R._). Comin’, ma’am. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE IV.—_Sitting-room. MRS. M. present, R._ - -MRS. M. I can’t stand boarding here much longer, that’s a fixed fact. -Mrs. Jones sets a most wretched table, and the children are really -growing thinner every day. If it hadn’t been for the name of it I should -have left Hillsdale before this. The reputation of going to the country -for the summer is hardly sufficient to pay for living in small rooms, -sleeping on stifling feather-beds, and enduring such execrable cookery, -and not a book but the Farmer’s Almanac to be found in the house. - -(_FLORENCE runs in L., with a terrified expression of countenance. -Her hat is hanging down from her neck, and her hair flying in all -directions._) - -FLOR. Oh! oh! I’m so scared. (_Runs to her mother._) - -MRS. M. Why, Florence Malvina, what a fright you make of yourself! Pray -what is the matter? - -FLOR. I guess you’d be frightened if you’d been where I was. I just went -outside of the road to find some blackberries, when I thought I heard -somebody coming. I looked round, and there was a great ugly-looking -cow running after me. I ran as fast us I could till I couldn’t go any -further, and then I crept underneath the bars, and came up through the -field. - -MRS. M. It’s a shame for people to allow their cows to run around the -streets in such a way. It’s lucky that you were not killed. - -FLOR. The cow would have taken me up on her horns if she had caught me, -I know she would. She held her head down all ready to do it. (_Enter -GEORGE, L., covered with mud and water_). Why George, did you almost get -drowned? Just look, mother. George is just as wet as he can be. (_GEORGE -looks askance at his mother, but says nothing._) - -MRS. M. (_severely_). Well, George Alexander, this is a pretty plight for -you to be in. What have you been doing now? - -GEO. (_defiantly_). I wasn’t doing anything, only building a dam down by -the spring, and pretty soon some boys came along, and they laughed at me, -and said they bet I couldn’t jump the ditch there. So I meant to show -them I could, and I did do it too; but the ground was all soft and wet -the other side, and when I tried to jump back again I fell into the ditch. - -MRS. M. What boys were they? - -GEO. The Dunn boys. They knew it was wet the other side, and when I fell -in, you ought to have heard them laugh. - -MRS. M. They are nothing but ill-bred country blockheads. (_To GEORGE._) -But don’t stand there any longer with those wet clothes on. Go and change -them at once. - - (_Exit GEORGE, L. FLORENCE follows him._) - -MRS. M. (_sola_). What a wretched place this is! If I was obliged to live -in such a way at home, I shouldn’t think I could bear it. The family -here haven’t even _decent_ accommodations for keeping boarders. - - (_Enter FLORENCE, L., in state of great excitement._) - -FLOR. O mother, two men are coming, and they are bringing father in. I’m -afraid he’s killed. - -MRS. M. (_starting up_). What do you mean, child? (_Enter men, L., -bearing MR. M. MRS. M. clasps her hands in anxious suspense; goes up to -her husband._) What is the matter, Henry? Has there been an accident? -(_The men place MR. M. on sofa and exit L._) - -MR. M. It isn’t quite as bad as it seems. I was a little tired and -thought I’d ride up from the village to-night, instead of walking. But -the stage broke down, and I was thrown out. I was a good deal bruised, -but I believe there are no bones broken. Dr. Bryant examined me, and said -I would be all right in a few days. - -MRS. M. Well, as soon as you are able to leave, I’m going back to the -city. I can’t stay here any longer. - -MR. M. (_smiling_). You don’t mean that you are willing to go back to the -city, and endure all its discomforts again. - -MRS. M. I’ve come to the conclusion that there are as many annoyances in -the country as in the city. - -MR. M. But you forget that the children cannot have country fare after -our return. - -MRS. M. No, I do not. I find that the country fare we sought is all sent -to the city, and we must return there in order to enjoy it. After two -weeks’ trial of living in the country, I am thoroughly tired of it, and I -think a long time will elapse before I again wish to try the experiment -of Boarding on a Farm. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -TAMING A WIFE. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MR. GROVER, a Merchant. - MRS. GROVER, his Wife. - MRS. ROSS, Mrs. G.’s Mother. - BRIDGET, their Servant. - MR. FARWELL, ⎫ - MR. HUNTLY, ⎭ Mr. G.’s Friends. - - - SCENE I.—_A room at MISS DANE’S boarding-house. MR. FARWELL, - R., half reclining on the sofa. MR. GROVER, C., sitting in a - chair, with his feet on the table. Both smoking._ - -MR. FARWELL. Why don’t you get married, Grover? I suppose you intend, at -some time, to take to yourself a wife. - -MR. GROVER. I might if I could find a woman to suit me. But I don’t want -any of the vain and frivolous creatures we constantly meet in society. - -MR. F. They are not all of this description. Now, there’s Gertrude Hobbs. -She is a pretty girl. - -MR. G. And when you’ve said that, you’ve said all there is to say. - -MR. F. I’m sure she is pleasant and agreeable. - -MR. G. And weak-minded. - -MR. F. Ah! I see, you would like a girl of spirit. Then, why not take -Kate Ross? The only objection to her is, that she has an imperious -temper. I should not care to cross her if I were her husband. - -MR. G. (_contemptuously_). Pooh! that is your spirit, is it? For my part, -there would be no pleasure in subduing a tame, spiritless creature; but, -if somewhat mettlesome, there would be some excitement in it. I am half -tempted to offer my hand to Kate Ross, to show you what a simple affair -it would be to tame a spirited woman. - -MR. F. I hope you _will_ do so, as I shall not change my opinion till it -is practically refuted. And I will wager a hundred dollars that you will -talk in quite a different way after marrying her. - -MR. G. You will probably lose your money. When I undertake anything, I -usually bring it to a successful termination. - -MR. F. (_smiling_). I am willing to take the risk. Theory is very well in -its way, but it is practice that tells the story. I confess I have some -curiosity to see how the matter ends. - -MR. G. Well, you will probably have that satisfaction within six months, -as Kate Ross will, without doubt, be Mrs. Grover before that time. - -MR. F. You seem quite confident. Have you proposed to Miss Ross? - -MR. G. No; but she would not think of refusing my offer. An opportunity -of gaining such a position is seldom presented to a poor girl. - -MR. F. Very well. If you do not talk in quite a different way after -marrying Kate Ross, the money is yours. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_MRS. GROVER’S kitchen. Time—one month after - marriage. BRIDGET, R., washing dishes. MR. GROVER enters, L._ - -MR. G. Bridget, I find that for two days past dinner has been served -before I came home. Hereafter, you must wait till I return before doing -so. - -BRIDGET. But it was kept warm for ye’s. An’ the misthress told me to do -it. - -MR. G. I know that; but you are bound to obey me rather than her. - -B. (_bewildered_). Sir? - -MR. G. To-day I shall not be at home till four o’clock. Four, remember. -On no account must you serve up dinner before that time. - -B. (_astonished_). But what shall I say to misthress when she tells me? - -MR. G. Say? You must tell her that I threatened to dismiss you if you did -so. Will you remember? - -B. (_confusedly_). I’ll try. - -MR. G. (_going toward door with satisfied smile_). There, I think that -will set matters right. I would give something to see how Mrs. Grover -will take it, when Bridget, by my direction, refuses to obey her. She -will begin to find out whom she has to deal with then. - - (_Exit, L._) - -MRS. GROVER (_enters by another door, R., in season to hear her husband’s -last words_). Has Mr. Grover forbidden you to follow my directions, -Bridget? - -B. Yes, mum. He told me he shouldn’t be at home until four, and he should -send me away if I took up dinner before that time. - -MRS. G. (_coolly_). Indeed! he is interfering beyond his province. -However, you are to obey me, not him. Be sure to have dinner on the table -at two o’clock precisely. - -B. But he will send me away if I do. - -MRS. G. And I will send you away if you don’t. - -B. (_in ludicrous dismay_). Och, what will I do? It’s turned away I’ve -got to be whether I do it or not. - -MRS. G. Better obey me, Bridget. If he should turn you away, you shall -be back again in less than a week, and, meanwhile, I will pay you wages; -but, if I turn you away, it will be for good. - -B. Faix, mum, you’re a jewel. An’ if dinner isn’t on the table at two -o’clock precisely, then my name isn’t Bridget McDermott. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_MRS. GROVER, R., and MRS. ROSS, L., who is visiting - her daughter, are seated in the dining-room. The table is - spread, but there is no food on it. MR. GROVER enters, L._ - -MR. G. (_triumphantly_). You may order up dinner now, Mrs. Grover. - -MRS. G. (_surprised_). Dinner! Is it possible that you have not eaten -dinner at four o’clock? - -MR. G. (_in an appalling voice_). Have you eaten dinner? - -MRS. G. (_coolly continuing her sewing_). Certainly. The table was -cleared an hour ago. Bridget kept the meat at the fire, but I was sure -you had dined down town. Shall I ring for it? - -MR. G. (_frowning_). No. May I inquire if Bridget served up the dinner? - -MRS. G. Of course you may. I have no objection. - -MR. G. (_in a loud voice_). Madam, enough of this trifling. Did Bridget -serve up dinner? - -MRS. ROSS (_expostulating_). Really, Kate and Mr. Grover, you should not -disagree. - -MRS. G. (_interrupting her_). Goodness! Mr. Grover, I could hear -distinctly enough if you spoke a great deal lower. Of course, Bridget -served up dinner. You don’t suppose I did it? - -MR. G. At two o’clock? - -MRS. G. Certainly. - -MR. G. (_rings bell violently. BRIDGET appears, R._). Bridget, do you -recollect my telling you this morning I should not be home till four? - -B. Yes, sir. - -MR. G. And that dinner was not to be served up till that time? - -B. Yes, sir. - -MR. G. Then, why did you dare to do otherwise? - -B. (_undaunted_). The misthress tould me to. - -MR. G. Then I wish you to understand that I am the master, and my orders -are to be obeyed. I dismiss you from my service. - -B. (_courtesying_). Yes, sir. - -MR. G. (_angrily_). This instant. Do you hear? - -B. (_courtesying again_). Yes, sir. My clothes are all packed. (_Turning -to MRS. G._) Good-by, mum. - -MRS. G. (_unconcernedly_). Oh, good-by, Bridget. So you are going, are -you? - -B. Yes, mum. - -MRS. G. Perhaps you would like a recommendation. - -MR. G. I shall give none. - -MRS. G. Because, if you would, I will give you one very willingly. - -B. No, mum; I don’t think I shall live out ag’in just yet. I’m goin’ to -stop wid my sister a while. - -MRS. G. Very well, Bridget; (_in a significant tone_) you must call again -soon. - - (_Exit BRIDGET, R._) - -(_A pause in which MR. G. seats himself, L., leaning back exultantly._) - -MRS. G. (_as if unconscious of what had passed_). Is there any news from -abroad? - -MR. G. (_crustily_). No. - -MRS. G. What course is Germany expected to take? - -MR. G. (_in a forbidding tone_). I don’t know. - -(_MRS. G. rises and folds up her work. MR. G. thinks, with a thrill of -gratification, that, in the absence of BRIDGET, MRS. G. will be obliged -to get supper._) - -MRS. G. (_having reached the door, turns back_). By the way, Mr. Grover, -my mother and myself are going out to tea. We are invited to Mrs. Haven’s. - -MR. G. (_startled_). But what am I to do? - -MRS. G. (_carelessly_). I don’t know, really, unless you come up with us. -I presume Mrs. Haven will be very much pleased to see you. Will you come? - -MR. G. (_sharply_). No. (_MRS. G. opens the door, preparatory to going -out._) Mrs. Grover, I have invited two gentlemen to dine with me -to-morrow, and it will be your duty to prepare dinner for them. You will -receive articles from the market by nine o’clock. You understand me, do -you not? - -MRS. G. Perfectly. - -MR. G. And know what I expect? - -MRS. G. Certainly. - -MR. G. And you understand also, that I am a man of my word. - -MRS. G. I am very happy to hear it. I have always considered it a very -desirable quality. - - (_Exeunt MRS. GROVER and her mother, R._) - -MR. G. (_complacently soliloquizes_). I think that will settle the -matter. If Mrs. Grover married me with the idea of being a fine lady, -and having an easy time, she is quite mistaken. I don’t intend to -encourage female insubordination. I believe the man was made to govern, -the wife to obey. If more husbands had my firmness, things would go on a -little better in the world. But it isn’t everybody that has my tact at -governing. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE IV.—_Dining-room at MR. GROVER’S. The table is laid for - four persons. MR. FARWELL, R., MR. HUNTLY, L., and MR. GROVER, - C., present._ - -MR. HUNTLY. Have you heard how Brown’s wife has treated him? - -MR. F. Not a word. - -MR. H. She has deserted him, and gone, no one knows whither. After dinner -yesterday, Brown went to his room a moment, leaving his pocket-book on -the table. When he returned, his wife, and his pocket-book—containing -several hundred dollars—were gone. And although a thorough search has -been instituted, no tidings have been had of either. - -MR. G. It seems to me that a woman who would do such a thing has not been -properly trained by her husband. - -MR. F. In my opinion, there are some women of such a nature that they -will not brook subjection even from their husbands; or, in fact, -subordination of any kind. - -MR. G. (_firmly_). I would like to see any woman whom I could not bring -under subjection. I cannot conceive of a man surrendering the authority, -which is his natural right, into the hands of a woman. - -MR. H. (_smiling_). Do you intend, Grover, to carry out your theory of -domestic government under your present circumstances? - -MR. G. I certainly do not mean to submit to petticoat government. In my -eyes the husband should be at the head of the household, and, while I -occupy that position, I shall delegate my authority to no one. (_MRS. -GROVER enters, R._) My dear, allow me to present to you, my friends, Mr. -Farwell and Mr. Huntly. - -MRS. G. I am happy to see you, gentlemen. As friends of my husband, I am -glad to make your acquaintance. - -MR. G. (_turning to his wife_). Is dinner ready? - -MRS. G. (_promptly_). It is on the table. - -MR. G. (_with a smile of exultation_). Sit down, gentlemen. Mr. Huntly -will take a seat on my right (_indicating it_), and Mr. Farwell on my -left (_indicating it_). I have provided a dinner to-day, gentlemen -(_sharpening the knife preparatory to carving_), which is an especial -favorite with me—I mean roast turkey. (_Lifting the cover, his astonished -gaze rested on an uncooked turkey. He lifts, successively, the covers of -the other dishes, and sees uncooked squashes, and potatoes with their -skins on._) - -MR. G. (_sternly to his wife_). Will you explain the meaning of this, -madam? - -MRS. G. (_smiling blandly_). Certainly. Bridget left me yesterday -afternoon, by your direction. I have done what I could toward supplying -her place. I am truly sorry if the dinner is not to your taste. - -MR. G. What do you intend by this insult which you have put upon me in my -own house? - -MRS. G. (_fanning herself_). You are a little excited, Mr. Grover. You -remember that I warned you I should not supply Bridget’s place. - -MR. G. (_angrily_). So it seems you want to rule me. - -MRS. G. Not at all. I only object to being ruled. - -MR. G. It’s the same thing, madam. You would like to have me become a -miserable, hen-pecked husband. But that will never happen. (_Turning to -guests_) Gentlemen, I regret that circumstances have conspired to render -useless the invitation I gave you to dine with me. I cannot, in such -case, invite you to stay longer, but shall renew the invitation at a more -convenient opportunity. - -MRS. G. (_turning toward them_). I, too, shall be glad to see you, -gentlemen, and hope, on the next occasion, to offer you a more attractive -collation. That, however, depends entirely on whether my husband decides -to leave the management of the household where it belongs—in my hands. - - (_Exeunt MESSRS. FARWELL and HUNTLY, L._) - -MR. G. (_angrily_). Well, madam, I hope you are satisfied with this -disgraceful exhibition. - -MRS. G. (_quietly_). I am not responsible for it. - -MR. G. You have disgraced me before my guests. - -MRS. G. Then why did you interfere with Bridget? - -MR. G. I am the head of the household. - -MRS. G. I beg your pardon. I imagined that Bridget was under my orders. - -MR. G. You are right, as long as your orders do not conflict with mine. - -MRS. G. Very well, sir, I leave you, then, to the sole management of the -household. (_Moves to go out._) - -MR. G. Where are you going? - -MRS. G. Home to my mother. - -MR. G. (_alarmed_). Would you desert your husband? - -MRS. G. Yes, until he knows his place. (_Opens the door, R._) - -MR. G. But—what will the world say? Don’t go, Kate! - -MRS. G. (_turning_). I will stay on one condition, and on one only. - -MR. G. What is it? - -MRS. G. That you will never, again, interfere in the affairs of the -household, and will agree to my recalling Bridget, at once. - -MR. G. (_rather sheepishly_). Very well, anything for peace. - - (_Exit, L._) - -MRS. G. (_sola_). There, sir, I have taught you a lesson. I understand -you proposed to tame me. My impression is, that it is the husband that -has been tamed. There is truth in the old couplet:— - - “When a woman says she will, she will, depend on’t, - And when she won’t, she won’t, and there’s an end on’t.” - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -JOHN SMITH’S TRIALS. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MR. SMITH. - MRS. SMITH. - SHERIFF BAILEY. - BRIDGET. - - - SCENE I.—_In the parlor. MR. SMITH reclining on the sofa. He - has a newspaper in his hand, but is not reading. MRS. S. enters - L., wearing a plain dress._ - -MR. SMITH. Seems to me, Amanda, that for one who runs up such a bill as I -paid yesterday, you don’t appear remarkably well dressed. What have you -done with all the gay garments Madame Dubois has lately made for you? - -MRS. SMITH. I haven’t run up any bill, and I don’t patronize Madame -Dubois. She is too high in her charges for people in our circumstances. - -MR. S. But why should she send her bill here? It was directed in full, to -John Smith, Taylor’s Block, Central Street. - -MRS. S. I’m sure I don’t know. All I can say is, there must be some -mistake. She never made any garments whatever for me. By the way, have -you the bill with you? - -MR. S. Yes, here it is. (_Takes bill from his pocket, unfolds it, and -shows it to his wife._) - -MRS. S. What is the amount? - -MR. S. One hundred and twenty-five dollars and forty-seven cents. - -MRS. S. (_surprised_). And you paid it? - -MR. S. Certainly; I supposed it was all right. - -MRS. S. Well, I don’t know what can be done about it. I never had any of -the articles mentioned. - -MR. S. Do you suppose there is another person of the same name on this -street? - -MRS. S. Yes, Bridget told me, last evening, there were three other John -Smiths on this street, two of whom live in this block. - -MR. S. Then there’ll be no end of mistakes. - -MRS. S. None as serious as this, I hope. - -(_Enter BRIDGET, R., bearing a letter, which she passes to MR. S._) - -BRIDGET. An’ here’s a letther the postman brought, sir. - -MR. S. (_examines superscription, which he reads aloud_). “Mr. John -Smith, Taylor’s Block, Central Street, B——.” - - (_Exit BRIDGET, R._) - -MRS. S. Where is it from? - -MR. S. It is postmarked Ramsey, Minnesota. - -MRS. S. Have you acquaintances there? - -MR. S. It seems so, though I wasn’t aware of it. - -MRS. S. Do open the letter. I’m really curious to know whom it is from. - -MR. S. Ah, yes, woman’s curiosity! How do you know but it may be privacy? - -MRS. S. I am satisfied that it is not. At all events, I’m willing to run -the risk. - -MR. S. Courageous woman! Then I will venture to open it. (_Cuts off edge -of envelope and draws out a small, square piece of paper which he begins -to read aloud._) - - “You thief, you! You villain, you! So you’ve basely gone off - and taken my best dress and bonnet, and all the silver my - father gave me when I was married! I suppose you intended to - adorn your wife with the clothes you stole! But you shan’t - do it, as sure as my name is Dorothy Ann. I’ve got track - of you, and just as quick as I can get money enough, I’m - coming right along after you. You’re a mean, shiftless, lazy, - good-for-nothing villain, and if you don’t send all back within - a week, I’ll send the police after you.” - -MR. S. (_turns towards his wife, smiling_). There’s quite an inducement -for John Smith. What do you think of that for a character? I’d better -not have read the letter aloud. Perhaps you will begin to repent having -married me. - -MRS. S. I ought to, certainly, if this letter is true. But you haven’t -given me the dress and bonnet yet. - -MR. S. No, I never thought of it. I wonder if it was the wife of this -John Smith whose bill I paid. - -MRS. S. Don’t know. I think it’s doubtful if you ever find the one to -whom it rightfully belongs. - -MR. S. I must try, at all events. I don’t feel like losing so much money, -or paying other people’s dressmaker’s bills. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_MRS. S. is seated, R., sewing. MR. S. enters, L._ - -MR. S. What vile odor is that I smell? What have you for dinner, Amanda? - -MRS. S. (_complacently_). What you sent, of course. - -MR. S. And that is— - -MRS. S. Corned beef and cabbage. - -MR. S. I knew it. I thought I could not be deceived. Such a villanous -smell! - -MRS. S. (_surprised_). Of course you knew it. Did you not send it to me -this morning? - -MR. S. (_excited_). Never! I sent you a pair of the plumpest wild-fowl to -be found in the market. My mouth fairly watered for a taste of them as I -entered the door, when I was saluted by the scent of that odious cabbage. - -MRS. S. What do you suppose has become of them? - -MR. S. (_indignantly_). Some other John Smith is doubtless regaling -himself on them. - -MRS. S. Wouldn’t it be a good plan to send Bridget to see? - -MR. S. Yes, and let her go at once. - - (_Exit MRS. S., R._) - -MR. S. (_soliloquizing_). Some one asks, “What’s in a name?” If his name -happened to be John Smith, he wouldn’t have to inquire. Why couldn’t my -parents have called me Hezekiah, Ezekiel, or any other heathenish name -rather than plain John? Then I should not have been victimized in this -way. - -(_Enter MRS. S., R., followed by a stranger._) - -MRS. S. This gentleman wishes to see you, John. - -STRANGER (_inquiringly_). Your name is Smith, sir? (_MR. S. nods._) -_John_ Smith, I believe. - -MR. S. That is my name, though I wish to goodness it wasn’t. - -STR. No wonder, sir, no wonder. When I call on professional business, -people almost always wish they were somebody else. - -MR. S. And what is your business, if I may be allowed to inquire? - -STR. Certainly you may, though there’s no doubt you’d soon learn it -without inquiring. I am Sheriff Bailey, and I came to levy an execution -on your furniture. - -MR. S. And what is that for? - -STR. Because it is not paid for. Messrs. Phillips & Hoffman sold you, -some time since, a quantity of furniture amounting to two hundred and -fifty dollars, which was to be paid for in thirty days. Here is the bill -of it. (_Passes to MR. S._) This was three months ago, and though they -have repeatedly sent letters calling your attention to it, no notice has -been taken of them. Have you anything to say in regard to this matter? - -MR. S. (_dryly_). I think I have. In the first place, I haven’t bought -any furniture for a year. In the second place, I never heard of Messrs. -Phillips & Hoffman, and therefore, of course, never bought anything from -them (_sighing_). The fact is, sir, you’ve got hold of the wrong John -Smith. - -STR. You can’t come that dodge on me. The John Smith that I was looking -for lived in Taylor’s Block, and as this is the place, you must be the -man I am seeking. - -MR. S. (_indignantly_). Do you doubt my word, sir? Let me inform you -that there are two other John Smiths living in this block, as I know to -my sorrow. Besides, if you’ll take the trouble to look at the furniture, -you’ll see that it has been used a much longer time. I notice by the -bill (_glancing at it_) that it was a suite of parlor furniture that -was bought, and this is the only furniture of that description which we -possess. - -STR. (_looking around him_). This is not a new style of furniture, -certainly. It is possible that I may be mistaken in the person. If so, I -beg your pardon. I will make inquiries before proceeding further in this -matter. - -MR. S. (_with an injured air_). You need make no apologies, sir. I’m -getting used to this sort of thing. - - (_Exit SHERIFF, L., and enter BRIDGET, R._) - -B. It was to number seven that the fowls went, sir. - -MR. S. (_eagerly_). Did you bring them back with you? - -B. No, sir, they’ve eaten ’em up. Ann McKay said Mrs. Smith thought -somebody sent ’em as a present. But she told me privately that they had -dinner an hour earlier than usual. - -MR. S. A present indeed! They knew very well it was a mistake, and took -occasion to eat their dinner earlier, in order to have a nice meal before -the mistake could be rectified. Bridget, take the corned beef and cabbage -over, and tell them we have no use for it. Then come back and open all -the windows, and see if we cannot get rid of this intolerable smell. - -MRS. S. But what are we to have for dinner? - -MR. S. Boiled eggs—some of yesterday’s roast—or anything you may happen -to have in the house. For my part, I haven’t any appetite now. - - (_Exit BRIDGET, R. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_MRS. SMITH’S sitting-room. MRS. S. present, C._ - -MRS. S. (_soliloquizing_). I don’t see where Mr. Smith can be. It is -seldom he is out so late. (_Calls the servant, who is passing the door._) -Bridget! - -B. (_enters, R._). Yes, mum. - -MRS. S. Did Mr. Smith say where he was going when he left home? - -B. No, mum. He axed me “was you out,” and I told him you had gone into -Mrs. Clarke’s for a few minutes. He said it was no matter; he only wanted -to know had you mended the pocket of his weskit. - -MRS. S. I entirety forgot it. Just pass it from the hall-closet, Bridget, -and I will mend it at once. It will serve to pass the time away. - - (_Exit B., R._) - -B. (_enters, R._). Here it is, mum (_passes vest to MRS. S._). An’ I -think I’ll be goin’ upstairs, if ye don’t want me any more. It’s gettin’ -late. - -MRS. S. Very well, Bridget. I believe that is all I need. - - (_Exit BRIDGET, R._) - -MRS. S. I think it was the pocket on the right side that needed mending. -(_Turns pocket inside out._) What is this? (_Picks up a letter in a small -envelope, directed in a lady’s hand._) It cannot be a letter from his -sister. I must open it. (_Unfolds the letter and reads_):— - - “DEAREST JOHN,—It is a long time since the sight of your face - has gladdened my heart. Cannot you call on me this, evening? I - will refuse myself to every one else. Remember I have not seen - you for a whole week. Notwithstanding your protestations of - devotion to me, I fear you are too attentive to your wife, and - you know she does not appreciate your love as I do. Do not fail - to come. If it is necessary to make any excuses, say that you - are obliged to be away on business. I count the moments till we - meet. - - “LILLIAN PERCIVAL.” - -MRS. S. (_bitterly_). Is it possible that John has deceived me, and is -carrying on an intrigue with such a woman as that?—I cannot believe -it,—and yet it must be so. (_Hears sound of a latch-key,—listens._) That -is his step now. (_Puts letter back in another pocket of vest, and begins -to sew._) - -MR. S. (_enters, L._). What? Amanda—up yet. I expected to find you -asleep. Don’t trouble yourself with mending that vest to-night. I have -several others. - -MRS. S. (_coldly_). Where have you been to-night, John? - -MR. S. I was out on business. - -MRS. S. It must have been important business to keep you out till this -hour. - -MR. S. To tell the truth it was so. But it isn’t a matter you would be -likely to understand. - -MRS. S. I understand it only too well. (_Passes letter to him._) Who -wrote that letter? (_Eyes him sharply._) - -MR. S. (_bursting into a laugh_). I understand it all now,—you’ve read -that letter, and are jealous. Confess, now, that that’s the case. But I -didn’t suppose you’d be so ridiculous. - -MRS. S. (_bridling_). Ridiculous indeed! When one’s husband receives such -letters as that, it’s about time for his wife to inquire into the matter. - -MR. S. I received the letter this morning, but, satisfied that it was -written to some other John Smith, I thrust it hastily into my pocket, not -dreaming that it would stir up such a breeze as this. - -MRS. S. I wish, John, that you would have your name changed. - -MR. S. That is what I am intending to do. At the next session of the -Legislature, I have determined to apply for a change of name. I believe -there are more rascals by the name of Smith than any other one name in -the world. And if there is any villain who is brought before the police, -he is sure to give his name as John Smith. I don’t care what the new name -is,—Snooks, Jenkins, or Tubbs,—there isn’t one of them that would bring a -man into trouble half as soon, as to be called plain John Smith. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -AUNT RACHEL’S FRIGHT. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MR. CAMPBELL, A Returned Traveller. - MR. LEWIS, The Head of the Family. - MRS. LEWIS, His Wife. - AGNES, ⎫ - PHILIP, ⎭ Their Children. - MISS RACHEL, A Spinster Sister of Mr. L. - SERVANT. - - - SCENE I.—_Parlor at MR. LEWIS’. MR. C. enters, L._ - -MR. CAMPBELL. Well, I must say it seems pleasant to be home again, -once more. After travelling two years through foreign countries, it is -really refreshing to reach one’s native land. (_Throws himself into an -easy-chair, C._) But I wonder where Maria and her husband are? They will -be somewhat surprised to see me here a month earlier than they expected. -Fortunately, through all my travels I have kept my latch-key, and was -able to gain an entrance without the aid of a servant. However, now that -I am here, I feel impatient to see Maria and Arthur. I think I will ring. -(_Rings; servant enters, R._) - -MR. C. Are Mr. and Mrs. Lewis at home? - -SERVANT. No, sir, the family are all away at a party. You are Mrs. -Lewis’s brother, I suppose? - -MR. C. Yes. (_Surprised._) Did she expect me to-night? - -S. Yes, and she bade me say they were sorry to be obliged to be away. But -they wished you to make yourself comfortable. Here is the evening paper, -sir. (_Hands it to him._) As they will not be home till late, I will -conduct you to your room when you wish to retire. - -MR. C. There’s no occasion for that. I remember my old room very well. -I will read a while before I go to bed. I may possibly sit up till they -come home. At all events, I shall not need any further service from you. - - (_Exit_ SERVANT, L.) - -Well, I must say I’m mystified. In the first place, I don’t see how -Maria heard I should arrive to-day. In the second place, when I asked if -Mr. and Mrs. Lewis were at home, the servant said _all the family_ were -away. Now people don’t use such an expression as that when the family -consists of only two members. I wonder whether they have company? I -wish I might meet my sister Eliza here. But I won’t trouble myself with -needless conjectures. I shall learn all about the matter in the morning. -(_A pause._) I believe I’ll put on my slippers. (_Opens bag, from which -he takes slippers. He takes off boots, puts on slippers, then takes up -evening paper._) I wonder what the news is. In fact, it will be all news -to me. Ah! here’s the announcement of the arrival of the Rosamond. But -if Maria had seen it she wouldn’t have supposed that I was a passenger. -How _could_ she have heard of my arrival? That is a mystery to me. (_He -commences reading, but in one or two minutes his eyes close, and he -begins to nod. Suddenly his head falls back, and the paper drops from his -grasp. He wakens with a start._) Why, bless me, I nearly lost myself! -I feel very sleepy. (_Looks at his watch._) No wonder—it is nearly -half-past eleven o’clock. I think I will go to bed. (_Picks up paper, and -puts it on the table, then takes his bag—a small one—and a light, and -leaves the room, R._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_A chamber. There must be a bed in the room, C. This - may be a lounge, but it must have curtains around it. These are - necessary, and can be arranged on a light, portable frame. MR. - C. enters the room, sets down the lamp on table, R., and looks - around, in astonishment._ - -MR. C. It seems Maria has entirely refurnished this chamber. I can hardly -recognize the room I have occupied so many times. But I am too sleepy -to take much account of surroundings. If the bed is only comfortable, I -shall not take much notice of anything else. (_Takes off coat, vest, and -slippers, which he puts near head of bed, and extinguishes the light. -He then parts the curtains and throws himself upon the bed, drawing the -curtains to after him._) - -(_A pause. Then the door opens, L., and an ancient maiden, in party -attire, enters. She sets lamp down on the table. Sits down, herself, and -proceeds to divest her head of its adornings. She takes off two sets of -curls, two or three braids, and numberless hairpins. Also takes from her -mouth a set of false teeth. While these preparations are going on, she -soliloquizes_:) - -AUNT RACHEL. What senseless people one meets at a party, to be sure! - -MR. C. (_peeping from between curtains, aside_). Who the deuce is this? - -A. R. (_continuing_). There was that Fitznoodle, the puppy, trying to -make himself agreeable to our little Agnes. To be sure, she’s old enough -to have a beau, but I hope to goodness she won’t marry _him_. I wouldn’t -if he was worth his weight in gold. - -MR. C. (_again peeping out,—in a low tone_). What a fate it would be for -a man to marry such a woman as that! Though, for that matter, there won’t -be much left of her, if she keeps on. She’s got her head most taken to -pieces, already. - -(_AUNT R. puts on a very large night-cap, so that only a small portion -of her face is visible. She suddenly discovers the other lamp. MR. C. -frequently peeps out._) - -A. R. (_in dismay_). Where did that other lamp come from? I know it -wasn’t here when I dressed for the party. (_Looks around. MR. C.’S head -disappears, and the curtains are closed. She discovers a coat and vest on -the chair near head of bed. Her eyes are fixed on them in horror. She -wrings her hands._) Oh, there’s a man in the room, I know there is! I -shall faint. (_She suddenly considers that, under the circumstances, this -would be improper._) If I only dared to go and look! (_Stands a moment, -with hands tightly clasped together, grows courageous, and slowly walks -toward the bed, peeps through the curtain, and, darting back, screams._) -Oh! oh! oh! - -MR. C. (_parting the curtains a little_). Don’t be so foolish, madam. I -assure you it is all a mistake. - -A. R. That’s what they always say. (_Runs to door, L., looking back now -and then, to see if she is pursued; screams_:) Emmeline! James! Help! -Murder! Thieves! - - (_Exit AUNT RACHEL._) - -(_MR. C. parts the curtain, and looks forth._) - -MR. C. Well, I must say, that’s rather curious. The mystery thickens. -Pray who could that female be? I’m sure it’s no one that I ever saw -before. Perhaps she’s left a handkerchief with her name written on it. -I guess I’ll reconnoitre a little, as she has left me a light. (_Goes -to table, lifts, successively, the braids and masses of curls._) Here -is part of her make-up. But there’s no name on it. In fact, there is -nothing to give any clue to the mystery. But there’s one thing I can do. -I’ll fasten the door so that I shall not be interrupted again. (_Goes to -door and locks it._) Now I believe I will retire once more, and see if -I cannot get a little rest. And for fear I may be routed again, I will -leave the light burning. (_He goes to bed._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_Parlor at MR. LEWIS’. MRS. L., R., AGNES, C., and - PHILIP, L., present. They are engaged in taking off their outer - garments._ - -MRS. LEWIS. How glad I am to get home again! I feel very tired. - -PHILIP. I don’t feel tired a bit. I wanted to stop longer. Didn’t you, -Agnes? - -AGNES. I had a nice time, and enjoyed myself very much. (_Smiling._) I -don’t suppose I should seriously have objected to stopping longer. Do you -know, Phil, I made a good many new acquaintances this evening? - -PHIL. Yes, you seemed to be having a splendid time, talking with -Fitznoodle. I can’t say I admire your taste. - -A. Oh, as for that, I don’t fancy him much, myself, but you know one must -be civil, even if they don’t like those they are talking with. - -(_Enter AUNT RACHEL, R., with night-cap on, in a state of great -excitement._) - -A. R. Oh, murder! Help! Thieves! - -MRS. L. What is it, Rachel? - -A. R. (_gasping_). Oh, dear! Oh, dear! - -MRS. L. Why, Rachel, what is the matter? - -A. Do tell us, Aunt Rachel. - -PHIL. (_sturdily_). I’ll protect you, Aunt Rachel. Where’s the robber? - -A. R. Oh, there’s a man in my room—and he spoke to me. (_Clasping her -hands._) What shall I do? Oh! oh! - -MRS. L. A man in your room! It can’t be. How could he get in with the -doors all locked? - -A. R. (_tartly_). I tell you there is a man there. Don’t you believe me? -He spoke to me too. - -PHIL. What did he say, Aunt Rachel? - -A. R. I’m sure I don’t know. I didn’t wait to hear. - -MR. L. (_entering, L._). Pray what is the matter? You all look frightened. - -MRS. L. And well we may. There’s a man in Rachel’s room. - -MR. L. That’s all imagination. It is simply impossible that any one could -get in, under the circumstances. - -A. R. (_in a high tone_). What! Do you mean to insinuate that I don’t -know what I’m talking about? I guess I haven’t lost the use of any of my -faculties yet. And I saw him with my own eyes. - -MR. L. Don’t get disturbed, Rachel. We can easily learn whether there is -any one there or not. I will go myself and see. - -MRS. L. Don’t go, Alfred. If there is a man there, of course he is armed. -What could you do to protect yourself against the assault of a desperate -man, and one well armed too? Take my advice and call a policeman. - -MR. L. Well, perhaps that would be a better way. (_Starts to go out, L._) - -MRS. L. But what shall we do? We can’t be left alone. He might murder us -all and escape before you got back. - -MR. L. That is true. - -MRS. L. Why can’t we arm ourselves, and all go, in a body? There wouldn’t -be much chance for him to escape, and we could, all together, overpower -him. - -MR. L. Very well. I’ll take the carving-knife. (_Takes it from, table._) - -MRS. L. I’ll take the poker. (_Takes it._) - -PHIL. I’ll take the tongs. (_Takes them, and stepping up behind AUNT -RACHEL, pretends to take off her night-cap with them._) - -A. R. I’ll take the broom, and use it well, too. (_Takes it from behind -the door._) - -A. I’ll get the clothes-line to tie him with. (_Exit AGNES, R. The rest -go out, R., in the following order—MR. and MRS. L., AUNT R., and PHILIP._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE IV.—_Same as Scene II. Bed with curtains drawn. Some one - tries the door, L. MR. C. parts the curtains, and looks out._ - -MR. C. What’s to pay now, I wonder? I believe I shall have more -adventures in this one night than I met with all the time I was abroad. -(_Great pounding at the door._) Halloo there! Don’t break the door down. -What’s wanted? - -MR. L. (_outside_). Open this door at once, in the name of the law. - -MR. C. Well, well, wait a minute. (_He steps out of bed, thrusts his -feet in slippers, then goes and opens the door. Seems astonished at -seeing so many strange faces. They enter,—MR. L. and PHILIP pass to R.; -the rest remain at L.,—eying him cautiously, but concealing their weapons -behind them._) - -MR. L. Well, sir, what do you mean by entering my house at night, and -frightening this lady (_turning to AUNT R._) in such a manner? - -MR. C. I think I can explain it satisfactorily, sir; but I must first ask -a few questions. Is your name Lewis? - -MR. L. It is. - -MR. C. How long have you occupied this house? - -MR. L. (_puzzled_). About a month. - -MR. C. What was the name of the former occupant? - -MR. L. His name was Lewis, also. I bought the house of him. - -MR. C. _My_ name is Campbell. I am a brother of the other Mrs. Lewis. I -have been travelling abroad for the last two years, and arrived here late -last evening. Having a latch-key, and being ignorant of the change of -owners, I entered, but was disappointed at not finding any one at home. -The servant said the family were away at a party, and offered to conduct -me to my room when I was ready to retire. She said Mrs. Lewis _was -expecting her brother_. - -MRS. L. I was expecting him, but he didn’t come. - -MR. C. Under these circumstances, and misled by the name, I had no -suspicion that I was trespassing. I therefore told the servant I could -easily find the way to my room, as I had slept there many times before. I -must apologize to this lady (_turning to AUNT R._) for giving her such a -fright, which I assure her was entirely unintentional on my part. - -MR. L. (_laughing_). Your explanation is perfectly satisfactory, sir. Mr. -Arthur Lewis lives three blocks farther down-town. But it is late, and -you must be our guest for the remainder of the night. We will furnish you -with another bed, and—— - -A. R. (_interrupting him indignantly_). Do you suppose I would sleep in -that bed after a man had slept there? Never! Let him stay here the rest -of the night, if he wants to. I shall sleep in the other chamber myself. - -PHIL. That’s it, Aunt Rachel. Stand up for your rights. - -MRS. L. Very well, let it be arranged so. And we’d better all retire, for -it is already an hour past midnight. - -MR. C. I thank you all for your hospitality, and hope in the morning to -be able to vindicate my character more fully. - -MR. L. That is quite unnecessary. Your statement is entirely -satisfactory. (_Turns to go out, L._) - -PHIL. (_to A. R._) Hadn’t you better take your braids and curls and -things, Aunt Rachel? Mr. Campbell won’t have any use for them, and you -look better with them on than you do without. - -A. R. (_hastily putting her hand to head—mortified_). I didn’t expect, -when I put this cap on, to receive callers. (_Goes and gets things from -table._) - -MR. C. You are very excusable, under the circumstances. - -A. R. (_bowing_). Then I will bid you good-night. - - MR. L. ⎫ - MRS. L. ⎬ (_bowing_). Good-night. - AGNES ⎪ - MR. C. ⎭ - -PHILIP (_bowing_). Good _morning_. - -(_Exeunt, L., MR. L., MRS. L., AGNES, AUNT R. and PHILIP. MR. C. -remains._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -THE HYPOCHONDRIAC CURED. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MR. CROWELL, A Hypochondriac. - MARIA DAVIDSON, His Niece. - MRS. FOSTER, His Housekeeper. - MR. PRESTON, A Friend, disguised as a Policeman. - - - SCENE I.—_The house-keeper’s room. MRS. FOSTER (an elderly - person wearing spectacles) sits knitting, L. MARIA enters R., - and sits down, wearily._ - -MRS. FOSTER. Well, Maria, you look tired enough. - -MARIA. I do feel rather tired. - -MRS. F. (_emphatically_). It’s a shame for any man to be so trying as -your uncle is. He hasn’t any business to be so, even if he is sick. It’s -nothing but scold and fret from morning till night. And the more you do, -the more you may. You can’t please him any way you can fix it. - -M. I’ve tried to please him, but haven’t succeeded. Now I’m going to see -if I can’t cure him both of his fault-finding and his sickness. - -MRS. F. How is that? - -M. I think of inviting him to go away on a visit. - -MRS. F. I don’t believe he will go. He has an idea that he’s very sick; -but, for my part, I think it’s because he wants to make himself a -nuisance. - -M. Hush, Mrs. Foster! You forget he is my uncle, and therefore entitled -to my respect and attention. - -MRS. F. Well, I don’t see how you can stand it. I’d as soon wait on the -old boy himself. - -M. (_smiling_). I hope you don’t compare my uncle to that renowned -personage? - -MRS. F. Well, I don’t know which I’d rather wait on. He’s the most -contrary man I ever knew. (_A knock is heard on the floor outside, R._) - -M. Hark! (_In listening attitude, and with uplifted finger. Knock -repeated._) There’s my uncle’s knock. He’s awake and wants me. - - (_Exit, R._) - -MRS. F. It’s a wicked shame for him to make such a slave of her. He’s a -real torment. (_Knits vigorously—starts as if suddenly remembering._) -But there, I promised to go over and sit with old Miss Barnard this -afternoon. I guess I’ll go, and take my knitting. - - (_Exit. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_MR. CROWELL’S chamber. MR. C. apparently asleep, on - lounge, C. He opens his eyes. No one else present._ - -MR. CROWELL (_in a querulous tone_). Where’s Maria? She’s always gone -when I want her. I might die here, and nobody’d know anything about it. -(_Knocks on floor with cane. MARIA enters, R._) - -M. Are you awake, uncle? - -MR. C. Awake? Of course I am. I’ve been awake this half hour. You might -have heard me knocking long ago, if you were not deaf. - -M. I came up as soon as I heard your knock. And how does your head feel? - -MR. C. A great deal worse. And my face is hot. I’m sure that I am going -to have a fever. - -M. The doctor said it was only a cold. - -MR. C. Doctors don’t know everything. Did you bring me up a cup of tea? - -M. No; you didn’t say anything about it, did you? - -MR. C. Well, I supposed you’d know that I should need something by this -time. - -M. It was only an hour ago that you took a bowl of gruel, and I didn’t -think you would wish for anything more so soon. - -MR. C. It was full three hours ago. And I want a cup of tea,—hot, mind -you,—just as soon as I can have it. - - (_Exit MARIA, R._) - -MR. C. (_soliloquizing_). It is strange that some people haven’t sense -enough to know what a sick person wants, without being told everything. I -always thought Maria was a good nurse; but she is no better than the rest -of them. (_Enter MARIA._) - -M. Here is a nice cup of tea for you, uncle. - -MR. C. (_tastes it—throws down the spoon and turns his head away_). It’s -hot enough to take the skin off my mouth. I don’t want any more. Throw it -away. - -(_MARIA pours it away. She then takes a fan, and gently fans the invalid. -He bears it a moment, then says_:) - -MR. C. Don’t keep that fan going; I shall take more cold. - -M. You said your face was hot. - -MR. C. Well, I don’t want to be cooled off so suddenly. Let me taste of -that tea again. - -M. I threw it away. - -MR. C. (_in surprise_). Threw my tea away? - -M. Yes, you told me to. You said you didn’t want it. - -MR. C. I should think you might know by this time that I don’t mean what -I say. Get me some more, quick. - -(_MARIA goes out. During her absence MR. C. remains quiet, and with his -eyes closed. She soon returns._) - -MR. C. Why didn’t you stay all day? - -M. I hurried all I could, uncle; you know I had to wait for the tea to -get hot. (_Tasting._) It’s very nice. - -MR. C. (_shaking his head_). I’ve got all off the notion for it, now. - -M. Won’t you have some of it? - -MR. C. No; I’ve lost all desire for it. (_M. places tea on the table. A -knock is heard._) Who’s that making such a racket? - -M. I’ll go and see. (_Goes out—soon returns._) It’s Mr. Preston, uncle. -He wishes to know how you are. - -MR. C. Tell him it’s none of his business. - -M. Yes, uncle. (_Goes out—soon returns._) - -MR. C. Well, what did he say? - -M. He seemed quite angry. - -MR. C. Angry at what, pray? - -M. I suppose at being told it was none of his business. - -MR. C. Maria, you didn’t tell him that? - -M. Yes, I did, uncle. You told me to tell him it was none of his -business, and he said he shouldn’t trouble you by calling again. - -MR. C. (_angrily_). Haven’t you got sense enough to know that I don’t -mean what I say? - -M. I supposed, of course, you meant what you said, though I didn’t -exactly like to repeat your message to him. - -MR. C. (_after a pause_). I guess I’ll try a little of the tea, Maria. -(_She brings it._) - -MR. C. (_languidly_). You’ll have to feed me, Maria, I’m so weak. - -M. Yes, uncle. (_Places napkin under chin, and proceeds to feed him._) - -MR. C. Stop—stop—it’s hot. You’re choking me. (_But MARIA keeps on._) - -MR. C. (_moving quickly one side_).—Sto-op. Can’t you understand plain -English? I don’t believe there’s a particle of skin left on my tongue. -What do you mean? - -M. You told me I ought to know by this time that you didn’t mean what you -said. So I supposed I was to go on, at any rate. - -MR. C. It’s horrible tasting stuff. You’ve been putting pepper into it. -While you were about it, why didn’t you put in vinegar, too? - -(_MARIA, without a word, goes to the table, takes up the vinegar-cruet, -and pours vinegar into the cup._) - -MR. C. (_starting up_). Maria Davidson, I believe you are either a fool -or insane. - -(_MARIA sits down, and begins to cry. MR. C. gazes at her in -astonishment. A drumming is heard outside, R._) - -MR. C. (_putting his hands to his head_). Oh, my poor head! my poor head! -Maria, take my pistol from the closet, and shoot the rascal. (_She goes -to the closet, gets the pistol, and fires, according to his direction._) - -MR. C. What the deuce has got into the girl! (_He starts up, and goes to -the window, L.,—mechanically takes up the pistol which MARIA had laid -down. She glides out by one door, R., and immediately a policeman enters -by another, L._) - -POLICEMAN. So here you are. I’ll just slip on these bracelets, so you -won’t do any more mischief. - -MR. C. (_drawing back_). What do you mean by insulting me in such a -manner? - -P. You’ve been attempting to murder a man. - -MR. C. No, I haven’t. - -P. Didn’t you fire a pistol from the window just now? - -MR. M. No, I didn’t fire it. - -P. Who did fire it, then? - -MR. C. (_hesitating_). Why, I—you see—it was—my niece that fired it. - -P. (_looking around room_). That’s a likely story. If she fired the -pistol, where is she now? - -MR. C. She went out a few minutes ago. - -P. You can’t come that dodge on me. It was only a moment ago that it was -done, and there’s no one but you in the room, and I found you with the -pistol in your hand. You must come along with me. - -MR. C. But I can’t—I’m sick. - -P. (_taking a look at him_). You don’t appear to be dangerously sick. I -guess you’re able to go with me. - -MR. C. But I had the doctor this morning. I’m quite feverish, and it -might cause my death to go out. - -P. If you’re sick you shall have a doctor to prescribe for you. Come -along. (_Takes him by shoulder._) - - (_Exeunt, L._) - -MARIA (_entering, soliloquizing_). My plot has been carried out well thus -far. I don’t think uncle recognized the policeman. It is astonishing how -the habit of complaining gains on one. But if a person is unreasonable, -and given to complaining, there is nothing that will effect a cure so -soon as _taking him at his word_. (_Uncle enters, L._) Ah, have you -returned so soon, uncle? I have felt quite anxious about you, fearing -you might take more cold. - -MR. C. You are a very successful little manager, Maria, upon my word. I -felt mortified enough on starting from my own house in the character of a -criminal. But I could blame no one but myself, since my orders were all -obeyed, not only very promptly, but _very literally_. Then I thought what -an unreasonable bear I was, and what a patient little nurse you were, and -by the time we stopped I had become quite subdued. Then I discovered that -the policeman was my old and valued friend, Mr. Preston. It all flashed -upon my mind that it was a plot to bring me to my senses, and to show how -unreasonable I was. - -M. Oh, no, uncle, not that exactly. We only aimed to show you that you -imagined yourself worse than you really were. But hadn’t you better lie -down awhile? You are not accustomed to such exertion. - -MR. C. No; I am thoroughly cured in mind and body. Nothing would tempt -me to personate again the miserable hypochondriac I was when I left the -house. I am cured, and I mean to stay so. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -AUNT PATIENCE’S EAR-TRUMPET. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MRS. GRANBY. - CLARA, Her Daughter. - AUNT PATIENCE BURTON, a Lady of Property. - ERNEST MONTGOMERY, Clara’s Suitor. - SERVANT. - - - SCENE I.—_MRS. GRANBY’S sitting-room. MRS. G., C., with sober - countenance, holds in her hand an open letter, on which her - eyes are fixed. Enter her daughter CLARA, R._ - -CLARA. Does your letter contain any sad news, ma? - -MRS. GRANBY. Not exactly _sad_ news,—but _disagreeable_, to say the least. - -C. (_interested_). What is it? - -MRS. G. (_glancing at letter_). This is a letter from Aunt Patience -Burton. She is coming to make us a visit. - -C. That is _horrible_ news. I shouldn’t want Ernest to see her—she is so -fussy and homely. - -MRS. G. He will, no doubt, feel as we do, that money is of more -consequence than a handsome face. Besides, we shan’t be troubled with her -long. - -C. How long do you suppose she will stop here? - -MRS. G. A week or two, I suppose. That is the usual length of her visits. - -C. (_with the air of a martyr_). Well, I suppose we must try to endure -her presence for that length of time—hoping for our final reward. - -MRS. G. (_in a brighter tone_). If she could only be persuaded into -making her will in our favor, I shouldn’t consider the trouble of having -her here anything. - -C. How much is she supposed to be worth? - -MRS. G. About thirty thousand dollars. - -C. Just think how much more that amount would benefit us than it does -her. I dare say she hoards it up like a miser. - -MRS. G. (_smiling_). That will be all the better for us. - -C. Yes, if we get it. But when does the letter say she is coming? - -MRS. G. I did not notice particularly. Let me see. (_Looks over -letter—reads_:) “You may expect me Friday, the twenty-fifth, wind and -weather permitting.” - -C. (_interrupting_). The twenty-fifth! Why, that’s to-day! (_Bell rings -outside._) - -MRS. G. And there is the bell. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if that -were she. (_Both rise._) - -(_Enter, L., a prim, elderly lady, with corkscrew curls, and wearing an -old-fashioned bonnet._) - -MRS. G. (_greeting her with a smile of welcome, and shaking hands -warmly_). Why, Aunt Patience, how glad I am to see you! Clara and I were -just speaking of you. - -AUNT PRUDENCE (_diving into the recesses of an ample pocket_). Wait a -minute, Elviry. (_Takes out an ear-trumpet, which she adjusts to her -ear._) There, now we can talk. - -MRS. G. (_in a loud tone_). I had no idea you were so deaf, aunt. - -A. P. I’m getting old, you know, and can’t expect to keep my faculties -like younger people. But where’s Clara? - -MRS. G. This is Clara. (_Steps aside for her daughter to approach._) -Didn’t you recognize her? - -A. P. No, she’s grown so I didn’t know her. How d’ye do, dear? - -C. (_shaking hands_). How do you do, aunt? I’m glad to see you here. - -A. P. Thank ye, child. It’s pleasant to find that old folks aint always -forgotten and wished out of the way. - -MRS. G. (_in a loud voice_). Let me assist you in taking off your bonnet. - -A. P. You needn’t speak so loud when I have my trumpet. - -MRS. G. Then you can hear without using it? - -A. P. Yes, but not without you speak pretty loud. (_Lays her trumpet -down._) - -MRS. G. (_taking aunt’s bonnet, and carrying it to table. Addressing -daughter._) You see, she’s as deaf as can be. (_Old lady sits down._) - -C. That’s lucky. We can relieve our minds without her hearing us. Is she -going to stay long? - -MRS. G. I don’t know. I will ask her. (_In a loud voice:_) I hope you are -going to make us a long visit. - -A. P. I shan’t be able to stop more than a month. But perhaps it won’t be -convenient for you to have me with you so long. - -MRS. G. (_in a loud tone to aunt_). We shall be delighted (_in a lower -tone to her daughter_) when you go away. That’s true, isn’t it, Clara? - -C. Yes, indeed. But (_dismally_) do you suppose we can live through the -month? - -MRS. G. We must try to, for the sake of the money. (_To AUNT P._) Have -you been well, lately, aunt? - -A. P. No, I’ve enjoyed dreadful poor health this winter. I’ve been most -dead with roomatiz and I haven’t got over it yet. - -MRS. G. It must have been hard to bear. - -A. P. Yes, it made me feel as if I ought to make my will, and I think I -shall make it as soon as I get home again. - -MRS. G. Oh, you have many years yet to live, aunt. - -A. P. I can see well enough that I am getting old, and cannot live long, -anyway. I get tired out very easy. I think I shall have to ask you to -show me to the room I am to occupy, and I will lie down awhile. I aint -much used to travelling, and it tires me. - -MRS. G. Shan’t I get you a cup of tea, aunt? - -A. P. Oh, no. All I need is a little rest. - - (_Exit, R._) - -MRS. G. There, I think we have made a good impression. If she only makes -a will in our favor, I shall consider the attentions we pay her a good -investment. - -C. But suppose she shouldn’t leave her money to us? - -MRS. G. Oh, don’t let your imagination run in that direction. We must -manage to get into her good graces, so that we may become her heirs. - -C. Well, I will do all I can to bring about so desirable a result. - - (_Exit MRS. G., R. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_The same. AUNT P., R., knitting. Clara, C., sitting - idly, with book in her hand._ - -A. P. Didn’t you hear the bell just now, Clara? - -C. Yes, I am expecting a friend here to-night. Ah (_rising as ERNEST -MONTGOMERY enters, L._), good-evening, Ernest. - -ERNEST MONTGOMERY. Good-evening. You were expecting me, I suppose. - -C. Of course I was. I always remember appointments. But I suppose I must -introduce you to my aunt. (_In a loud tone_:) Aunt Patience, this is Mr. -Montgomery. - -A. P. (_extending her hand to the young man_). I am very glad to see him. - -C. (_to E. M._). We shan’t need to take any further notice of her. She’s -deaf as an adder, and can’t hear a word without her trumpet unless we -scream at her. I believe you never saw her before. - -E. M. No. - -C. She isn’t very handsome, is she? - -E. M. Aren’t you afraid she’ll hear you? - -C. Oh no, she’s too deaf. - -E. M. But deaf people generally hear things that are not intended for -their ears. - -C. Well, I’ll run the risk. When we speak to her she seldom hears the -first time. - -A. P. What was that you said? - -C. (_in a loud tone_). Only that it was so long since you had been here -that we should try to make you have a pleasant time. - -A. P. (_in a satisfied tone_). Oh, was that it? Thank you, child. - -E. M. (_with admiration_). You got out of that well. - -C. Trust me for that. When one has a rich aunt, it is the best to keep on -the right side of her. - -A. P. Did you speak to me, Clara? - -C. No; I was telling Mr. Montgomery how fond I was of cider. - -A. P. I used to like cider when I was a girl; but that was the genuine -article, and we used to go to the mill where they made it, and take it -through a straw. - -E. M. (_interested_). So your aunt is rich? - -C. Yes; she is said to be worth thirty thousand dollars. - -E. M. That’s quite a fortune. - -A. P. (_as if talking to herself_). Yes; deafness is quite a misfortune; -but one doesn’t mind it so much when they’re stopping among their own -relations. - -C. (_smiling_). Yes, it is quite a fortune, and of course we put up with -her oddities for the sake of the money, which will, most of it, come to -us. - -E. M. She may outlive you. - -C. That’s what I’m afraid of. It would be just our luck to have her live -to be a hundred. - -E. M. How old is she now? - -C. About sixty-five. - -E. M. Then you would only have to wait thirty-five years for it. - -C. We might as well never have her money as to wait so long as that for -it. - -E. M. It would be rather a long while, that’s a fact. By that time you -would look as your aunt does now. Do you know, I think you resemble her -very much? - -C. (_tapping him playfully with her fan_). Take that for your -impertinence, sir. I must be a charming damsel, if that were the case. - -E. M. So I thought; which was why I made the remark. - -C. (_flushing_). I don’t esteem it any compliment. - -A. P. What was that you said, Clara? - -C. I was saying to Mr. Montgomery that people seldom say what they mean. - -A. P. (_nodding_). That’s true—that’s true enough. (_After a -pause—holding up knitting._) Well, there, I’ve got that stocking pretty -well along, and haven’t been knitting a great while, either. Mr. -Montgomery, may I trouble you to tell me what time it is? - -E. M. It is no trouble, madam, I assure you. (_Looks at watch._) It is -about (_hesitates_) five minutes past ten. - -A. P. Five minutes past ten! I had no idea ’twas so late. (_Gathers -up her knitting._) That’s long past the time I usually go to bed. -Good-night, Mr. Montgomery; good-night, Clara. - -C. Good-night, aunt. - -E. M. Good-evening, madam. - - (_Exit AUNT PATIENCE, R._) - -C. What made you tell her it was so late? It isn’t more than nine o’clock. - -E. M. (_looking at watch_). It is just half-past eight. But although -I enjoyed her society exceedingly, I was willing to deny myself that -pleasure for the sake of having a little private conversation with you -on a very important matter. (_CLARA casts down her eyes. MR. MONTGOMERY -draws his chair near hers, and takes her hand._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_The same. MRS. GRANBY, R., and CLARA, L., present._ - -C. Doesn’t it seem a great relief to have Aunt Patience gone? - -MRS. G. I must say that it does. I was constantly anxious for fear she -would learn our real feelings, though I flatter myself we concealed them -quite carefully. - -C. I don’t believe she suspected at all that we were glad her visit was -over. Deaf people are most always obtuse. - -MRS. G. I hope it may prove so, for her money would be a great help to -us. In fact, I don’t see how we can get along without it. - -C. It would be very convenient if she would let us have an instalment of -a few thousands soon—before my marriage, for instance. - -MRS. G. Yes, in that case we could afford to send to Paris for your -trousseau. But has the time for the wedding been fixed? - -C. Yes; Ernest wishes it to take place in June. - -MRS. G. I spoke of your marriage as liable to take place soon, and hoped -Aunt Patience would take the hint; but she didn’t seem to. - -C. What reply did she make? - -MRS. G. She said she hadn’t anything special against Mr. Montgomery, but -that _she_ would never think of choosing _him_ for a husband. - -C. Perhaps he reciprocates her feelings. I don’t think it would be a -suitable match myself. - -MRS. G. (_smiling_). Being an interested party, perhaps you are not a -suitable judge. - -(_SERVANT enters, R., bearing a letter, which she passes to MRS. G._) - -MRS. G. (_surprised_). A letter from Aunt Patience, as I live! - -SERVANT. Yes, ma’am, and there’s a box downstairs, with one end of the -old lady’s ear-trumpet sticking out of it. - -MRS. G. Very well, you may let it remain there for the present. - - (_Exit SERVANT, R._) - -C. (_clasping her hands, while an expression of horror overspreads her -face_). Don’t say Aunt Patience is coming back again. I certainly think I -couldn’t survive such an event. - -MRS. G. (_who has read the letter—quite soberly_). It is worse than that. - -C. Worse! I don’t know of anything that could be worse than another visit -from Aunt Patience. - -MRS. G. Very well—read the letter and satisfy yourself. - -C. (_Taking the letter, which she reads aloud:_) - - “NIECE ELVIRA: Thinking you might be anxious to hear from me, I - write to say that I reached home safely. But since my arrival I - have had an attack of rheumatic fever. Therefore, feeling that - life is uncertain, yesterday I made my will. Before visiting - you I had decided to leave my property to you; but I changed - my mind, and have concluded to leave it to the Home for Aged - Women, a charitable institution, where it will, I hope, do a - great deal of good. - - “I shall not visit you again. It would be too much of a tax on - you to ask you to put up with my odd ways. As you remarked to - Clara when I came that you would be delighted to have me go, - this information will doubtless be pleasing to you. Besides, I - have a presentiment that I shall not live long, notwithstanding - Clara’s fears to the contrary. - - “Although deaf as an adder when I came to visit you, my hearing - has been wonderfully restored, so that I can now dispense with - my ear-trumpet. I therefore send it to you, hoping it may do - you as good service as it did me, in showing me for what I was - valued most. - - “AUNT PATIENCE.” - -(_MRS. G. and CLARA look blankly at each other._) - -MRS. G. So it seems we are not to have any of Aunt Patience’s money after -all. - -C. (_indignantly_). It’s a real mean thing for any one to be so -deceitful—going round pretending to be deaf. I’m glad she isn’t coming -here again. I couldn’t endure the sight of her. - -SERV. (_entering, R._). Here’s a note that Mr. Montgomery left for you. - -C. (_surprised_). Has he been here? - -SERV. Yes, he came just after the expressman brought the box. - -C. But why didn’t he stop? - -S. He heard you reading the letter, and he said he couldn’t stop but a -moment; a message would do just as well as seeing you. So he wrote this -note in the drawing-room, and asked me to give it to you. (_CLARA gazes -at the note. SERVANT goes out, R._) - -MRS. G. Why don’t you read your note? - -C. I am so surprised. (_Unfolds the paper—reads aloud:_) - - “MISS CLARA GRANBY: I have received an appointment which - will carry me to India, and I am to sail for that place this - afternoon. I called to bid you good-by, but finding you - engaged, and being myself in great haste, I make my adieu on - paper. As I may be gone for a long time, perhaps a number of - years, I deem it my duty to release you from your engagement. - - “ERNEST MONTGOMERY.” - -MRS. G. What does it mean? - -C. (_contemptuously_). It means that he overheard enough of Aunt -Patience’s letter to know that we are not to have any of her property; so -he has magnanimously released me from my engagement. - -MRS. G. But what are you going to do about it? - -C. Do? I don’t know as there is anything to be done. In fact, my present -feelings of indifference towards him show that my affections were not -involved, and I am well satisfied to have him leave me as he has done. As -to Aunt Patience, I guess we can get along without any of her money. I -have several accomplishments that can be turned to account if necessity -requires it. - -MRS. G. (_with motherly solicitude, and looking at the matter from a -practical point of view_). But young ladies who earn their own living are -considered strong-minded, and never get married. I couldn’t bear to have -you an old maid. - -C. (_calmly_). Well, I don’t know as that would be a terrible fate. It -would be a more independent life than marriage would give me. On the -whole, I think I shall decide to live a single life. (_Smiling._) Still, -as an old lady of eighty once said: “I’ve made up my mind not to get -married, and I don’t expect to; but if the Lord should see fit to send me -a good husband, I should try to be resigned.” - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -THE GHOSTLY VISITATION. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MRS. FLORA WILLIS, A Young Widow. - MRS. LAWRENCE, Her Mother. - ALFRED PERCIVAL, Flora’s Suitor. - - - SCENE I.—_MRS. LAWRENCE’S parlor. MRS. L., R., FLORA, C., and - MR. PERCIVAL, L., present._ - -FLORA. Oh, yes, mother believes in ghosts, and haunted houses, and all -those things, and I suppose that, as a dutiful daughter, I ought to do -the same; but I haven’t very much faith in them. - -MR. PERCIVAL. Perhaps, if you had had any experience in that direction, -you might feel differently about the matter. I never believed in haunted -houses till I visited Charlie Baldwin, my former chum, last summer. - -F. Do tell us all about it. I should like to hear a real nice ghost story. - -MRS. LAWRENCE. I think we’d better wait till daylight before listening to -a story of that character. - -F. No, it’s just the time for it; it is cold and dark outside. We can -more easily imagine the events real. So go on, please, Mr. Percival. - -MR. P.—But my story is not a ghost story at all, and there is really -very little to tell. But we heard strange noises for which we could not -account. For instance, a door, which led from the house into the shed, -had swollen so that it was difficult to shut it, and whenever it was -opened and shut it creaked most musically, so that it could be heard in -all the lower rooms. One evening we were seated at the tea-table, when we -heard the door creaking. “Who is that coming in?” asked Mrs. Baldwin. “It -is very strange,” answered Charlie; “I am sure I closed and locked that -door not ten minutes ago.”—“Suppose we go out and see what it is,” said -Mr. Baldwin. “It certainly had a natural sound.” We all went out in a -body, and behold! the door was shut and fastened and everything all right. - -F. (_interested_). Did you hear any other noises while you were there? - -MR. P. Oh, yes, we frequently heard footsteps going up and down stairs -after we had gone to bed. Sometimes we could hear the chairs moved about -in the rooms below. And once, I remember, we heard a terrific noise, as -if the side of the house had fallen in. But the next morning everything -seemed as usual, and we laughed about the matter. - -F. But were you not startled? - -MR. P. Well, I cannot say I should like to live in that house long. - -MRS. L. If you had heard all these things, Flora, don’t you think you -would have faith to believe that there are some strange things which one -cannot account for? - -F. Oh, yes; “seeing is believing,” as the old saying is, and I suppose -_hearing_ is believing also. But I must ask you to excuse me now, Mr. -Percival, as I have a letter to write, which must go out by the next mail. - -MR. P. Though we are sorry to lose your company, we will grant you leave -of absence for a short time. (_Rises and opens the door for her, L. Exit -FLORA._) - -MR. P. (_sitting down near MRS. L._). The turn which the conversation -took just now suggested a plan to me, which, with your permission, I -should like to carry out. - -MRS. L. What is it? - -MR. P. You are, of course, aware that I love your daughter, and would -gladly marry her. She has rejected me, but still I think she likes me as -well or better than any one else. Now, cannot I, by stratagem, bring her -to consent to a marriage with me? - -MRS. L. I wish you might do so, and will gladly assist you in any way I -can. But what is your plan? - -MR. P. I thought I might, with your assistance, personate the spirit of -her former husband, and appear to her to-night while this conversation -is fresh in her mind, and warn her, if she wishes him to rest in peace, -that she must marry a certain Alfred Percival, who will make her a good -husband. - -MRS. L. It is a capital idea. I think the conversation seemed to affect -her considerably. Suppose you come here at ten o’clock to-night. I will -remain up, and arrange your ghostship. - -MR. P. Very well, I will do so. And I believe I will go now, as I have -some preparations to make. - - (_Exit MR. PERCIVAL, L. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_A curtain is arranged from front to back, dividing - the stage into two rooms, as both must be seen at once. There - must be a door between. In right-hand room is a lounge with - pillow and blanket. FLORA sits in rocking-chair, soliloquizing._ - -F. There’s something going on, I’m sure, but what it can be isn’t -quite clear to me. Mother has asked me half-a-dozen times if it wasn’t -bed-time; and yet she, herself, hasn’t made any preparation toward -retiring. I shall lie down, with my clothes on, ready for any emergency. -There’s no danger of sleep overtaking me. I feel as if I shouldn’t sleep -any at all to-night. - -(_She lies down on lounge, in right-hand room, and covers herself with -a blanket. A moment after, MRS. L. looks into FLORA’S room and seems -satisfied at seeing her apparently asleep. She goes out into left-hand -room. A tap is heard at outer door of left-hand room. Exit MRS. L._) - -F. Hark! what noise is that? (_Assumes a listening attitude._) - -(_Voices of MRS. L. and MR. P. are heard from behind the scenes._) - -MRS. L. (_outside_). I am glad you are so punctual. Everything is in -readiness. I just looked into Flora’s room and found she was fast asleep. - -MR. P. (_in rather a high key_). Where shall I go to arrange my costume? - -MRS. L. (_deprecatingly_). Hush! you mustn’t speak so loud, as her door -is ajar. Come with me, and we’ll soon have you fitted out. - -(_They enter left-hand room cautiously. A sheet lies unfolded on a chair. -This MRS. L. drapes around her companion. He gathers it together so as to -conceal his clothes._) - -MRS. L. It will never do to allow your features to show so plainly. You -are only Alfred Percival, after all. Flora would recognize you at once. - -MR. P. Suppose I put the sheet over my head? (_Does so._) Is that any -improvement? - -MRS. L. Yes; but still I think your features would betray you. Let me -think a moment. I have it. I will get Mr. Willis’s wig; that will be just -the thing. - -MR. P. So it will. That’s a good idea. (_She takes wig out of box. MR. P. -puts it on._) - -MRS. L. That’s capital. Now stoop a little, and no one would be likely to -recognize you, particularly if they had just waked. - -(_FLORA covers herself again and feigns sleep. MR. P. enters her room and -advances to lounge. FLORA moves uneasily; then opens her eyes, and fixes -them upon her visitor._) - -F. (_in apparent horror_). Who are you? - -MR. P. (_in sepulchral voice_). Flora Willis, I am the spirit of your -dead husband. - -F. But why do you appear to me in this way? If you are really he, why -should you come to me at the dead of night? - -MR. P. (_in hollow tones_). We, who are tenants of another sphere, mingle -not with mortals; and it is only when all eyes are closed in slumber that -we are permitted to walk the earth. - -F. (_gaining confidence_). But what is your object in coming? - -MR. P. (_slowly_). I come to warn and advise you. You are young, and, I -know, cherish my memory fondly; but I feel sure that you would be happier -and enjoy life more, if you should marry again. - -F. But who is there I should be happy with? - -MR. P. You have many suitors; choose among them. - -F. I’m afraid they want my money more than myself, and such a union would -cause a lifetime of misery. - -MR. P. You are mistaken. There is Alfred Percival. He would be a kind -husband. It is my wish that you marry him. Promise me that you will do so. - -F. I cannot promise; it is too sudden. - -MR. P. Think of it, then. One week from to-night I will visit you again. -(_Passes slowly out into left-hand room._) - -F. (_musing_). Well, that’s curious. I’ve heard ghost stories of almost -every description, but never before did I hear of a ghost making love. -For, though he intended to personate a spirit, he certainly spoke of -himself. And I suppose he is congratulating himself on having completely -deceived me. (_Suddenly._) I’d like to know what he and mother are saying -about it. And why can’t I? They are only in the next room. - -(_She rises and creeps cautiously to the door, which stands ajar. MR. P. -has laid aside his ghostly covering and is in the act of passing his wig -to MRS. L. FLORA listens._) - -MRS. L. Then you think she did not suspect you? - -MR. P. Apparently not. She appeared quite startled at first, but soon -regained her composure. - -MRS. L. I suppose it would be better not to allude to the subject -to-morrow. - -MR. P. Not on any account. That would tend to arouse her suspicions. I -wouldn’t have her know that I took part in the stratagem. - -MRS. L. And what do you expect will come of it? Of course she would not -be likely to come forward and tell you that she was willing to marry you, -even if she felt favorably inclined toward you. - -MR. P. (_hesitatingly_). I think I shall call upon her to-morrow, and -then I shall be governed entirely by circumstances. - - (_FLORA hurries back to the lounge. MR. PERCIVAL - goes out, L. MRS. L. cautiously goes and looks in - at FLORA, who appears to be asleep. Exit MRS. L., R. - Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_Parlor. FLORA present, C. She is arranging flowers - in a vase._ - -F. (_soliloquizing_). So Mr. Percival is going to call on me to-day. It -is quite fortunate I happened to overhear his plans. I suppose he will -repeat that momentous question again, and I’ve about made up my mind to -accept him. Then the matter will be settled, and I shan’t be worried any -more by his importunities. Besides, he is a person of good standing, -and I don’t know as I love any one else more; and I don’t think he is -after my money. (_A pause in which she completes the arrangement of the -flowers. MR. P. enters._) - -F. (_advancing toward him_). Ah, Mr. Percival, I was just thinking of -you, and you know the old saying, “If you think of the angels, you’ll -soon hear the rustling of their wings.” - -MR. P. Excuse me, but I never heard it expressed in that way before. It -has been told me in this wise: His Satanic Majesty is always near when -you’re talking of him. - -F. I must say my version is more complimentary than yours. - -MR. P. So do I, and I draw encouragement from that fact. If you were -thinking of me, I take it as a favorable omen, and shall consider that I -am not so disagreeable to you as I feared I was. - -F. (_interrupting_). Oh, by the way, Mr. Percival, I had quite an -adventure last night. I saw a real, _bona fide_ ghost. - -MR. P. Did you really? - -F. Yes; as I was quietly dozing, a tall figure, clad in white, stalked -into my room, and when I opened my eyes I beheld him close beside me, and -looking down upon my face. - -MR. P. (_avoiding her eyes_). And what did he say? - -F. (laughing). Oh, he pretended to be the spirit of my former husband, -and said I must marry again. - -MR. P. (_taking both her hands in his_). Why will you not heed his -advice? Let me, too, add my solicitations. Marry me, Flora, and you shall -never have cause to regret it. (_He anxiously waits her reply._) - -F. (_looking up into his face with an amused smile_). Why, Mr. Percival, -how much you remind me of my last night’s visitor! The expression of your -face, and the lines about your mouth—all but the white sheet and wig. - -MR. P. (_changing color_). I see that you know all; but grant me a -favorable answer, and I shall be well satisfied. - -F. (_smiling_). I suppose I ought to, since it is decided on high -authority that it is right and proper I should do so. In that way, if -in no other, I shall convince you that I am not afraid of ghosts, if I -promise to marry one. - -MR. P. (_warmly_). And I shall feel well repaid for personating one by -the promised reward. Henceforth I shall look with kindness on shadowy -apparitions, feeling that, in other cases as well as my own, even ghosts -may be of some practical use. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -PRACTICAL HUSBANDRY. - - -CHARACTERS. - - FRANK WEBSTER, A Young Man from the City. - EDWIN ALDRICH, His Friend. - MRS. LEIGHTON, A Farmer’s Wife. - ANNIE MONTGOMERY, Her Niece. - - - SCENE I.—_FRANK is seated, R., in the depths of an arm-chair, - his feet resting on the table. He is smoking a cigar. Enter - EDWIN, L._ - -EDWIN. Well, Frank, you look decidedly cosey and comfortable, that’s a -fact. - -FRANK (_not altering his position, but motioning his visitor to a seat_). -That’s the way to do. One might as well enjoy life as he goes along. Have -a cigar, Aldrich? (_Offers him an open case, in which are cigars._) - -E. (_throwing himself on a lounge, L. C._). No, Frank, I believe not. The -fact is, I’ve reformed—given up smoking. - -F. Whew! I’ll wager that’s one of the consequences of matrimony. - -E. I don’t deny it. But I think smoking is a bad habit, and have thought -of giving it up before, but never could persevere till now. That reminds -me, Frank; why don’t you marry? I dare say you could find some one in the -city foolish enough to take you for better or worse. And you don’t know -what a comfort ’tis to a man to have a good wife and a pleasant home. - -F. That’s where the trouble is (_fondly stroking his mustache_). As -you say, I could easily persuade some one to marry me, knowing as they -do that I possess plenty of money. But don’t you think it would make a -difference if I were a poor man? - -E. I dare say it might with some persons; but all are not alike. I am -sure there are many who esteem wealth of less importance than personal -worth. - -F. (_assuming a sitting posture, and laying cigar down_). I have often -thought I should like to marry; but when I looked around among the ladies -with whom I was brought in contact, I became disgusted to see what -frivolous lives they led. - -E. But all women are not alike, Frank. - -F. That may be so, but where shall I go to look for a different class? I -have strong domestic tastes, and would be glad to change my present state -of single blessedness for a married life. If I could find my ideal of a -wife, I would marry at once. - -E. I’ll tell you what it is, Frank. You must go into the country. The -girls are mostly sensible there, and think less about dress and fashion. -You can assume another name, and then look around you, and become -acquainted with some of the country girls. My wife was born and brought -up in the country, so I can speak from experience. - -F. But how could I manage? I couldn’t go to a hotel and stop with nothing -to do. Country girls are ambitious as well as those who live in the city, -and if I remained there with no occupation, I should be supposed to be a -man of some property, and I shouldn’t be much better off than I am here. - -E. That’s so, my friend. I never gave you credit for so much shrewdness. -But isn’t there anything you could do,—any kind of business, I mean? - -F. I have it. I’ll hire myself out on a farm. In that way, as one -of the family, I shall become more intimately acquainted with the -neighborhood—girls included. - -E. Imagine fastidious Benjamin Franklin Webster dressed in coarse -clothes and cowhide boots! (_Looking upward._) Shades of the illustrious -men whose names he bears, look down with benignity on the depth of -degradation to which he proposes to descend! - -F. (_smiling_). That’ll do, Ed. I am only following the example of at -least one of those illustrious men in working on a farm. - -E. And those delicate hands, that never did any manual labor, are to be -used in milking the cows and holding the plough! - -F. Laugh away, Ed. I’ve made my plans, and now I’m going to carry them -out. - -E. But, seriously, will your strength hold out? - -F. Without doubt. Besides, every one says farming is the most healthful -occupation any one can follow. So you may expect to see me back in the -fall so stout and fleshy that my friends will hardly know me. - -E. And perhaps you will bring Mrs. Benjamin Franklin Webster with you. - -F. That’s very uncertain. I haven’t really very great faith in the -project myself; but I’m tired of my present way of living, and any change -will be welcome, even if it does not bring about the desired result. - -E. But how are you going to obtain the situation? - -F. How am I? (_Smiling._) That’s the question before the meeting. - -E. Suppose you advertise for one. That would be the best way, I think. - -F. The very thing. Couldn’t you write an advertisement for me, Ed? You -know I’m modest, and couldn’t, of course, speak of my qualifications as -well as you could. - -(_EDWIN takes sheet of paper from the table, and writes for a few -moments; then reads it._) - -E. (_reading_). “WANTED—By a young man, a situation on a farm. Is willing -to work for moderate wages, provided he can learn the business. Address -Franklin Forrester, Box 68.” How will that do, Frank? - -F. I guess that’ll answer. But what paper would it be best to insert it -in? The evening “Herald”? - -E. Oh no, that wouldn’t do. It must be an agricultural paper. Better put -it into several; then you will be more sure of a reply. - -F. I’ll insert it in every agricultural paper in the city. If I get one -reply from each, I shall have at least six. - -E. Very well. If one has an object in view, there’s nothing like taking -every method to accomplish it. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_FRANK seated C., before a table covered with - letters. Enter EDWIN, L._ - -E. Well, I must say the agricultural papers in the city have a goodly -number of subscribers, judging from appearances. This is the first -edition of letters, I suppose. - - (_Exit, L._) - -F. Yes, and, judging from the slight examination I have made, it already -needs to be revised and corrected. But there’s no doubt about my getting -a situation, Ed. You see what a demand there is for my services. Sixty -letters already! I can almost imagine myself at the head of a village -post-office. - -E. The quality may not be as satisfactory as the quantity. But if all -these letters are to be examined, we must to work, and use diligence too. -Suppose you open them, and read them aloud. - -F. That’s a good way. Here’s one written in a wretched hand, which I will -read first. - -(_Cutting off one end of the envelope he draws out a piece of paper about -six inches square, which runs thus:_) - -F. (_reading_). - - “Mister Forrister: I seen your notis in the paper yisterdy. And - sez I to myself, I don’t bleeve I cood do better than to hire - that man. My bizness is diggin’ wells, wich is one branch of - farmin’, becoz every farm has to have one or more. As you say - you’re a green hand, I should expec you to pay your bord for - the fust month. I’d give you your bord the second month for - your work. After that we’d talk about wages, though I coodn’t - pay much. When cood you kum? - - “Yours to command, - - “SOLOMON PORCUPINE.” - -E. (_laughing_). Ha! ha! ha! That’s a good one. If you go there you’ll -be sure to learn one branch of the business pretty thoroughly. Shall you -accept, and become a member of Mr. Porcupine’s family? By the way, he has -a charming name. - -F. Yes, characteristic, I dare say. Accept the first chance? No indeed; -not as long as I have fifty-nine more left. (_Opens another letter._) But -what is this? - -E. I’m all attention. - -F. (_reading_). Mr. Forrester: “I notice by my paper that you want to -learn to farm. I should like to teach you ‘what I know about farming.’ It -would take some time to do it, but I would warrant you a good knowledge -of farming in six years. You couldn’t fail to get a thorough knowledge -of the business, as I should let you do all the work. My health is poor, -and I am only able to oversee the work. As you want a situation, you may -as well consider yourself engaged. I shall expect you next Monday. HORACE -GREGORY.” - -F. Well! that’s cool! I am afraid that man is troubled by a disease -called indolence. But, Ed, we are getting along too slowly. Suppose you -and I read letters as fast as we can, and if either of us finds one that -we consider suitable it shall be read aloud. If not, it shall be thrown -into the waste basket. - -E. Agreed. - -(_They look over letters very hurriedly, occasionally laughing aloud as -they read something which excites their mirth. At length EDWIN says:_) - -E. Here, Frank, here’s just the place for you. Shall I read? - -F. Do so by all means. I am nearly discouraged. - -E. (_reading_). “Franklin Forrester, Esq.—Dear Sir: Uncle William wishes -me to write to you concerning an advertisement of yours which he read in -our paper. He judges from it that you are not accustomed to working on -a farm. He has already two men, but wishes a little more help, provided -arrangements satisfactory to both parties could be made. He is willing -to pay whatever is reasonable as regard wages, but not knowing how much -you can do, he can say nothing more definite. If you wish any further -information, a letter directed to William Leighton, Ballardvale, Vermont, -will receive prompt attention. But if you prefer to come without -writing, uncle will be glad to see you at any time after the receipt of -this letter.” - -F. (_eagerly_). What is the signature? - -F. There is none, but it is evidently a lady’s hand. What do you think of -it? - -F. I think I shall start for Ballardvale to-morrow. - -E. That’s a wise conclusion. You will be back by Christmas, I doubt not. -Probably by that time you will have become a practical farmer. - -F. (_absently_). Time will show. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_Sitting-room at MR. LEIGHTON’S. Time, evening. - MRS. LEIGHTON, C., ANNIE, R., and FRANK, L., present. FRANK is - dressed in a coarse suit. MRS. L. is knitting._ - -MRS. LEIGHTON. Well, Mr. Forrester, how do you like your first day’s -experience on a farm? - -F. Very much, indeed. But, you know, I have not had any work to do yet. -Mr. Leighton, unlike most employers, has given me a vacation to start -with. - -MRS. L. He wishes you to have a little time in which to look around first. - -ANNIE (_smiling_). You find the hour for rising a little earlier here -than in the city, I suppose. - -F. Yes, I do. This morning I was awakened by the sound of a bell. I -listened, wondering what could be the matter. There were sounds from -below, as if something had happened. Doors were opened and shut -hurriedly, and I could hear the voices of men outside. I dressed as -quickly as I could, and hurried downstairs. But it appeared that nothing -unusual had taken place. Mrs. Leighton was getting breakfast, and you -were laying the table. I glanced up at the clock, and saw that it was a -quarter past four o’clock (_smiling_),—about four hours earlier than I -have been accustomed to rise. Then it occurred to me that people living -on farms are obliged to get up early. - -MRS. L. Yes, my mother used to say that an hour in the morning was worth -three later in the day. But did you rest well, Mr. Forrester? - -F. Oh yes, very well. - -MRS. L. When I pass the night in the city I can’t sleep, there is so -much noise. But last summer a lady who was visiting here could not sleep -because _she missed the noise_. - -F. There is a great deal in habit. (_A pause._) By the way, I said that -I had done no work to-day. I forgot to mention that I had accomplished a -feat which I never attempted before. - -A. What was that? - -F. I unharnessed the horse. - -A. How did you succeed? - -F. I got the harness off, but not very scientifically, I’m afraid, for I -heard Mike tell Jerry that that city chap was the curiousest feller he -ever see, for he unfastened every buckle that was in the harness, and -then left it in a heap on the floor. - -A. (_smiling_). I think that’s a little worse than I should do, for I -believe I should endeavor to hang the harness up. - -F. To tell the truth, I thought of doing so, but there were so many small -pieces that it was impossible. If I had found a basket near, I should -have gathered them up and put them in that. - -A. That would be a novel method of disposing of it. - -MRS. L. I expect, Mr. Forrester, that you are one of those students who -don’t know much about anything but books. - -F. At all events I find, in looking around me, that I don’t know much -about farming. But there’s one good feature in the case: I am anxious to -learn. - -MRS. L. Oh, I haven’t any doubt but you’ll make quite a farmer yet! - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE IV.—_MRS. L.’S sitting-room. Enter FRANK and ANNIE, R., - wearing their hats. FRANK is carrying a basket of grapes (or - some other kind of fruit). They take off their hats, and FRANK - lays both on the table. ANNIE seats herself, R., and FRANK - brings a chair and sits near her, L._ - -F. (_taking up the basket_). Now I feel like treating myself and you. -Here are some tempting clusters. - -(_ANNIE spreads a clean napkin over her dress, while FRANK places the -grapes upon it. They sit for a moment eating the fruit._) - -MRS. L. (_entering, R._). So you have got back again. I was wondering -what kept you so long. - -F. Congratulate me, Aunt Lucy. Annie has promised to marry me. - -MRS. L. That accounts for your being gone so long. I thought you couldn’t -be all this time getting a few grapes. But I’m very glad for you, and -think you have both chosen wisely. - -F. (_slyly glancing at his companion_). Perhaps you wouldn’t think it, -but Annie offered to pay me for doing it. - -A. (_with mock indignation_). Why, Franklin Forrester! - -F. Didn’t you offer me a penny for my thoughts? And haven’t I been -thinking of this very thing for the last three months? (_Turning to MRS. -L._) But I indignantly refused to receive the money. - -MRS. L. (_benignantly_). Don’t be foolish, children. Come out now—supper -is ready. - - (_Exit, MRS. L., R._) - -F. (_gently detaining ANNIE, who is about to follow her aunt_).—Wait -a moment, Annie, I have a disclosure to make. My name is not Frank -Forrester, but Franklin Webster. - -A. What! Benjamin Franklin Webster, who lives on Marlborough street? - -F. Yes. - -A. Then you are the Mr. Webster that I have heard Edwin Aldrich speak of. - -F. (_surprised_). Are you acquainted with him? - -A. Oh, yes, he’s my cousin. - -F. Your cousin? The young reprobate! Excuse me, but he was the very -person who suggested the idea of my coming here. I believe he planned the -whole affair. - -A. I think you are mistaken there; for Uncle William had no thought of -hiring another person till he saw your advertisement. - -F. Well, of course Ed knew about it when he saw Mr. Leighton’s letter in -reply to the advertisement. But, as I was saying, I had the misfortune -to lose my parents when quite young, and thereby became heir to a large -amount of property. As I grew up to manhood, my society was sought after -by all the marriageable young ladies and managing mammas. I determined to -find someone who would love me for myself alone; so I came out here, and -found my wishes realized. Can you forgive me, Annie? - -A. What! for coming out here, and wishing to marry me? Yes, I’ll try to. -But (_archly_) I, too, have a confession to make. I also am possessed of -property, and came out here to Uncle William for the self-same reason -that you did. But I didn’t change my name. I lived on the street beyond -you, in the city. But it seems we were obliged to go a hundred miles from -home to become acquainted. - -(_EDWIN enters R., FRANK and ANNIE start up in surprise._) - -EDWIN. Look here, supper’s been ready this half hour, and the biscuits -are nearly cold already. - -A. (_interrupting_). Why, Cousin Ed, when did you arrive? - -F. Look here, you villain! You planned this affair! - -E. (_striking an attitude and speaking in a melancholy tone_). He calls -me a villain for being the means of making him happy. Annie, if I were -you, I’d release him from the engagement at once. - -A. (_smiling_). Come, Edwin, you haven’t told me when you arrived. - -E. I have been here two hours. - -F. (_in a comico-threatening manner_). Tell me, sir, did you not plan -this whole affair? - -E. (_more seriously_). No, I knew nothing of it till I read the letter -in reply to the advertisement. I then recognized the handwriting, and in -that way discovered that Annie was stopping here. I felt sure that you -would be pleased with one another, and would both pass a pleasant summer, -if nothing more came of it. Yesterday was the first day of my vacation, -and I thought it time to be looking after you. But aunt tells me you are -engaged. - -F. Yes, and I feel amply repaid for coming so far, and for working three -months on a farm, in order to secure a wife to my mind. If any of my -friends in the city are troubled in the same way that I was, I shall -recommend to them to try my remedy, trusting it may produce the same -gratifying results. - -E. And in that way I suppose they may expect to get a good knowledge of -“_Practical Husbandry_.” - - (_All three bow, and Curtain falls._) - - - - -MR. SMITH’S DAY AT HOME. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MR. SMITH. - MRS. SMITH. - WILLIE (_five years old_). - MRS. ASHTON. - MISS ASHTON. - BRIDGET. - - - SCENE I.—_MRS. SMITH’S parlor. Table in centre of the room. - MRS. SMITH is engaged in reading a letter. Her husband, L., is - looking over the evening paper. He lays it down._ - -MR. SMITH. Well, Mrs. Smith, what is the news? You look as sober as if -you had lost all your friends. - -MRS. SMITH. It is a serious matter. This letter informs me that my sister -Sarah is sick, and it is doubtful if she recovers. I ought to go and see -her, but I am afraid I shall not be able to do so. - -MR. S. Why, what is the difficulty? I see nothing to prevent your going. -I’m sure you haven’t much to do. There are only three of us in the -family, and Bridget does all the work. - -MRS. S. Yes, Bridget will do very well, if there’s some one to look after -her. But she isn’t one to be depended upon. I shouldn’t dare to leave -Willie with her. - -MR. S. I think she would get along well enough. - -MRS. S. I shouldn’t be willing to go under any such circumstances. - -MR. S. Would you be any better satisfied if I should stay at home and -look after things? - -MRS. S. Oh, yes, certainly. But could you leave the office for a whole -day? - -MR. S. I think so. - -MRS. S. Well, then, I will go on the first train to-morrow morning. - -MR. S. You needn’t hurry back. We shall get along famously, I am sure; so -you’d better stay till the late train, if you have the least desire to. - -MRS. S. I should like to do so. That would give me a nice long day there. - -MR. S. (_rising_). If you take the first train we must be up betimes. -What time do the cars leave here? - -MRS. S. At eight o’clock, I believe. - -MR. S. I will go now and write a note to Mr. Ferguson, saying I shall not -be at the office to-morrow. - - (_Exit._) - -MRS. S. (_sola_). This is a good chance for me. I want very much to see -Sarah. And then Mr. Smith is constantly telling me that I can’t have much -to do. It will be a good thing for him to have a little experience in -house-keeping. I think one day’s trial will be sufficient to satisfy him. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II. _Dining-room at MR. SMITH’S._ - -BRIDGET, R. C. (_washing dishes_). An’ what’s Misther Smith at home -to-day for, I wonder? Didn’t the missis think she left me enough to do, -widout havin’ him round? I was goin’ to invite Ann Malony to come and -pass the afthernoon and take tay wid me; but how can I do it wid him -spyin’ round? - -(_Enter MR. SMITH, L._) - -MR. S. Well, Bridget, we are left to keep house all alone to-day. - -B. (_sullenly_). Yis, sir. - -MR. S. What did Mrs. Smith say we were to have for dinner? - -B. Cold roast beef and rice puddin’; an’ I was to make some hot biskit. - -MR. S. It won’t take very long to do that, will it? - -B. (_hoping for leave of absence after dinner_). No, sir, I could do that -much in an hour. - -MR. S. Well, Bridget, Mrs. Smith is to be away all day, and I thought -we’d clean the kitchen closet while she’s gone, and so surprise her when -she comes home. - -B. An’ d’ye think I’ll begin a big job like that while she’s away? She -always helps me at cleanin’-house time. - -MR. S. Oh, well, I’ll help you. I’ll take down the dishes, and you can -wash and wipe them, and wash out the closet. Then I’ll help you put them -back again. - -B. Axin’ yer pardon, sir, I can’t do it. - -MR. S. What! do you refuse to obey orders? (_Sarcastically._) I suppose -you’ll expect to receive your wages just the same. - -B. Av coorse I shall. I never refuses to do anything the _missis_ -requires, but I aint goin’ to be ordered round _by a man_. - -MR. S. If you’re not willing to do what I tell you, the sooner you find -another place, the better. - -B. (_angrily_). I’m goin’ to lave the house this blessed minnit, so I am. -It’s Bridget McFinnigan that won’t be imposed upon by the likes uv you, -or any other man! (_She takes off her apron hastily, throws it over a -chair, and leaves the room, R., full of indignation._) - -MR. S. Well, I’m afraid I’ve got myself into trouble. I’d better have -waited till after dinner before speaking about cleaning. But, as it -seems I’ve got to do what I can, alone, I might as well finish washing -the breakfast dishes. (_Takes BRIDGET’S apron, and ties it on loosely. -He begins to wipe a plate, but it falls from his hands and is broken._) -There goes a plate. I must go and throw it into the stove, or Mrs. Smith -will be twitting me about breaking things. (_Goes to the next room, R., -where a stove is supposed to be, and leaves the broken plate. Returns and -commences washing dishes again._) After all, there isn’t much work about -keeping house. It’s astonishing how these women can employ all their -time! Perhaps it is better that Bridget left me as she did to-day, as now -I can show Mrs. Smith how easily housework may be disposed of. - -WILLIE (_enters, L., with torn clothes, and rubbing his eyes with his -hands_). Ur-r-r-r, ur-r-r-r, (_louder_) ur-r-r-r! - -MR. S. What’s the matter? What’s the matter? - -W. (_crying_). Sammy Snow set his dog on to me, and hurt me. Ur-r-r-r! - -MR. S. Well, be a brave boy, and don’t cry. - -W. (_crying_). Give me some raisins, and I won’t. - -MR. S. I don’t know where mamma keeps them. - -W. I do; it’s in the kitchen closet. - -MR. S. Does mamma give them to you? - -W. Sometimes, and sometimes I get them myself. - -MR. S. Well, you can get a _very few_. Raisins are not good for little -boys. - -W. (_aside_). I guess I’ll have enough raisins this time. (_Goes out, R._) - -MR. S. I ought to finish washing the dishes, but perhaps I’d better see -about dinner, first. Let me see. We were to have rice pudding. I haven’t -time to make an elaborate pudding. I think I’ll just boil some rice. That -is always good. - -(_He goes toward the table, but steps on his apron and falls. He reaches -forward to take hold of the table, but, instead, grasps the paper of -rice, and both go on to the floor, the rice scattering in all directions. -He gets up, rubbing his bruised arm, and looks ruefully at the scene -before him; just then WILLIE comes in crying._) - -W. There aint any raisins there, ur-r-r! Papa, what was I crying for, -ur-r-r! - -MR. S. (_coaxing him_). Don’t cry, Willie, but come and help papa pick up -this rice, and you shall have an orange when I go to the store. - -W. I want it now. - -MR. S. I haven’t got one now; but here’s an apple, and I’ll give you an -orange this afternoon. (_WILLIE takes the apple. They gather up some -of the rice, leaving the greater part of it on the floor._) I wonder -how much of this I ought to boil. There are only two of us. I think a -quart will be enough. (_Measures it._) I don’t know but it ought to be -picked over. (_Looks at watch._) No, I shan’t have time. Of course it’s -clean enough; the floor is swept every day. (_Goes out, R., with rice; -returns._) The next thing is biscuit. That’s an easy matter. I have only -to mix flour and water together, and put it into the oven. (_Pours flour -into a pan, and adds water._) I believe it is customary to knead it well -with the hands. (_Puts his hands in, and stirs ingredients together. At -that moment a ring is heard at the door._) I declare if that isn’t the -door-bell. But I shan’t answer it,—not if they ring a dozen times. - -W. (_who has peeped out of the window, L._) Papa, it’s the Ashtons! (_An -aristocratic family who have never before called on the SMITHS._) - -MR. S. Is it? (_Thinks for a moment; the bell rings again._) Willie, -can’t you go to the door, and show the ladies into the parlor? Then come -out here, and I will go in and see them. Stop a moment, your face isn’t -clean. (_The bell rings again._) No matter; come here and wipe it on my -apron. Now go, like a good boy. - -(_WILLIE goes to answer the bell, but, being a little confused, shows the -visitors into the dining-room, L. MRS. and MISS ASHTON look around the -room and exchange significant glances._) - -MR. S. (_discomposed, takes his hands out of the dough, and wipes them on -his apron_). Willie, why did you bring the ladies into this room? I beg -your pardon, ladies; won’t you go into the parlor? I will be in directly. - -MRS. A. (_superciliously_). Thank you; but we called to see Mrs. Smith. -Is she at home? - -MR. S. No, she is not. Her sister is dangerously ill, and has sent for -her. She will be at home this evening. - -MRS. A. Then we will call again (_significantly_), at a more auspicious -time. - -MR. S. I trust you will excuse my appearance. Soon after Mrs. Smith was -gone, the servant left me and— - -MRS. A. Ah, yes! I understand—Good morning! (_Aside to her daughter._) -What a low family! I shall not think of calling again. - - (_Exeunt, L._) - -MR. S. (_provoked_). Why didn’t you take those ladies into the parlor, as -I told you, Willie? - -WILLIE (_terrified_). I didn’t mean to, papa. Don’t scold. I won’t do so -again. - -MR. S. Well, see that you don’t. (_Soliloquizes._) I wonder if I ought -to put this bread in another pan before baking. I guess, however, this -one will do just as well. I’ve got dishes enough to wash already. I must -put this bread into the oven, and look after the rice. It is fortunate we -have some cold meat for dinner, as I haven’t time to cook any. (_Goes out -with bread; returns._) I must pile up those dishes and set the table for -dinner. Then I can wash all the dishes at once. Who would think that that -rice would have swelled so? There is nearly a peck of it already, and it -is still rising. Half a cup full would have been enough. But, no matter, -we shan’t have to cook any again very soon. I declare I must go and see -to the bread; it must be done by this time. (_Goes out; returns, and -finishes setting the table._) The bread is all done. It didn’t rise much, -and, somehow, I can’t get it out of the pan, but it seems to have baked -well. Perhaps I ought to have buttered the pan. (_Suddenly._) There, I -forgot to boil some potatoes. Well, it can’t be helped. At all events, -we’ve got plenty of rice, and that must take its place. - - (_Exit, R._) - -(_He brings in a small dish of meat, the pan of bread, and afterwards an -enormous soup tureen heaped up with boiled rice. The tureen may be nearly -filled up with any other substance, and the rice placed on top, causing -an observer to think it is entirely filled with rice._) - -MR. S. (_goes to the door, L., and calls_). Willie! Willie! dinner is -ready. - -W. (_entering_). I’m as hungry as a bear. - -MR. S. Well, we’ve got plenty to eat. (_Helps him to meat and rice._) - -W. Isn’t there any potatoes? - -MR. S. No, but here’s some bread. (_Tries to cut the bread, but does not -succeed. At that moment the door opens, and MRS. SMITH walks in, L. She -glances at the table, and bursts into a laugh._) - -MRS. S. What _have_ you got for dinner, Mr. Smith? I think you must be -fond of rice! - -MR. S. (_rising_). Don’t say a word, my dear, don’t say a word! I’ve had -trials enough this morning to drive a man crazy. Say anything you please -about the drudgery of housework, and I will agree with you. I’ve had an -experience this forenoon which I shall not forget in a lifetime! - -MRS. S. If it causes you to be more considerate in future, I shall not -regret having left you. I think you must have done something, judging -from the appearance of the room. (_Looks around._) - -MR. S. And I suppose you think the prospect is, that there is still -something left to do. But as you have got home so early, I think I’ll go -down to the office a while. I have a slight headache, and think a change -of scene would benefit me. - - (_Exit, L._) - -W. (_rushing to door_). Don’t forget my orange, papa. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -THE COUNTRY COUSIN. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MRS. ATHERTON, Eunice’s Aunt. - BLANCHE, Mrs. A.’s Daughter. - EUNICE HAYNES, The Country Cousin. - MR. WARNER, A Visitor. - A SERVANT, GUESTS, ETC. - - - SCENE I.—_MRS. ATHERTON’S drawing-room. BLANCHE, L., and her - mother, R., present._ - -MRS. ATHERTON. Did you hear your father say we were to expect a visitor -to-day? - -BLANCHE (_surprised_). No, I heard nothing of it. Who is it? - -MRS. A. The daughter of his only sister, who married a farmer in the -little village of Donnellsville. - -B. Do you know anything of her? - -MRS. A. No. They live at such a distance, that there has been but little -communication between the two families. Your father met Mr. Haynes in -the city a few days ago, and invited him to send his daughter here for a -visit. This letter, which he has just received, announces that she will -be here to-day. - -B. Do you know her name? - -MRS. A. Eunice Haynes. - -B. What a wretchedly countrified name! And how unfortunate that she -should come just at this time. Next week, you know, we are to have our -party, and of course she will have to be present. I have no doubt she is -a country gawky, whose conversation will be mostly of “aour caows,” and -how much butter and cheese we make. - -MRS. A. No doubt. I wonder that your father should have invited her here -until some of us had seen her. - -B. As to that, I don’t know how we should ever see her unless she came -here. It will be bad enough to receive a visit from her, but it would -be still worse for us to visit them. I have no doubt they are genuine -rustics, who keep no servants, talk bad grammar, and take their meals in -the kitchen. - -MRS. A. Very likely. - -B. And then I suppose her dresses will all be calico or gingham, having -all the colors of the rainbow. No doubt she will select the gayest of -them all for the party. How disgusted I am at the thought of this visit! -I wish it were well over. - -MRS. A. So do I. But couldn’t you pass her off as Isabel’s governess? - -B. No, that wouldn’t do at all. In fact, she probably couldn’t sustain -that character. Besides, papa has such strange, out-of-the-way notions -on such points, that I fear he would be angry if such a thing were -attempted. - -MRS. A. Perhaps, after all, it may not be as bad as you think, Blanche. -We will wait patiently, and not judge her till she arrives. - -B. And, by the way, you promised to go out with me to select a dress for -the party. We ought to go now, I think. Otherwise we shall be obliged to -invite _our cousin_ (_with emphasis_) to go with us. - - (_Exeunt, R. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_The curtain rising shows two chambers formed by - a curtain extending from front to back of stage, it being - necessary that both should be seen at once. SERVANT ushers - EUNICE, who has just arrived, into R., one of them._ - -SERVANT. This is the room you are to have, miss. Mrs. Atherton and Miss -Blanche have gone out, but will be in soon. - -EUNICE. Very well. (_Exeunt SERVANT, R. EUNICE takes off bonnet and -shawl, and lays them on the table. Afterward takes up a book, sits down, -and begins to read._) - -(_MRS. B. and BLANCHE enter the other chamber, L., and lay aside their -outer garments._) - -B. I wonder when our rustic friend will arrive? (_EUNICE looks and -listens attentively._) I am quite curious to see her. I suppose she -will begin by giving me an account of all the household matters in -particular, and the farm-work in general. I can imagine her dressed in a -rainbow-colored costume, making a deep courtesy to you, and giving a nod -of recognition to your humble servant. I dare say before night she will -tell me confidentially all about the country swain whom she most favors. - -MRS. A. Why, Blanche, how you do run on! Don’t, I beg of you, make her -appear any more ridiculous than she naturally is. And, above all things -else, pray don’t introduce the subject of cows. - -B. I’m sure I don’t see any harm in drawing her out. It will be so -amusing. I will invite her to go shopping with me to-morrow, just to -see how she will stare in the windows. There will be a slight contrast -between our large and fashionable stores and the one little variety store -in her native village, where they sell everything from a peck of potatoes -to a silk dress. - -MRS. A. I should be too much mortified to do so. But she may have arrived -already. Let us go down and see. - - (_Exeunt._) - -E. (_astonished and amused_). Is it possible that my aunt and cousin -expect to find me so countrified? It would be cruel in me to disappoint -their expectations. I have always been considered quite good at -imitation, and I have a great mind to personate, for a little while, the -character of a backwood’s maiden—for my amusement as well us theirs. I -must practise a little, first, in order to carry it out well. (_Goes to -mirror and makes a low courtesy._) Why, haow d’ye do, Aunt Tildy? I’m -proper glad to see ye. And haow d’ye do, Blanche? I’m dreadful tickled -to meet ye. (_Turns round smiling._) I wonder how it would do to give her -what Charlie calls a “Down East hug.” They would be fairly horrified, I -think. But I will be governed by circumstances, and go down to meet them -without further delay. - - (_Goes out, R. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_MRS A.’S drawing-room. EUNICE enters, R._ - -E. (_looking round_). What! are they not here yet? I supposed they were -coming directly downstairs. However, I will sit down and await their -coming. Ah! there they are now. - -(_MRS. A. and BLANCHE enter, L._) - -MRS. A. (_coming forward_). I didn’t know you had arrived, Eunice. I have -just returned from— - -E. (_interrupting her by advancing and throwing her arms around her -neck_). Why, haow d’ye do, Aunt Tildy? I’m proper glad to see ye. (_MRS. -A. withdraws from the embrace with a disgusted expression of countenance, -and smooths down her collar, which was disarranged by it. E. advances to -BLANCHE, who, fearing a like salutation, takes a step backward, and holds -out the tips of her fingers to her cousin. E. grasps them vigorously, -and, stepping forward, bestows a loud kiss upon her cousin’s cheek. -BLANCHE, with a slight frown, takes her handkerchief and wipes it off._) -How d’ye do, Cousin Blanche? I’m dreadful tickled to meet ye. - -B. (_smiling_). And I am glad to make your acquaintance, Eunice. When did -you leave home? - -E. Day before yesterday. - -MRS. A. You must be quite fatigued (_E. stares_)—tired, perhaps I should -say—with your journey. - -E. No; I aint tired a mite. - -B. Were you ever in the city before? - -E. I guess not. I don’t remember it if I was. It looks queer enough to -see the houses crowded so thick together. And I haven’t seen a barn since -I came. I suppose, though, they’re all in back of the houses; but then I -don’t see how folks get their caows in and out. I s’pose they pastur’ ’em -on the common. - -B. Oh, no, they wouldn’t be allowed in any of the parks. It is too -thickly settled here for any one to keep cows. - -E. You don’t mean to say that you have to buy all your butter! It must -cost a sight. Why, if I’d a’ known it, I’d have brought you a mess. We -churned the day before I came away, and the butter came tip-top. - - (_MRS. A. quietly leaves the room, R._) - -E. (_noticing her aunt’s exit_). I s’pose your mother’s gone out to get -tea. If you want to help her, don’t let me hinder you. And if there’s -anything that I can do, jest let me know, for I’d just as lieves help as -not. - -B. Thank you, but there’s no need. We leave that for the servants. - -E. How many helps do you keep? - -B. There are four, I believe. - -E. And how many have you in family? - -B. (_smiling_). Four persons. - -E. (_in assumed amazement_). Well, that beats all that ever I heard. What -do they all do? - -B. We have a cook, housemaid, chambermaid, and seamstress, and they all -seem to find enough to occupy their time. - - (_Bell rings._) - -E. What’s that bell for? - -B. (_rising_). That is to call us to dinner. - -E. (_rising_). What, dinner at six o’clock! At home we have dinner at -twelve, and supper at five. And you ought to see our bell! Why, you can -hear it most half a mile. We have it to call the men from the field to -their meals. - - (_Exeunt, R. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE IV.—_MRS. A.’S drawing-room. BLANCHE, R., and her mother, - L., engaged in crocheting or other fancy work._ - -B. Well, ma, what do you think now? Isn’t Eunice the most countrified -specimen you ever saw? - -MRS. A. I must admit that she is decidedly rustic. - -B. But did you notice the blunders she made at dinner? - -MRS. A. I saw that she ate with her knife, and didn’t use her napkin. - -B. (_much amused_). That reminds me that when I took my napkin from the -ring, she asked me if I used a towel in my lap because I was afraid of -spoiling my dress. She also said that, at home, the younger children -wore bibs, and she wondered we didn’t put one on to Isabel. (_Greatly -amused._) Imagine Isabel,—a girl nine years old, with a bib on! - -MRS. A. I’m afraid she wouldn’t submit to it very quietly. - -B. Then she took butter from the plate with her own knife, and when pa -asked her if she would have more of the meat, she said, “No; I’ve had -enough for this time.” - -MRS. A. I think your father must have noticed her awkwardness. - -B. I don’t see how he could help it. But he would not allow her to see -that he noticed it. - -MRS. A. What did she say to the piano? I heard you playing for her. - -B. (_laughing_). She thought it was a queer-looking thing, and said it -must be hard to work it. - -MRS. A. Where is she now? - -B. She has retired. She said she always went to bed as soon as it grew -dark. I should think she had been living in the woods all her life. - -MRS. A. And yet, with all her blunders, she is quite pretty, and dresses -with a good deal of taste. - -B. That is true. And yet, with such an ignorance of conventional rules, -what sort of a figure will she make at our party? - -MRS. A. You will have to make the best of it, and hint to any one that -you may introduce to her that she is a country cousin. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE V.—_The same. MRS. ATHERTON, L. C., BLANCHE, R., EUNICE, - C., and MR. WARNER, L., present. Also other guests conversing - in groups. EUNICE dressed in white, with a few simple flowers - in her hair. BLANCHE dressed richly._ - -B. (_beckoning to MR. W., who comes to her, and speaking in a low but -audible tone_). Mr. Warner, I wish to introduce you to a cousin of mine, -a rustic damsel, who has never been to the city before. She is fresh -from the country, and I doubt not you will be greatly amused by her -conversation. There she is near the piano. - -MR. WARNER (_surprised_). What, that young lady so tastefully dressed! It -cannot be! You are surely joking, Miss Atherton. - -B. (_smiling_). You will discover by her conversation that I have spoken -truly. But here we are.—Mr. Warner desires the honor of an introduction, -Cousin Eunice. Miss Haynes—Mr. Warner. - -(_BLANCHE retires to another part of the stage, L. EUNICE bows without -any show of embarrassment._) - -MR. W. Have you been long in the city, Miss Haynes? - -E. But a few days. - -MR. W. And how do you enjoy it? - -E. You will perhaps laugh at my lack of taste, when I say that, in my -judgment, it does not compare favorably with the country. City life is -too artificial to satisfy me. - -MR. W. And yet city life has many advantages which you probably do not -get in the country,—lectures, concerts, and the opera, for example. - -E. I confess these are advantages which I should be glad to enjoy, and -should fully appreciate. In these latter days, however, most of the -lectures are reported in the papers. - -MR. W. Yes, but in reading them one does not get the full enjoyment that -is had in hearing them delivered. - -E. That is true. It is also a great deprivation not to be able to hear -the great singers of the day. - -MR. W. Then you are fond of music? - -E. I am very fond of it. - -MR. W. Do you play? - -E. A little, sometimes, for my own amusement. - -MR. W. Then let me beg a favor of you. There is a pause in the -conversation and music is called for. Allow me to lead you to the piano. - -E. I will play if you wish it, but I fear you will be disappointed. - -(_MR. W. conducts her to the piano, R. C., to BLANCHE’S great -astonishment. Guests look on and listen with interest. E. plays a short -prelude, and sings in a clear, sweet voice, which excites general -admiration, the following song:_) - - “I do not love the crowded street - With all its varied show, - Through which a sea of human forms - Keeps heaving to and fro. - My spirit yearns for fairer scenes, - For bird, and flower, and tree; - I cannot bid farewell to these,— - A country life for me! - - “The bird has sought his last year’s nest - Within the fairy dell; - The squirrel in the greenwood hides, - His haunts I know full well; - Along the meadows flower-bestrewn, - I hear the humming-bee; - I cannot live apart from these,— - A country life for me! - - “’Twas there I roved in years gone by - With careless step and fleet, - And scarcely deigned to pluck the flowers - That blossomed at my feet. - O golden time of childhood’s prime, - When life was blithe and free, - Thy memory lingers in my heart,— - A country life for me! - - “I love to climb the steep hillside, - And catch the sun’s first glow, - When, rising from his watery couch, - He gilds the waves below. - My spirit yearns for fairer scenes, - For bird, and flower, and tree; - I cannot live apart from these,— - A country life for me!” - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE VI.—_Drawing-room after the guests have left. BLANCHE, - R., and EUNICE, L., present._ - -B. Do tell me, Eunice, what this means. I am _so_ curious to have it -explained. - -E. So I supposed. But confess the truth, Blanche. Didn’t you think me a -genuine rustic, very ignorant, and quite countrified? - -B. I certainly did, but you surely gave me reason. I give you credit for -acting your part well. But what induced you to take upon yourself such a -character? - -E. I was afraid of disappointing you. - -B. (_surprised_). Disappointing me? - -E. (_smiling_). Yes. The day of my arrival I was shown by the servant -into the room provided for me. I had scarcely laid aside my bonnet -and shawl when you and Aunt Matilda came into the chamber adjoining -mine. Unintentionally I overheard you conversing of me. You both had -the impression that, as I lived in the country, I must be ignorant and -uncultivated. I therefore decided to continue the illusion for a short -time. When the party came off, it seemed a fitting time for me to appear -in my true character. - -B. I am glad that you are not what you seemed. I was almost overcome by -your vigorous salute, and your talk about pasturing cows in the parks, -and so on; and I feared that you might introduce these topics as the -subjects of your conversation at the party. - -E. Fortunately no such mishap occurred, and since you prefer me in my -present character, I will still retain it, trusting that you may never -again have cause to be disturbed at the rusticity of your Country Cousin. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -TAKING POISON. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MR. LEWIS FISHER, A very Nervous Man. - MRS. SUSAN FISHER, His Wife. - MISS HELEN FISHER, His Sister. - DR. GIBBS, Physician. - MARY, Servant. - - - SCENE.—_Parlor at MRS. FISHER’S. MR. F. comes in, and sinks - into a chair, R._ - -MR. FISHER. How weak I am! I wonder what can be the matter? (_Presses -his hand first on one cheek, and then the other._) I think I’m a little -feverish. (_Coughs as if it pained him._) And then this cough; I’m sure -my lungs must be affected. But then that’s no wonder, for most of our -family died of consumption, and I dare say I shall go in the same way. -(_Petulantly._) I wonder where Susan is; she’s always gone when I want -her. (_Rings the bell; servant enters, L._) Mary, where is Mrs. Fisher? - -MARY. She went an hour ago, sir. Your sister, Miss Helen, came for her to -go shopping, and the two of them went out then. - -MR. F. (_sighing, and leaning back in his chair_). Did she say what time -she would be back? - -M. She did not, then. May be they won’t be home till dark. - -MR. F. I shall be sick in bed before that time. - -M. Couldn’t I do something for you, sir? - -MR. F. (_shaking his head mournfully_). No. (_A pause._) Do you know -where Mrs. Fisher keeps the cough drops? - -M. I do not, sir. - -MR. F. Well, then, it’s no matter. I’ll wait till she comes. - -M. Very well, sir. - - (_Exit MARY, L._) - -(_MR. F. leans back in his chair, and rocks for a few moments with closed -eyes. He then opens his eyes, and rises slowly._) - -MR. F. It must be that Susan keeps the cough mixture in the closet. -I’ll see. (_Goes to closet, L., and returns, bringing a bottle, having -no label on it, with him._) Yes, here it is. I will take a teaspoonful. -(_He takes a spoon from the table, and filling it carefully, swallows the -contents._) I hope that will make me feel better. (_Sits down again in -the rocking-chair._) I don’t see what keeps Susan away so long. It always -was a mystery to me how women could enjoy shopping as they do. (_Begins -to cough._) I believe I’ll go into the dining-room and get some water. -(_Goes out, R.; enter MARY, L._) - -M. (_looking around_). So master’s gone out. It’ll do him good, I’m -thinking. Sure I don’t see how missis gets along wid him, when he’s so -fussy. (_Goes to closet, L., and after a short stop, returns and exit, L. -MR. F. reappears, R., bearing a glass of water, which he places on the -table. He continues to cough._) - -MR. F. The water does not remove the irritation in my throat. I must take -some more of the drops. (_Goes to closet, L., and returns with a bottle; -a label on it this time. He gazes at the label, and starts back in -terror._) What’s this? Poison? And I’ve already taken a spoonful of it! -That was what made me feel so strangely. Oh, I’m a doomed man! (_He rings -the bell violently, and sinks into a chair. MARY enters, L._) - -M. Oh, lor sakes, what makes you look so pale, sir? - -MR. F. (_excitedly_). I’ve taken poison, Mary. I feel a pain in my side, -already. Why doesn’t Mrs. Fisher come home? Oh, dear, what shall I do? - -M. Can’t I get you something to take, sir? - -MR. F. (_impatiently_). Oh, no, no. I’ve taken too much already. Nothing -would help me now. I feel the poison coursing through my veins already, -and cold chills are passing over me. Bring a blanket to cover me, Mary. I -hope I shan’t die before Susan comes. - -(_MARY brings a pillow, which she places behind him, and puts a blanket -over his knees._) - -M. Don’t you feel a little better now, sir? - -MR. F. (_with an injured look._) Better! People don’t usually feel better -when they are dying. (_Sound of a bell is heard outside._) - -M. Mrs. Fisher is come. - - (_Exit MARY, L., and, in a moment, enter MRS. FISHER and HELEN, R._) - -MRS. FISHER (_with solicitude; going toward her husband_). Why, Lewis, -what’s the matter? Are you sick? - -MR. F. Yes, Susan; not merely sick, but dying. - -MRS. F. (_perplexed_). What can you mean, Lewis? You left home this -morning apparently well, and, after an hour’s absence, I return to find -you nervous and excited. You look sick, too. Do tell me what is the cause. - -MR. F. (_excited_). That I can very easily do. I was sick—quite -feverish—and had a bad cough, so I thought I’d take some drops to relieve -it. - -MRS. F. That was right. - -MR. F. I went to the closet, and took a spoonful, and thought they helped -me. So, in half an hour, I went and got some more to take, when I noticed -the label on the bottle, and found that, instead of cough-drops, I had -been taking poison. - -MRS. F. O Lewis, how could you make such a mistake? (_Clasping her -hands._) What shall we do? - -HELEN (_coolly_). Send for the doctor, I should say, if you haven’t both -taken leave of your senses. - -MRS. F. Yes, send Mary for the doctor at once. Why didn’t we think of it -sooner? - -MR. F. (_dismally_). It will do no good. Nothing can be done now. I -feel cold chills passing over me. I shall not probably be alive when he -reaches here. It will only take up the little time there is left. - -H. I shall send Mary for the doctor, at all events. - - (_Exit, L._) - -(_MR. F. moans frequently. MRS. F. is occupied in chafing his wrists. -Suddenly MR. F. speaks._) - -MR. F. Susan. - -MRS. S. (_through her tears_). Well, Lewis. - -MR. F. You’ve been a good wife to me, Susan. - -MRS. F. I’ve tried to be, Lewis. - -MR. F. I’m glad you will be left in comfortable circumstances at my -death. I’ve left my whole property to you. In my little black trunk you -will find all my valuable papers. Here is the key. (_Passes it to her._) - -MRS. F. (_sobbing, but takes the key_). Don’t think of such things, -Lewis. You must live—for me. I’m sure that the doctor can help you. - -MR. F. (_mournfully_). No, it’s too late—too late. I would like to have -lived longer, but I must submit to my fate. - - (_Enter DR. GIBBS, L._) - -DR. GIBBS (_cheerily_). Well, my friend, what’s the matter with you? - -MR. F. (_tragically_). Poison! - -DR. G. (_surprised_). What! Got tired of living, hey? - -MR. F. (_wearily_). Tell him about it, Susan. - -MRS. F. It was a terrible mistake, doctor. He intended to take some cough -drops, but, instead, took some laudanum. - -DR. G. (_feeling his pulse_). How do you feel? - -MR. F. I feel cold chills passing over me, and it seems us if a thousand -needles were pricking my flesh; and I have got a terrible headache. - -DR. G. But those are not the symptoms of poison. How long is it since you -took it? - -MR. F. More than an hour and a half ago. - -DR. G. I don’t believe it was poison at all. I see no signs of it. - -MR. F. But I saw the label. - -DR. G. Let me see the bottle. (_MRS. F. brings the bottle from closet, L. -DR. G. smells of the mixture, and then prepares to taste it._) - -MRS. F. Oh, don’t taste it, doctor. It may be the death of you too. - -(_The doctor lifts the bottle to his lips._) - -DR. G. This is not poison. It is cough-drops, as I expected. Moreover, it -is some that I mixed myself, and I know there’s no poison in it. But how -came that label on it? - -MRS. F. I prepared the label just before I went away, and told Mary to -paste it on the bottle of laudanum. But it seems she must have pasted it -on the wrong bottle. - -MR. F. (_eagerly_). And haven’t I swallowed poison, after all? - -DR. G. (_dryly_). Not unless you’ve taken it from some other bottle. - -MRS. F. How thankful I am that it was a mistake; aren’t you, Lewis? - -MR. F. Indeed I am. (_A pause._) By the way, Susan, you might as well -hand me back the key of the little black trunk. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -DEACON ROBINSON’S PRESENT. - - -CHARACTERS. - - DEACON JONATHAN ROBINSON, Delegate to Political Convention. - MRS. IRENE ROBINSON, His Wife. - DOCTOR LEWIS CUMMINGS, Physician of Rossville. - MR. CHAS. HERBERT FITZ HOWARD, A Young Exquisite. - LANDLORD. - JOHN. - TWO POLICEMEN. - -(_DEACON ROBINSON is attired in a blue suit. The coat is short-waisted, -old-fashioned, and ornamented with brass buttons. He wears a -broad-brimmed beaver, far from new. CHARLES HERBERT FITZ HOWARD is -dressed in the height of fashion, wearing a jaunty little hat on the side -of his head, and a suit of clothes cut in the most fashionable style._) - - - SCENE I.—_Office of a hotel. Table, C. LANDLORD present, R. C. - Enter DEACON ROBINSON, L._ - -LANDLORD. Good-evening, deacon. - -DEA. ROBINSON. Good-evening. I’ve come down from Morristown to ’tend the -convention. I may be here two or three days. Can you give me a room? - -L. (_suavely_). Oh, yes, certainly; a nice room, too. Will you order -supper before going up stairs? - -DEA. R. Supper! No, indeed! It’s nine o’clock, and I’m going to bed. -Besides, I took supper afore I left home. - -L. But you’ll register your name, first? (_Passes pen to him._) - -DEA. R. (_takes from his pocket a tin case, which he opens, takes -therefrom a pair of spectacles, which he adjusts upon his nose_). Wal, -yes, I hain’t no objection. (_Writes._) - -L. Here, John, take this lamp and show the gentleman up to Number 33. - -JOHN. Yes, sir. (_Takes lamp and goes out, followed by the DEACON._) - -(_Enter CHARLES HERBERT FITZ HOWARD, L._) - -FITZ HOWARD. Aw—I say—aw—can you give me a good room? - -L. Yes sir, directly. But, beg pardon, sir; perhaps you’d like some -supper first? - -F. H. Aw—yes, but I’ll go to my room first—aw, and make my toilet—remove -the dust and travel—aw. - -L. Your name, sir! (_Offers pen._) - -F. H. Aw—yes—I had forgotten. (_Looking at pen—tries it._) What a deuced -poor pen! (_Enter JOHN, R._) - -L. Here is another. (_Offers it._) - -F. H. (_takes it; gazes at book before him_). Deacon Jonathan -Robinson—aw. What a name! Not much like the next one. (_Writes._) -Charles Herbert Fitz Howard—aw. - -J. Ain’t he a swell, though? - -L. (_in a warning tone_). John. - -J. Yes, sir. - -L. Show this gentleman up to number 35. - -J. Yes, sir. (_To FITZ HOWARD._) This way, sir. - - (_Exeunt, R. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_A bed-chamber. DEACON ROBINSON is seen, C., dressed - in ruffled shirt and tightly fitting pants. He surveys them - meditatively._ - -DEA. R. I don’t see but I’ve got to wear these clothes, as long as the -others are gone, for the convention meets at nine, and I shan’t have -much more’n time to eat my breakfast. But it beats all where them other -clothes went to, and where these come from. I declare, I never heard o’ -such a thing in my born days. (_He thinks a moment—his face brightens._) -Yes, it must be—there’s no other way. Some of my friends here in -Rossville must ha’ clubbed together, and bought me this new suit, knowing -I was to be here to the convention. But when could they ha’ brought them -in, and taken my others away, for I’ve had my door locked ever since I -came into the room? Oh, I remember now, last night, when there was an -alarm of fire, I slipped on my overcoat, and went into the entry to see -where ’twas; but findin’ ’twas a false alarm, I came back in less than -ten minutes. They must ha’ been dreadful spry to ha’ made the change so -quick. (_Apprehensively—taking up the coat._) I’m afraid they’re too gay -for me, but I seem to be ’bleeged to wear ’em. (_Puts on the vest._) I -wonder if the coat fits as well as the rest. (_Puts it on and stands up -before the glass, R. Complacently._) Well, it’s a complete fit, and it -does really improve me amazin’ly—makes me look a good deal younger. The -cloth seems good too. They must ha’ cost a good deal. Really, my friends -have been very kind, but I do wish they’d brought a different hat. (_Puts -on the hat, which looks very jaunty for one of his years._) Perhaps I -can exchange it to-morrow, but I’ve got to wear it to-day, at any rate. -There’s one thing I haven’t thought of afore (_feeling in pockets_). I -wonder whether they thought to change things in the pockets from the old -to the new. There aint a single thing in any of ’em. (_Irresolutely._) -And what shall I do without money? (_Goes quickly to overcoat, and -puts his hand in pocket._) Ah, here is the old wallet. (_With a sigh -of relief._) Lucky for me I bought a newspaper last evening, or that -pocket-book would ha’ been gone too. I must go down and see if I can hear -anything about the rest of the things. - - (_Exit, L. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_The same. FITZ HOWARD is seen, L. C., sitting - disconsolately with Deacon’s home-made shirt and pants on._ - -F. H. Well—aw—I’m sure, I don’t see what I’m going to do. I never can go -out on the street—aw—wearing such wretched-looking clothes. (_Standing -up suddenly and gazing upon them._) Why, they’re absolutely horwid. -It’s strange—aw—how anybody could have been quick enough—aw—to change -those clothes in the five minutes I was out—aw—last night at the alarm -of fire. I should just like to get hold of the thief—aw—that’s all. I -guess—aw—he’d never steal anything else. (_A pause. Emphatically._) I -won’t wear this horwid-looking coat (_lifting it up._) What would Dick -Hayes or Harwy Nichols say—aw—to see me dressed in this style! I won’t -wear the shabby ole thing. (_Throws it to the other end of the room, R._) -I should feel—aw—as if I was my own grandfather. And this horwid old -hat. (_Takes it in his hand, and with a kick sends it after the coat._) -Aw—I’ll ring for the landlord. (_Rings furiously. JOHN enters, R._) - -F. H. Aw—where’s the landlord—aw? - -J. He’s gone away. - -F. H. When he comes back—aw—I want to see him. - -J. Yes, sir; but he may not be back till noon, but I’ll tell him when he -comes. - - (_Exit JOHN, R._) - -F. H. (_solus_). Well—aw—there’s no help from that quarter. I don’t see -but I’ve got to come to it, for if I don’t wear these clothes—aw—what -shall I wear? There isn’t any shop that sells ready-made clothing that -I’d be willing to wear—aw—and if there was I haven’t money enough to -spare to buy another suit. (_Groaning._) I don’t see but I _must_ wear -it. (_Puts on vest and coat—looks in mirror._) Oh, dear! Aw—what a -fright! And I was going to call on Arabella Meade this morning. (_Puts on -hat, which, being a little too large for him, settles down on the back -side of his head. He paces back and forth, looking down._) But there’s -no use in my going there to-day. The servants would take me—aw—for a -ragamuffin, and thrust me out of the house—aw—if I attempted to enter it. -I suppose I shall have to go down in this costume—aw—and see if I cannot -find some clue to my own clothes—aw. - - (_Exit, L. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE IV.—_Parlor of the hotel. DEACON ROBINSON, C., looking - over morning paper. Enter DR. CUMMINGS, L., who does not - recognize the occupant of the room. Deacon Robinson advances to - meet him warmly._ - -DEA. R. (_cordially_). How do you do, Dr. Cummings? - -DR. C. (_distantly_). Really, sir, you have the advantage of me! - -DEA. R. What, don’t you recognize me? You’ve known me for the last -twenty-five years. I’m Deacon Jonathan Robinson, of Morristown. - -DR. C. Why, bless my soul, so you are! But, good gracious, deacon, what -possessed you to dress in this strange way? - -DEA. R. Strange? - -DR. C. (_sternly_). Yes. I consider it discreditable to one of your -years, sobriety, and position in the community, to make such a popinjay -of yourself. - -DEA. R. (_uncomfortably_). But it isn’t my doings. - -DR. C. Isn’t your doings? Then whose is it? I don’t understand it. Surely -Mrs. Robinson doesn’t countenance such folly! - -DEA. R. She doesn’t know anything about it. - -DR. C. No; I thought not. - -DEA. R. (_a little vexed_). If you won’t be in such a hurry, Dr. -Cummings, I’ll explain it all. You see I came over to Rossville last -evening and put up here. I went to bed early, but about midnight there -was a cry of fire. I slipped on my overcoat, and went into the entry to -learn whether it was near by. In a few minutes I heard that it was a -false alarm. I hurried back to my room, which I couldn’t have been out of -more’n ten minutes, and locked my door. Then I went to bed and to sleep. -When I waked in the morning my old clothes, which have done me such -faithful service, were gone, and these were left in their place. - -DR. C. How do you suppose they came there? - -DEA. R. It is my opinion that my friends in Rossville, knowing that I -was to attend a convention, took this way of presenting me with a new and -fashionable suit of clothes. - -DR. C. (_shaking his head_). It’s a strange story. - -(_Enter MRS. R. R. She starts back, surprised at the appearance of her -husband._) - -MRS. ROBINSON (_sharply_). I should like to know, Deacon Robinson, what -has put it into your head to dress in this ridiculous style; you, a man -most sixty years old! - -DEA. R. I’m only fifty-eight. - -MRS. R. And you dress as if you were eighteen. You refuse me a silk -dress, and then go and squander your money on this foolish rig. I should -think you had gone stark, staring mad. - -DEA. R. (_anxiously_). Stop, Reeny, I’ll explain it all. My friends in -Rossville came and brought me this suit in the night. - -MRS. R. (_contemptuously_). Fiddlestick! Do you expect me to believe that -ridiculous story? I’m really afraid you’ve been drinking. Nothing else -could ha’ brought you to make such a fool of yourself. - -DEA. R. (_excitedly_). Mrs. Robinson, I command you to be silent. It’s -you that are makin’ a fool o’ yourself, I’d have you to know. It’s enough -for you to think of your own dress, and not interfere with mine. - -MRS. R. (_wringing her hands_). O Jonathan, is this the way you speak to -me, who’ve been a faithful wife to you for more than thirty years? - -(_FITZ HOWARD, clad in the DEACON’S old-fashioned garments, bursts into -the room, L., and rushes up to DEA. R., assuming a belligerent attitude._) - -F. H. So you’re the thief—aw—you rascal— - -DR. C. (_rising and coming forward_). What does this mean? - -F. H. (_gesticulating violently_). It means—aw—that this fellah has run -off with my clothes—a hundred-dollar suit, and left—aw—this worthless -rubbish (_extending his arms as if to show the clothes_) in its place. -(_In a loud tone._) Help! Police—aw—where’s the police? - -MRS. R. (_indignantly_). O Jonathan, have you brought disgrace upon your -innocent wife and family by this strange conduct? - -DR. C. (_in tones of horror_). O Deacon! - -DEA. R. Hear me; hear me. There’s some strange mistake. - -F. H. There’s no mistake about it. Bring the police. - -(_Police enter, L., and endeavor to handcuff him. DEA. R. struggles -furiously._) - -DEA. R. I won’t go to jail. Call the landlord. - -MRS. R. (_earnestly_). Yes; call the landlord. Perhaps he can explain -about it. - -(_One of the policemen goes out, R., and immediately returns with the -Landlord._) - -F. H. This man—aw—has stolen my clothes, and I demand his arrest. - -DEA. R. Well, landlord, you’ve known me a good many years. Do you think I -should be likely to steal now—at my age? - -L. Impossible; there must be some mistake. - -F. H. But there can’t be any mistake; don’t you see—aw—he’s got on my -clothes, and I his? - -L. (_smiling_). Yes; but if he intended to steal them he wouldn’t come -in, and sit quietly in the parlor with the garments on. But I haven’t -heard how it came about. Did either of you leave your room last night? - -F. H. I only left it for five minutes—aw—when the alarm of fire was -raised—aw—and this morning when I waked—aw—my new suit was changed into -these horwid things. (_Glances with contempt upon them._) - -L. (_to DEACON_). And did you leave your room, too? - -DEA. R. Yes; but only long enough to go into the entry and back again. - -L. I see how it is; your rooms were side by side. You both left them, and -when you returned, you each went into the other’s room. That accounts for -the change of clothing. (_One policeman beckons to the other, and they go -out, L._) - -DEA. R. By George, that must ha’ been the way ’twas done. But I declare -to goodness, I never should ha’ thought about it. (_To LANDLORD._) Thank -you, landlord, for gettin’ me out o’ this scrape. (_To FITZ HOWARD._) -And look here, young man, suppose we just go up stairs and swap clothes -again. I guess these aint any more becomin’ to me than them are to you. - -F. H. You’re right there—aw—old man. (_Exeunt DEA. R. and F. H., L._) - -MRS. R. Well, I thank goodness things have turned out as they have. I -wouldn’t ha’ had Jonathan gone to the convention in that rig for nothin’ -in the world. - -DR. C. (_sarcastically_). Not even if they had been a present to him from -his friends in Rossville! - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -MRS. MARDEN’S LESSON. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MR. JOHN MARDEN, A clerk, - MRS. MARY MARDEN, His Wife. - MR. EDWIN HASTINGS, His Friend. - AUNT REBECCA, Mrs. Marden’s Aunt. - SERVANT. - - - SCENE I.—_Sitting-room at MR. MARDEN’S. MRS. MARDEN, present, - L._ - -JOHN (_entering room, R., with boots in his hand_). It’s most time for me -to go to the store, Mary. (_Sits down, C., and puts on boots._) I declare -it’s astonishing how soon eight o’clock comes these short mornings. - -MARY (_who is dusting the room_). It brings to mind the mornings, in the -days gone by, when you were obliged to go to school, I suppose. - -J. Yes; and I can’t say I enjoy one any more than the other. It’s about -as disagreeable as leaving a nice, cosey fire on a winter’s night and -getting into a cold bed. - -M. But then I think one appreciates his home more, and enjoys the time he -is able to pass in it more fully, than if he remained at home. - -J. Perhaps you are right, Mary; but I shouldn’t object to try the other -way for awhile. (_Tosses slippers under the sofa._) - -M. John, dear, hadn’t you better put your slippers in their place? - -J. Oh, we’ll consider this their place. Then I shan’t have to go -searching after them to-night. - -M. There won’t be any need of _searching_ for them. If you put them where -they belong, they will be sure to remain there. - -J. But it’s a great bother to go out of one’s way for such trifles. -They’re much handier lying there, and will be all ready for me to put on -to-night. - -M. But life is made up of trifles, and leaving things round clutters up -the room so. - -J. Why, no; a thing looks as well in one place as another. Besides, -what’s the use of having a house if you can’t keep things where you -want to? But there (_pushing them still farther under the sofa with his -foot_), they’re out of sight now. They will be handy, and no one will be -the wiser for their being there. - -M. But I have to go around every day and pick things up after you. - -J. Oh, well, don’t pick them up; just let them stay where they are, and -then I can find them when I want them. (_Takes up overcoat from chair, -where he had left it on previous evening, puts it on, takes hat from -table, and exit, L._) - -M. (_alone_). Something must be done to cure John of this careless habit -of leaving things around; but how it can be arranged, I cannot tell yet. -I must think it over. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_The same. Room in disorder. Two hats on the piano, - a vest on the table, and two coats on as many chairs. A - dressing-gown thrown carelessly on the sofa, and slippers on - the floor near them. AUNT REBECCA and MARY enter, L._ - -AUNT REBECCA. And you have married since I saw you last; married happily, -I hope. (_They sit down, C._) - -M. Yes; I couldn’t wish for a kinder or pleasanter husband. But between -you and me, Aunt Rebecca, he has one fault that distresses me exceedingly. - -A. R. And what is that? - -M. He is so careless about his things. You have only to look about you, -and you will see at once what I mean. I haven’t been in this room until -now since he went to the store this morning. There are (_looking at each -as she speaks_) two hats, two coats, dressing-gown, vest and slippers -lying around. He is in such a hurry when he goes away, that he doesn’t -notice anything about it, and when he comes home, I have put them all in -their places, so I don’t think he realizes what an untidy appearance the -room presents. - -A. R. That _is_ rather a disagreeable habit. Have you spoken to him about -it? - -M. (_laughing_). Spoken? Yes; I’ve delivered whole lectures on the -subject. - -A. R. And what does he say? - -M. Oh, he makes light of it, and manages to change the subject whenever -it is brought up. I don’t like to spoil the peace of our cosey home by -scolding, but I feel as if something must be done. - -A. R. I see how it is, Mary. You must declare war. - -M. (_looking up surprised_). In what way? - -A. R. I haven’t fully matured a plan yet, but we will open the campaign -to-night, and, my word for it, if you follow my directions, you will come -off victorious. - -M. I am filled with curiosity to know how it is all to come about. - -SERVANT (_entering, R._) A littir for you, ma’am. (_Passes letter to M. -and exit, R. MARY reads the letter._) - -M. It is a line from John, saying that he will bring his friend, Mr. -Hastings, home to dine with us. I suppose he thought it possible I might -be out. - -A. R. What kind of a man is Mr. Hastings? - -M. Very pleasant indeed, and as fond of a good joke as any one I know of. -He and John are great friends. - -A. R. Then it will be just the time for us to open the campaign. - -M. You have it all arranged, then? - -A. R. Yes; draw your chair this way, and I will explain it to you. (_MARY -moves near A. R._) - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_Room in confusion. Slippers under the sofa, coats - on chairs, two of MARY’S dresses on sofa, and her shawl and - bonnet on JOHN’S arm-chair. Two of JOHN’S hats on table. MARY - crocheting, R. JOHN and EDWIN HASTINGS enter, L._ - -JOHN (_glancing in surprise, first around the room, then at his wife_). -What! house-cleaning, Mary? - -M. Oh, no. (_Turns to greet his companion._) I’m glad to see you, Mr. -Hastings. Sit down, do. (_Takes coat from chair, and tosses it carelessly -on sofa._) You haven’t been here for a long time. - -EDWIN (_looking round with an amused smile_). It _is_ a long time for me -to be away. - -J. (_taking M.’S shawl and bonnet from easy-chair_.) Say, Mary, what -shall I do with these dry-goods? - -M. Oh, lay them on the table. - -J. But there isn’t room. - -M. Isn’t there? Well, put them on the piano. - -J. But I was just going to open it, so that we might have some music. - -M. Well, put them on the sofa, then. There’s certainly room enough there. - -J. But some one may sit on them there. - -M. I guess not. - -J. (_glancing uneasily around_). Hadn’t you better pick up things a -little, Mary? - -M. (_carelessly_). Oh, no, just let them lie as they are. - -J. But they look so bad. And you know we frequently have callers in the -evening. - -M. Oh, they don’t look bad. I don’t see but a thing looks as well in one -place as another. - -J. I never saw your room look like this before, Mary. - -M. (_apparently surprised_). Didn’t you? But I thought we might as well -keep things handy. What’s the use of having a house, if you can’t keep -things where you want to? - -J. Oh, that’s it. So you’re giving an imitation of me, are you? - -M. (_smiling_). I’ve tried to. But don’t you like it? - -J. No, I don’t; that’s a fact. - -M. Well, then, if you’ll agree not to do so again, I’ll straighten up the -room; but if you have a relapse, mind, I shall have one, too. - -J. Oh, I shan’t; don’t fear. If I’m in danger of it, the recollection of -this scene will bring me back to the paths of rectitude. - -E. (_coming forward, and bowing with mock deference_). I congratulate -you, on the success of your scheme, Mrs. Marden, and have no doubt it -will prove efficacious. It is worth a dozen scoldings, and is a far more -agreeable remedy. - -J. (_exultantly_). I rather think it touches you a little, old fellow, -too, judging from the appearance of your bachelor apartments when I have -called there. - -E. I am sure of that, and have taken a part of it to myself already. When -next you come to my rooms, you will, without doubt, be struck with the -transformation, and will perceive at once, that I, as well as yourself -have profited by Mrs. Marden’s lesson. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - - -THE MAGIC MIRROR. - - -CHARACTERS. - - MADAME DEVINERESSE, ⎫ Fortune-tellers. - MADAME MARIE, ⎭ - TOM, DICK, HARRY, ⎫ School-boys. - WALTER, JOE, NAT, ⎭ - FAUSTINA, A Little Servant. - - - SCENE I.—_Room at a country boarding-school. HARRY, C., TOM, R. - C., and WALTER, R., present. Enter DICK, L. He advances to L. - C._ - -HARRY. Hallo, Dick, what’s up? - -DICK (_with a significant smile_). Who says anything’s up? - -H. There is, I know there is; I can tell it by your looks. Come, tell us, -like a good fellow. - -D. You must have a very vivid imagination to suppose one of my dignity -(_straightening himself up_) would descend to such trifles. - -TOM. One of _your_ dignity! That’s a good one. But come now, Dick, do -tell us if anything is going on. It’s been the perfection of dulness here -for the last three weeks. Any change would be welcome. - -D. (_dryly_). Does your last remark refer to your pockets, or some other -part of your habiliments? - -T. (_smiling_). Apply it where you choose. But come, you’ve got some -plan, I know. What is it? - -D. You are right, boys, I _have_ got a plan. But remember -(_impressively_), it must be a profound secret with us. - -WALTER. We are willing to make the most solemn protestations of secrecy. -Who’s to be the victim? - -D. Joe Sherman. - -H. Good! What’s the programme? - -D. He is to have his fortune told. (_The boys crowd around DICK._) - -T. (_eagerly_). How is it to be done? - -D. Perhaps you have learned that Madame Devineresse, the fortune-teller, -is stopping at the Everett House. It wouldn’t be very difficult for -her to flatter Joe into the belief that he was born for some great and -glorious end. - -W. He’s satisfied on that point, already. - -D. But you don’t understand. We will give her some hints of what he will -expect, and then can have the fun of listening to the whole performance, -and be better prepared to enjoy his remarks about it afterward. I have -had a little conversation with Madame Devineresse, and I feel sure she -will consent to co-operate with us. - -T. (_excitedly_). I’ll wager an inkstand that Dick’s already had his -fortune told by madame. - -H. That’s nothing strange. He has had it told by every fortune-teller -that’s visited the town for the last two years. - -D. (_coolly_). What difference does that make, when every one tells a -different story? A fellow must have some excitement in a little country -village like this. Of course I don’t believe a word said by any one of -them. But Sherman would. He’s just one of that kind. If she told him -anything he wished to believe, he would put implicit faith in it. - -W. (_shaking his head_). I don’t know about that. Joe is pretty cunning. -I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he should discover the plot. - -D. Trust me for that. I’ve got things arranged so it is impossible he -could suspect anything. - -T. When is it to come off? - -D. This evening, at the rooms of Madame Devineresse. We are to be -concealed in the ante-room, and hear all that is said. It will be rich, -I assure you. Come to my room at seven o’clock, and we will be ready to -follow him. He will be there by half-past seven. - -H. How do you know he is going at all? - -D. I don’t expect he is thinking of it at present; but I must plan some -way to induce him to go, and to be there at that hour. So I must leave -you now. Don’t fail to be on hand at the appointed time. - - (_Exit DICK, L. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE II.—_The room of MADAME DEVINERESSE. She is seated in - an arm-chair, R. C. On the table before her are placed an - hour-glass and a pack of cards, a small mirror, and an open - book. Charts covered with mystical characters are hung on the - walls. A sickle, a stuffed eagle, and any other emblematic - figures which can be obtained, are disposed around the room. - A small picture (of any design) is hung up where it will be - reflected into the mirror when held by JOE. Each time he lays - down the mirror, the picture is changed without attracting his - attention. JOE is ushered in by FAUSTINA, L._ - -JOE. You are the fortune-teller, I presume, madame. - -MADAME DEVINERESSE. Yes; I am called so by those whom I serve. I unveil -the secrets of the future to those who desire to know them. Do you wish -to look into the magic mirror? - -J. I should like to know something of the future. - -MME. D. You shall do so. Bring me the magic mirror, Faustina. (_F. passes -mirror to her._) Young man, approach. (_J. draws near._) You wish to -learn something of the future. (_J. bows._) You are permitted to look -three times into this mirror, where you will see three scenes in your -future life. Take it into your own hands. (_J. does so._) What do you see? - - (_Exit FAUSTINA, R._) - -J. I see a school-room. There are many people present. It must be -examination day. - -MME. D. Do you see yourself there? - -J. Yes; the other scholars are all crowding about me, and seem to be -congratulating me for some reason. The teacher has come forward, and -presents me with a richly bound book. - -MME. D. That picture represents a scene in your life _three_ years hence, -when you will leave this school. You will graduate as first scholar in -your class. You see yourself as having just delivered the valedictory. -The other pupils are congratulating you, but many of them are envious at -the distinction accorded you, and which you have so richly merited. - -(_JOE’S face beams with pleasure. MME. D. holds out her hand for the -mirror. Taking it, she wipes it carefully, lays it on the table, waves -her wand over it three times, and then returns it to JOE._) - -MME. D. What see you now, young man? - -J. A crowded court-room. A case has just been tried. I am the centre of a -crowd of people, who are pressing up to shake hands with me. The opposing -lawyer sits at a little distance, casting glances of bitterness toward me. - -MME. D. That picture represents a scene _fifteen_ years hence. You -have gained a famous law-suit, which has placed you, though young, in -the front ranks of your profession. Envious persons have maligned you, -and opponents assailed you; but, without deigning to notice them, you -have steadily gone on, till you have attained a high position in the -profession which you adorn. - -(_MME. D. again takes the mirror. Taking a box from the table, she shakes -on the surface of the mirror a white powder. Wiping it carefully, she -makes passes over it with her wand, and hands it to the young man. He -gazes upon it for a moment in silence, and with pleased wonder. MME. D. -looks on benignantly._) - -MME. D. The picture pleases you, then. What does the mirror disclose? - -J. I see a beautiful house. On the balcony a gentleman is standing. He is -addressing a throng of people who are assembled before the house. They -wave their hats, and are full of enthusiasm. What does it mean? - -MME. D. Do you not recognize the gentleman? - -J. It looks like myself, but cannot be, for it is too old. - -(_MME. D. takes the mirror, and gazes on it for a moment._) - -MME. D. It does look somewhat older, and more mature. But why should it -not? It represents you as you will appear _thirty_ years hence. You have -steadily pressed onward, distancing all with whom you started at school. -You have just been elected as member of Congress, and the people, wild -with enthusiasm, are shouting your name, and calling for a speech. (_JOE -gazes, as if spellbound, on the mirror._) Are you satisfied with the -glimpses of the future which I have given you? - -J. (_with dignity befitting his future position, and, returning the -mirror to her_). Yes, my good woman, you have done very well. - -MME. D. There are few persons to whom such a brilliant future opens. -Whenever the glass has mirrored such scenes as I have shown you, it loses -power ever after to delineate scenes in _common_ lives. I therefore -present it to you, that, when depressed by the trials of life, you may -gain courage by gazing at its magic surface. I will place it in a box, in -which it must always be kept. Otherwise, it will lose all its power. - - (_Exit MME. D., R._) - -J. (_pacing back and forth_). And this is to be the end of my career! No, -not the end, for I may yet become President. I wonder what Harry, Dick, -and Walter would say, if they knew what I do. They have always thought -I put on airs; but they will, some time, realize that it was only my -natural dignity, which could not fail to assert its superiority to the -common herd around me. (_Enter MME. D., with box, which she hands to -JOE._) - -MME. D. Here is the precious mirror. (_J. takes it._) Handle it -carefully. When not in use, on no account leave it out of the box. It is -capable of producing other scenes in your life than those which I have -shown you. Whenever you wish to test it, you have but to wipe its surface -carefully, wave your hand over it three times, and it will produce your -image and surroundings more faithfully than they have yet been shown you. - -J. Thank you, madame, for your great, your inestimable gift. I will guard -it sacredly, and, when I become famous and powerful, I will reward you as -you deserve. - - (_Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE III.—_DICK’S room. JOE enters, R. He goes to table, C., - and takes up book._ - -J. (_solus_). I thought I should find a dictionary _here_. Dick told me -this morning I was the most “stultiloquent orator” he ever listened to. I -never heard the word before, but it has quite a grand sound, and I mean -to use it the first chance I get, but I want to know its meaning. (_Turns -over the leaves, and finds between them a letter not yet folded._) Hallo, -what’s this? (_Takes up letter._) A letter to Tim Bellamy. How I’d _like_ -to read it! But then it wouldn’t be just the thing. (_Glances towards -bottom of sheet._) What’s this? (_Reads._) “Now I tell you how we duped -Joe Sherman.” Why, that’s me. I must find out about that. (_Sits down -and reads._) “You know Joe is one of the most conceited boys in school. -Well, some of us fellows thought we’d have a little fun at his expense -through this failing. I heard, one evening, that a fortune-teller had -arrived at the hotel. You know I always had a weakness for having my -fortune told. So I went to see her, and finding her very pleasant and -obliging, I arranged with her to tell Joe’s fortune in a way that would -tickle his vanity. As I agreed to pay her for it, she was nothing loth -to do her part, and she did it well. Several of us fellows were in the -next room, and heard all that was said. She flattered him with glimpses -of the future which raised his opinion of himself so much that, since -then, he carries his head like a peer of the realm. By the way, these -glimpses of the future were had by looking into a seven-by-nine mirror, -which reflected pictures hung up behind Joe, and which we changed each -time he looked into it. We enjoyed, hugely, listening to the interview, -as I think we ought, for it took three of us several hours to draw the -three pictures. It was also quite a tax on the imagination, which had -to be stretched to the utmost to make Joe satisfied with his fortune. -But we were successful. I can’t help laughing when I think how carefully -he carried that little mirror home, promising to guard it sacredly. The -fortune-teller told him that when next he looked in it it would reflect -his image even more faithfully than it had yet done. I wonder what he -thought when he _did_ look in it and saw nothing but his own homely -countenance just as it was?” (_Puts back letter and closes the book._) - -J. (_solus_). Well, that’s the meanest thing I ever knew Dick to do. I -wonder who were with him; Harry and Tom most likely. But Dick was the -ringleader. He always is. The idea of my being made such a laughing -stock! (_Paces back and forth._) It was the climax of meanness. But -I’ll turn the table on them. I guess Nat and I are capable of planning -something which will pay up old scores. We’ll have a consultation -to-night, for I want it done before Dick sends his letter, so he can not -only tell the story of his exploit, but also give the sequel. (_A noise -is heard, L._) Ah, somebody’s coming; I mustn’t be seen here. - - (_Exit, R. Curtain falls._) - - - SCENE IV.—_Same as Scene II. The room is darkened. In the - background is placed a large screen, from behind which—whenever - they can escape observation—several boys peer out. Enter DICK, - R., with an open letter. He advances to R. C._ - -D. I don’t see who could have sent me this notice. The handwriting is -evidently that of a lady. Possibly it is that of Mme. Marie herself. But -the puzzle is, how she happened to send it to me. I suppose, though, -some one informed her that I liked to have my fortune told occasionally. -(_Reads._) “Madame Marie, the veiled prophetess of the East, respectfully -gives notice that she has taken up her residence at Number 27 Osborne -Street, where she will remain for seven days only, during which time -she is willing to unfold the future of those who may wish to become -acquainted with its secrets. Madame Marie will disclose the mysteries of -the past, as well as the hidden events of the future. As her stay is -of limited duration, those wishing to consult her will do well to call -at once.” (_Places note in his pocket and paces back and forth with his -hands clasped behind him._) I received this note only an hour ago, and -hastened to call upon her. But although I have been here full fifteen -minutes, I have as yet seen no one. Where _is_ Madame Marie? (_Enter MME. -MARIE, L., shrouded with a black veil._) - -MME. MARIE (_in measured tones._) She is here. What would you have? Shall -I tell you the past, or only the future? - -D. I would hear something of the past as well as of the future, if you -please, madam. - -MME. M. That is well. I will consult the oracles, and give you their -testimony. (_A pause. DICK looks expectant._) Ah, yes, the events of -our past life come crowding up before me. I see that you are credulous, -impulsive, and somewhat superstitious. - -D. Credulous and superstitious! Oh, no. - -MME. M. (_waving her hand_). Silence. It is not meet that you interrupt -the disclosures of the oracles. Superstition signifies a fondness for the -unknown and mysterious; therefore you are superstitious. You are also -credulous; for did you not believe the revelations of Madame Devineresse, -who came here a short time ago, and who is an arrant impostor? You were -the means of bringing to her a young man who wished to look into the -magic mirror. - -D. (_smiling at the recollection_). Yes, and he went away with higher -aspirations, and a feeling of inward pleasure which cannot be described. -I think praise rather than blame is due me for this deed. - -MME. M. I need not tell you of the deception which you practised on -him. Even now circumstances are at work which will bring to you direful -consequences on account of that deed. - -D. (_somewhat troubled_). What do you mean? Has he discovered the trick? - -MME. M. (_without heeding him_). I see the young man standing before a -tall, stern-looking person. The young man is talking earnestly, but I -cannot hear his words. The tall man listens attentively, and soon the -young man goes out. The tall man seems angry. Hark! he speaks: “So this -is the way the boys spend the hours they should be employed in study. No -wonder recitations are poor. But it is fortunate that I have discovered -the cause in such good time. I will make an example of this case, and -will inflict on the chief offender such a severe punishment that it will -strike terror into the hearts of the remainder of the school. What shall -it be? Ha! I have it. John, bring me a strong rope, and a couple of good -willow switches. Then call together the scholars.” - -D. (_in a fever of excitement_). Is there no way of avoiding this -punishment? - -MME. M. (_unheeding him_). I see the scholars crowding into the room, but -there is one of them who cannot be found. No one knows where he is gone. -Now a note is handed to the tall man. He nods approvingly, and tells all -the scholars to follow him. Ha, they come this way! They are at the door! -They enter! (_She starts back, and the boys from behind the screen come -noisily forward. They surround MADAME M. DICK is in a state of great -excitement._) - -NAT. Hooray for the great fortune-teller, Madame Marie! (_Pulls off her -veil and cloak, disclosing the features and figure of JOE SHERMAN._) - -J. (_comes forward smiling_). Is your fortune satisfactory, Dick? - -D. (_confused_). I don’t know. Let me see. (_Recovering himself._) Yes, -very much so. It’s turned out far different from what I expected, a -moment ago. I anticipated a more tragic and _striking_ close. (_Comes -forward, and takes JOE’S hand._) We’re quits now, Joe. I give you credit -for turning the tables on me completely. But henceforth I shall keep -clear of fortune-tellers. They are great humbugs, as I have had ample -opportunity to know. Besides, it would be far more sensible for us boys -to plan our future ourselves, and then try to live up to it, than to -listen to the idle talk of those who care for nothing but the money of -their victims. Now, Joe, I challenge you to enter the list with me, to -gain the prize offered for the greatest number of perfect recitations -during this term. What do you say? - -J. I’ll do it, Dick. I’ll _try_ for the prize, anyway. - -D. That’s it, old fellow. And whichever is successful, the progress we -have made will stimulate us to strive for still higher honors. And who -knows but we may yet gain as great distinction as was pictured to you by -Madame Devineresse, in the Magic Mirror? - - (_Curtain falls._) - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEEKING HIS FORTUNE, AND OTHER -DIALOGUES *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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