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 LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 I 
 
CLARENCE 
 
 A COMEDY IN FOU$ ACTS 
 
 BY 
 BOOTH TARKINGTON 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY N. BOOTH TARKINGTON 
 
 ALSO COPYRIGHT IN GREAT BRITAIN AND THE 
 X)MINION OF CANADA, 1921, BY N. BOOTH TARKINGTON 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 UTION : Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned 
 that "CLARENCE," being fully protected under the 
 copyright laws of the United States, Great Britain and 
 the Dominion of Canada, is subject to a royalty, and 
 anyone presenting the play without the consent of the 
 author or his authorized agents will be liable to the 
 penalties by law provided. Applications for the ama 
 teur acting rights must be made to Samuel French, 
 25 West 45th Street, New York. Applications for the 
 professional acting rights must be made to George C. 
 Tyler, New Amsterdam Theatre Building, West 42nd 
 Street, New York. 
 
 New York: 
 5AMUEL FRENCH 
 
 Publisher 
 25 West 45th Street 
 
 London : 
 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
 
 26 Southampton Street 
 
 Strand 
 
THE SCENES 
 
 ACT. I. The anteroom to Mr. Wheeler s private 
 office, New York. 
 
 ACT II. Living room of Mr. Wheeler s home, 
 Englewood, N. J. 
 
 ACT III. The same. That evening. 
 ACT IV. The same. Next morning. 
 
CLARENCE 
 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE. The time is any day, now-a-days. A room 
 in the President s suite of offices of an im 
 pressive financial Institution on the top floor 
 of the Institution s building in Nassau Street, 
 New York. This is not a business play; but 
 the details follow actuality. There are no maps 
 on the walls, no signs on the doors, no papers 
 on the table, there is no token of business, or of 
 any other form of activity. There is almost 
 nothing in the room, which is in two shades of 
 brown a "dull-finish" wood paneling up to 
 seven or eight feet on all four walls, and above 
 that a "dull- finish" plaster. The back wall is 
 broken by a door c., the R. wall has a fireplace 
 c., and a mantel of brown wood, in type with 
 
 the paneling, with a clock upon it. There is a 
 second door; it is in the R. wall c. 
 
 Against the back wall are two high-backed 
 settles, or upholstered benches with backs, one 
 up R. the other up L V flanking the door c., and 
 another such settle is placed at right angles with 
 the R. wall, and just up of the fireplace R.C. An 
 other settle is placed at right angles to this one, 
 and facing the fire, forming an L shape nook. 
 These settles are uniformly upholstered in dull 
 green stuff. There is a chair, similarly up 
 holstered, near the fireplace, down R. there is a 
 5 
 
CLARENCE 
 
 chair at a small table up L. The table is of dull 
 wood; plain and ex-pensive with nothing on it. 
 Another chair, similar L.C. A fire burns in the 
 fireplace, but no coal-hod or fire-irons are seen. 
 When this fire is tended, a person in uniform 
 brings the implements with him and takes them 
 away with him when he goes. (As such a per 
 son] however, will not be shown in the play, the 
 matter could be explained to the critics between 
 the acts, in the lobby of the theatre.) 
 
 No one is seen for a moment or two. Then 
 there is the sound of a distant buzzer. A mo 
 ment or two after this, MRS. MARTYN enters up 
 L. She is a "distinguished looking," intelligent 
 woman of middle-age, very quietly dressed in 
 black, not a new dress; she wears glasses. She 
 has no hat, and her air is that of a person at 
 home. She goes directly to the chair at the 
 table up R. and sits, letting her hands rest in her 
 lap, her manner patiently expectant, as by a 
 familiar routine. 
 
 Several moments elapse; then WHEELER en 
 ters c. He is in later middle age, a thoughtful 
 man-of-affairs large affairs. His hair is still 
 plentiful, but not wavy, though there is a some 
 what careless front lock that curves down 
 enough for a cartoonist to seize in a caricature. 
 He is healthy-looking and robust, but his head 
 and shoulders stoop a little. He wears glasses; 
 his "sack" suit is of dark, rough material; his 
 collar is winged in front, his tie is dark with a 
 figure, or a diagonal stripe. He does not wear 
 a white false collar with his waistcoat. He has 
 a short mustache, of course, and is preoccupied. 
 He comes in neither briskly nor languidly, and 
 goes to the fire; where, not stooping, he warms 
 his hands, and chafes the palm of each with its 
 own fingers. He greets MRS. MARTYN as he is 
 
CLARENCE 7 
 
 crossing from the door to the fire. This is a 
 daily program and there is no liveliness about it. 
 
 WHEELER. Good morning, Mrs. Martyn. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. (Placidly) Howd ya-do, Mr. 
 :Wheeler. (Then, as he warms his hands, WHEELER 
 goes R.) I suppose it must be cold, motoring in 
 from the country these mornings. 
 
 WHEELER. (With preoccupied geniality) No; 
 there s a heater in the car. It s just habit for a man 
 to go to a fireplace. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. I hope Mrs. Wheeler s cold is 
 better. 
 
 WHEELER. (At fireplace R v faintly surprised, ab 
 sently) I don t think my wife has a cold. (Frowns 
 a little) 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. (Explaining) The other day. 
 when she came to take you out to lunch I got the 
 impression she said she wasn t very well. 
 
 WHEELER. (Thoughtfully, with a very slight note 
 of annoyance) Oh, she s well enough, I think. May 
 have been disturbed about something. (As he speaks 
 he has crossed to c.) Have I appointments with 
 any of those people waiting? (Crosses to door i*) 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. No ; I haven t made any appoint 
 ments at all for you this morning. At one o clock 
 you go to Mr. Milly s lunch for the Secretary of the 
 Interior; you have a directors meeting at three 
 the Unity and the Pitch Pine consultation at three- 
 thirty. (She does not consult a notebook, nor dis 
 play a pencil or fountain pen.) Mr. Lindsay and 
 Mr. Vance will do for all the people in the ante 
 room. (She seems to stop; he turns to exit L. Then, 
 with a faint frown and half -smile, she adds) Ex 
 cept one, perhaps. 
 
 WHEELER. Who s that? 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. (Beginning) It s a soldier who 
 
8 CLARENCE 
 
 WHEELER. In a private s uniform rather a sick 
 ly-looking fellow? 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Yes. 
 
 WHEELER. I noticed him waiting out there yes 
 terday too. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. They sent him to Mr. Vance, but 
 he wouldn t tell what he wanted ; said he had to see 
 you. Of course Mr. Vance told him that was im 
 possible; he didn t even have a letter of introduc 
 tion. 
 
 WHEELER. (Briefly, carelessly) Oh, well, he s a 
 soldier; see what he wants. (Turns to go) 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Very well. (WHEELER starts to 
 go out L., abruptly thinks better of it and halts.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Frowning) Oh uh (Hesitates 
 
 momentarily) It s possible my daughter and her 
 governess, Miss Pinney, will come in town this morn 
 ing to see me. Miss Pinney spoke to me just as I 
 was leaving the house, and I understood her to say 
 
 I m not just sure I caught her meaning (His 
 
 manner is the least bit confused; MRS. MARTYN 
 looks surprised. He continues) She spoke in a low 
 voice, for some reason . . . 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Your daughter did? 
 
 WHEELER. (Very slightly uncomfortable) No, 
 my daughter s governess uh Miss Pinney. I un 
 derstood her to say that she wanted to see me in 
 private. ... I think she meant she wanted to talk 
 with me about my daughter. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. I understand. 
 
 WHEELER. I think she implied that she and my 
 daughter might come in town and turn up here at 
 the office . . . (Leaves this tentative.) 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. I ll look out for them. 
 
 WHEELER. Thanks. (Exits L.) 
 
 (MRS. MARTYN sits looking thoughtfully after him, 
 for a moment or two, then rises and moves 
 
CLARENCE 9 
 
 toward the door up L. Just before she reaches 
 it, it is rather impetuously thrown open and 
 MRS. WHEELER enters in a state of controlled 
 excitement. She is a pretty young woman, 
 WHEELER S second wife . . . wearing a fash 
 ionable dark "street dress" and hat, with a veil 
 and fur coat. MRS. MARTYN utters an excla 
 mation of surprise at sight of her.) - 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Why, Mrs. Wheeler (Moves 
 
 as if to go to door L.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (At door c v checking her quick 
 ly) Good morning, Mrs. Martyn. Don t disturb 
 my husband, please. How long- has he been here ? 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. He just came. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. Has Bobby been here? 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. (Puzzled) No. I thought he 
 was away at school. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (With a slight grimness) He s 
 been home for several days, and he s not going back 
 at least not to that school. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Mr. Wheeler hasn t mentioned 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (With a strained smile) Mr. 
 Wheeler didn t mention that he was expecting any 
 of us here this morning? 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. I m sure your coming in town so 
 soon after he did will be a surprise to him, Mrs. 
 Wheeler. Won t you let me ... 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Quickly) No. Not now. I 
 really don t want to disturb him, especially as he s 
 probably just got to concentrating on his work. 
 (Turning to door up c.) I m going to run along 
 and do some things I came in town for. (Turning 
 with her hand on the knob of the door up c. and 
 speaking with an anxiety she seeks to veil) I don t 
 suppose he s expecting any of the rest of the family? 
 (Pauses an instant. MRS. MARTYN follows MRS. 
 
T0 CLARENCE 
 
 WHEELER up c.) Not my daughter or her gov 
 erness Miss Pinney? 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. (Beginning impulsively) Why 
 
 (Checks herself, then moves toward R.) Won t 
 
 you let me ask him, Mrs. Wheeler? I m sure he d 
 want to ... 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Quickly) Oh, please don t 
 
 (Comes down.) It s one of the things I pride my 
 self on in being the wife of an important man; I 
 don t interfere with his work ! ( Goes up) Please 
 don t mention my ... my dropping in. I just 
 thought maybe I d find Bobby here. (Nods, then 
 exits c. A moment later, the door L. opens and 
 WHEELER appears there, his expression rather dis 
 turbed.) 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Very well, Mrs. Wheeler. (Closes 
 door.) 
 
 WHEELER. Was that my wife here? 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Yes ; she . . . 
 
 WHEELER. I thought I heard her voice. 
 
 MRS. M. She wouldn t let me disturb you. She 
 wanted to know if your son had been here. 
 
 WHEELER. (Reflectively) So! Ask Mr. Lind- 
 sey to telephone. I shall not be able to attend the 
 luncheon party for the Secretary of the Interior. 
 
 MRS. M. Very well. 
 
 (WHEELER retires, closing the door L. MRS. MAR 
 TYN turns toward door up c., when it is again 
 somewhat impetuously thrown open and another 
 member of the WHEELER family appears, also 
 under the influence of excitement. He is hov 
 ering on the elder side of sixteen; his hair is to 
 the mode of New York, according to the inter 
 pretation of his years, and so is his costume, 
 which includes an overcoat. He also wears a 
 pair of pale spats t too large for his shoes he is 
 
CLARENCE n 
 
 Strongly conscious of them at times, and also 
 of a large hook-handled cane, too long for him. 
 He removes his hat at sight of MRS. MARTYN. 
 At all times he is deathly serious; and speaks 
 quickly; when he doesn t stammer.. This is 
 BOBBY.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Hastily as he enters) Howd y do. Lis 
 ten. Look, Mrs. Martyn, have any the fam ly been 
 here yet? 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Is it Bobby ? Bobby Wheeler ? 
 
 BOBBY. (Coming down) Yes m, I m Robert. 
 
 BOBBY. Didn t you know me? 
 
 MRS. M. You grow so fast! The last time I saw 
 you you d just got your first long trousers. 
 
 BOBBY. Well, I do grow a bit ; but my first long 
 trousers were practically a life-time ago. 
 
 MRS. M. Yes. A couple of years at least! 
 
 BOBBY. Listen ! I m glad you re still here, Mrs. 
 Martyn, after all these years. 
 
 MRS. M. Oh, yes ; I have been here practically a 
 life-time. By the way, your mother was just here. 
 Didn t you meet her as she went out? 
 
 BOBBY. (Hastily) No, I didn t. I guess she 
 came in her limousine. I came in on the ten- 
 eleven. They were comin* in the tourin -car. Lis 
 ten. What / want to find out ; have they been here 
 yet? 
 
 MRS. M. Who? 
 
 BOBBY. Why, my sister Cora and (Sud 
 denly gulps) . . . look! I mean my sister Cora 
 and . . . (Gulps again) . . . and Violent. I don t 
 mean Violent . . . (Hurrying on in helpless con 
 fusion, but with abysmal gravity) Listen ! I mean 
 her and Cora. Look ! I mean Cora and Miss Pin- 
 ney. Miss Pinney. Cora s governess, Miss Pinney 
 Pinney. 
 
12 CLARENCE 
 
 MRS. M. (Shaking her head wondering) No. 
 they haven t been here. 
 
 BOBBY. Well, they ll be here pretty soon then. I 
 don t want my father to know I m here if it s con 
 venient. (Crosses to R. Goes to the fireplace. MRS. 
 M. sits up R.) We haven t got along too well lately 
 and besides I took his spats. Look, do you suppose 
 he ll care ? He s never had em on ; I don t think he 
 likes to wear em. It s right, isn t it? I mean you 
 don t haf to be very old to wear spats, do you? 
 
 MRS. M. (Gravely) Oh, I don t think so. 
 
 BOBBY. (With added earnestness) Look; they 
 haven t gone out in New York, have they? I been 
 away at school for practick ly a lifetime; and I 
 haven t had a good chance yet to see what they re 
 wearing. 
 
 MRS. M. I didn t know you were interested in 
 "what they re wearing." The last time I saw 
 you . . . 
 
 BOBBY. Well, I said that was about a lifetime 
 ago ! Look ; I used to go around like a scarecrow, 
 but you can t do that all the time because, look ; why, 
 how do you look if you do? Do you think it s right 
 to carry a stick over your arm like this ? (Hooks it 
 on his arm) With shammy gloves? Or do you 
 think you ought to kind of lean on it? 
 
 MRS. M. (Gravely) Oh, I d lean on it. 
 
 BOBBY. (Nervously) Look ; I think a single eye 
 glass may be all right, but look, I think it s kind of 
 silly to wear one, don t you ? 
 
 MRS. M. I suppose it all depends. 
 
 BOBBY. (Fumbling nervously in his waistcoat) 
 Look ; I guess it wouldn t be any harm to own one, 
 would it? Another thing I was goin to ask some 
 body, well, f r instance, s pose I found a lens that 
 dropped out of a pair of somebody s spectacles, lis 
 ten: Do you think it would damage your eyes any 
 if you had a hole put in it for a string and kind of 
 
CLARENCE 13 
 
 practiced with it in your own room ? What I mean ; 
 look, if you don t wear it all the time it wouldn t 
 damage your eyes any, would it ? I guess it wouldn t . 
 look too well to have it on when well, look, what \ 
 I mean . . . \ 
 
 (There is a tapping upon the door c., BOBBY goes/4^ 
 adjusting attire, then adjusts attire generally in 
 some agitation. Two pretty girls are revealed 
 in the doorway. The elder, VIOLET Miss PIN- 
 NEY the governess, is well dressed, in dark 
 winter clothes, a hat, wrap, and veil; she is about 
 twenty-two or twenty-three. The younger, 
 CORA, is a piquant little beauty, a year one side 
 or the other of her brother s age; she is gaily 
 in the fashion, being fond of color, and is 
 equipped to have driven to town in an open car. 
 She speaks cheerfully, as soon as the door is 
 opened.) 
 
 CORA. Hello, Mrs. Martyn! Oh, Violet, look! 
 There s Bobby! (They come in.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Coming down to MRS. MARTYN. Seri 
 ously, as they enter) Mrs. Martyn, did Mr. Wheel 
 er say . . . 
 
 MRS. M. (Going R.) Yes. He s expecting you, I 
 think. (Exits R. behind table.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Nervous) Violet . . . (Gulps.) 
 
 CORA. (Turning. Crossly) What do you mean 
 calling Miss Pinney "Violet"? You ve only known 
 her these four days since you got fired from this last 
 school, and certainly . . . 
 
 BOBBY. (Interrupting sternly) You show a little 
 delicacy, please! (Crosses to VIOLET. With emo 
 tion to VIOLET, who stands looking at the door L. 
 in serious expectancy, biting her lip) Vio Violent 
 . . . Violet ... I only ask you to show me at 
 least this much consideration that you would cer 
 tainly observe to a mere dog ! 
 
i 4 CLARENCE 
 
 VIOLET. (Turning quickly) I m not going to 
 speak to your father about you at all, Mr. 
 
 Wheeler. 
 
 CORA. "Mister 1r ~WheelerT ~Mtss Pinney, do call 
 the child "Bobby"! 
 
 BOBBY. (Sternly to her) Haven t you got any 
 sense at all? (Goes up c. MRS. MARTYN enters 
 quickly L.) 
 
 MRS. M. He will see you and Cora now, Miss 
 Pinney. 
 
 VIOLET. I wanted to see him alone first. (Goes 
 over to MRS. M.) 
 
 MRS. M. (Nodding) That s all right, I m sure. 
 
 VIOLET. Thank you. (Exits L. MRS. MARTYN 
 at the same time exits up c. CORA goes across to 
 the door L. and listens.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Sitting L.C., bitterly) That s a woman s 
 honor, that is ! Eavesdropping ! 
 
 CORA. (Coming away from the door, crosses to 
 c.) Door s too thick to hear, anyhow. That s papa s 
 stick. The idea of a child of your age oh ! (Shout 
 ing) Look! (Pointing) Those are papa s spats, 
 too ! Well, aren t you ashamed of yourself ! 
 
 BOBBY. (Haughtily) You tend to your own petty 
 affairs. 
 
 CORA. (Glancing ruefully R.j Golly! I wish 
 they were petty ! She s come to tell papa on me ! 
 
 BOBBY. What about? 
 
 CORA. (Coldly) You tend to your own petty 
 affairs. 
 
 BOBBY. Whyn t she discipline you herself ? 
 
 CORA. She thinks I m getting so dissolute some 
 thing in the father-line has to be done. She ll get 
 into a scrape, all right. 
 
 BOBBY. (Incredulous) How will she? 
 
 CORA. Mama ll have a fit if she finds out about 
 her coming here to papa s office. 
 
 BOBBY. Why will she? 
 
CLARENCE 15 
 
 CORA. (Cryptic, pursing her lips) School boys 
 needn t ask too many questions. 
 
 BOBBY. (Sharply) I m not a school boy! 
 
 CORA. (Earnestly. On table) No; that s so! 
 /Bobby, what did they fire you for? Papa wouldn t 
 tell me. 
 
 BOBBY. (Crosses to CORA at c., loudly) I want 
 to know why will Miss Pinney get in a scrr.pe. 
 
 CORA. (Lightly) Oh mama thinks Miss Pin- 
 ney s too young and pretty to be a governess, any 
 how! 
 
 BOBBY. (Growling, not comprehending) What 
 you talkin about? 
 
 CORA. Of course I m not goin to tell mama we 
 made this secret excursion to tell on me and discuss 
 how my character s to be saved . . . but when she 
 finds out . . . whoopee! 
 
 BOBBY. Why can t you even talk so a man can 
 understand ? 
 
 CORA. A "man"? 
 
 BOBBY. (Sternly) Never mind! (Anxiously, 
 comes forward) Are you sure it s you and not me, 
 they re talkin about ? 
 
 CORA. ( Not sympathetically) Why, you aren t 
 in any new trouble, are you ? Not in just these few 
 days since you got sent home? 
 
 BOBBY. (Loftily, severely) Never mind, I tell 
 you. 
 
 CORA. (Goes to BOBBY at c. Curiously) Yester 
 day I heard you saying something to Miss Pinney 
 .about Delia, that Irish housemaid at our house. 
 
 BOBBY. (Breathing wildly) Look here! Were 
 you listening at the lib ary keyhole ? 
 
 CORA. No . . at the sun-room window. What 
 were you telling Miss Pinney about Delia? I only 
 heard you say something that sounded just horrible. 
 
 BOBBY. (Fiercely) What was it? 
 
 CORA. I heard you say something about this house- 
 
16 CLARENCE 
 
 maid, Delia, and then you said "a mere passing 
 fancy isn t the love of a lifetime," and then mama 
 called me. What on earth did that have to do with 
 Delia? Is she the love of your lifetime? 
 
 BOBBY. (Bitterly) If I had a daughter like you. 
 do you know what I d do with her ? 
 
 CORA. (Gaily) Feed her on sugar and spice? 
 (BOBBY turns and goes on to settle. Moving in a 
 half dancing mockery) What are little girls made 
 of? Sugar and spice! What are little boys made 
 of? Rats and snails! And puppy-do gs tails! 
 (Curtsies and pirouettes, as he flings himself down 
 on the settle by the fireplace, desperate with exas 
 peration. She hums dance-music.) 
 
 BOBBY. (With distended nostrils) You tend to 
 your own petty affairs, I tell you ! ( The opening of 
 the door c. by MRS. MARTYN interrupts CORA S con 
 tinued evolutions and humming. MRS. M. doesn t 
 quite close the door behind her f but stands tentatively 
 prepared to open it again.) 
 
 MRS. M. (At c.) Do you children mind if I see 
 somebody for your father in here? It s a soldier 
 that s been waiting two days to see him; he seems 
 rather queer; and there are so many people in the 
 anterooms it s hard to talk out there. 
 
 CORA. Why, this is your place for seeing people, 
 isn t it, Mrs. Martyn? 
 
 MRS. M. (Smiling) Not when Mr. Wheeler s 
 own family . . . 
 
 CORA. (Interrupting earnestly) Do go ahead. I 
 want to study how you do it so / can be a woman 
 of affairs some day. 
 
 BOBBY. (R. CORA R.C. BOBBY, pessimistic about 
 this) Oh, murder! 
 
 (CoRA goes to the settle R., but kneels on it, looking 
 over the back of it, facing L. BOBBY is on the 
 other settle, unseen.) 
 
CLARENCE 17 
 
 MRS. M. (Opening the door and speaking to off 
 up R.) Step in here, please. 
 
 (THE SOLDIER shambles in slowly, his hat in his 
 hand. He is very sallow; his hair is in some 
 disorder; he stoops, not only at the shoulders, 
 but from the waist, sagging forward, and, for 
 a time, to the left side; then, for a time, to the 
 right; his legs "give" slightly at the knees, and 
 he limps, somewhat vaguely. He wears the 
 faded old shabby khaki uniform of a private of 
 the Quartermaster s department, and this uni 
 form was a bad misfit for him when it was new. 
 A large pair of spectacles shield his blinking 
 eyes; his hands are brown; and altogether he is 
 an unimposing figure. CORA watches him close 
 ly, as he comes down c. and stands, turning the 
 rim of his army hat in his hands with an air of 
 patience. He seems unaware of anybody, and 
 continues so throughout the next speeches. This 
 is CLARENCE. MRS. MARTYN goes to the table 
 R. and sits.) 
 
 MRS. M. I am Mr. Wheeler s secretary . . . 
 
 CORA. (Interrupting gravely) She s papa s con 
 fidential secretary. It s just the same as talking to 
 papa. 
 
 MRS. M. We didn t want to keep you waiting 
 any longer, when there s no opportunity . . . 
 
 CORA. (Interrupting her impulsively, but not wn- 
 sympathetically) What makes you sag so much to 
 one side? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Turning his head to look at her sol 
 emnly) It s my liver. 
 
 CORA. (Blankly) Oh! (Crosses to settle.) 
 
 MRS. M. (Raising her voice a little emphatically, 
 to put an end to CORA S talking) You see, Mr. 
 Wheeler himself can t see everybody; and as you 
 
i8 CLARENCE 
 
 haven t even a letter to him, wouldn t it be the sim 
 plest thing for you to state your business to me? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Hesitating rather forlornly) Wuw 
 . . . well ... I haven t any business . . . ex 
 actly. 
 
 MRS. M. (Dryly) Well, your desires, then. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Adding a melancholy doggedness to 
 his former manner) Well I thought I d better see 
 him. 
 
 MRS. M. (With a thought) Have you ever met 
 Mr. Wheeler? 
 
 CLARENCE. Not not yet. 
 
 MRS. M. (Frowning) Of course we want to 
 show consideration to any soldier . . . (As she 
 speaks she takes a notebook and a fountain peri from 
 a drawer of the desk) What is your name, please? 
 
 CLARENCE. Clarence Smum. (Bang drawer on 
 Smum. He does not actually say Smum"; this 
 word represents MRS. M/s impression of what she 
 hears. His voice disappears casually, as it were. 
 during the pronounciation of his surname, though he 
 pronounces "Clarence" distinctly enough.) 
 
 CORA. (Speaking at the same time so that her 
 voice blurs his) I do think . . . Clarence is a poetic 
 name ! Some people don t, but I think it is. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. (A little embarrassed) Clarence 
 what, please? 
 
 (CORA, after blurring CLARENCE S reply by speaking 
 at the same time as CLARENCE, she continues 
 the thought of the preceding speech.) 
 
 CORA. There used to be Dukes of Clarence in 
 history, you know, very wealthy people that the 
 King drowned in a barrel of cider or something. 
 There could hardly be a nicer name than Clarence, 
 no matter what people say. (CoRA still in the same 
 position) Were you in the war? (Her voice is 
 eager and serious.) 
 
CLARENCE 19 
 
 CLARENCE. (Looking at her again) I was in the 
 army. (Non-committal.) 
 
 (BOBBY rises and looks over the settle at him.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Rises, sternly, in a low voice) You 
 don t know him. 
 
 CORA. (Quickly) It s right to speak to soldiers. 
 (Appealing to CLARENCE,) Isn t it? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Solemnly) If you . . . don t mind 
 . . . what they say ... back. 
 
 CORA. (To BOBBY ) I told you. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Now, if you please, Mister . . . 
 
 ( She mumbles after this, covering her difficulty with 
 his last name, though she frowns and glances at her 
 book as if for help) 
 
 CLARENCE. (In his former manner) Well, I 
 thought I d better see him. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. If you re looking for a position 
 I m sorry. We ve taken on more returned soldiers, 
 really, than we have places for. It would only waste 
 your own time . . . 
 
 CLARENCE. Well I thought I d better 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. (Bothered) I know Mr. Wheeler 
 
 would never decline to see you, but (Looking at 
 
 book) your first opportunity, even for a few min 
 utes, wouldn t come until about Wednesday of next 
 week. 
 
 CORA. (Going to MRS. MARTYN at L. Impulsive- 
 ly) Oh, yes, it could ! When Miss Pinney gets 
 through telling about me in there, I ll cheerfully give 
 this soldier my time with papa ! 
 
 MRS. M. (Bothered) My dear, that wouldn t 
 
 CORA. (Quickly. Crosses to R. of table) Why, 
 yes, it would! It d be the best thing that could 
 happen for everybody ! (Determinedly) I actually 
 
20 CLARENCE 
 
 insist on it, Mrs. Martyn. (To CLARENCE,) It s all 
 right. Why don t you sit down ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Solemnly) I will. (He sits near 
 R.C. With great care, as if the action might disjoint 
 some internal connection, MRS. M. shuts drawer.) 
 
 CORA. Do you have to take pretty good care of 
 yourself like that? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Nodding slightly) I do. 
 
 r 
 
 READY Buzzer. 
 
 CORA. (With great interest) Do you wear spec 
 tacles because your eyes got gassed ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Slowly) No. They say the liver 
 affects the eyes very much. 
 
 BUZZER. 
 
 (At this MRS. MARTYN gives up. She throws the 
 book back in the drawer and closes the latter 
 sharply. Then, in response to a buzzer off, she 
 rises and goes out decisively c.) 
 
 (CORA is profoundly interested in CLARENCE S dis 
 closures. She walks in a semi-circle around him 
 to up R V looking at him all the time, her ex 
 pression concentrated and serious; and still 
 looking at him, she drags MRS. MARTYN S chair 
 from the table to near him, and seats herself. 
 BOBBY, meanwhile, kneels on the settle to face 
 CLARENCE.,) 
 
 CORA. How did it feel when you first enlisted ? 
 
 CLARENCE. It felt all right. There was nothing 
 the matter with it then. 
 
 CORA. (Hastily) I don t mean your liver. I 
 mean how did you feel when you first enlisted ? 
 
 CLARENCE. I was drafted. 
 
 CORA. Were you just a private all the time? 
 
CLARENCE 21 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes, fell the time after I was drafted, 
 I was. 
 
 BOBBY. I hope there ll be another war in about a 
 couple o years or so. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Simply) You want another war? 
 
 BOBBY. You bet ! (He is severe.) 
 
 CLARENCE. So you could be in it ? 
 
 BOBBY. Yes, sir! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Gravely) I wish you d been in this 
 one. What would you do ? 
 
 BOBBY. Flying Corps. That s the life! 
 
 CORA. (Eagerly to CLARENCE ) What did you 
 do in the war ? 
 
 CLARENCE. ( With a faint note of pathos) I drove 
 a mule. 
 
 CORA. (Astounded) What in the world did you 
 do that for? 
 
 CLARENCE. Somebody had to. 
 
 CORA. But what for? 
 
 CLARENCE. They won t go where you want em 
 to unless you drive em. 
 
 BOBBY. Did you meet Major Brooks-Carmel in 
 France? He s a cousin of ours. 
 
 CLARENCE. No. I didn t meet him. 
 
 CORA. Did you meet Lieutenant Whitcomb? 
 
 CLARENCE. What was his first name? 
 
 CORA. Hobart. Lieutenant Sir Hobart Whit- 
 comb really. He was English in the Royal Flying 
 Corps. 
 
 CLARENCE. No. I didn t meet him. 
 
 BOBBY. Dfd-jrotTmeet Captain Arthur McKin- 
 ley? 
 
 "CLARENCE. ^Won tJ&VifeJ did. 
 CORA. (Seriously hoping ~to establish a point of 
 social contact) .Xln.ltligli. Commander Larcher? 
 (CLARENCE shakes his heacTf" Or Captain T. P. 
 Schuyler of Englewood? (He shakes his head) 
 Let s see ... (Discou*a&edr-sbe~~cQ nsiders) Well, 
 
22 CLARENCE 
 
 I don t know him myself, but did you meet General 
 Pershing ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Shaking his head, seriously) Gen 
 eral Pershing ? No. 
 
 CORA. Where do you live when you re home ? 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, nowhere precisely. 
 
 BOBBY. Where was your home before the war ? 
 
 CLARENCE. It was wherever I was boarding. 
 
 CORA. How interesting ! Where did your mother 
 and father bring you up ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Simply) I was brought up by some 
 cannibals. 
 
 CORA. Oh, my goodness ! When you were 
 little? 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes. That is, my nurse was a can 
 nibal. 
 
 BOBBY. My gosh! 
 
 CORA. (Eagerly) Didn t your nurse ever try to 
 eat you? 
 
 CLARENCE. (As with scrupulous exactness) No 
 . . . not me. 
 
 CORA. But didn t they ever try to eat your 
 fam lyf 
 
 CLARENCE. No not my family. 
 
 CORA. Well, who did 
 
 BOBBY. (Annoyed, to CORA) You don t haf to 
 ask so many personal questions, do you ? 
 
 CORA. (Earnestly and confidently to CLARENCE,) 
 It s right to be personal to soldiers, isn t it so as to 
 look after their welfare? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Mildly) It s very public-spirited. 
 
 CORA. (Impulsively) I think our American uni 
 form is so becoming, don t you ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Faintly, plaintive) Do you mean 
 you think I d look worse in other clothes ? 
 
 CORA. (Untouched) No, but I would like to 
 know why you drove a mule. 
 
 CLARENCE. I didn t select that branch of the ser- 
 
CLARENCE 23 
 
 vice myself. (A faint emphasis on "select") 
 
 CORA. You mean somebody told you to? 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes; I thought it was better to do 
 -what they said. 
 
 CORA. (Earnestly curious) Did you have to 
 learn to swear at the mules to make them obey ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Thoughtfully) No. No, I didn t. 
 
 CORA. (Brightly eager, rises and goes over to c.) 
 Were you ever wounded ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Grimly) Yes, I was. 
 
 CORA. (Excitedly to BOBBY ) Oh, he was wound 
 ed! (To CLARENCE J Where was it? 
 
 READY VIOLET. 
 
 CLARENCE. At target practice ! (His voice breaks 
 to falsetto on the word "target," so extreme is his 
 resentment of this shaft of destiny.) 
 
 CORA. (Large-eyed) Was it artillery? 
 
 BOBBY. (In despair of her intelligence) Oh, my ! 
 Artillery ! (Throws up his hands and turns away. 
 CLARENCE looks at him mildly, then at CORA) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Grimly) It was. It was artillery./ 
 
 *^J-> 
 
 READ Y VIOLET! 
 
 CORA. (Moving toward him in her excitement) 
 Oh, that must have hurt. 
 
 f BOBBY again manifests his opinion of her by a repe 
 tition of his gesture. At the same time, the 
 door L. opens and VIOLET, gravely concerned, 
 somewhat severe, stands there.) 
 
 VIOLET. Cora. (CLARENCE rises carefully.) 
 Your father will speak to you now, Cora. 
 
 CORA. (Rising gloomily) Oh, murder ! (To 
 CLARENCE ) Here s where / get wounded! (She 
 goes out L,.) 
 
24 CLARENCE 
 
 (BOBBY crosses to R.C. VIOLET follows CORA, clos 
 ing the door. CLARENCE again carefully sits.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Quickly) See here 
 
 ( BOBBY approaches CLARENCE, bringing forth a box 
 of small, gold-tipped cigarettes.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Spaciously, referring to his sister) See 
 here. (Puts a cigarette, unlighted, in his own mouth, 
 and brings forth a patent lighter from a pocket, at 
 the same time offering, with his free hand, the box 
 to CLARENCE ) Have a coffin-nail? (He likes this 
 reckless word.) 
 
 (CLARENCE bends his head over the box, peering at 
 the cigarettes through his spectacles.) 
 
 CLARENCE. No, no, thanks. 
 
 BOBBY. (Hopefully) Oh, you better ! 
 
 CLARENCE. I believe not. 
 
 BOBBY. (Disappointed) Don t you smoke? 
 
 CLARENCE. I believe I won t here. You see, I 
 want to make a good impression on your father. 
 
 BOBBY. (Glancing R V disappointed) We ll I 
 guess I ll haf to give up the idea. (Puts up his 
 materials and sits gloomily.) The family don t know 
 I smoke yet, and if I couldn t lay the smell to some 
 body else father might make trouble. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Looking at him without gratitude) 
 I see. 
 
 BOBBY. (Producing a pair of dice) Ever roll 
 the bones ? (Rolls them at his feet) 
 
 CLARENCE. I doubt if we d better. 
 
 BOBBY. (Puzzled, as he picks up the dice) Don t 
 you shoot em? I thought everybody in the army 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, for one thing, I haven t any 
 money. 
 
CLARENCE 25 
 
 BOBBY. Blow in all your pay ? 
 
 CLARENCE. No; not any. They re still saving 
 mine for me in Washington. 
 
 BOBBY. (Innocently) Why, I didn t know they 
 did that. Do they keep it for you ? 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes, they usually keep it for you 
 Until you don t need it. 
 
 BOBBY. (Gravely important) I ll tell you some- 
 p n, if you ll keep it to yourself. (Showing the dice.) 
 This is what I got fired for from my last school, 
 too. I ve been fired from three schools for it. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Frowning) Why, that s just au 
 tocracy ! 
 
 BOBBY. (Pleased, but gloomy) I can t seem to 
 quit it. Once I get a habit fastened on me I can t 
 seem to give it up. Listen : you been in the army. 
 I d like to ask your advice about somep n. (Gets up 
 thoughtfully, facing CLARENCE,) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Gravely) I hope you ve come to 
 the right man. 
 
 BOBBY. Listen ; I d like to ask you because, look, 
 you been in the army and I can tell by your conver 
 sation you been around a good deal. (Sits) Listen, 
 do you think when a man s taken advantage of a 
 woman s inexperience and kissed her, he s bound to 
 go ahead and marry her even if he s in love with 
 another woman? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Gravely) Did you kiss somebody? 
 
 BOBBY. Yes. I wouldn t again ; not her, I mean. 
 
 CLARENCE. Was it against her will? 
 
 BOBBY. She claims so. (No especial emphasis on 
 claims) 
 
 CLARENCE. Does she claim you ought to marry 
 her? 
 
 BOBBY. She says if I don t, she ll tell the whole 
 family, because, look, the person that was engaged 
 to her saw this thing happen, and he got mad at her, 
 and she says I either got to pay her damages or run 
 
26 CLARENCE 
 
 off and marry her. Well, I haven t any money for 
 damages. I wouldn t tell this to everybody. 
 
 CLARENCE. No ; I wouldn t, either. Who did you 
 tell? 
 
 BOBBY. Well, I told Cora s governess, Miss Pin 
 ney that just came in here for her. (Gestures to 
 door L.) 
 
 CLARENCE. What did you tell Miss Pinney for? 
 
 BOBBY. Well, I told her her because, listen, this 
 other affair, it was just a passing fancy, but, look. 
 I think when something higher and more spiritual 
 comes into your life, why, look, you re just hardly 
 responsible for what you do, don t you? 
 
 CLARENCE. You mean when the higher love 
 comes, then you get really wild ? 
 
 BOBBY. (Earnestly emphatic) That s it. You 
 see when this first thing happened I d hardly even 
 noticed what Miss Pinney looked like. 
 
 CLARENCE. Miss Pinney is the spiritual ? 
 
 (Leaves it unfinished, and BOBBY nods solemnly) 
 
 And this other person that has a claim on you 
 
 (BOBBY shudders.) 
 
 BOBBY. It s horrible! Look, you been in the 
 army and everything, what would you dp about it? 
 
 CLARENCE. I d go away to school again. 
 
 BOBBY. Yes, but look, when you ve been fired 
 from three prominent schools, you get kind of a 
 reputation, and, listen, it s kind of hard to get you 
 in. Father s already had quite a rebuff from one 
 Principal and he says himself I m about as big a 
 responsibility for him as anyone in the family. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Glancing L. uncomfortably) He 
 does? 
 
 BOBBY. Oh, yes, and besides, well, look, I don t 
 want to go way just when this other thing s hap 
 pened to me. It s the biggest thing in my life. 
 
 CLARENCE. You want to stay near Miss Pinney 
 (assenting). 
 
CLARENCE 27 
 
 BOBBY. (Simply) Sure. Wouldn t you? 
 CLARENCE. (Glancing at door L.J Yes, I think 
 I should. (Then a smile.) 
 
 BOBBY. Because, listen, if I don t, why, look 
 
 (He is interrupted by the entry of CORA, L. She 
 enters quickly and decisively, being in a state of 
 controlled fury. She is almost oblivious of 
 CLARENCE and BOBBY, as she strides to Ihe chair 
 she has formerly occupied and flings herself 
 down in it. Again CLARENCE rises painfully 
 and sits.) 
 
 CORA. (As she enters and not pausing when she 
 sits) They can go to thunder! If two people ever 
 made me tired, it s papa and Miss Pinney! Puri 
 tans! 
 
 BOBBY. (Superior) Oh, they got through with 
 you pretty quick, considerin what you prob ly been 
 doin . 
 
 CORA. (Sharply) They re not through with me. 
 They re "consultin " ; inventin the "discipline" 
 they ll haf to put me through ! Narrow-minded 
 
 BOBBY. (Quickly, shrewdly, and severely inter 
 rupting) I b lieve you been up to somep n again 
 with that ole grass-widower! 
 
 CORA. (Sharply) He s not old! 
 
 BOBBY. (Triumphant and severe) That s it ! It s 
 that ole grass , 
 
 CORA. (Interrupting fiercely) Hush up ! (Rap- 
 Idly) He s one of the most perfect characters that 
 ever came into my life. (To CLARENCE, with rapid 
 and indignant and pathetic appeal) I leave it tc 
 you if grass-widowers aren t just as perfect as the 
 other kind of widowers. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Heartily) Yes, just about. 
 
 CORA. (Oblivious of his comment, going on as 
 before) I did go out motoring with him and I did 
 
28 CLARENCE 
 
 dine at his country club with him, and danced there 
 till twelve o clock and then Miss Pinney came and 
 got me, but I leave it to you : is there any harm in 
 that? 
 
 BOBBY. (Immediately) Well, of all the vile con 
 fessions 
 
 CORA. You hush up ! Of course I said I was go 
 ing to spend the evening with a girl-friend, but Miss 
 Pinney v found out and what I want to know . . . 
 If you were my father . . . (To CLARENCE,) Would 
 you go into thirty-five fits over a thing like that ? 
 
 CLARENCE. No. Not that many. 
 
 CORA. Why, you ought to see those two in there : 
 you d think they were Judges of the Ex-treme Court 
 of the United States in Washington! What I m 
 afraid of, they ll never let me see him again! (Sits, 
 sobs suddenly.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Sharply) They ought to drown you ; I 
 never heard such a disgusting story in all my . . . 
 
 CORA. (Not noticing him except for the two 
 words; it is all poured out rapidly to CLARENCE,) 
 Hush up! She dee-lib rutly comes to father with 
 this just because mama s only our step-mother and 
 hasn t got any idea of discipline and you just ought 
 to hear her in there, the way she goes on about being 
 responsible for the shaping of my character because 
 she s my governess! She ll get papa so prejudiced 
 against me . . . (Voice rising to end.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Interrupting) At that, I bet she hasn t 
 told him half she knows about you ! (To CLARENCE 
 appealingly) Don t some women make you sick 
 sometimes? (With a gesture at CORA.J 
 
 CLARENCE. No ; to me she seems attractive. You 
 See, she isn t my sister. 
 
 CORA. (Quickly, earnestly) Listen ; you ve been 
 in the army and all that. What would you do if 
 you were a girl and in a fix like that ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Shaking his head, sincerely) I don t 
 
CLARENCE 29 
 
 know what I d do if I were a girl in a fix like that ; 
 I don t even know what I d do if I were a girl. 
 
 CORA. (Appreciatively) Well, anyway, I think 
 you re awf ly nice and sympathetic. 
 
 BOBBY. (Frowning) Aw, fluuf , leave it out ! He 
 don t care what you think! 
 
 CORA. (Rises. Straightening up to look crossly 
 at BOBBYJ How do you know? You don t know 
 him any better than I do. 
 
 BOBBY. I don t? 
 
 CORA. You don t know him as well. 
 
 BOBBY. Aw, blub ! 
 
 CORA. (To CLARENCE, with earnest, pathetic 
 naivete, quickly) I kept trying to talk to papa about 
 you all the time. I told him again and again there 
 was a soldier waiting to see him, but they wouldn t 
 let me change the subject! I tried to tell em about 
 the cannibals, and how you d been wounded, and 
 about your liver, and I did tell em how you could 
 drive mules without swearing 
 
 CLARENCE. That wasn t what I said. I said I 
 didn t have to learn how to swear at em. But did 
 your father believe you when you said I could do it 
 without ? 
 
 CORA. (Plaintive to tears) He didn^t say: he 
 switched the subject right back to me. Never mind ! 
 (Vindictively.) They ll be in a fix, all right, if 
 mama hears about it ! 
 
 BOBBY. (Scornfully) How will they ? 
 
 CORA. Why, they can t tell her they ignored her 
 in the matter because she s merely an incompetent 
 stepmother, can they? Besides that, there s some- 
 p n else about mama and Miss Pinney and papa. 
 (Significant and ominous.) 
 
 BOBBY. What? 
 
 CORA. I told you once and you were too dumb to 
 understand. I m not goin to tell you again. 
 
 BOBBY. Aw, blub ! 
 
32 CLARENCE 
 
 ^ WHEELER. Miss Pinney ! Get her in the other of 
 fice. (Pointing to CLARENCE, speaks frowningly, 
 quickly) Wait, young man. (Pointing to the fire 
 place settle -L.) Sit down, please. (Turning to fol 
 low CORA and Miss PINNEY L.) For heaven s sake 
 be quiet ! 
 
 (CORA is moving L. under Miss PINNEY S guidance, 
 sobbing "I will see him! What if he is a grass- 
 widower? I will, too." They go out L., 
 WHEELER last. He closes the door. CLARENCE 
 during this has gone to the settle by the fireside 
 and taken his seat there.) 
 
 BOBBY. (With solemn, slow vehemence) If ever 
 
 I have a child like that (He leaves this horrid 
 
 contingency in the air, leans on the other settle and 
 looks at CLARENCE.,) 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, you may not. 
 
 BOBBY. I guess father was embarrassed bavin* 
 you hear all that family scandal and wanted a chance 
 to ask you not to tell it, before you go, 
 
 CLARENCE. I m afraid that s all he wanted. 
 
 BOBBY. Look, do you consider the army the best 
 preparation for the after life? 
 
 CLARENCE. No; I don t think it s particularly 
 good for that but of course when there s a war, the 
 after life is what you re very liable to have happen. 
 
 BOBBY. No ; what I mean by the after life is when 
 you marry and enter business. 
 
 CLARENCE. I see your point-of-view. 
 
 BOBBY. (Solemn) You know what I told you 
 about the one that claims you know 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes. I remember. Her young man 
 saw you kissing her 
 
 BOBBY. Well, I d like to get your advice: you 
 been in the army. How would you treat her if you 
 were in my position? 
 
 CLARENCE. Do you see her very often? 
 
CLARENCE 33 
 
 BOBBY. (Gulping) She s one of our housem aids. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Impressed with the desperate nature 
 
 of the situation) Then, I d be very polite to her. 
 
 (Sob from CORA off L.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Sighs) Well there s one satisfaction. 
 (Looks L.J I guess Cora s getting the grand^mazoo- 
 mie-zaboo in there, all right! (Amused) I expect 
 What makes papa about as sick as anything is your 
 happening to hear so much of the family private, 
 affairs this way. He s awful strong on self-reserve 
 and privacy and all such stuff. 
 
 CLARENCE. I m afraid he ll hold it against me. 
 
 BOBBY. You can t tell what he ll do ; he s as pecu 
 liar a man as I ever knew. 
 
 (The door c. opens quickly and MRS. WHEELER 
 comes in; her excitement has increased; she 
 controls it, however, and speaks with crisp de 
 cisiveness.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (As she enters) Bobby 
 
 BOBBY. Hello, mama. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. Our open car s waiting down 
 there. Did you come in it? 
 
 BOBBY. No, I came on the 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (With slightly raised voice) Did 
 Miss Pinney come in it? 
 
 BOBBY. Why, yes, she came in it. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. Oh, she did! (Comes down) 
 
 BOBBY. Sure. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Pointing at the door R.) Is 
 sfae in there with your father now? 
 
 BOBBY. (Contentedly) Yes. She s in there, 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Stung) Oh! 
 
 BOBBY. Her and Cora. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Bitterly) Oh, slie brought 
 Cora along? 
 
34 CLARENCE 
 
 BOBBY. (Grimly) I should say she did! 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. Has Cora been in there with 
 them all the time? (She does not emphasise this 
 vulgarly; she is jealous, but is, "technically" a lady; 
 and her emotion, though considerable, is not rau 
 cous in expression.) 
 
 BOBBY. No, not all. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. I fancy not! (Walks up and 
 down.) 
 
 , BOBBY. They let her out once, but they had to 
 take her back. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (In a disgusted, low voice) 
 What a farce ! 
 
 BOBBY. It certainly was! (Then, beginning to 
 perceive something) What s the matter with you. 
 mama; you re kind of excited? 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (With quiet bitterness) Oh, 
 no; I m not. 
 
 i BOBBY. (Diagnosing) I s pose Cora makes you 
 perty mad 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Speaking quickly) No, she 
 doesn t. I love Cora; I love both of you, Bobby. 
 It s only that being a step-mother s an unfortunate 
 position. One has to leave "discipline" to fathers 
 and governesses which means that fathers and 
 governesses have to consult, very frequently ! 
 1 BOBBY. (Genially) Cora was sayin somep n 
 about that herself. She said : How could they ever 
 tell you it was no use putting it up to you about her. 
 but she thought herself it was goin to make you 
 perty mad. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (With increasing emotion) So. 
 even Cora thought I had a right to be angry, did 
 
 she ? Oh, Bobby (With a sudden break in her 
 
 voice.) 
 
 BOBBY. Why, what s the matter? 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Just barely keeping rhe sobs 
 from becoming vociferous) Oh, Bobby, don t any 
 
CLARENCE 35 
 
 of you see what I have to suffer? Don t you under 
 stand what I have to bear every day from your 
 father and these "consultations for discipline"? 
 
 He and Miss Pinney (CLARENCE interrupts 
 
 this emotional confidence with a loud, diplomatic 
 cough. Too preoccupied with her own feelings to 
 
 be much startled) Is some one (CLARENCE 
 
 rises.) 
 
 BOBBY. Papa told him to wait there. (Formally 
 I would like you to meet my friend, Clarence. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Bowing as well as his liver will let 
 him) How do you do ? (He rests his hands on the 
 back of the settle, looking at her.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Touching her eyes with her 
 handkerchief, nods meekly) Have you been in here 
 most of the morning" ? 
 
 BOBBY. (Reassuringly) Oh, he knows every 
 thing that s been goin on. 
 
 MRS, WHEELER. (Ruefully) I should think he 
 would ! (With a pathetic smile to CLARENCE,) Well, 
 you ve been in the army ; I don t suppose there s any 
 real reason to mind your having seen that we re a 
 rather measly family. 
 
 BOBBY. (Reasonably) Why, no, we aren t. I 
 don t see anything to worry the rest of you. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Swalloiving) AVell, some of 
 the rest of us do worry, I m afraid. (Smiles pathet 
 ically) Don t let me keep you standing. (CLAR 
 ENCE has begun to sag.) 
 
 BOBBY. It s his liver. 
 
 CLARENCE. (To him, gratefully) Thanks. 
 (Completes his sagging in a sitting position on the 
 settle, where he is again unseen from the greater 
 part of the room.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (To BOBBY, sniffing) He s very 
 tactful. 
 
 BOBBY. (As a matter of course) Sure. (Re 
 gards her placidly.) 
 
36 CLARENCE 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Tapping her foot) Have you 
 seen your father at all this morning 1 ? Has he been 
 out here at all ? (She speaks rapidly, in a lowered 
 voice, almost a whisper.) 
 
 BOBBY. He came out once. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. Only once? 
 
 BOBBY. What is the matter? 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (In the same voice, panting) I 
 don t believe I can stand this much longer! 
 
 BOBBY. You got somep n you want to see papa 
 about ? 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. Yes, I have! (Going towards 
 door L.) I can t let things go on like this ! (She 
 intends to open the door and go into the room, but 
 is stopped by a long, loud wail in that quarter. Then 
 the door is opened, and CORA comes out, her hand 
 kerchief to her eyes, wailing, followed by VIOLET, 
 somber, and WHEELER, stern and indignant. When 
 he sees his wife he confronts her with the air of a 
 man zvho is angrily bearing enough but expects more. 
 Her expression justifies his anticipations. CLAR 
 ENCE again laboriously arises and after politely 
 coughing, during the next bit of dialogue, without 
 attracting anybody s attention, subsides again into 
 his seat.) 
 
 CORA. (As she comes, sobbing) I we-yull ! You 
 were a widower yourself once, papa. Yes, you were ! 
 If you . . . (Sobs) Write him to stay off (Sobs) 
 the place 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (In a sharp, loud voice) Cora ! 
 what is it? 
 
 CORA. (With the cry of a refugee flinging her 
 self in MRS. WHEELER S arms, sobbing) Mama! 
 They say I can t even see Mr. Stern again ! They re 
 treating me like a mere dog! I hope you ll just 
 give them fits ! 
 
 (Enter WHEELER L.) 
 
CLARENCE 37 
 
 WHEELER. (To VIOLET,) Get her home. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. Never mind, Miss Pinney. I m 
 only a stepmother, but the child seems to turn to me 
 instead of to the governess. That seems strange, of 
 course, considering the father s preference ! 
 
 VIOLET. ( Her hand to her eyes as if she had been 
 struck) Oh ! (She turns away quickly.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Under his breath to MRS. WHEELER, 
 with sharp denunciation) Shame, Fanny ! (Louder) 
 We can t have this going on here! Cora! I ll give 
 you five seconds to begin acting like a human being. 
 (He swings her away from MRS. WHEELER, who 
 stands stung and insulted.) Pull down your veil! 
 (To VIOLET J Miss Pinney, pull it down for her. 
 here! 
 
 VIOLET. (Her voice shaking) Mr. Wheeler, I 
 can t 
 
 WHEELER. (In sharp appeal) For heaven s sake, 
 don t you get upset ! Get her out ! Get her home ! 
 Bobby, you take your mother home, d you hear 
 me? 
 
 (VIOLET is urging the stricken CORA to the door c.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Bitterly) Thank you, no ! It 
 happens that one person prefers me to Miss Pinney. 
 If it s only poor little Cora! 
 
 WHEELER. (Desperately) Heaven help me! 
 (CORA has instantly begun to sob louder.) Stop 
 her! Don t take her out there while she s . . . 
 (MRS. WHEELER begins to sob. WHEELER addresses 
 her desperately) This is an office; don t you under 
 stand? (To BOBBY J Bobby, can t you help Miss 
 Pinney quiet your sister? (He swings back to MRS. 
 WHEELER, sternly repeating the expostulalory name.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Sobbing) Always neglected 
 
 WHEELER. Fanny ! Fanny ! Fanny ! (She sobs 
 louder) 
 
38 CLARENCE 
 
 (BOBBY has gone instantly to CORA and Miss PIN- 
 NEY up c. and begun shaking his fist in CORA S 
 face.) 
 
 BOBBY. You shut up! You bet you ll never see 
 him again! (CLARENCE rises again.) 
 
 WHEELER. Oh, murder! (He strides desper- 
 &telv away from her toward R V and with horror con 
 fronts CLARENCE across the back of the settle. This 
 is an astounding climax for WHEELER. ) What are 
 you . . . (Abruptly shifting) Have you been here 
 all through this? Oh, murder, I forgot you! 
 
 CLARENCE. I don t wonder at all. (They all have 
 turned to look at him.) 
 
 CORA. (Semi-hysterically and pathetically, but 
 quickly) Clarence, you ought to know, you re a sol 
 dier. What would you do if you were treated like 
 this? 
 
 CLARENCE. (With considerable significance) I d 
 go home with Miss Pinney. 
 
 CORA. (Choking down her sobs) All right, but 
 they ll see (She goes up c. with VIOLET, pull 
 ing down her veil. MRS. WHEELER looks at CLAR 
 ENCE, and decides to regulate her agitation for the 
 present, as he seems a fixture.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (With dignified pathos) Bobby . 
 will you give me your arm ? 
 
 a * ss " BOBBY. Why, cert nly. (Goes to MRS. WHEELER 
 as CORA and VIOLET go quickly out up c. MRS. 
 WHEELER and BOBBY start up c., she with her head 
 bent fomvard. WHEELER looks at them, frowning, 
 then strides decisively, importantly, at CLARENCE. ) 
 Tell you some more about that, next time I see you. 
 (Exit with MRS. WHEELER up c. CLARENCE sub 
 sides into his seat.) 
 
 (Buzzer off. MRS. MARTYN enters up c., crosses 
 and exits L. Silence. CLARENCE shakes his 
 
CLARENCE 39 
 
 head. Decides he s wished away from there. 
 He gets up slowly and forlornly goes up a few 
 steps, having given up. MRS. MARTYN enters 
 L V a bo x of cigars in her hand.) 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. Where are you going, Mr. 
 Mr. 
 
 CLARENCE. I thought he forgotten me again. He 
 seemed to have several other things on his mind 
 so I 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. He wants you to sit down, please. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Sitting c.) Thanks. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. (Offering cigars) He said per 
 haps you d like 
 
 CLARENCE. (Accepting) Thanks. 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. He thinks he can find a position 
 for you. But first he wants me to ask you if it s 
 really true you can drive mules without swearing? 
 (Seriously, earnestly.) 
 
 (CLARENCE, preparing to light the cigar, abandons 
 that idea for the present; he looks at her, then 
 at the door up c v through which the disturbed 
 family have gone out; then he looks at her 
 again.) 
 
 CLARENCE. Does that mean he expects to give 
 me a position at his house? 
 
 MRS. MARTYN. (Dryly) I think it must ! (Exits 
 LY. CLARENCE half rises; then sits again.) 
 
 throws open the door. She is still emotional, 
 is breathless with haste; leaves the door open.) 
 
 CORA. (All in a breath) Clarence, if papa brings 
 you home with him, I want you to promise to be my 
 only friend. (Swallowing hurriedly a sob.) You ll 
 love it out there, Clarence! 
 
40 CLARENCE 
 
 (VIOLET has entered just before the conclusion of 
 this speech; she is almost running.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Seising CORA S hand and taking her 
 quickly to the door) Cora! Come along! Come 
 along home, Cora! (The trick accent which has 
 just barely tinged her former utterances elusively is 
 somewhat more pronounced in this exigency.) 
 
 CORA. Don t forget, Clarence! 
 
 (Exit with VIOLET, who closes the door decisively, 
 not releasing CORA. VIOLET, as she gets to 
 door, turns and nods pleasantly. CLARENCE 
 with a dreamy smile, repeats VIOLET S accent 
 "Come along.") 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE. A "drawing room" or "living rffom" and 
 in connection with it a "solarium" the 1912- 
 1919 rendition of a "conservatory." The walls 
 are panelled, ivory colored and the architec 
 ture and decoration are altogether symmetrical. 
 Down c., in R. wall, are double doors of glass, 
 moderate sized panes, the glass shielded by thin 
 material. 
 
 In the wall space to R. of this opening is a 
 dark, oval portrait, a decoration merely . . . 
 and there is a similar portrait in the correspond 
 ing space L. of the opening. 
 
 There is a "Baby Grand" piano up R. on stage 
 by steps c. the other furniture is comfortable, 
 harmonious, and not "pronounced" or eccentric, 
 or even "clever" the tone is kept light, and 
 there is no varnished wood or high polish. 
 
 At back is platform with balustrade on either 
 side and steps. Centre down archways R. and 
 L. are the entrances to this room, there are pil- 
 lars c. which opening leads beyond to glass doors 
 C. which open to garden. 
 
 This is a "sun-room" 
 
 In the drawing room the lamps are not lit, 
 and the curtains of the sun-room are pulled 
 l)ack, showing an Autumn day beyond . . . 
 mainly the trees (pines and oaks) of a large 
 suburban yard ... a yard of several acres, with 
 perhaps the glimpse of the rather distant roof 
 of an opulent neighbor. 
 41 
 
42 CLARENCE 
 
 In the sun-room, with a mop and bucket, is 
 DELL A, washing the tiles of the floor. DELL A 
 is about thirty not at a// like a "French maid" 
 but very like an American-Irish one at $7.00 
 a week. She is rather robust and not particu 
 larly plain of face it is possible to understand 
 why BOBBY kissed her. At times, finding some 
 thing obdurate upon the tiles, she kneels and 
 works with a scrubbing brush from the bucket. 
 She is in this position at the beginning of the 
 Act, and is conversing with an unseen person a 
 room or so distant to her L. This person makes 
 no visible entrance either now or later, but has 
 a thin voice, higher and older than DELLA S, 
 and also, like DELLA S, there is the faint rem 
 nant of an almost worn-out brogue. 
 
 THE VOICE. Delia? 
 
 DELLA. I hear ye, Rosie. 
 
 VOICE. D he say how his liver is to-day? the 
 poor sojer-boy? 
 
 DELLA. He did not. 
 
 VOICE. I want to know: what rs he? 
 
 DELLA. (Rising to the mop) Well, some o the 
 time he runs the typewriter in the boss s lib ry up 
 stairs. 
 
 VOICE. He do? 
 
 DELLA. He fixed the hot water heater in the base 
 ment, day before yesterday ; he s a bit of a plumber. 
 I think. 
 
 VOICE. Well, then what ll he be? 
 
 DELLA. He ll be annything you ask him to be. 
 (Sentimentally) He s a sweet nature. 
 
 VOICE. He d be better lookin if it wasn t fer . . . 
 
 DELLA. Hush, Rosie! 
 
 (CLARENCE enters R. he is still in his old uniform 
 he still somewhat stoops and sags at times; but 
 
CLARENCE 43 
 
 there is an improvement in his appearance. He 
 walks without limping is straighter; he is no 
 longer sallow or "hollow-eyed" his hair is 
 more orderly. His expression is one of pa 
 tience, as if his army experience and his liver, 
 and the consequences of both, as well as his 
 present situation, were things to be accepted 
 with resignation. He has dispensed with his 
 spectacles. He carries a small, crumpled leather 
 cylinder in his hand, and places it upon the 
 piano. He lifts the piano lid, and sighs.) 
 
 (BELLA comes down casually leans on piano.) 
 
 BELLA. You re lookin better, Clarence. What s 
 become of yer spectacles? (Pauses in her zvork.) 
 
 CLARENCE. They told me to wear em until I got 
 so I could see without em. I could, yesterday. (He 
 unfolds the leather, displaying a set of small tools.) 
 
 BELLA. Where d you git them tools ? 
 
 CLARENCE. I borrowed em from the Swede. 
 
 BELLA. What kind of tools are they ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Taking out some of the tools) Au 
 tomobile tools. (He begins to tune the piano with 
 them.) 
 
 BELLA. (Simply inquiring) Are they good f er a 
 piano ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Explaining mildly) That would de 
 pend on what you did to a piano with em. 
 
 BELLA. (Exclaiming) You ain t a piano-tuner, 
 now! 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes, now. (Scales.) I noticed one 
 or two of the keys were off ... I thought I could 
 make em sound better. 
 
 BELLA. (Impressed) How d ju know how? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Absently) Well, you see, I ve been 
 in the army . . . (As if this were a part of an ex 
 planation to follow.) 
 
44 CLARENCE 
 
 BELLA. (Protesting) Why, Miss Cora says you 
 drove a mule in the army ! 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, I know just as much about tun 
 ing pianos, as I did about driving a mule. 
 
 DELLA. (Puzzled) Clair nce, what line was you 
 in before you went in the army? 
 
 CLARENCE. I was working in a laboratory. 
 DELLA. Oh? In a hotel, I s pose? (Then 
 amused) Rosie was wonderin* if we ought to call 
 you "Mister Clair nce" ! (Then seriously interested, 
 gently) Have y iver been married, Clair nce ? (He 
 shakes his head, operating upon the piano. She goes 
 on ominously. Music.) W T hat a body sees in this 
 house wouldn t put em much in a mind fer marry- 
 in , I guess ! (Music) Young lady o the house un 
 der watch to keep her from runnin away wit a 
 grass-widdy wer ; the Missuz crazy wit* jealousy; 
 the boss in love wit the governess . . . (CLARENCE 
 strikes a thunderous chord that makes her jump.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Chord!) Yes, and the young son 
 of the house threatened with breach-of-promise by 
 a housemaid ! It is shocking, Delia ! 
 
 DELLA. (Astounded) Who told you that, Clair 
 nce? (CLARENCE loudly plays the beginning of 
 "Here Comes the Bride not looking at DELLA, but 
 at the arch R. appears a man-servant, DINWIDDIE, 
 who carries a tailor s double carton of considerable 
 size. He wears a dark sack-coat, black trousers, 
 black bow tie. He enters in a human manner, but 
 freezes with repugnance at sight of DELLA. He ap 
 proaches CLARENCE. CLARENCE plays "Here Comes 
 the Bride." Dulcet. Crosses to L.) What have ye 
 there now, Mister Dinwiddie? 
 
 DINWIDDIE. Cook says they re yours, Clarence. 
 She says you brought em in and left em in the back 
 hall. See you ve got your pay from the Guvment, 
 and gone to squander n it first thing. Bought your 
 self some clothes. 
 
CLARENCE 45 
 
 . * 
 
 CLARENCE. ^ (Preoccupied with piano) Yes. 
 Would you mind putting them in my room for me, 
 Dinwiddie ? 
 
 DINWIDDIE. (Sincerely) Well, I m not sure ft s 
 my place to do that, Clarence. You been here about 
 three weeks now, and the domestic side of the house 
 hold ain t able to settle what you are. 
 
 CLARENCE. What / are ? 
 
 DINWIDDIE. I mean, are you one of us, or do we 
 treac you as one o the family ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Gives him an absent-minded glance, 
 continuing, preoccupied) It doesn t matter. 
 
 DINWIDDIE. (Perplexed, but kindly} I ll take 
 them up for you this time, anyhow. (DELLA crosses 
 to L. DINWIDDIE crosses 1o R. Starts out R., but 
 stops halfway and speaks placidly, without looking 
 at either CLARENCE or DELLAJ I m sorry to see 
 you in loose company, Clair nce. (Goes straight out 
 through glass doors down Rj 
 
 DELLA. (Going to c, bitterly. Comes towards 
 him, angrily agitated) Clair nce, would you talk 
 like that of Miss Pinney jist because you d hap 
 pened to see somebody a-kissin of her? 
 
 CLARENCE. (At piano. Stung) What? When 
 did anybody . . . (READY BELL) 
 
 DELLA. (Cutting him off) I said if ye did ? Now 
 listen: If somebody caught ye bein kissed ag inst 
 yer will wouldn t you say somebody had to do the 
 right thing by ye ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Shaking his head) Oh, if that hap 
 pened to me . . . I d be very upset ... I don t 
 know. 
 
 DELLA. (Goes up c., mopping in doorway em 
 phatically) Well, it did happen to me, an 1 do 
 know! (Exits arch L.) 
 
 ( BOBBY opens door L. anxious he keeps out of 
 DELLA S sight.) 
 
46 CLARENCE 
 
 BOBBY. (Enters R. In hoarse whisper) Could 
 you get her to "greet" anything? (Goes up, sees 
 DELLA dodges back L. of CLARENCE. ) 
 
 CLARENCE. I thought better not try yet. She 
 seems right bitter. 
 
 BOBBY. (Nervously depressed) Well, stick by 
 me, Clarence; I cert nly need help! 
 
 (A bell sounds off. BOBBY exits hastily K. Bell 
 DELLA stands with her cheek against a window 
 in the sun-room, peering to off R., getting an 
 oblique view of the principal entrance to the 
 house, evidently.) 3&^~ *&> G ^ 
 
 DELLA. (Looking off Rj Well, if that ain t a 
 bold man ! 
 
 CLARENCE. Bold ? 
 
 DELLA. It s that grass-widdywer. Miss Cora s. 
 Ain t he callin at the very front door! (Turns 
 away. ) 
 
 CLARENCE. What s his name? 
 
 DELLA. Mr. Hubert Stim. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Thoughtfully) Stim? 
 
 DELLA. (Down to CLARENCE; He s rich, and 
 he s had the experience o wan wife : he d be a good 
 match fer anybody. 
 
 (Enter DINWIDDIE. Goes up L.) 
 
 DINWIDDIE (Coldly) Callers? This is no place 
 for all the loose help. (Music.) 
 
 DELLA. (Impotent to avenge herself) It s a bad 
 world! (Exit to off L. up, with her bucket and 
 mop.) 
 
 (At the same time VIOLET enters up c. She wears 
 a quiet, pretty afternoon dress. As she comes 
 in, CLARENCE rises from the piano bench.) 
 
CLARENCE 47 
 
 VIOLET. (Enters with hat from garden. To DIN- 
 WIDDIE; I ll see him m here. (CLARENCE rises. 
 Exit DINWIDDIE up L.) No , please go right on tun 
 ing the piano, if that is what you re doing. (Puts 
 hat on table. She is quick and decisive in manner; 
 somewhat perturbed, too. CLARENCE has begun to 
 lower the lid. He turns to her gravely) 
 
 CLARENCE. You mean you want me to go on 
 timing the piano while you talk to ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Smiling) Yes, I dp. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Restoring the lid to its highest po 
 sition) I ll be glad to. (Sits and resumes his work. 
 VIOLET goes down L.cJ 
 
 (MR. HUBERT STEM enters. MR. STEM is about 26, 
 cheerful, good-looking, "smart" he wears a 
 homespun or tweed "sack" suit, and is daintily 
 haberdashed. Goes to VIOLET. ) 
 
 STEM. Good afternoon, Miss Pinney. (He glan 
 ces at CLARENCE with some surprise ) 
 
 VIOLET. (Gravely) How do you do? 
 
 STEM. You got my note? 
 
 VIOLET. That s why I am seeing you. (Music.) 
 
 STEM. Ah ... isn t there somewhere we could 
 go? 
 
 VIOLET. (Shaking her head) Nowhere else, I m 
 afraid. 
 
 STEM. Well . . . if this is my only chance to see 
 you . . . 
 
 VIOLET. (Biting her lips) Please listen. Mr. 
 Wheeler agreed with me . . . 
 
 STEM, (Interrupting cheerfully) Yes. Mr. 
 Wheeler always agrees with you, doesn t he ? (CLAR 
 ENCE S sounding of a key becomes a little more em 
 phatic ) 
 
 VIOLET. (Her voice somewhat sharper) He 
 agreed with me that I d better see you the next time 
 you came and explain to you clearly . . . (Music.) 
 
4 8 CLARENCE 
 
 STEM. (Glancing at CLARENCE, who seems all the 
 while profoundly occupied with the piano) This is 
 a splendid chance for a clear explanation ! 
 
 VIOLET. It won t disturb me in what I have to 
 say. 
 
 STEM. That s another thing shows how remark 
 able you are ! 
 
 VIOLET. Mr Wheeler prefers not to see you this 
 time himself. (Music ) 
 
 STEM. I should think he might prefer that ! ( Re 
 ferring to CLARENCE S music.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Quietly but grimly) He wished me to 
 say that in future, if you call here, he will see you 
 himself, and that if there are notes or telephone 
 messages, he will receive them and reply. (Music.) 
 
 STEM. (Hopfully) But why wouldn t he let you 
 be the one to see me and receive notes and telephone 
 messages from me f That would be what I ve been 
 working for. 
 
 VIOLET. (Pnmly) I have told you what he asked 
 me to. 
 
 STEM. (Eagerly) But you haven t answered my 
 question. (Music.) You know what it s about? 
 
 VIOLET. No. 
 
 STEM. (Becoming loverhke crosses to VIOLET, 
 close) It s about you; it s all been just an excuse 
 for that. You ve kept yourself out of my way ; well, 
 I m inventive. I ll tell you a secret it was I that 
 telephoned you. Cora and I were at the Country 
 Club dance. I did it all ... just for a glimpse of 
 you! (Music.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (As if profoundly concentrated in his 
 work) B flat. B flat. Same old B flat. 
 
 STEM. (Huskily to VIOLET:) This is intolerable ! 
 (Goes L,J 
 
 VIOLET. (As if about to rise) There s no need to 
 prolong it, I ve said all I need. (Half rising) 
 
 STEM. (Suddenly desperate, goes to her) No! 
 
CLARENCE 49 
 
 If you will see me with a piano-tuner in the room, 
 why I don t care, you ll have to listen! You know 
 why I ve taken the" only means I could find to even 
 get a glimpse of you now and then ! Violet, how 
 long are you going to keep me ... (CLARENCE 
 bangs the piano.) Confound it ! (He walks over 
 to CLARENCE.^ See here, my friend . . . 
 
 CLARENCE. (Rising politely) It s Mr. Stim, I 
 believe ? 
 
 STEM. (Sharply) Mr. Stem, not Stim! Mr. 
 Hubert Stem! Let me say, I m usually glad to see 
 the returned soldiers getting their old positions back, 
 but they do take a holiday sometimes, don t they? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Innocently) You mean you d rather 
 I did this some other time? 
 
 STEM. (Showing him a bill, unseen by VIOLET) 
 There ll be this in it : Get your hat and coat and go 
 back to the city : you can tune this piano some other 
 time. 
 
 CLARENCE (Mildly) Tune it? I finished tuning 
 it quite a while ago. All this last you ve heard: I 
 was playing. 
 
 STEM. (Taken aback he looks at VIOLET ay if 
 to inquire whether she has noticed that the tuner is 
 perhaps insane; then shows the bill again to CLAR 
 ENCE^ Just get your things and go back to town. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Amiably) I can t; I live here. 
 
 STEM. What? 
 
 VIOLET. (Rising) Oh, this is one of Mr. Wheel 
 er s secretaries, Mr. Stem. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Rising again quickly, shakes hands) 
 How-dy J -do, Mr. Stem ? It was an Irish person told 
 me it was "Stim/ You re not interested in 
 music? 
 
 STEM. (Dryly) No. Are you? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Crouching and again sitting on the 
 piano bench) Oooh ! (He whispers this, appre 
 ciating that STEM has scored.) 
 
50 CLARENCE 
 
 STEM. (Turning to VIOLET ) Miss Pinney, won t 
 you come out for a breath of air ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Shaking her head) Thanks. (Music.) 
 
 STEM. (Desperately to CLARENCE ) Won t you 
 come for a breath of air? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Mildly surprised) You want me to 
 take a walk with you ? 
 
 STEM. Well, if you d go ahead, I d come after 
 you, and take you over and show you my place. 
 Aren t you interested in Nature? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Shaking his head) No. All I care 
 for s my music. 
 
 STEM. Your what? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Politely) Perhaps you d rather I 
 didn t . . . (With a gesture to the keys.) Shall 
 
 VIOLET. Do. 
 
 STEM. (Entreating hoarsely) Violet, won t you? 
 
 (She shakes her head, and places a piece of sheet- 
 music before CLARENCE on the rack. VIOLET 
 goes, up to piano and kneels on settee.) 
 
 VIOLET. Do you know this? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Quickly changing the air) Well, I 
 can try it. (Does so) It g pretty, isn t it? Kind of 
 sad. 
 
 STEM. (Going up fctep and on platform. Con 
 trolling himself) I think I ll say good afternoon ! 
 
 (VIOLET nods. CLARENCE, half rising, bows gra 
 ciously. STEM strides out R CLARENCE re 
 sumes the air he is playing.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Playing) I couldn t tell, but it 
 seemed to me almost as if you wanted to get rid of 
 him. 
 
 VIOLET. (Dryly) Did I? (Goes down stage of 
 piano, arranging sheet music on the piano.) 
 
CLARENCE 51 
 
 CLARENCE. (Turning from the keys) It seemed 
 almost as if you d taken some prejudice against 
 him. 
 
 VIOLET. (Sinks into seat at piano) Well, don t 
 you think it s pretty odious of a man, when he knows 
 a girl dislikes him, to pursue her by pretending to 
 pursue a younger girl who s in her charge? 
 
 CLARENCE. Are you consulting me on this point 
 because I ve been in the army, or more on the 
 ground that I m a person? 
 
 VIOLET. (Smiling faintly) More on that ground. 
 
 CLARENCE. That surprised me. However, speak 
 ing to your point that a pursuer belonging to the 
 more cumbersome sex becomes odious to a fugitive 
 of the more dexterous sex, when the former affects 
 the posture of devotion to a ward of the latter . . . 
 (He pauses, judicially, for a moment and she in 
 terrupts him, amused.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Simply curious) Were you a college 
 professor before the war ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Conscientiously) Not. Not a pro- 
 fessor. 
 
 VIOLET. Surely not just a student? 
 
 CLARENCE, No. Not a student. 
 
 VIOLET. Well, then, what . . . 
 
 CLARENCE. (Earnestly) What I was leading to 
 was, that 1. personally, am indifferent to your rea 
 son for finding this young man, or any other young 
 man odious. 
 
 VIOLET. (Somewhat offended) Thank you. I 
 didn t put it on personal grounds, I believe. (Rises 
 and goes c.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Rises) The reason, I say, is indif 
 ferent to me. I merely experience the pleasure of 
 the fact. 
 
 VIOLET. (Surprised and puzzled) What fact? 
 
 CLARENCE. That you don t like him. (Returns to 
 piano and tools.) 
 
52 CLARENCE 
 
 VIOLET. (Staring) I believe you are the queer 
 est person I ever met. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Nodding) That s what my grand 
 mother always said of my grandfather, and they had 
 been married sixty-one years. (Gathers his 
 tools.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Impressed) Your grandfather was as 
 queer an that? 
 
 CLARENCE. No. Only to grandmother. (Start- 
 ing to go out R.J 
 
 VIOLET. Are you very much like him? (CLAR 
 ENCE stops abruptly and turns to her.) 
 
 CLARENCE. I m just as much like my grand 
 mother; you see, I m descended just as much from 
 her as I am from him. 
 
 VIOLET. I never thought of that. (Laughs) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Earnestly) Well, after this, won t 
 you think of me as just as much like her as like 
 him? 
 
 VIOLET. (Rather stiffly) Isn t that a little "per 
 sonal"? 
 
 CLARENCE. Personal? Good gracious! You ve 
 just been discussing my most intimate family affairs : 
 my grandfather, my grandmother , . . 
 
 VIOLET. (Checking him impatiently) Never 
 mind! I will think of you as just as much like 
 your grandmother as your grandfather! 
 
 CLARENCE. It s very kind of you to think of me. 
 
 VIOLET. (Sharply) I didn t say ... 
 
 CLARENCE. (Cutting her off, rapidly) It s kind 
 because you ve got so many to think of : I want you 
 to think of me ; Mr. Stim . . . Stem ! . . . wants 
 you to think of him ; Bobby wants you to think of 
 him ; Mr. Wheeler wants you to think . . . 
 
 VIOLET. (Interrupting angrily) That will do, 
 please ! 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, but doesn t . . . 
 
 VIOLET. (Sharply quickly) You know my po- 
 
CLARENCE 53 
 
 sition in this house ; dq you think it s manly to refer 
 to it? 
 
 CLARENCE. I don t know about "manly" ; maybe 
 this is where I m more like my grandmother. My 
 idea was merely that since so many want you to 
 think about them, if you d just concentrate your 
 thoughts on somebody that had been in the army, it 
 might avoid . . . complications. 
 
 VIOLET. (Bitterly) Do you suppose I d stay in 
 this house another hour, if I hadn t given my word 
 to Mr. Wheeler I d stand by Cora, until she comes 
 through this nonsense? He asked me to just stick 
 it out until the child s come to herself again, and I 
 gave him my word I d do it. It seems you take 
 Mrs. Wheeler s view of me ! 
 
 CLARENCE. But, Mr. Stem . . . he s . . . 
 
 VIOLET. (Sharply) If I told Cora the truth 
 about him, she d only hate me. If I left her, she d 
 do the first crazy thing she could think of. She s 
 really in love; it s a violence, but it may last a long 
 while. 
 
 CLARENCE. She tells me it s "forever" ! I m her 
 only friend and she made me her only confidant . . . 
 except her stepmother, and Delia, and Dinwiddie, 
 and both of the chauffeurs. She told us that when 
 she first saw him, she knew it was forever. (Am 
 iably) Do you think it s advisable, Miss Pinney, for 
 . . . anybody to fall in love . . . perma 
 nently ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Turning away coldly, then facing him) 
 I don t think I feel like holding a discussion with 
 you about such things ... or anything else. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Looks at her, his head on one side, 
 philosophically) That must be all, then. (Starts 
 out R., but pauses as she speaks.) 
 
 VIOLET. When you first came here, I thought you 
 were another friendless person, like me; pretty well 
 adrift in the world, so that you had to make your- 
 
54 CLARENCE 
 
 self useful in whatever you could find, just as I did. 
 I did make that mistake; I thought I d found a 
 friend ! 
 
 CLARENCE. Couldn t I keep on . . . being found? 
 
 VIOLET. (Decisively, but with feeling) Thank 
 you, no! Not after what you said a moment ago! 
 I m glad you said it, though, because I like to know 
 who my enemies are! (Crosses L., then up to win 
 dow) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Blankly) Oh? (He puts his head 
 on one side, looking at her. She sits R.) 
 
 (CORA is heard off up L V in the sun-room, calling.) 
 
 CORA. (Off up L.J Clarence! Clair-w/i-unce ! 
 ( VIOLET turns up. She comes in seriously and eag 
 erly up R., in the sun-room, wearing a modish after 
 noon dress.) Clarence, Dinwiddie says you ve been 
 throwin* your money around on clothes. (As she 
 comes down) I wonder how you will look out of a 
 uniform! Funnier than ever, I expect, don t you? 
 (Genially) Don t you think maybe you will, Clar 
 ence? 
 
 CLARENCE. No. I think it ll be an improvement. 
 
 CORA. Bobby says you wouldn t know what kind 
 of clothes to order, Clarence. 
 
 CLARENCE. That is, he thinks they d be different 
 from his ? 
 
 CORA. Do put em on. 
 
 CLARENCE. Why, I was going to. (Goes R .) 
 
 CORA. We all want to see you in em. f She iitir 
 perfectly suppresses a giggle.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (At door, nodding) So do I. 
 
 (VIOLET goes to couch and sits.) 
 
 CORA. You know, Clarence, you always did seem 
 an awfully peculiar kind of a soldier. 
 
CLARENCE 5S 
 
 CLARENCE. That s what the officers kept telling 
 me. 
 
 ( CLARENCE exits R.J 
 
 CORA. Isn t he the queerest ole thing ? He s aw 
 ful sympathetic and useful around the place, and so 
 mysterious and likable ; but I overheard mama telling 
 papa last night she thinks he must be crazy for hir 
 ing him just because he could drive mules without 
 swearing, and nobody knows a thing about him. 
 Papa said it was mostly because Clarence was a 
 stranded soldier and he didn t have any place for 
 him except to dictate his letters to when he was 
 home, but he guessed maybe he was crazy to do it. 
 (Pauses) What s the matter with you? 
 
 VIOLET. Nothing. 
 
 CORA. You look the way you do when you re 
 teaching me Latin. Did you know Clarence had be 
 gun tutoring Bobby in Math ? Bobby says Clarence 
 is a Wiz. at Math. Oh, yes, and I ... (Sits) 
 overheard Delia talkin to Bobby, and then Bobby 
 talkm to Clarence, and Bobby s put all his affairs in 
 Clarence s hands. ( VIOLET sits.) Clarence said he d 
 do the best he could, but he thought Bobby belonged 
 in Salt Lake City, whatever he meant by that. Isn t 
 he weird I 
 
 VIOLET. (Frowning) Yes; I think he is ... 
 
 CORA. By-the-way, who was here a while ago? 
 
 VIOLET. Someone called on me. 
 
 CORA. (Beginning to be suspicious) Who was it ? 
 
 VIOLET. Cora, don t you understand when a 
 person says "someone," that means not to ask ? 
 
 CORA. (More suspicious) I believe I ll ask Din- 
 widdie. (Rises, goes c.) 
 
 VIOLET. It won t do you any good ; he won t tell 
 you. 
 
 CORA. Why won t he ? Did anybody give him or 
 ders not to tell me? 
 
56 CLARENCE 
 
 VIOLET. Never mind that, Cora. 
 
 CORA. You did! 
 
 VIOLET. If I did, I had authority for it. 
 
 CORA. (Sharply) Then it was Hubert Stem! 
 You can t deny it ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Stiffly) I m not called upon to "deny" 
 anything to you, Cora. 
 
 CORA. (Goes up to window c. Loudly) It was! 
 He was here! It was him! 
 
 VIOLET. (Wearily, but sharply) It was "he," 
 Cora. You must begin to look after your pro" 
 nouns. 
 
 CORA. (Coming down again. Loudly, almost 
 tearfully) What do I care for your old pronouns! 
 You know he was here! He was here, tryin to see 
 me, and you kept him from it. You drove him away, 
 I know you did ! You drove him away ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Gravely, quickly) No. I wanted him 
 to go, but if anybody drove him away, I think it was 
 Clarence. 
 
 CORA. (Furiously) That upstart? He dared to 
 drive out a guest of mine? Then just wait till I get 
 a chance at him! Does Clarence think he s master 
 around here? (Instantly becoming emotionally pa 
 thetic, her voice loud and tremulous) Which chair 
 did he sit in when he was here ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Coldly) He sat on the piano bench. 
 (Crosses down to seat R.C.) 
 
 CORA. (Loudly plaintive) Oh! (She sinks to 
 the floor by the piano bench, her arm caressingly 
 over it.) Oh, Hubert! Poor Hubert! You came 
 to find me, in spite of everything, didn t you ? And 
 they treated you so cruelly, so ... 
 
 VIOLET. (Sharply) Mr. Stem stood over here! 
 It was Clarence on the piano bench. 
 
 CORA. (Jumping away from the bench with an 
 outcry, as if it had stung her) Ah ! (Jumping up) 
 What did you tell me Hubert sat there for? 
 
CLARENCE 57 
 
 VIOLET. You re not going to go through it again, 
 are you, with the couch ? 
 
 CORA. (Heaving angrily) What did that hor 
 rible Clarence do to him co drive him out? 
 
 VIOLET. (Gravely) Well, he didn t use profan 
 ity. You know, that s one thing your father said he 
 engaged Clarence for; because he said he could 
 drive without strong language. 
 
 CORA. (Outraged) Do you mean to insinuate 
 that Mr. Stem is a mere mule ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Quickly) Oh, get hold of yourself, 
 Cora. 
 
 (Enter BOBBY from up L. on balcony.) 
 
 CORA. I won t! (Determinedly) I ll let every 
 body understand this much : If there s got to be any 
 insinuations about drivin mules in this family, I can 
 be just as mulish as anybody ! Yes, and I will be, 
 too!! 
 
 ( BOBBY, during this speech, is in a state of exas 
 peration.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Coming down) You certainly will ! Oh, 
 I heard you, but you re wrong! I guess if there s 
 goin to be any mulishness in this fam ly, it ll be 
 from me! How often do I have to tell you you re 
 not to speak to Violet like this ? Shame on you ! 
 
 CORA. (Her eyes wide with fury) Why, you 
 mere, miserable little . . . 
 
 BOBBY. (Vehemently cutting her off )* Don t you 
 know that this is one of the most spiritchal and high- 
 minded women that ever lived? (Gesticulating at 
 VIOLET. ) The idea of your troubling her about your 
 petty amours with that Hubert Stem . . . (He is 
 interrupted in full gesture. DELL A has followed him, 
 and at this moment makes her appearance at the R. 
 
58 CLARENCE 
 
 side of the sun-room opening, up c. Except for Her 
 head, she is only partially seen.) 
 
 DELLA. (Rather ominously) Could I have an 
 other word wit* ye, Mr. Robert? 
 
 BOBBY. (Looking over his shoulder fiercely) No, 
 you can t! Go way from there! (DELLA with 
 draws. He returns instantly to the attack on CORAJ 
 Let me tell you, if there s goin to be any mules in 
 this fam ly . . . 
 
 CORA. (Violently) You hush up! (She flings 
 herself into a chair, kicking her heels up and down 
 on the floor, and repeating) Hush up ! Hush 
 up! 
 
 BOBBY. (Indignantly) I ll make w^self heard! 
 You never did have any more idea of behavior than 
 the merest scum! Why, look at me . . . (Glanc 
 ing to where DELLA has appeared) why, I got more 
 troubles in my private life than people would have 
 any conception of ... you don t hear me howlin 
 around like some frowsy cuttle-fish, do you? 
 
 CORA. Hush up! 
 
 BOBBY. I tell you when you attack this lady, that 
 soils her soul by bein your governess, you simply 
 an* positively put a stain on your whole vile sex ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Quickly, crossly) Bobby! I can do 
 my own defending, please, and I m a member of the 
 same sex. 
 
 BOBBY. (Vehemently) No, you re not ! I d never 
 believe it! There may be some women the same 
 sex as Cora, but not you ! It was only the third or 
 fourth time I ever saw you, a kind of a somepin 
 came over me and I wanted to live a higher life. 
 (Q>RA bursts into wild laughter. He instantly whirls 
 upon her, shouting) You hush up! What you 
 laughing about? I believe you re historical. 
 
 (MRS. WHEELER has entered up c. from up R. dur 
 ing this. She speaks quickly) 
 
CLARENCE 59 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Annoyed) What is the din? 
 Really Miss Pinney, if you can t keep better order 
 than this . . . 
 
 CORA. (Jumping up, toughing loudly) Bobby 
 says a somepin came over him when he saw Vio 
 let ... 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Quickly) Yes ; that s not un 
 usual, it seems ! 
 
 (The scene is played rather rapidly.) 
 
 CORA. (Going on) And he wants to live a higher 
 life! 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. That s not always her effect ! 
 
 BOBBY. Well, what if I do? That s no disgrace, 
 is it ? 
 
 CORA. (At BOBBY,) I know something on you! 
 (BOBBY wheels.) Not any higher life, either ! (This 
 is a vicious threat) You wait till papa comes ! 
 
 BOBBY. If / ever catch that Hubert Stem around 
 this place . . . 
 
 CORA, (Choking at the name, crosses to MRS. W.j 
 Oh, mama ! He was here ! (Emotional again.) He 
 came to try to see me ! That little brute of a Clar 
 ence drove him out ! 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Incredulously) Clarence did? 
 
 VIOLET. I take the responsibility for that ! 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Loudly) You take a great deal 
 of responsibility, Miss Pinney! 
 
 BOBBY. (Hotly) Well, papa wants her to, 
 doesn t he? 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Emphatically) Yes ! He does ! 
 
 BOBBY. Who else but Miss Pinney has any con 
 trol over this . . . this . . . this . . . (His denun 
 ciatory finger leveling at CORA.,) 
 
 CORA. (Shouting) I ll get you, Bobby Wheeler ! 
 (She shouts "Hush up!" throughout the following 
 speech) 
 
60 CLARENCE 
 
 BOBBY. ^Bawling) I ll take that Hubert Stem, 
 and I ll pull his legs and arms off like a mere spider ! 
 
 (WHEELER enters up R. He has just come from his 
 office, and has on his hat and overcoat, a folded 
 newspaper is in his hand. Neither CORA nor 
 BOBBY are aware of him. CORA continues to 
 shout "Hush up!" and BOBBY goes on) 
 
 BOBBY. You threaten me, and I ll show you who s 
 master in this house! You got the worst disposi 
 tion . . . 
 
 (WHEELER strikes the newspaper several times, 
 quickly and sharply, into the palm of his hand 
 for silence, which stops them. He is indignant, 
 disgusted and tired.) 
 
 WHEELER. Stop it, stop it ! I could hear you at 
 the front door ! 
 
 CORA. (Goes to WHEELER at c.) Papa, I found 
 out to-day Bobby kissed Delia, and she says he s got 
 to marry her or breach o promise, an she ll tell the 
 fam ly on him! Now he s in love with Violet! 
 (Whirling on BOBBY. Goes up R.J Didn t think I 
 knew that, did you ? 
 
 BOBBY. (Hoarsely) Cuttle-fish! 
 
 fMRS. WHEELER crosses to couch R.I., sits.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Sternly to him) I ll speak to you 
 later. (Taking off hat and coat.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Alarmed, but vindictive. Crosses to 
 WHEELER^ Her grass-widower was here again. 
 We had to drive him out, and she got convulsions. 
 
 CORA. (Beginning to wail) Oh ! (This sound 
 continues.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Handing his hat and coat to BOBBY, 
 decisively) Take these out. 
 
CLARENCE 61 
 
 BOBBY. (Bitterly) I ll do it! (Passes behind 
 WHEELER and up off R.J 
 
 WHEELER. Cora, either stop that, or go to your 
 room and wash your face. 
 
 CORA. (Going up with extreme pathos, weeping) 
 Wash my face, wash my face, wash my face . . . 
 
 (UP Off Rj 
 
 WHEELER. ( Up R.C., frowning) I ll go over this 
 with, you, Miss Pinney. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (On couch R. Burlesquing po 
 liteness) Oh? With Miss Pinney ? Do excuse me! 
 It s so unusual your wanting to be alone with her ! 
 I didn t understand for the moment you wished me 
 to leave the room ! 
 
 WHEELER. (Drearily and disgustedly appealing 
 with a gesture, but not rising or turning to her) Oh, 
 please, Fanny ! 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Angry, yet plaintive) As it 
 seems I m nothing in anybody s life, I 
 
 WHEELER. (Interrupting sharply) Oh, for pity s 
 sake ! 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Sharply, breathing quickly) 
 Oh, I ll not interfere with this charming inter 
 view ! ( Exit up c. to off L.) 
 
 (VIOLET swallows painfully, her lip quivers; she 
 controls herself and comes 1 near WHEELER, who 
 still sits rubbing his head.) 
 
 VIOLET. (In a low, quick voice) Mr. Wheeler, 
 I think you ll have to relieve me of my promise. 
 
 W T HEELER. (Not changing) No; I can t do it. 
 (Painfully, but as if absently.) 
 
 VIOLET. I really think you ll have to. I can t go 
 on I really can t. 
 
 WHEELER. (In same manner) No. You said 
 you d stick to the job and see the children through. 
 I can t depend on anybody but you. I ve got to 
 keep you to your word. (Slight emphasis on "got! 9 ) 
 
62 CLARENCE 
 
 VIOLET. But it s getting beyond my strength 
 and my temper. 
 
 WHEELER. I know. I know. The children get 
 beyond your strength and my wife gets beyond your 
 temper (No pause.) 
 
 VIOLET. (In a low voice, affirmatively) Yes. 
 (No pause.) 
 
 WHEELER. But I ve got to keep you. Sit down, 
 will you? (He begins to pace, across and back.) 
 Let s see if we can think what s to be done. Was 
 that man Stem here? 
 
 VIOLET. I gave him your message. 
 
 WHEELER. Did he try to hang about and see 
 Cora? 
 
 VIOLET. He tried to hang about. Clarence got 
 rid of him. 
 
 WHEELER. (Musing absently and gloomily) Odd 
 thing about Clarence. I don t know just why I 
 took him up and brought him out here. Crazy sort 
 of impulse anything but like me to do that. He 
 seems all right, does he? 
 
 VIOLET. Yes, I think so. (Noncommittal. Then 
 she bites her lip, remembering her enmity.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Still absently) Friendly sort of 
 friendless creature. I had a a feeling if he could 
 drive an army mule with such courtesy well, I 
 don t know just what it was a feeling that in some 
 way he d be a good influence here. (Turning 
 toward her) Is Cora s story true about that damn 
 boy? 
 
 VIOLET. About Bobby? (Pauses.) 
 
 WHEELER. Oh! You don t want to tell on him? 
 Is it his behavior that makes you want to leave? 
 
 VIOLET. No. But I think I must go, Mr. 
 Wheeler. 
 
 WHEELER. Where would you go? Have you a 
 chance at another position ? 
 
 VIOLET. No. 
 
CLARENCE 63 
 
 WHEELER. What would you do? 
 
 VIOLET. Look for one, I suppose. 
 
 WHEELER. (Abruptly) I can t let you do that. 
 (She looks up, somewhat startled by his tone.) 
 
 VIOLET. What did you say 
 
 WHEELER. (Swallowing, speaks with sorrowful 
 feeling, simply) I said I couldn t let you do that. 
 See here ; I suppose I ve seemed to you just a com 
 mercial machine head of a big business and head 
 of an unhappy, rowing family, like so many of us 
 machines. Well, I m not not altogether. (Sits. 
 On couch R.J I m a pretty tired man. The naked 
 truth is I m pretty tired of the big business and 
 pretty tired of the family. It s so. Sometimes I 
 don t know whether I m an old man or just a sort of 
 worn-out boy; I only know the game I play isn t 
 worth the candle, and that I want to get away from 
 the whole thing. (His voice trembles a little.) I 
 don t think I could stay with it, if you don t stay and 
 help me. 
 
 VIOLET. (Touched) Oh, poor Mr. Wheeler ! 
 
 WHEELER. If you give me up, I ll give everything 
 up. (His tone is quiet throughout, but he is in deso 
 late, utter earnest.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Gentle but troubled and a little breath 
 less) Oh, I don t think you should quite say that, 
 should you? 
 
 WHEELER. I ve never seen how people could get 
 away from the truth. I ve got people I can rely on 
 in business but you re the only person I can fall 
 back on out here. 
 
 VIOLET. Oh, no! 
 
 WHEELER. And a man s house is more important 
 than his business, too. What am I going to do 
 about it ? 
 
 VIOLET. (In a low, troubled voice) I don t 
 know. (She stands with her head bent, turned 
 away. He is profoundly grave.) 
 
64 CLARENCE 
 
 WHEELER. If you can t stand it here 
 
 VIOLET. (Feebly, blankly) What? 
 
 WHEELER. (His voice husky, but somewhat 
 louder than it has been) If you can t stand it, / 
 can t ! If you quit, we both quit. 
 
 VIOLET. (Rises, plaintive) I don t think I under 
 stand that. I m free to go, Mr. Wheeler, but 
 
 WHEELER. (Rising. With a kind of husky, but 
 not noisy, desperation) Well, I can be free, too. 
 
 VIOLET. (Entirely taken aback) Oh (She 
 
 falls back from him, her hand to her cheek, staring 
 at him. At the same time a long, strange wail is 
 heard up off L. The two remain in their present at 
 titudes, freezing with horror. The zvail continues, 
 growing louder. It issues from the throat of MRS. 
 WHEELER, it appears. She comes in from the arch 
 L V weeping, still wailing.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Her wail becoming verbal) I 
 heard every word ! You needn t run away I ll go ! 
 Drive me out ; / haven t got any one to go with me ! 
 
 (Loudly) Oh, I d take him if I had! Oooh 
 
 (The wail increases. She flings herself in a chair 
 
 L.C.; 
 
 . Saxophone. 
 
 WHEELER. (Desperate, wailing himself) Ah, 
 murder! Who was talking about going with any 
 one? (Another wailing, not unlike MRS. WHEELER S 
 in quality, is heard off up R. It likewise approaches, 
 though slowly; the two sounds mingle) Oh, my 
 soul! I can t stand this! (WHEELER comes down. 
 To VIOLET passionately) Could you stop Cora just 
 this once? 
 
 VIOLET. (Goes down R V sharply) It isn t Cora s 
 voice. 
 
 WHEELER. It s Cora ! (To MRS WHEELER,) For 
 pity s sake, Fanny, pull yourself together ! (He 
 starts up c., shouting fiercely) Cora! Stop it! 
 Stop it ! Cora ! 
 
CLARENCE 65 
 
 r (DELLA appears in the sun-room, walking backward 
 from off R. She is in a high state of excite 
 ment, lifting and dropping her arms in a strange 
 rhythm, as if keeping time to some grotesque 
 stimulant. WHEELER, without pausing, shouts 
 at her) 
 
 WHEELER. Tell Cora she s got to stop it ! Tell 
 her I say 
 
 DELLA. (Shouting) It ain t her! It ain t Miss 
 Cora ! (Struck by this, and by the peculiar nature 
 of the approaching sound, WHEELER falls back.) 
 
 WHEELER. What ! 
 
 DELLA. It s him! It s Mister Clair nce all 
 dressed up and wastin his money on musical in 
 struments ! 
 
 WHEELER. (Hoarsely, crosses down R.) Oh, my 
 soul! 
 
 (The sound has now resolved itself into the loud 
 cry of a saxophone rendering a march. CLAR 
 ENCE marches on in the sun-room; he is the 
 musician. Behind him CORA prances, clashing 
 the silver covers of two dishes together for cym 
 bals, and loudly singing the air. Behind her 
 DINWIDDIE pompously dances, beating a tray 
 with a large spoon, and whistling. This pro 
 cession evidently intends to move along the sun- 
 room from off R. to off L., but is arrested by 
 WHEELER S vehemence.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Bellowing) What in the name of 
 (They stop; so does the music. MRS. WHEELER 
 has stopped crying and has risen.) 
 
 DINWIDDIE. (Alarmed) Oh! (He bolts to 
 
 off*.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Gasping) What in the 
 
 CLARENCE. (Removing the saxophone from his 
 
66 CLARENCE 
 
 mouth) We didn t know there was anybody here. 
 
 CORA. (Enthusiastically) Look at him, papa! 
 (CLARENCE has made a remarkable change in his ap 
 pearance; he wears a beautifully fitting new suit of 
 exquisite gray or fawn material, and he has been at 
 pains to brush his hair becomingly; has a scarf-pin 
 in his tie ; and altogether is a most dashing figure. 
 CORA goes on, without pausing) Isn t he wonder 
 ful, mama? 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Seriously and emphatically) 
 Why, yes! He is! 
 
 CORA. (Bringing him down, holding his sleeve) 
 He went and bought those (his clothes) and the most 
 glorious evening things all out of what he made in 
 the war, and he borrowed the Swede s saxophone 
 and never even told us he could play it ! Just look 
 at him! Turn around! (Obeying her gesture, 
 made as she speaks, he solemnly turns round, so that 
 they may see his back. CORA is carried away by 
 helpless admiration. She almost moans this; then 
 as he faces front again) Oh, Clarence ! 
 
 (BOBBY enters up L.C. from off up L. and approaches 
 CLARENCE. ) 
 
 CLARENCE. I m afraid we disturbed (He 
 
 stops, meeting BOBBY S estimating eye.) 
 
 ( BOBBY walks all round him, CLARENCE S eyes fol 
 lowing him wonderingly until BOBBY passes be" 
 hind him. Then CLARENCE looks over the other 
 shoulder as BOBBY comes round on that side.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Condescendingly) Pretty good ! Pretty 
 good ! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Blankly) What 
 
 BOBBY. (With a gesture to mean the new outfit) 
 Pretty good. 
 
CLARENCE 67 
 
 CORA. (Vehement) Nobody ever knew he could 
 play at all! He never said a thing 
 
 CLARENCE. (Interrupting solemnly) They trans 
 ferred me from the band to the mule-team. 
 
 CORA. (Jumping up and down) Come on ; we ve 
 
 got to play some more (She pulls at his sleeve. 
 
 Takes CLARENCE to piano.) Come play his accom 
 paniment, Violet. 
 
 VIOLET. (Controlling her agitation, answers has 
 tily) No. I can t. (Crosses R.J 
 
 CLARENCE. I m afraid we might disturb (He 
 
 looks from VIOLET to WHEELER.,) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Sharply) No, you won t dis 
 turb anybody! 
 
 (WHEELER comes down to chair R.J 
 
 CLARENCE. I m afraid we might 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Seriously, almost passionately) 
 It s beautiful ! It s the most beautiful music I ever 
 Jieard in my life. I ll play your accompaniment, 
 Clarence. I d adore to! (Goes to piano.) 
 
 CORA. (Pulling him to the piano) Cm on! Cm 
 on! 
 
 CLARENCE. What is it? 
 
 CORA. William Tell! 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. In B flat. 
 
 CLARENCE. Same old B flat. 
 
 (^WHEELER crosses to settee L. and sits. MRS. 
 WHEELER plays loudly upon the piano. CLAR 
 ENCE does likewise upon the saxophone.) 
 
 BELLA. (She has remained, hovering in the sun 
 parlor. She now edges into the room, leans against 
 the balustrade and lifts her eyes in rapture before 
 speaking) Oh ain t it hivinly ! 
 
68 CLARENCE 
 
 ( CLARENCE looks solemnly round at her, not ceas 
 ing to play, and turning his whole body to keep 
 the instrument in position. WHEELER also 
 looks at her, then back at his paper. CLARENCE 
 turns to the piano again. CORA, looking up at 
 him, sings the air, and BOBBY, having joined 
 the group, condescendingly adds his voice. 
 After a moment or two, VIOLET, who is R., 
 opens the door R. and goes out. The saxophone 
 stops abruptly. CLARENCE has been watching 
 her out of the corner of his eye.) 
 
 CORA. (With quick solicitude) What s the mat 
 ter, Clarence? 
 
 (This is as if some illness threatened her only 
 child.) 
 
 CLARENCE. Nothing. (Solemnly resumes play 
 ing.) 
 
 CORA. Oh, Clarence ! (She sings again and the 
 music continues.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE: The same. The lamps are lit. The cur- 
 tains in the sun-room have been pulled over 
 the glass. The doors R. are wide open. 
 
 DELLA, R.C., is looking off through these doors 
 in a manner expressing the warmest and most 
 sympathetic admiration of something she is 
 watching. She clasps her hands in a Madonna 
 gesture beside her cheek, her eyes uplifted. 
 
 DELLA. (Fondly muttering) Ah ! (Pause) Ah, 
 now ! (She becomes haughty and repellent) 
 Whoosh! (Tosses her head and moves slowly to 
 R.C.; 
 
 (The cause of her change of manner is the approach 
 of DINWIDDIE. He comes in R V dressed for 
 dinner service, with a silver tray, silver coffee 
 pot and sugar, cups and saucers. He looks 
 sternly at DELLA, then takes the tray to a table. 
 She again looks off through the door R. from 
 her position c., and resumes her fond gesticula 
 tions. DINWIDDIE looks at her several times 
 with extreme disapproval; then he looks in 
 tently at the ceiling.) 
 
 DINWIDDIE. (DELLA turns in contempt to DIN 
 WIDDIE. DINWIDDIE addressing the ceiling) I don t 
 speak to no one here present, but if they was a little 
 bird I could see up there in the sky 
 
70 CLARENCE 
 
 DELLA. (Interrupting, plausibly) In the sky? 
 It s the ceiling. Even if you was outdoors, it s dark 
 an you couldn t see no birds. 
 
 DINWIDDIE. (Persisting) If they was a little 
 bird up there (Looks at her, then up again) I 
 would speak to him and I would say: (Coldly) 
 Bird, the fam ly is comin out from dinner in a min 
 ute or so, an this ain t no place fer domestics of 
 smirched reputations. (Puts tray on table L.C. 
 Concludes looking at her.) 
 
 DELLA. You better run then! 
 
 DJNWIDDIE. (Sternly) I am as pure . . . 
 
 DELLA. Are ye talkin t the bird? (He utters a 
 sound of pain and fiercely arranges the tray. She 
 responds with a short laugh, and resumes her admir 
 ing interest of off R., going on rapturously) You 
 can see right through t the dining-room. From 
 here you can see him eatin just as plain ! (She 
 indicates her joyous contempt of this measure by 
 the briefest sketch of an undignified dance.) 
 
 DINWIDDIE. Sickening ! 
 
 DELLA. (Jeeringly) Speakin to me? 
 
 DINWIDDIE. (Lifting his eyes) I m speaking to 
 the bird ! 
 
 DELLA. (Runs across, opens one of the doors 
 slightly, looks through and becomes rapturous 
 again) He s eatin his dessert! 
 
 DINWIDDIE. (Explosively) Who is this Clair- 
 nce? Nobody knows! (Still looking up) Nobody 
 knows a thing about him not a thing ! 
 
 DELLA. (Unheeding, clasping her hands in soft 
 rapture) He eats so pritty ! 
 
 DINWIDDIE. (Fiercely, looking at her) Oh, my 
 
 Guh (He catches himself in the middle of the 
 
 word, looks "up, and without pausing, goes on) OJi, 
 bird! 
 
 (BOBBY, in his dinner clothes, hastily enters R., he 
 has a cautious manner, yet nervous and quick.) 
 
CLARENCE 71 
 
 BOBBY. (To DINWIDDIEJ D ju take Miss Pin- 
 ney s dinner up to her room for her? 
 
 DINWIDDIE. She sent word she didn t wish any. 
 
 BOBBY. (Crosses to DINWIDDIE,) Mamma says 
 for you to go up and ask her from her if she won t 
 please come down here as a favor. 
 ( DINWIDDIE exits L.) 
 
 DELLA. (Looking off R.) You could never be 
 lieve it ! 
 
 BOBBY. (Suspiciously) Believe what? 
 
 DELLA. That Mr. Clarence used to be a wash 
 room man in a hotel. Of course, there s tips. . .^ . 
 
 BOBBY. (Incredulous) You say he worked in 
 a hotel lavatory? 
 
 DELLA. He told me so. 
 
 BOBBY. Why, that s horrible ! The f am ly ought 
 to know about this. 
 
 DELLA. Little Ainjill! (Looking R.J 
 
 BOBBY. Now, see here! I don t want any en- 
 dearmalents from you. All that was mere sensu- 
 osity on my part, and nothing permanent at all. If 
 you come around here callin me "angel" . . . 
 
 DELLA. (Exclaiming in denial) Oh, bird! 
 
 BOBBY. I m tired of all this blackmail; the 
 fam ly know about it, anyhow. You can t call me 
 "bird" nor "angel" nor ... 
 
 DELLA. (With a wan laugh) I didn t mean you, 
 Mister Robert ! (She is looking off R .) 
 
 BOBBY. (Staggered) Who did you mean ? (Ear 
 nestly, with an inspiration after a glance over his 
 shoulder to R.) Did you mean Clarence f 
 
 DELLA. (Dreamily) Oh, yes! 
 
 BOBBY. (Earnestly) Well, if he s taken this 
 burden onto himself off o my shoulders he s done 
 some good if he was a lavatory porter ! After usin 
 these terms over another man, you can t dogmatize 
 me any more! 
 
72 CLARENCE 
 
 DELLA. (With a sweet, dreamy look) All but 
 the most willin thoughts has gone out o my mind. 
 (Goes up.) 
 
 BOBBY. Well, that s a relief to me, whatever you 
 mean. 
 
 fViOLET enters L v wearing the same dress seen in 
 the second act. Her expression is serious.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Quickly, as she enters) Mrs. Wheeler 
 sent for me. 
 
 (Exit DELLA up c. to off R.J 
 
 BOBBY. (Instantly) Oh, Violet ! (This is in a 
 voice of dreamy inexpressibleness, but is spoken 
 quickly. He starts toward her) Oh, Vio . . . 
 
 (He is checked by MRS. WHEELER S entrance R. She 
 is in a handsome evening gown with jewels, 
 camelias in her corsage; a pretty evening scarf 
 over her shoulders, a fan in her hand. She 
 looks radiant! Comes in briskly and speaks 
 quickly.) 
 
 MRS. W. (As she enters) Run away a minute, 
 Bobby, please. fBoBBY goes out R. quickly. MRS. 
 W. stands R.c. near the coffee table, smiling graci 
 ously, and going on at once) Miss Pinney, I m go 
 ing 1 to be very direct. I want you to forget that 
 little scene this afternoon if you will. 
 
 VIOLET. (Standing by a couch L.C., her hands 
 moving slightly upon the top of the back of it, her 
 eyes cast down) I m afraid I can hardly do that, 
 Mrs. Wheeler. 
 
 MRS. W. (Coming to couch amiably) Mr. 
 Wheeler is rather worn out, and he forgot himself 
 for a moment and said things he didn t mean -and 
 
CLARENCE 73 
 
 (Bus. sits on couch with a little laugh. VIOLET sits 
 R. end of couch) so, perhaps, did I, I m afraid. 
 You said nothing at all that I could object to. 
 That s all there was of it. Somehow everything 
 seems so much cheerfuller in this house, this eve 
 ning, than it has for a long time. I ve told my hus 
 band that I m not in the least angry with him why 
 should I be? I hope we re all going to be hap 
 pier, we all need something in our lives. And about 
 this afternoon, well, it was a mistake; that s all 
 suppose we just pass it over? 
 
 VIOLET. (Profoundly perplexed) I m afraid 
 I (Rises, goes TSL.) 
 
 MRS. W. (Cheerfully, goes behind table c.) Tut, 
 tut, now ! Now, please, you wouldn t have any din 
 ner ; you ll at least have your coffee ? 
 
 VIOLET. (At c.) I ... 
 
 MRS. W. I m sure you will, just to please your 
 friends, we re all friends this evening. (Calling) 
 Come back, Bobby ! (She pours the coffee. BOBBY 
 appears in the doorway R. At R. of couch. Nod 
 ding gaily) Tell them their coffee s getting cold. 
 Take this to Miss Pinney, dear, f BOBBY takes the 
 cup of coffee she hands him to VIOLET, who accepts 
 it perplexedly and both sit R. MRS. WHEELER, pour 
 ing other cups, calls to off R.j Aren t you coming? 
 ^WHEELER, in dinner clothes, very serious, enters 
 R,, smoking a cigar just lit. MRS. WHEELER ad 
 dresses him amiably) Come in, poor, dear man! 
 Here ! (She gives him a cup) Go and sit by poor 
 Miss Pinney and cheer her up. (Goes on pouring, 
 not looking up.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Going to MRS. W., L. Heavily em 
 barrassed) Thanks. I m smoking I ll u h 
 
 (Goes up to sun-room. BOBBY sits by VIOLET.) 
 
 MRS. W. (Beamingly to R.J Waiting for you. 
 
 enters R. She is in a very pretty evening 
 
74 CLARENCE 
 
 dress appropriate to her age; and her expres 
 sion is wanly solemn. She comes in slowly, 
 halts just in the room and sighs inaudibly but 
 not visibly, as she opens her mouth to do it. 
 This is facing front; then she looks R.) 
 
 CORA. (Crosses L. In an earnest, solicitous, sol 
 emn voice) Aren t you coming- in here, Clarence? 
 CLARENCE. (Door R. Entering R.) Yes, oh, 
 yes. (He wears new dinner clothes, has a camelia 
 in his button-hole. He is somewhat apprehensive) 
 Oh, thank you ! (Speaking across the room) Good 
 evening, Miss Pinney. (She nods slightly) I m 
 sorry to hear you had a headache. (She acknowl 
 edges this faintly) I hope it s very much better. 
 ... I hope you haven t any at all by this time. I 
 hope . . . (Starts to sit by Miss PINNEY at R.) 
 
 CORA. (Reprovingly, in a hushed voice, solemnly, 
 huskily) Let s sit down. Let s sit down here, Clar 
 ence. (Divan L.C.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Crosses to couch L.) Oh, yes, 
 thanks. (He sits upon the R. side of divan, facing 
 front. CORA sits exactly at the same time he does, 
 to L. of him, facing him, her profile to front, her el 
 bow on the back of the divan, her hand to her cheek. 
 MRS. WHEELER puts a cup and saucer in his hand, 
 smiling benevolently.) 
 
 MRS. W. (Gently) There, Clarence. Is it 
 right ? 
 
 CLARENCE. Thanks. 
 
 CORA. (Not moving, speaks sacredly) He takes 
 one lump in the evening, Mamma. He takes two 
 in the morning. He told me so, himself. Didn t 
 you, Clarence? 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes. 
 
 MRS. W. (Putting a lump of sugar in C. s cup. 
 gently) Is this right, Clarence? 
 
 CORA. Yes- Mamma. 
 
CLARENCE 75 
 
 CLARENCE. Thanks. I m sorry Miss Pinney s 
 headache . . . 
 
 CORA. (Dreamily) Oh, Clarence! (He turns 
 to look at CORA. Her fixed look at him is embar 
 rassing.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Solicitously to CORAJ Mayn t I 
 give you some coffee? 
 
 CORA. (Unchanging) No. No. No coffee. 
 
 (To avoid her gaze, he turns and smiles feebly to 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. Her instantly responsive smile 
 
 is such that his own fades, and he looks for 
 ward blankly.) 
 
 MRS. W. (Smiling solicitously) Is there any 
 thing you want, Clarence? 
 
 CLARENCE. Oh, no! 
 
 BOBBY. (L. near VIOLET^ I expect he d like 
 Cora to quit lookin at him. (Speaks slowly and 
 with calm bitterness. There is a pause. Then, ear 
 nestly marveling, he adds to VIOLET J My goodness, 
 she didn t even try to make any repartee! ^ 
 
 CORA. (Unchanging, in a monotone throughout) 
 Clarence? Clarence? (He looks at her; he has 
 been trying to look at VIOLET ) Clarence, aren t 
 you going to play some more for us ? I want you to 
 play. I want you to play right away. (Still un 
 changing) Bobby, run up to Clarence s room and 
 get his saxophone for him. 
 
 BOBBY. (Calmly but doggedly) I will not. 
 
 ( WHEELER goes to table and MRS. W. takes cup.) 
 
 CORA. ^ (Unchanging except for the slightest note 
 of plaintiveness) Papa, won t you please go get 
 his saxophone for him ? 
 
 WHEELER. (Up c. Mildly incredulous) What 
 did you say ? 
 
76 CLARENCE 
 
 MRS. W. (Amiably) Do, Henry. 
 
 WHEELER. (Coming down a little way) Do 
 what? 
 
 MRS. W. (Pleasantly) Won t you go and get 
 Clarence s sax 
 
 CLARENCE. (Coughing hastily) Oh, no, no! I 
 don t think I play really at all well. 
 
 ^WHEELER turns up again.) 
 
 CORA. Then if you won t play, will you answer 
 me one question, Clarence? 
 
 CLARENCE. (A little suspicious) What is the 
 question ? 
 
 CORA. (Wistfully) It s simply, Clarence, what 
 was the matter with your liver? 
 
 CLARENCE. If I answer you this time, will you 
 promise never to ask me again? 
 
 CORA. (Quickly) Yes. What was the matter 
 with your liver, Clarence? 
 
 CLARENCE. I was shot in it ! 
 
 MRS. W. (With eager loudness) At Chateau 
 Thierry ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Explosively, his voice breaking with 
 protest) No ! At target practice ! 
 
 (MR. WHEELER sits up L. in armchair.) 
 
 CORA. (After a pause) What else did you do 
 that was heroic, Clarence? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Despairingly) I beg your pardon? 
 
 CORA. What was the next thing you did in the 
 war? 
 
 CLARENCE. That was the last thing I did. I 
 didn t do any more after that. 
 
 CORA. (Unable to express her dreamy wistful- 
 ness) Oh, Clarence! 
 
 (He sighs and sets his cup on the table. BOBBY 
 rises f crosses and puts cup on table.) 
 
CLARENCE 77 
 
 BOBBY. Has Hubert Stem been telephoning or 
 anything this evening, Cora? (Apparently casual.) 
 
 CORA. (Not looking at him, speaks carelessly) 
 Who? 
 
 BOBBY. That ole grass-widower Stem. 
 
 CORA. (Vaguely) "Stem?" (As if the name 
 were unknown) What about him? (Impulsively, 
 BOBBY crosses to R .) Clarence, you must have been 
 standing somewhere in the way of the target! 
 
 CLARENCE. I heard afterwards that I had 
 been. 
 
 MRS. W. (Cheerfully to him) Sha n t we all go 
 and see if it s moonlight on the veranda, Clarence? 
 (Rises. WHEELER notices this with surprised an 
 noyance.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Blankly) I should be delighted. 
 (Rises, preparing to go. WHEELER comes down a 
 little.) 
 
 CORA. (Dreamily) No. Let s stay just like 
 this. 
 
 MRS. W. (In an ordinary, pleasant tone) Yes. 
 It s lovely here. I suppose moonlight is in one s 
 heart, after all ... in any heart that s found some 
 thing to put moonlight about. ("WHEELER comes 
 down, by piano) That s the hard thing: to find 
 someone to pour moonlight out on. But when you 
 do, it doesn t matter where you are. Don t you 
 think that s true, Clarence? 
 
 CLARENCE. (After a somewhat disturbed glance 
 at WHEELER ) I m sure it must be. 
 
 CORA. Clarence, I do want you to play again. 
 Papa, won t you please run and get . . . 
 
 CLARENCE. (Hastily) I really don t think I 
 should. You see, it s only an accident that I ever 
 knew how to play at all. ^WHEELER is down.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Drily) How was that? How could 
 you learn to play the saxophone by accident? 
 
 CLARENCE. Why, we used to see whether certain 
 
78 CLARENCE 
 
 species of beetles found in Montana are deaf, or if 
 they respond to peculiar musical vibrations. 
 
 (BOBBY rises, and comes down, he and WHEELER 
 glance at each other.) 
 
 CORA. (Dreamily) Beetles! How wonderful! 
 How could you tell if the beetles responded to the 
 vibrations? 
 
 CLARENCE. We placed them in a dish filled with 
 food, that they were passionately fond of, and then 
 I played to them. If they climbed out of the dish 
 and left this food and went away we knew they d 
 heard the music. 
 
 BOBBY. (Rises, very serious) Are the hotels 
 good out in Montana? (He has risen on CLAR 
 ENCE S speech.) 
 
 CLARENCE. I don t know. I was living in a 
 tent. 
 
 WHEELER. (Drily) Hunting those beetles? 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes. They live outdoors. 
 
 BOBBY. (Staring) And you were playing the 
 saxophone to em? 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes. Hours and hours at a time 
 to the deaf ones. It got very tedious. 
 
 ^WHEELER and BOBBY mark this as another incred 
 ible statement.) 
 
 CORA. I wish I d been one. 
 
 BOBBY. (Huskily) You wouldn t haf to change 
 much! 
 
 CORA. Were there any cannibals in Montana, 
 Clarence ? 
 
 f WHEELER looks from CORA to CLARENCE.; 
 
 CLARENCE. (Mystified) No. Almost every 
 thing else but no cannibals. 
 
CLARENCE 79 
 
 WHEELER. (To CORA, severely) What do you 
 mean? Cannibals in Montana? 
 
 CORA. (To all, casually) You know he was 
 brought up by the cannibals. 
 
 WHEELER. (Gravely incredulous) He was? 
 
 CORA. (Going on quickly) And they never tried 
 to eat him or his family. He told me the first time 
 we met him. They tried to eat almost everybody 
 else, but they never tried to eat him or his family. 
 Did they, Clarence ? 
 
 (T30BBY and WHEELER turn up to the sun-room; dis 
 appear thence to off L. Exit.) 
 
 CLARENCE. No ! But that wasn^t precisely what 
 I intended to convey to your mind ! 
 
 CORA. (With gentle reproach) It was that day 
 
 in Papa s office, Clarence, you said the cannibals 
 
 ( She is interrupted, to the mystification of herself; 
 MRS. WHEELER and CLARENCE, by VIOLET, who 
 breaks into irrepressible laughter. They look at her t 
 and CLARENCE rises.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Staring in surprise) Miss 
 Pinney! (CLARENCE walks across and looks sol 
 emnly at her: then he looks at MRS. W., then back 
 at VIOLET, who rises, trying to control her mirth f 
 but not succeeding) Is she hysterical? 
 
 VIOLET. I m not hysterical ! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Gravely, to MRS. WHEELER,) She 
 says not. 
 
 VIOLET. (Turning from him, still out of con 
 trol) Please go away ! (He takes a step back, ut 
 terly mystified.) 
 
 CORA. (Rising, incredulous and indignant) Is 
 she laughing at Clarence? 
 
 VIOLET. (Protesting almost hysterically) Oh, 
 never! Never! I could never do anything like 
 that! 
 
&> CLARENCE 
 
 MRS. W. (Going c., smiling) It might be tact 
 ful of us to go and see if it really is moonlight on 
 the veranda, don t you think so? (To CLARENCE.^ 
 
 CORA. (Quickly and decidedly, as she goes up) 
 I m coming, too, Mamma ! 
 
 MRS. W. (Drily) Of course, dear. (Smiling 
 and extending her hand toward CLARENCE,) Aren t 
 you coming ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Blankly) Oh thanks (He 
 
 goes up; each takes one of his arms.) 
 
 MRS. W. (Happily) It is moonlight out there ! 
 
 CORA. (Leaning back to look at him better) Oh, 
 Clarence! (This is always quiet and wistful.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Hurriedly) That reminds me; 
 something I forgot (Detaching himself.) 
 
 MRS. W. (Quickly) We ll send and get it. 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, in fact, it s something I forgot 
 to a sk Miss Pinney. I ll come in just a moment. 
 
 MRS. W. (Amiably, a little bothered, going) Oh, 
 of course. 
 
 (Exit up L. CLARENCE starts down.) 
 
 CORA. (Going) Not a long moment? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Reassuringly, stopping) No, no. 
 (Exit CORA up L., giving him a wistful final look. 
 CLARENCE turns to VIOLET ) Of course when you 
 told me to go away 
 
 VIOLET. (Interrupting) That s why you 
 didn t? 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, of course when a lady declines 
 to eat her dinner on account of a headache, and then 
 laughs at you out of a clear sky and tells you to go 
 away, why no In fact you don t! 
 
 VIOLET. You mean you stayed because you re 
 curious about why I laughed. (Half question, half 
 assertion.) 
 
 CLARENCE. No. I just mean I stayed. 
 
 VIOLET. (Looking up at him with hidden amuse- 
 
CLARENCE 8l 
 
 went) Don t you want to know why I laughed? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Uneasily) Fm not sure! I m not 
 at all sure I do; people aren t usually made much 
 cheerfuller by finding out why other people laugh 
 at them ! 
 
 VIOLET. (With an inclination of her head to- 
 ward up L.j You told them you had a question to 
 ask me. (Gravely) You oughtn t to keep them 
 waiting. 
 
 CLARENCE. A question? Yes. You said this 
 afternoon we couldn t be friends any more. My 
 question is: if that wasn t just an afternoon rule 
 that we could consider not operating in the evening. 
 
 VIOLET. Hardly ! 
 
 CLARENCE. Couldn t ? 
 
 VIOLET. It was on account of what you said this 
 afternoon that I laughed at you this evening. (In 
 a lower voice, turning from him) You have so 
 many to think of, you know ! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Puzzled) I? To "think" of ! 
 
 VIOLET. (With indignant amusement) Doesn t 
 it seem rather funny, even to you : your giving me 
 that little lecture this afternoon about the people 
 that you said wanted me to "think" of them? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Enlightened) Oh, you mean when 
 I said I wanted you to think of me! 
 
 VIOLET. (Scornfully) Oh ! 
 
 CLARENCE. You mean you got to thinking about 
 that this evening, and that s what made you laugh. 
 You thought it was so funny my wanting you to 
 think of me. 
 
 VIOLET. (Gaily) No ; I thought it was so funny 
 your giving me that lecture; you see, you seem to 
 have so many to think of that I don t want you to 
 think of me! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Earnestly) I d like to do what you 
 want : I don t know. I don t know whether it could 
 be stopped or not. A person goes around thinking 
 
82 CLARENCE 
 
 -^~it wouldn t make any noise, just thinking. It 
 needn t disturb you at all. 
 
 VIOLET. (With scornful amusement) I think 
 you ll be able to stop it. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Plaintively) But it s the only pleas 
 ant thing- I do ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Scornfully) Oh ! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Going on plaintively) It seems un 
 reasonable to be asked to give it up. I d even rather 
 give up my music ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Emphatically) Oh, believe me ! That, 
 you ll not be allowed to give up ! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Apprehensively) Don t you think 
 I will? I don t think Mr. Wheeler cares for it par 
 ticularly. 
 
 VIOLET. Neither do I ; but I m sure you ll have 
 to keep on with it, that and your wonderful stories 
 about beetles and 
 
 CLARENCE. (Interrupting) Those weren t sto 
 ries ; it was perfectly true. 
 
 VIOLET. (With feeling) I hope it was truer than 
 what you said to me this afternoon, when you 
 when you thought fit to bring to bring Mr. Wheel 
 er s name into your lecture. 
 
 CLARENCE. I only meant to well, I thought a 
 friendly warning might 
 
 VIOLET. (Smouldering) You meant that this 
 friendliness to me was troubling his wife. (In 
 dignantly and pathetically) As if I could help 
 
 CLARENCE. If you cried I couldn t stand it! 
 
 VIOLET. (Going on brokenly) As if I knew 
 which way to turn or what to do 
 
 CLARENCE. If you cry I ll do something queer ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Her indignation getting the better of 
 pathos) I sha n t cry ! I only want you to imagine 
 that Mrs. Wheeler s friendliness to you had al 
 ready begun to attract her husband s attention and 
 to annoy him ! 
 
CLARENCE 83 
 
 CLARENCE. (Somewhat stiffly) Ordinarily I d 
 want to imagine anything you wanted me to imag 
 ine, but I could hardly imagine that! 
 
 VIOLET. No? You couldn t? 
 
 CLARENCE. (More stiffly) Certainly not! 
 
 ( BOBBY enters quickly up c. from off L.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Seeing him) I think you re wanted! 
 (Significantly.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Stiffly) I teg your pardon. 
 
 VIOLET. (More significantly) I think you re 
 sent for. 
 
 ( CLARENCE turns, following her glance, and sees 
 
 BOBBYj 
 
 BOBBY. (Very serious) Mama wants to know 
 how long before you re coming. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Bothered) Ah does she? 
 
 BOBBY. So does Cora. 
 
 VIOLET. (Quietly) You mustn t keep them 
 waiting. (CLARENCE looks at her coldly.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Coming down) There s just one thing 
 I want to say. I don t mind speakin of it before 
 Miss Pinney because I already told her all the worst 
 in my nature, and it s better to be above-board any 
 how, isn t it? 
 
 VIOLET. (Looking at CLARENCE,) Yes. / think 
 it is. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Sharply) Why, certainly it is ! 
 
 BOBBY. Well, it s just this: I might of paid 
 mighty dear for a mere imprudence, if Delia hadn t 
 got the way she is over you, Clarence. 
 
 CLARENCE. Delia? 
 
 BOBBY. Whatever happens to you, I want to 
 thank you for that. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Astounded) Thank me for for 
 the way Delia "is over me"? 
 
84 CLARENCE 
 
 BOBBY. That s practically all I had to say. 
 Whatever it is about you that s got Mama and 
 Cora so upset, why Delia acts just about the same 
 as they do and it s certainly a great relief to me! 
 So now I ve thanked you, and it s pretty cold out 
 
 on that veranda, and they told me to say (He 
 
 is interrupted by CORA, who has just come on from 
 up L. and stands up c. She wears a wrap.) 
 
 CORA. (Sweetly plaintive) Clarence, Mama 
 says maybe you don t want to come 
 
 CLARENCE. (Desperately crosses L.) Miss Pin- 
 ney 
 
 VIOLET. They re waiting for you! (Crosses L. 
 up to L. of table. He gives her an indignant look.) 
 
 CORA. (Dreamily) Aren t you coming, Clar 
 ence? 
 
 CLARENCE. {In an agonised voice) Oh, yes ; 
 thanks ! (He goes up to her.) 
 
 READY WHEELER 
 
 CORA. (Cosily as they move L.J You like us 
 all, don t you, Clarence? 
 
 (Exeunt up L.) 
 
 BOBBY. (After a glance at this departure) It s 
 just as well for you, you didn t come down to din 
 ner; you could hardly eaten any anyway, the way 
 Cora was sayin , "Oh, Clarence!" and Mamma al- 
 most as terrible. I and Father hardly could, our 
 selves ! 
 
 VIOLET. (With amused distaste) And you say 
 Delia (Turns down to BOBBY.) 
 
 BOBBY. I caught her callin him an angel. Oh, 
 not to him ; but she can t hamper my career after 
 that! She says he told her he used to work in a 
 hotel wash-room 
 
 VIOLET. ( Not believing it) Oh, no. 
 
 BOBBY. Well, anyway, it s only another of his 
 stories about himself. Look, whenever he says any- 
 
CLARENCE 85 
 
 thing about himself it s somp n a body can hardly 
 believe, or else disgraceful like that. I and Father 
 been havin a talk about him and we both think it ll 
 be better if you don t have any more to do with him, 
 Violet. 
 
 VIOLET. Why? 
 
 BOBBY. Look; the way / look at it is simply; 
 well, simply look at the way Cora and Mama and 
 Delia are! Look, you don t want to get like that; 
 you got an awful high nature. It brings out all the 
 most spirichul things I got in me, and we think this is 
 gettin to be a serious matter. 
 
 VIOLET. (Puzzled) Clarence is ? 
 
 BOBBY. (Even more earnestly) Look; don t 
 even let him talk to you. (Casually) Course we 
 don t feel it makes so much difference about Cora 
 and Mamma (Becoming earnest again) but with 
 your spirichul nature, Violet, and all this and that, 
 and he telling about these Montana beetles, and 
 them listening to a saxophone, and being brought up 
 by cannibals, and this mule story without bad lan 
 guage, and then workin in a hotel lavatory 
 7 WHEELER enters up c. from off L. BOBBY and 
 VIOLET do not see him) and all thus and so, why, 
 we think it s time somep n ll haf to be done about 
 it! 
 
 VIOLET. What like ? (Somewhat troubled.) 
 
 BOBBY. Well, I and Father 
 
 WHEELER. (Up c. interrupting) Never mind, 
 Bobby. (VIOLET moves to go out) Please, Miss 
 Pinney (Coming down c. This detains her.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Sits) I guess we better talk it over 
 frankly, now we re all three here. 
 
 WHEELER. (Gives him a thoughtful glance) No. 
 I m going to ask you to step out for a moment, 
 Bobby. 
 
 BOBBY. (Getting up, gravely surprised) Me? 
 Well, all right. I only want to say just one thing, 
 
86 CLARENCE 
 
 listen: When my own son rs practically a grown 
 man, I think I shall know how to value him ! ( Exit 
 coldly cxj 
 
 VIOLET. (In a low voice goes to WHEELER,) 
 What is it about, Clarence? 
 
 WHEELER. (Much troubled, but quiet) Just a 
 moment. I see now that whatever I decide to do 
 witfo my own life, I ve got first to straighten out my 
 mistake in bringing him here. But I want to tell 
 you I was "overwrought" this afternoon I sup 
 pose I am still, for that matter but I meant every 
 word I said. 
 
 VIOLET. (Troubled, looking down) Oh, no, 
 Mr. Wheeler. 
 
 WHEELER. (Doggedly) Yes, I did. (She shakes 
 her head) Oh, yes. 
 
 VIOLET. (Quietly, not looking up) You don t 
 know how sorry I am for you. (Moves away a 
 little.) 
 
 WHEELER. (With feeling, but^ quietly) I felt I 
 simply couldn t stand the situation here, unless I 
 could rely on your helping me. 
 
 VIOLET. (Looking up seriously) I think things 
 have just got too much for you, Mr. Wheeler. 
 
 WHEELER. (With a controlled desperation) If 
 they were that, this afternoon, they re more than 
 that to-night, don t you think ? (More loudly) I ve 
 never seen anything like it! You couldn t have 
 helped but notice my wife s behavior with this fel 
 low Smun. 
 
 VIOLET. With whom? 
 
 WHEELER. (Impatiently) With this Smun! 
 
 VIOLET. (Frowning) Who? 
 
 WHEELER. Clarence. Clarence Smun. 
 
 VIOLET. But his name isn t "Smun." 
 
 WHEELER. Yes. S-M-U-N Smun. 
 
 VIOLET. No. His name s Moon. M-double O-N 
 Moon. Clarence Moon. 
 
CLARENCE 8? 
 
 WHEELER. (Annoyed) Oh, but I know. My 
 secretary took his name When he applied in my office. 
 I m not quite such an idiot as to put a man in my 
 house and not even know his name! It s Smun. 
 
 VIOLET. Have you ever spoken to him by that 
 name? Calling him "Mr. Smun," I mean? 
 
 WHEELER. (At c.) Why, certainly! I don t 
 know maybe I haven t. No. Perhaps not. Bobby 
 and Cora started in calling him Clarence, and the 
 rest of us just dropped into that. (Goes over to 
 VIOLET,) But have you ever called him "Mr. 
 Moon?" 
 
 VIOLET. (A little consciously) I believe I ve 
 just called him "you." 
 
 WHEELER. I thought so ! It s Smun. I may be 
 in a bad state of nerves, but at least I know a name 
 of four letters when I see it ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Skeptically) Did he write it for 
 you? 
 
 WHEELER. No! But Mrs. Martyn did! 
 
 VIOLET. (Coldly) Oh, she was mistaken. 
 
 WHEELER. (Emphatically) Mrs. Martyn is 
 never mistaken ! 
 
 VIOLET. (With serene doggedness) His name s 
 Moon, though! 
 
 WHEELER. (Sharply) I really don t see what s 
 the use of being so obstinate about it ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Offended) Mr. Wheeler! 
 
 WHEELER. (With a flinging out of hands, he 
 swings away from her) Oh, well; good gracious, 
 what s the good of quarreling about a thing like 
 that? It is Smun! (Turns up.) 
 
 ( BOBBY enters up c.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Shaking her head slightly) No. 
 Moon. 
 WHEELER. (Whirling upon her) I said 
 
88 CLARENCE 
 
 (Checks himself, his mouth open. He sees BOBBY J 
 I asked you 
 
 /BOBBY passing up; WHEELER calls to him.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Reprovingly) Look; you said, "Step 
 out a moment." (Going off.) 
 
 WHEELER. Wait a minute. ( BOBBY comes in) 
 What do you understand Clarence s name to be? 
 
 BOBBY. (With suspicion that either he is being 
 insulted or his father is becoming an idiot) What 
 do I understand Clarence s name to be? 
 
 WHEELER. (Testily) That s what I asked you ! 
 
 BOBBY. (In the same state of mind, testily) 
 Why, what do you mean, asking me such a ques 
 tion? 
 
 WHEELER. (Angrily) What? 
 
 BOBBY. (A light striking him) Oh, you mean 
 his last name ? 
 
 WHEELER. (Savagely) I do ! Do you know it ? 
 
 BOBBY. (With dignified asperity) Cert nly I 
 know it His name s Clarence Smart. 
 
 VIOLET. (With a quiet triumph) I told you it 
 wasn t "Smun." It s Moon. 
 
 WHEELER. (Turning up, despairing of every 
 thing) Oh, dear! Oh, dear! 
 
 BOBBY. (Mildly) His last name s Smart, Violet. 
 
 VIOLET. No. It s Moon. 
 
 fCoRA sings off JL,.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Surprised) Oh, is it? Well all right. 
 It s Moon. (Sits philosophically. WHEELER turns 
 and stares at him.) 
 
 READY BELL 
 
 VIOLET. fCoRA enters c., still humming f starts to 
 exit up R.; Well? What about him? 
 
 BOBBY. Well, in the first place 
 
CLARENCE 89 
 
 WHEELER. (Up c.) Wait. (Frowning) Cora. 
 (He comes down.) 
 
 CORA. (Halting at door) Whatcha want, Papa ? 
 
 WHEELER. What is Clarence s last name? 
 
 CORA. (Preoccupied, but the slightest bit sur 
 prised) Clarence? I never thought of his having 
 one. (Begins to hum again and exits R., still much 
 Preoccupied.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Mildly explaining) You see, she hasn t 
 got any sense. 
 
 BELL 
 
 WHEELER. (Almost moaning) Perhaps we 
 might agree to continue to speak of him just as 
 
 "Clarence." The important thing is to (He 
 
 breaks off as DINWIDDIE enters R. WHEELER looks 
 at him in frowning inquiry.) 
 
 DINWIDDIE. {Not stopping, crossing to L.cJ 
 Door, sir. 
 
 WHEELER. Not at home. ^DINWIDDIE starts out 
 R. Front of WHEELER, back of VIOLET) Dinwid- 
 die? (DINWIDDIE turns) You distribute the mail 
 in the house ; you ve seen Smun s letters 
 
 DINWIDDIE. Whose, sir ? 
 
 WHEELER. (Goes up to DINWIDDIE testily) 
 Clarence s! How is his last name spelled on the 
 letters that come for him? 
 
 DINWIDDIE. There haven t any come for him 
 since he s been here, sir. 
 
 WHEELER. All right. 
 
 DINWIDDIE. Yes, sir. 
 
 (Exit up c. to Rj 
 
 WHEELER. (At L.C. Going on rather irritably) 
 Been here three weeks and hasn t had a letter ; that s 
 pretty queer! 
 
 BOBBY. Well, yes ! 
 
 WHEELER. I m willing to waive his name, though, 
 of course, it is Smun. 
 
90 CLARENCE 
 
 VIOLET. (Rises interrupting) But, Mr. 
 Wheeler, nobody s name ever was "Smun." 
 
 WHEELER. It happens his is. Mrs. Martyn 
 
 VIOLET. There isn t sudi a name. It s Moon. 
 
 WHEELER. (Gulping down a sharp expostula 
 tion) Well, let s get to what has to be done about 
 him! I don t like this three weeks without a let 
 ter. A young man of that sort gets letters. It looks 
 a s if he d taken measure not to get em. 
 
 BOBBY. Well, you brought him here, Father. 
 
 WHEELER. (At c.) All of us have our foolish 
 day sometime, when we do the thing we ve never 
 before. Afterwards it was so embarrassing to ask 
 him questions about himself that I ve put it off from 
 day to day. I won t put it off now! (Enter DIN- 
 WIDDIE from R.) What do you -want? (This is to 
 
 DlNWIDDlE.J 
 
 DINWIDDIE. It s Mr. Hubert Stem, sir. He 
 asked for you, sir. 
 
 WHEELER. (Sharply) What! 
 
 VIOLET. I made it clear to him this afternoon, 
 Mr. Wheeler, that if he came here again, you would 
 see him. 
 
 DINWIDDIE. That s what he said, sir, when I told 
 him "Not at home." 
 
 WHEELER. (Sharply, as if to go out R.J Is 
 Miss Cora out there? 
 
 DINWIDDIE. No, sir; she s upstairs. 
 
 WHEELER. (Grimly breathing hard) Tell him to 
 come in. (Exit DINWIDDIE R. ) I ll finish this one 
 
 first! Just (Goes up c.) Please, Miss Pin- 
 
 ney 
 
 (He motions to them to go up; and they do as STEM 
 enters R. He is in dinner clothes and overcoat, 
 no hat and is repressing some excitement. DIN 
 WIDDIE closes the door without entering. BOBBY 
 goes up on veranda.) 
 
CLARENCE 91 
 
 WHEELER. Now, Mr. Stem 
 
 STEM. (Quickly as he enters) Now, wait, Mr. 
 Wheeler, before you say anything you ll be sorry 
 for! 
 
 WHEELER. (Grimly) Then perhaps you d bet 
 ter speak quickly, Mr. Stem. 
 
 ^STEM comes down.) 
 
 STEM. (Quickly, earnestly) I came here to do 
 your family a service. {Enter CORA R.J I 
 know 
 
 WHEELER. (Sharply) Wait, if you please. 
 
 A is heard for an instant humming R. The 
 same song. She is carrying CLARENCE S saxo 
 phone. Seeing nobody, she goes rhythmically 
 with her humming to up c. Suggests, merely, 
 a dance thought accompanying the air.) 
 
 BOBBY. (At L.C. on platform. Seriously and 
 significantly) Cora, don t you see Mr. Stem? 
 
 CORA. (Not stopping, glances back at STEM with 
 an utterly blank semi-circular sweep of her eye, 
 speaks in an absent monotone) Howja do. (In 
 stantly humming again, exits gaily up c. Short 
 pause.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Plaintively) Well, that s the way they 
 are, sometimes! 
 
 WHEELER. (Sternly to STEM,) Go on, sir, if 
 you please. 
 
 STEM. I m going to be brutally frank. I want 
 first to apologize for my thoughtlessness about Miss 
 Wheeler. I know she s not "out" and I did get her 
 to do a rather absurd thing, but it was my only way 
 to force another lady to pay some attention to my 
 existence. I mean Miss Pinney. 
 
 WHEELER. (Incredulous) Miss Pinney? 
 
92 CLARENCE 
 
 VIOLET. You couldn t leave me out of it? 
 
 STEM. No. (To WHEELER,) I tell you can 
 didly I m here now on Miss Pinney s account. The 
 only reason I ve ever been here is on Miss Pinney s 
 account. 
 
 BOBBY. (Coming down to R. of STEM. Severely) 
 Look here! This is serious ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Looking all the while at STEM) Mr. 
 Stem knows that I ve always been unable to like 
 him : he s not very pleasant in the means he uses to 
 "force" my "attention to his existence." 
 
 WHEELER. (To STEM, impatiently) What do 
 you want to say ? 
 
 STEM. When I saw her this afternoon, there was 
 a very unattractive young man in a soldiers uniform 
 drumming on the piano here. 
 
 WHEELER. Well, what about him? 
 
 STEM. I m sorry to say I thought Miss Pinney 
 seemed quite under his spell. (VIOLET laughs) 
 Since then I ve made some inquiries about him. 
 fViOLET laughs again.) 
 
 WHEELER. How ? 
 
 STEM. (Smiling faintly) Well, for one thing, 
 my servants know yours. 
 
 WHEELER. Well? 
 
 STEM. If yours know the facts and I think 
 they do you brought this man here without knowing 
 anything whatever about him. 
 
 WHEELER. (Grimly) Well, we know his name. 
 It s Clarence Smun. 
 
 VIOLET. Mr. Wheeler, will you ask him, him 
 self? 
 
 WHEELER. I decline ! Have a man three weeks 
 in my house and then go up and ask his name? 
 
 VIOLET. It s Clarence Moon. 
 
 STEM. Oh, no. I think you ll find it ! s not even 
 Qarence. 
 
 VIOLET. What nonsense! 
 
CLARENCE 93 
 
 STEM. Is it ? (To WHEELER,) He said he drove 
 mules, and he wears the uniform of a private in the 
 Quartermaster s Department, doesn t he? (Taking 
 <j> newspaper from his pocket.) 
 
 WHEELER. Yes. He did. 
 
 STEM. He s been here three weeks. 
 
 WHEELER. Just -about. 
 
 STEM. (Opening the paper) "Charles Short, 
 wagoner in the Quartermaster s Department. De 
 serted three weeks ago, sought both by War De 
 partment and divorced wife seeking alimony. Also 
 wanted in Delaware." There s his picture. 
 
 WHEELER. But it doesn t look like him. 
 
 STEM. (Promptly) Newspaper pictures never 
 do. I got the idea as soon as I saw it. It looks 
 something like him. 
 
 VIOLET. (Taking the paper) More like me! It 
 might just as well be my picture ! (Then with great 
 earnestness) What an awful fool you are! (She 
 hands paper to BOBBY who looks at it.) 
 
 WARNING FOR SINGING OFF STAGE 
 
 STEM. (Angrily triumphant) There! That s 
 one thing I wanted to find out! 
 
 VIOLET. What is? 
 
 STEM. How much interest you do take in him ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Contemptuously) As a matter of fact 
 I m extremely ^interested in him ! (Turns to win 
 dow. Indignantly.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Pleased. Following VIOLET up to win 
 dow) Are you, Violet? (Turns to VIOLET. ) 
 
 STEM. (Sharply, crosses to WHEELER) Mr. 
 Wheeler, have you any objection to my asking him 
 pointblank if he s this Charles Short? 
 
 WHEELER. (Profoundly annoyed by everything, 
 pacing the floor) Oh^ ask him, ask him! Point- 
 plank or any other way ! We ve g*ot to do some- 
 thing about him ! 
 
94 CLARENCE 
 
 STEM. (Decisively) I ll do it ! fViOLET laughs; 
 he turns to her, expostulating) Wait till you hear 
 what he says: Watch to see if he doesn t quibble. 
 (Going up) Is he out there? I ll ask him now. 
 
 SINGING 
 
 BOBBY. (Goes up c. f looking L.) You can t now. 
 Listen : It s terrible. 
 
 (The saxophone and an alto and soprano are heard 
 off L. in the air CORA has been humming. The 
 effect is not bad, but fails to please those in 
 room. WHEELER paces. VIOLET R.C. STEM 
 stands R.C.) 
 
 BOBBY. (With feeling) Why, I haven t heard 
 Mama even try to sing for anyway four or five 
 years, have you, Papa ? 
 
 ^ WHEELER. (Halting) No; I haven t. (His 
 frown deepens.) 
 
 BOBBY. It might be kind of better, if Cora 
 wouldn t they must feel terribly happy to be able 
 to stand makin sounds like those ! 
 
 WHEELER. (Waving toward him angrily) It s 
 gone far enough ! Tell them to come in here. 
 
 BOBBY. (Shouting to off L .) Hey ! Take a rest ! 
 Quit ! Come in here ! Papa wants you to come in 
 here! (Music stops) Yes, he does! Yes! In 
 here! 
 
 (Laughing voices are heard off up L V then CORAI 
 appears up c., still wearing her wrap, carrying 
 the saxophone affectionately. CLARENCE fol 
 lows, his coat closed over his chest, the collar 
 turned up. MRS. WHEELER clings happily to 
 his arm; she has a fur wrap about her. STEM 
 goes down R. VIOLET to* piano, WHEELER above 
 table.) 
 
CLARENCE 95 
 
 CORA. (As she comes) You want us to come in ? 
 (As in dreamy surprise.) 
 
 MRS. W. (Smiling brightly. Passes CORA,) 
 Howdy do, Mr. Stem? (To WHEELER, mildly sur 
 prised) Did you want us? Miss Pinney s here. 
 (Crosses down to c. She relinquishes CLARENCE S 
 arm, coming down, letting her wrap fall to her arm) 
 Do hope our little operetta didn t disturb 
 
 WHEELER. Never mind, Fanny! Mr. Stem has 
 a question he wants to ask, I believe. 
 
 MRS. W. (Frowning, amused) Of me? 
 
 STEM. (Nervously, but sharply, pointing to 
 CLARENCE, who is up R.C. with CORA) No. Of that 
 person there! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Surprised, pausing as he turns down 
 his collar) Of this person? (Comes down.) 
 
 STEM. (Loudly) Yes, sir! You! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Puzzled, coming down, CORA fol 
 lowing him) You wanted to ask me about some 
 thing ? 
 
 fCoRA halts when he does, the saxophone in her 
 arms, her eyes alzvays fixed upon him.) 
 
 STEM. {Sharply. BOBBY crosses to L.J I 
 wanted to ask you a simple, direct question. I see 
 you ve left off your uniform since this afternoon. 
 
 CLARENCE. Why, that isn t a simple, direct ques 
 tion. It isn t a question at all. It s an observa 
 tion. 
 
 STEM. (Exasperated) I m coming to my ques 
 tion, but first I want to know : Didn t you leave off 
 your uniform after the arrival of this evening s 
 paper? 
 
 CLARENCE. (With some indignation) No. I left 
 off my uniform after the arrival of my other clothes. 
 
 STEM. (Angrily) Isn t that quibbling? 
 
 CLARENCE. Why, do you dress by the paper? 
 
96 CLARENCE 
 
 STEM. (Fiercely) My question is simply and 
 plainly this : Did you ever hear the name of Charles 
 Short ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Quickly) Charles Short? Yes. 
 
 STEM, (Approaching a triumph) Do you know 
 anybody by the name of Charles Short? 
 
 CLARENCE. Of course I do. 
 
 STEM. (Crescendo) Do you know anybqdy by 
 the name of Charles Short well? 
 
 CLARENCE. Charles Shortwell? I do not. 
 
 STEM. But you do know a person named Charles 
 Short? 
 
 CLARENCE, Yes. Don t you? What do you 
 mean ? Everybody knows somebody named Charlie 
 Short! 
 
 STEM. (Loudly, and gesticulating like a lawyer) 
 I m talking about the one you know! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Quickly) I know three! 
 
 STEM. (Furious) I mean the one we re talking 
 about ! 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, good heavens, my dear sir, 
 which one of them are we talking about? I m not 
 talking about any of em. If you want to ask me a 
 simple, direct question about somebody named Char 
 lie Short, surely you ought to be able to say some 
 thing more about him than that he s the one we re 
 talking about. 
 
 STEM. More quibbles! Quibbles! 
 
 CLARENCE. "Quibbles?" I m trying if possible 
 to reach your mind ! It seems you think we have a 
 mutual acquaintance named Charlie Short and you 
 want to find out something about him from me, and 
 you immediately proceed to lose your temper because 
 your own powers of description are too limited for 
 you to tell me which of the three / know is the one 
 you know ! 
 
 CORA. (In a breath, with dreamy enthusiasm. 
 Comes down) Clarence, that s the most wonderful 
 
CLARENCE 97 
 
 logic! Let s go out on the porch and play some 
 more : this is "awf ly tedious." 
 
 MRS. W. {About to rise from where she sits near 
 table) Let s do ! 
 
 WHEELER. (Loudly, angrily) No ! We ll finish 
 this! 
 
 STEM. I ll tell you which Charles Short I meanj 
 I mean the one that was in the army ! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Despairing of him, plaintively to 
 the others) We had four million men in the Ameri 
 can Army : I suppose he d (Meaning STEM.) think 
 it singular if I told him that so far as I can guess 
 probably all three of the Charles Shorts I know 
 either enlisted or got drafted ! 
 
 STEM. (Loudly) I claim his evasion s are more 
 and more suspicious! (Crosses to table, picks up 
 paper. Seizing it and thrusting it under CLARENCE S 
 eyes, slapping it) THIS is the Charles Short / 
 mean! Charles Short, deserter! (Goes and gets 
 paper.) * 
 
 CLARENCE. Oh, that s the one you know? 
 Charles Short, deserter? 
 
 STEM. I ask the pointblank question, yes or no. 
 DO YOU KNOW HIM? 
 
 CORA. (On this, plaintively) Clarence, won t 
 you play just once more? This is getting so tedi 
 ous! 
 
 (Her voice rises high in complaint on the last word. 
 STEM is in despair at the interruption. CLAR 
 ENCE looks at her. STEM goes down c. dis 
 gusted.) 
 
 STEM. ( His own voice strained) I gay I want to 
 know 
 
 CLARENCE. (Turning his head from CORA to 
 look at the paper, which he has taken) You want to 
 know if I know this one? (Turning to look at 
 
98 CLARENCE 
 
 STEM) They were all homely. Was the one you 
 knew 
 
 STEM. I say do you know that face? 
 
 CLARENCE. It could just as well be a picture of 
 me as anyone else. /STEM looks at WHEELER^ Or 
 Mr. Wheeler, or you. 
 
 STEM. (Ominously, shaking his head) No. 
 That s not a picture of me! Or of Mr. Wheeler! 
 
 CLARENCE. It could be, I sard. Of course, it 
 isn t, because evidently if s a picture of the Short 
 that you know : at least, I suppose you do J (Exas 
 perated) What is it about him ? What do you want 
 to know about him ? Why in the world do you ask 
 me about him? 
 
 VIOLET. (Rises, comes to up c.) Let ME tell 
 you. In the first place, they want to know if you 
 know him. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Despairingly) I ve been able to 
 gather that much from Mr. Stem ! How on earth 
 could a person tell if he knew another person from 
 a picture like that? 
 
 VIOLET. You couldn t, but 
 
 CLARENCE. (Going on) And what about it if I 
 did know him ? What do they want me to do about 
 him ? 
 
 VIOLET. They think you are this Charles Short ! 
 
 CLARENCE. They what? They think 7 am this 
 Charles Short? 
 
 VIOLET. (Sharply) Yes. Mr. Stem does! 
 
 CLARENCE. Do you think so? You seemed to 
 think a lot of other thing s do you 
 
 WARNING FOR CURTAIN 
 
 VIOLET. (Sharply) Yes. I think die other 
 tilings, but I don t think this one ! 
 
 CLARENCE. I d rather have you think this one 
 and not the others. 
 
CLARENCE 99 
 
 STEM. (Vehemently) Aren t you this Charles 
 Short? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Violently) Let me get this straight. 
 You want to know whether I know this Charles 
 Short and then, whether I know him or not, you 
 want to know whether I am this Charles Short and 
 not one of the other two Charles Shorts? Is that 
 what you mean ? 
 
 STEM. (Fiercely) I want to know 
 
 CLARENCE. {Cutting him off fiercely) Well, I ll 
 answer you: No! I m not this Charles Short! I m 
 not this one here in the paper, understand ! About 
 my being either of the other two, or both of em, I 
 won t commit myself, but I m not this one! 
 
 STEM. (Furiously) Isn t that quibbling, Mr. 
 Wheeler? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Turning sharply on WHEELER,) 
 
 Does Mr. Wheeler think {Incredulously to 
 
 him) Have you been sharing Mr. Stem s suspi 
 cions as to his friend, this Mr. Charles Short? 
 
 WHEELER. (Emphatically) I have not. It 
 might have been possible, so I let him ask you. I m 
 glad it came up, because we certainly need to know 
 more about you than we do. We need to know just 
 who you are! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Incredulous) You need to know 
 who I am! Why, I supposed you did know from 
 the time I gave my name to Mrs. Martyn in your 
 office! 
 
 WHEELER. (Vehemently) Well, I didn t! We 
 don t know anything about you I 
 
 CLARENCE. (In an equally vehement tone) Why, 
 good heaverts, all you had to do was to look me up 
 in the last edition of "Who s Who" I dont mean 
 that I m a great man, but I certainly am one of the 
 authorities on the coleoptera ! 
 
 WHEELER. {Angrily) On the what? 
 
 (DiNWiDDiE enters L., stands there.) 
 
ioo CLARENCE 
 
 CLARENCE. (Shouting) On the COLEOP- 
 TERA! 
 
 DINWIDDIE. (Sharply and quickly, in one breath) 
 The hot water plant s busted again and no plumbers. 
 Mister Clair nce, if you don t come and fix it the 
 house ll be flooded with ice- water. It s an eight- 
 foour job. I ll lend ye some overalls. (Exit DIN 
 WIDDIE. ) 
 
 ( CLARENCE strides to up R. VIOLET drops back to 
 down R.C.J 
 
 CORA. (Plaintively) Clarence, couldn t you play 
 just once more ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (At door L.) No, I m afraid I can t ! 
 Not for eight hours ! 
 
 (Exit CLARENCE L., DINWIDDIE following him. 
 MRS. WHEELER stands looking after him wist 
 fully, but CORA, close to her, sits sorrowfully 
 upon the floor as he says (f eight hours." VIO 
 LET exits R. simultaneously when CLARENCE ex 
 its L. They look across at each other just be 
 fore.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Coming down importantly) Well, 
 wha daya think about it, Father? Don dha think 
 he s prob ly crazy ? 
 
 WHEELER. (Sweeping him away with a gesture, 
 exasperated and perplexed beyond measure) I don t 
 know! Go get me a dictionary! And a copy of 
 /Who s Who"! 
 
 (Begins to pace the floor, BOBBY going up c. MRS. 
 WHEELER and CORA R.C.) 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
* 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 SCENE: The same. The curtains of the^ sun-room 
 have been pulled back, showing a bright morn- 
 ing outdoors. In the sun-room are: CORA, in 
 pretty "country clothes" for autumn, but not 
 wearing a hat; and MRS. WHEELER in a becom 
 ing morning negligee. They sit,^ examining with 
 interest some large books, turning the pages; 
 other books, including a new "Who s Who," are 
 on a table near them. WHEELER enters R. (The 
 doors there being open) He wears the same 
 clothes shown in Act I and II and glasses; has 
 "Sun" and "Times" He is going to sit in the 
 sun-room and read; but halts upon seeing MRS. 
 WHEELER, on couch L. He doesn t see CORA at 
 R. of steps. 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Pleasantly) Good-morning, 
 Henry! (Nods smilingly) I hope you slept well? 
 (Looks again at her book; exchanging it for another; 
 CORA doing the same.) 
 
 WHEELER. {Gravely) Thanks. (Goes to set 
 tee by piano.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. I told em not to put too much 
 sugar on your grape-fruit again. Was your break 
 fast all right? 
 
 WHEELER. Thanks. It s quite surprising. 
 
 MRS. W. (Looking at her book) What is? 
 
 WHEELER. \( Gravely) Your being so amiable. 
 
 MRS. W. (Indulgently) You mean in the morn 
 
 ing? 
 
 101 
 
102 CLARENCE 
 
 (Casually I Yes or evening. (Sits 
 &y piano on settee R.C., lifting one of the papers to 
 read.) 
 
 MRS. W. (Amiably) Oh, we re all cheerful now. 
 (Sits L.cJ Isn t Miss Pinney down yet? 
 
 WHEELER. (Quietly) I don t know. Is Gar- 
 ence? 
 
 MRS. W. No. Dinwiddie says the poor boy 
 didn t go to bed till after four but he kept at it till 
 he got that dreadful heating plant repaired - ! 
 
 CORA. (Dreamily, at back) Isn t he wonderful ? 
 
 WHEELER. ( ( Mutteringly) Oh, are you there, 
 Cora ? I didn t see you. 
 
 MRS. W. I thought you didn t. 
 
 CORA. (Alluding to book) This is "Bon-Con," 
 Mamma. There s nothing that sounds (Comes 
 down) like it here. It couldn t be Coaling Stations 
 of course? You don t think it Was Coaling Stations 
 he said, do you? I know it was coal-something, 
 wasn t it, Papa ? 
 
 WHEELER. (Gruffly) Wasn t what "coal some 
 thing?" 
 
 CORA. What Clarence said. 
 
 WHEELER. (Touched on a sore spot) I don t 
 know and I don t care to know. (Reading his paper 
 again.) 
 
 CORA. (Coming down, carrying a large book. 
 Crosses to WHEELER,) Yes, Papa ; you know when 
 he said last night l he was one of the authorities on 
 coal- somerhing and you sent Bobby for the diction 
 ary and got so mad because by the time he came 
 back with it you couldn t remember this coal-some 
 thing- word to look it up ; so you couldn t, and went 
 off to bed wit<h a headache powder. It was coal- 
 something, wasn t it, because you can remember 
 anyhow that much, can t you, Papa ? 
 
 WHEELER. No. I cannot ; and I don t care to ! 
 
 CORA. (Going back to the sun-room) Well, I 
 
CLARENCE 103 
 
 know it was. (Plaintively) But the encyclopedia s 
 abslootly more than useless whenever you need it the 
 most. You can t get any help out of it at all unless 
 you know just what you want to look up! (Goes 
 up and gets "Who s Who") I d have willingly gone 
 and asked Clarence last night while he was working 
 in the cellar, only you wouldn t let me. 
 
 MRS. W. (Pleasantly) I don t just see why you 
 couldn t have asked him yourself, Henry. 
 
 WHEELER. (Irascibly) Don t you? I suppose 
 you think I m so ridiculous already I needn t have 
 minded making myself more so ! 
 
 MRS. W. (Soothingly) But I don t see the ridic 
 ulousness 
 
 WHEELER. You don t see the ridiculousness of 
 going down in the cellar to ask a man you ve been 
 badgering and who s repairing a heating plant for 
 you to ask him what a word was that he d already 
 told you twice! 
 
 CORA. (Comes down c. with book) Well, you 
 couldn t sit up till four o clock to ask him ; at least, 
 Miss Pinney wouldn t let me. (Emphasizing the last 
 two words) How could you be so absurd as to think 
 Clarence s name was "Smun," Papa? 
 
 MRS. W. (Quietly reproving) Your father s al 
 ways accurate, Cora. 
 
 (WHEELER stares at her f and sits again.) 
 
 CORA. Weil, so s Violet. She heard him give his 
 name in the office and she says it s Moon. 
 
 MRS. W. (Absently) Hush! Your father s 
 right, of course. 
 
 CORA. (Putting her book on the table) There s 
 a whole book on Coal in the library. I M goin to 
 get it. (Runs off L.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Rises crosses to fable for paper) 
 Do you mind being quite frank ? Why have you sud 
 denly become so amiable with me? 
 
104 CLARENCE 
 
 MRS. W. (Smilingly) Don t you think anybody 
 can be amiable if she can find even just one pleasant 
 thing to think about at home? I suppose we all 
 need something ! 
 
 WHEELER. (Frowning) Yes. There s one pleas 
 ant thing- / think about you, Fanny. 
 
 MRS. W. (Amiably) You ve found one? 
 
 WHEELER. I mean to say ; you re not obstinate 
 about names, for instance - 
 
 MRS. W. (Lightly but seriously) Oh, no. I 
 only think of what he is. 
 
 WHEELER. (Striking his paper impatiently) 
 "What he is?" You can t! We don t know any 
 more about that than we did before I questioned 
 him! 
 
 MRS. W. (Pleasantly) "Questioned him?" 
 Why, you didn t even ask him his name ! 
 
 WHEELER. (Breaking out) My Lord, do you 
 suppose I could have a man in my house three weeks 
 and then ask him his name? His name s Smun. 
 
 MRS. W T . (Indulgently) There isn t any "Smun" 
 in "Who s Who." Or any "Clarence Moon" either. 
 
 WHEELER. I didn t expect to find him in Who s 
 Who ! You don t suppose anybody in "Who s Who" 
 would have been looking for a job the way he - 
 (Louder with the new thought) Why hasn t he had 
 any letters since he s been here ? 
 
 MRS. W. (Casually, as she looks in a book) 
 Probably because he hasn t written to anybody. 
 (Struck by this idea, and annoyed by it, WHEELER 
 rubs his head. Going on absently) That usually is 
 the way, isn t it? 
 
 WHEELER. (Mumbling) I dunno! I dunno! 
 (Reads again) 
 
 enters L V bringing another book.) 
 
 CORA. (As she comes in) I ve almost remem 
 bered what he said : it was something like "coal and 
 
CLARENCE 105 
 
 potteries" I m sure there was something about pot 
 teries in it. (She is at table) Don t you think there 
 was something like "potteries" in it, Papa? 
 
 WHEELER. (Almost shouting) I don t know! 
 
 CORA. Well, Violet didn t know, herself, and 
 she s supposed to tutor me in French an ev rything 
 -so it can t be anything- in French or anything. 
 That makes it seem as if it might be coal and pot 
 teries, doesn t it? 
 
 /BOBBY enters from L V dressed as in Act II. He 
 speaks briskly as he enters.) 
 
 BOBBY. Well, have you found out what he was 
 talkin about yet ? { WHEELER utters a sound of ex 
 asperation, rises and goes up, taking his papers with 
 him. Goes round R. of table and up into Sun-Room. 
 BOBBY enters L. Going on) I don t think it was 
 a word myself. Look ! I think it was just somep n 
 he made up, because, listen, if it was a word, why 
 Fathered of known it. ^WHEELER gives him a look 
 and goes out up L. garden quickly. BOBBY looks 
 ufter him) Listen ! I wonder what makes him so 
 nervous ? 
 
 MRS. W. (Thoughtfully) Maybe we all do. 
 (She goes quietly out up c. to L. garden after 
 WHEELER.J 
 
 BOBBY. You don t suppose she means his fam ly 
 upsets him. 
 
 CORA. (Goes up c. with a book. To BOBBY, vir 
 tuously reproving) I guess she means the behavior 
 of some o the fam ly does ! ( VIOLET enters R,, 
 dressed as in Act I, but without a "wrap. She wears 
 a hat. CORA doesn t pause. BOBBY doesn t see VIO 
 LET, goes up c.) You wouldn^t even let him read 
 his paper in peace an* quiet. 
 
 BOBBY. (Indignantly) Me! Why, it was you! 
 I m goin to ask him. (Going L.) Papa, wasn t it 
 Cora that 
 
io6 CLARENCE 
 
 CORA. (Going L.) I ll ask him first! Paps., 
 wasn t it Bobby that 
 
 (They go out angrily up L., clamoring together. 
 Exit c. to L., then cross to R.). 
 
 "Papa, wasn t it (CORA) (BOBBY) that dis 
 turbed you?" (WHEELER S voice is heard loudly 
 protesting off L., but not his words, and a moment 
 later CORA and BOBBY return, retreating across the 
 sun-room -from up L. to up R. in serious discomfiture, 
 talking loudly, simultaneously, not pausing.) What 
 Bobby says is : " Twas your fault ! Never heard 
 him speak like that before ! C m out J n the yard !" 
 What Cora says is : "Well, I never was so insulted 
 by my own father in my life! (Both these speeches 
 are finished off R. BELLA enters R. carrying a 
 small "vacuum cleaner" just as the two are crossing. 
 VIOLET goes up and looks after them; then off L. 
 thoughtfully.) 
 
 WHEELER. (Off) Oh, damn it let me alone! 
 
 DELLA. (R. benevolently, alluding to R.) He*s 
 eatin . 
 
 VIOLET. What? (Comes down part way.) 
 
 DELLA. He s eatin his breakfast; one cup cof 
 fee; one slice toast. Never nothin more. It on y 
 takes um a minute an* three-quahters ; he s a com- 
 fortin man to have in a house. Now he s through. 
 Jist like that. 
 
 (VIOLET goes up, looking at the books. CLARENCE 
 enters R., dressed as in the latter part of the 
 second act.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Cheerfully) Good morning, Miss 
 Pinney. (DELLA stops and turns. She nods, not 
 looking fully at him) Good morning, Delia. 
 
 DELLA. (Half amused, half languishingly) Good 
 
CLARENCE 107 
 
 mornin , Mister Clar nce. (Goes L. as on reluctant 
 duty. Looking back.) 
 
 CLARENCE. Oh Delia 
 
 BELLA. Yes ? Yes, sir? 
 
 CLARENCE. Ah did you understand me to say 
 that before I was in the army I d been employed in 
 a wash-room in a hotel? 
 
 DELLA. You didn t say in a hotel, sir, but I knew 
 you d never a been contented wit less. You says 
 in a lavatory, sir. 
 
 CLARENCE. Oh! (Gravely) Well, I d have done 
 as well as I could in a position in a lavatory, I 
 hope ; but what I said was "laboratory." 
 
 DELLA. (Matter-of-course) Yes, sir. What is 
 the difference, sir ? 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, in a laboratory you have to do 
 some work. 
 
 DELLA. (Commiserating him) Trust you for 
 findin the hard jobs, Mister Clair nce. 
 
 CLARENCE. Thank you, Delia. 
 
 DELLA. (Gently) Yes, sir. 
 
 (Exits c. to L. with the vacuum cleaner. CLARENCE 
 crosses over to look at VIOLET. VIOLET comes 
 down.) 
 
 CLARENCE. ( Alluding to VIOLET S hat) Are you 
 going out this morning? So am I. 
 
 VIOLET. (Quietly, rather coldly) I m gx>ing 
 away, this morning. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Going nearer her) "Going away 
 this morning." So am L That s peculiar. 
 
 VIOLET. (Drily, with a glance at him and away) 
 Yes, it would be, if you were going! I m afraid 
 you d have it take several people with you! 
 (Looking away from him) Why do you think of 
 going ? 
 
 CLARENCE. "Why?" Don t you think for an em- 
 
io8 CLARENCE 
 
 ployee to remain in a position a certain amount of 
 connivance on the part of his employer is almost a 
 necessity? 
 
 VIOLET. But Mrs. Wheeler Won t let you go. 
 
 CLARENCE. I know the repartee for that, but 
 
 VIOLET. (Interrupting quickly) Mr. Wheeler 
 won t let me. (With a slight laugh) Don t fear; 
 we had the most absurd argument over a foolish 
 point last night and well, I m sure he thinks me 
 outrageously feminine! 
 
 CLARENCE. What was the foolish point ? 
 
 VIOLET. It was too foolish to tell you. (Comes 
 down a little. Both speak seriously.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Frowning) Well, I suppose the im 
 portant thing is that we re both going away and 
 don t know where. You ve never told me. Haven t 
 you got any father or mother or anything? 
 
 VIOLET. (Not gloomily) No. I ve got a second 
 cousin in Belfast I ve never met him. 
 
 CLARENCE. I ve got an aunt in Honolulu. She 
 used to write to me for money sometimes. I don t 
 believe she d be much help. 
 
 VIOLET. Not in an emergency, I should think. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Cheerfully) Yes we seem to 
 have an emergency. 
 
 VIOLET. (Looking up at him) "We ?" I m sim 
 ply going in town to an agency and wait till they 
 find something for me. 
 
 CLARENCE. Suppose your funds didn t hold 
 out till they did ? 
 
 VIOLET. Oh, but they will! (She means they 
 must.) 
 
 CLARENCE. Mine wouldn t. I wonder if Delia 
 happens to know of a good hotel where they 
 need 
 
 VIOLET. (Sincerely) I have a full month s 
 check; paid this morning. I ll lend you half of :t 
 till you find out. 
 
CLARENCE 109 
 
 CLARENCE. (Stares at her; then speaks rather 
 huskily) You will? 
 
 VIOLET. (Quietly) Why, of course. 
 
 CLARENCE. Be careful ; I might do something 
 queer ! 
 
 VIOLET. (With dry naivete) "Be careful" of 
 my money ? 
 
 CLARENCE. No. Be careful now. Of talking 
 about lending me half of it. 
 
 VIOLET. Don t you suppose I meant it? 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes. That s why I might do some 
 thing queer. (She looks up at him in increasing 
 puzzlement.) 
 
 VIOLET. Queer? (Turns a little.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Profoundly in earnest) Don t 
 worry. I m all right again. There s something I 
 want to tell you. It s about myself. I don t believe 
 I ve mentioned it. I have mentioned a lot of things 
 about myself 
 
 VIOLET. Well, not a "lot" but some. 
 
 CLARENCE. Nothing s so stupid as a man going 
 about telling everyone all about his private affairs 
 I m afraid I talk about myself too much altogether. 
 Of course, it was disgustingly conceited on my part 
 to think Mr. Wheeler had looked me up but wasn t 
 it natural to think he d do that when Mrs. Martyn 
 had my name? I suppose I often forget I m a spe 
 cialist and that business men, of course, don t know 
 much about such people as entomologists. 
 
 VIOLET. (Not knowing, herself) I suppose 
 they don t. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Going on with an enthusiasm that 
 increases) On the other hand, doesn t it seem 
 strange they don t? My subject is of the most 
 august proportions in the world. The coleoptera are 
 the largest division of the animal kingdom. They 
 outnumber mere human beings by billions of billions. 
 
1 10 CLARENCE 
 
 Not held in check they would sweep the whole of 
 mankind from the earth like a breath ! 
 
 VIOLET. They would? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Going on ivith still greater spirit and 
 enthusiasm) I say I am ! an expert on them ; that 
 only means I know most of the little we know about 
 them: our ignorance is still of the dark ages! Mr. 
 Wheeler is an expert on dollars. Anybody can know 
 all about dollars. Put all the wealth of all the na 
 tions together and you get a sum that can be spoken 
 in hundreds of billions, whereas the coleoptera con 
 sist of eighty-thousand species and the population 
 of a single one of those eighty thousand species 
 alone outnumbers the dollars of all the nations of 
 the earth as stupendously as the dollars of those 
 nations outnumber the dollars in Mr. Wheeler s 
 pocket ! No, no ; there s no reason for him to feel 
 superior. No, no, indeed ! Nobody need set up to 
 be snobbish about beetles! 
 
 VIOLET. (Startled) Beetles! Are the co-cole- 
 optera are they just beetles? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Amazed) Why! Didn t you 
 know? 
 
 VIOLET. I I don t, believe many people do. 
 
 CLARENCE. No. I suppose they don t. Each 
 man to his trade I ve heard a politician get as ex 
 cited about politics or a minister about his congre 
 gation as I do about the coleoptera ! You wouldn t 
 believe it, but 
 
 VIOLET. (Interrupting) Yes, I believe it. I be 
 lieve everything you say but you said you wanted to 
 tell me something about your private affairs. You 
 didn t mean the co-leoptera, did you ? 
 
 CLARENCE. (Remembering) Yes ; in a way their 
 affairs are mine. What I wanted to tell you is that 
 it s possible we sha n t need to worry about money. 
 
 VIOLET. (Frowning) Possible that "we" sha n t ? 
 
 CLARENCE. We might not, after this morning s 
 
CLARENCE in 
 
 mail. You see, before the "War I wa s on potato- 
 bugs 
 
 VIOLET. (Disturbed) You were? 
 
 CLARENCE. Oh, yes ; I was a long time on potato- 
 bugs. 
 
 VIOLET. Are they co-le-op 
 
 CLARENCE. Absolutely. You see, by finding 1 their 
 worst enemies 
 
 VIOLET. Enemies? You mean people that hate 
 potato-bugs ? 
 
 CLARENCE. No ! Other bugs that hate em. At 
 least they don t get on with them. The enemies are 
 altogether too much for the potato-bugs, you see; 
 and by getting the potato-bugs and their enemies 
 together, of course you save the potatoes. 
 
 VIOLET. But I should think their enemies 
 might 
 
 CLARENCE. No. Their enemies don t like po 
 tatoes. 
 
 VIOLET. (Sincerely) How strange! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Enthusiastically) It s one of the 
 most fortunate things in the world! If they both 
 liked em there wouldn t be any potatoes. Now, the 
 potato-bug (As if lecturing.) 
 
 VIOLET. {Interrupting) But surely this isn t 
 what you wanted to tell me about yourself? 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes, it i s. (In the same tone as be 
 fore) Now, the potato-bug -the potato-bug has 
 several acknowledged authorities, and I was one of 
 em. 
 
 VIOLET. (Nodding) Of course. 
 
 CLARENCE. My assistant was even more so ! I m 
 more a general authority; he s all potato-bug; he s 
 spent sixteen years on potato-bugs ; and he s the 
 oldest potato-bug man in the world to-day ! He is ! 
 He s a good general bug man, too, a fine all-round 
 bug man, but when it comes to potato-bugs, he can 
 eat any other bug man alive ! 
 
112 CLARENCE 
 
 VIOLET. (Seriously) He can? 
 CLARENCE. Yes, when I went into the army, this 
 assistant of mine was appointed to the position I d 
 held ; and it was what he deserved. When I got 
 out of the army I knew if I went back there the 
 trustees would put me in again, and he d be dropped, 
 so I decided it was only decent not to disturb him, 
 but I had spent a lot of money on outside experi 
 ments, and I had to do something. However, I dis 
 covered that during a period of economic reconstruc 
 tion after a world war there are extremely limited 
 openings, for a specialist on the coleoptera. 
 
 VIOLET. (Gently, her eyes lowered) You had a 
 pretty hard time 
 
 CLARENCE. Not compared to some of the others. 
 
 VIOLET. But I understood you to say you might 
 be all right if you get a letter you re expecting by 
 this morning s mail. 
 
 CLARENCE. No. I said *<we." I said we might 
 be all right. 
 
 VIOLET. (Genuinely perplexed) But I don t 
 see 
 
 CLARENCE. Why, yes. It will all depend on the 
 letter. You see, several days ago the papers said 
 my assistant had been called to Washington by the 
 Department of Agriculture and he d accepted. So 
 you see where that migbt put us, right away. 
 
 VIOLET. "Put us?" I don t see where it might 
 put anything! 
 
 CLARENCE. But my dear 
 
 VIOLET. (Turning, not angrily, but disturbed of 
 mind) What? 
 
 CLARENCE. My dear Miss Pinney 
 
 VIOLET. Oh ! (Meaning "Oh, I see!") 
 
 CLARENCE. Don t you see; that left me free to 
 write the laboratory that I was out of the army so 
 I did write em yesterday, and if they think half as 
 much of me as a coleopterist, as I do of myself, 
 
CLARENCE 113 
 
 they ll have my re-appointment in this morning s 
 mail and we ll be all right. 
 
 VIOLET. (Impatiently) But "we," "we!" You 
 keep saying "we !" 
 
 CLARENCE. Well, by that I mean us. I couldn t 
 ask for a better salary. 
 
 VIOLET. (Bothered, but not cross) Oh, it s you 
 that are going to lend money now if your letter 
 comes? Would you lend mehalf of it? 
 
 CLARENCE. I thought probably the best way 
 would be would be for you to take charge of all of 
 it as it comes in and let me have what I need 
 when I need it ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Incredulous) You thought 
 
 CLARENCE. Yes. Wouldn t you do that ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Turns -from him, then again to him) 
 That s a curious speech for a man to make, when 
 only last night I was told I was mistaken about his 
 very name ! 
 
 CLARENCE. Why, how could you have been mis 
 taken about rny name ? 
 
 VIOLET. I couldn t, of course; but Mr. Wheeler 
 thought I was. That s the "foolish point" I tdld 
 you we were both disagreeable about. He .thinks 
 your name is "Smun." 
 
 CLARENCE. Why, nobody s name is "Smun !" It 
 can t be! 
 
 VIOLET. Th atfs what I told him so often he be 
 gan to hate me, I think ! But he insisted "Smun" 
 was the name you gave Mrs. Martyn. 
 
 CLARENCE. Naturally, you knew better. 
 
 VIOLET. Naturally! I told him what it was; 
 but why did Mrs. Martyn tell him it was "Smun"? 
 
 CLARENCE. I suppose I must have mumbled it; 
 people with ordinary names nearly always do. 
 
 VIOLET. I don t think your name s very "ordi 
 nary." 
 
II 4 CLARENCE 
 
 CLARENCE. *( Anxiously) Don t you? People 
 usually do, but I m glad you don t. 
 
 VIOLET. Of course I don t. 
 
 CLARENCE. Do you think beetles are all right, 
 too? At least, I hope you could enjoy them? 
 
 VIOLET. (Seriously, not shyly) I don t know 
 enough about them to say. 
 
 CLARENCE. I could tell you a little ; it wouldnH 
 take long. 
 
 VIOLET. How long? 
 
 CLARENCE. About as long as I live. 
 
 VIOLET. (Qitickly) Oh, no! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Quickly) You can only tell a little 
 about beetles in a lifetime. Of course, we d often 
 speak of other things or wouldn t we? 
 
 VIOLET. (Seriously and quickly) Why, we d 
 have to. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Quickly) Then we will. Is your 
 bag packed? 
 
 VIOLET. (Breathlessly) It s right by the door 
 of my room. 
 
 CLARENCE. I ll get em both. Where s your 
 trunk ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Gulping) It*s ready. 
 
 CLARENCE. We ll send for it! (Exit rapidly L. 
 VIOLET sinks down in a corner of the sofa, looking 
 dazed.) 
 
 enters up R. in the sun-room with let 
 ters; rolled^ magazines and circulars on a tray; 
 he sets this upon piano, and goes out up R. 
 BOBBY S voice is heard off up R. DINWIDDIE 
 exits c. to R. garden.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Off) Morning mail in, Dinwiddie? 
 
 DINWIDDIE. Yes, sir, on the piano. 
 
 CORA. {Off) Hoop-la! (She runs on up R. 
 Halts in the sun-room staring L. BOBBY follows 
 her.) 
 
CLARENCE 115 
 
 BOBBY. (Amazed, staring L. also) Why, look 
 at Father and Mamma ! 
 
 CORA. I am looking ait an! 
 
 BOBBY. He s got his arm around her! 
 
 CORA. (Slowly and dreamily) That s all Clar 
 ence s influence. 
 
 BOBBY. Well, you cert n ly have got an imagina 
 tion ! (Shouting) Hey ! Papa ! Morning mail s 
 here ! 
 
 CORA. (Indignantly) Is that your idea of what 
 to do when you see anybody with their arm around 
 somebody? Why couldn t you leave em alone? 
 (Coming down to piano.) 
 
 BOBBY. I don t like to see papa gettin so soft. 
 (Coming down to piano.) 
 
 CORA. I guess he wouldn t be your father if 
 he wasn t pretty impressionable! 
 
 BOBBY. (Examining letters with her) It s you 
 he inherits that from! . Here s a couple of circulars 
 for {Taking it to VIOLET, speaks tenderly) for 
 you Violet. 
 
 (^VIOLET rises and goes toward piano.) 
 
 CORA. (Huskily commenting) He certainly 
 ought to be in school. (Almost musingly.) 
 
 VIOLET. (In a low, absent voice, not looking at 
 him) Thanks. (Takes them absently; not opening 
 them. He returns to the table. CORA stands near 
 the piano with magazines. Comes and sits chair 
 L.C,, opens them. In a troubled voice) Is there a 
 letter there for for Mr. Moon? 
 
 BOBBY. Who? 
 
 CORA. (Sharply) For Clarence! (To VIOLET j 
 I think it s wonderful ; all this mystery about him 
 and the cannibals and the saxophone and everything. 
 He s perfectly certain to turn out to belong to an 
 old Knickerbocker millionaire family with a yacht 
 and all the old clubs and a valet. 
 
ii6 CLARENCE 
 
 BOBBY. His name s Smun! 
 
 CORA. It is not! It s Moon! (Crosses up c.) 
 
 BOBBY. (Crossly) Well, there isn t any letter 
 here for either of em! 
 
 VIOLET. (Gently) Are you sure? 
 
 BOBBY. (Calmly) I m always sure. ( VIOLET 
 crosses down R.) 
 
 CORA. (Comes down c. to BOBBY. Looking at 
 him with concentration) My ! I ll be sorry for the 
 woman that marries you ; you already talk just like 
 a regular little man! (Crosses to c. MRS. WHEELER 
 enters up L. ; stands in sun-room unobserved. CORA 
 goes on) If you want me to explain that, I ll merely 
 mention it s meant for an insult. (Plaintively) I 
 don t know how I live in the same house with you ! 
 (Crosses to table) 
 
 MRS, WHEELER. (Amiably, coming down) 
 You re not going to, Cora, very long. Your father s 
 decided on a school for you next week. 
 
 CORA. He has ? Well, if it weren t for for just 
 one thing I d say "Father s right for one !" 
 
 BOBBY. What "one thing?" 
 
 CORA. (Gulping) Well it s a person. 
 
 MRS. W. (Going to VIOLET, who rises) Clar 
 ence has just spoken to us out there. (Takes her 
 hand) He tells us you re going. I m really sorry ! 
 
 BOBBY. (Startled) Who s going? 
 
 VIOLET. (Gently) I am. 
 
 BOBBY. When ? 
 
 VIOLET. Why this morning. 
 
 BOBBY. (Gulping) Why, when am I goin to 
 see you again ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Gently, gravely) Why, whenever you 
 like, when you have a vacation. 
 
 MRS. W. You re going, too, to-morrow, Bobby. 
 
 BOBBY. (Dazed) I am? 
 
 MRS. W. {Nodding amiably) Your father s got 
 the school to take you back. (Crosses to L. Enter 
 
CLARENCE 117 
 
 WHEELER and CLARENCE, carrying hat, overcoat and 
 glove s.) 
 
 BOBBY. (His voice breaking) He did? fCoRA 
 iggles irrepressibly. He whirls fiercely upon her) 
 
 ou hush up! (She dodges him gaily; he sinks 
 morbidly into a chair.) 
 
 CORA. (Merrily taunting) Oh, Bobby ! 
 
 WHEELER. Miss Pinney . . . 
 
 VIOLET. Yes, Mr. Wheeler? 
 
 WHEELER. Clarence has just told me you ve de 
 cided -you ve both decided on taking a step much 
 more important than merely leaving this house. 
 
 ( CLARENCE comes down.) 
 
 CORA. (Mystified but not troubled) What s 
 papa talking about ? ( She is by the table.) 
 
 VIOLET. (Troubled to WHEELER,) I m afraid 
 part of his plan may have to be postponed. 
 
 CLARENCE. If any part of my plan is postponed, 
 it won t be that part of it ! 
 
 VIOLET. (Troubled) Your letter didn t come. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Dismayed) It didn t? (Turning 
 up a little to the table) Why, it had to ! 
 
 CORA. (Shaking her head goes up to piano) 
 No. There wasn t any letter for you, Clarence. 
 There were two for Violet and some magazines and 
 circulars, and all the rest is for papa and mamma. 
 
 CLARE-NCE. But it^s got to be there. 
 
 CORA. No. That s all there is; there isn t a 
 single solitary Other letter except just this one that ll 
 have to be sent to the Dead Letter Office because 
 it s addressed to somebody that doesn t live here at 
 all. It s addressed tr C. Smith, Esquire," care of 
 papa. 
 
 CLARENCE. But, good heavens, that s it! 
 
 CORA. (Loudly) What ! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Taking it) "C. Smith," Clarence 
 
ii8 CLARENCE 
 
 Smith r-^-of course it s it ! You gave me a fright ! 
 (There is a general exclamation of profound amaze 
 ment. CORA immediately runs up to table for 
 "Who s Who! ) 
 
 WHEELER. Smith ? Clarence Smith! 
 
 VIOLET. (Dazed) "Smith!" 
 
 (She whispers the words, staring front; her mouth 
 remains open as she sinks into a settee. CLAR 
 ENCE is seriously occupied reading the letter. 
 CORA comes down to the table with "Who s 
 Who," rapidly turning the pages.) 
 
 CORA. It s a 1916 "Who s Who in America" 
 before the war, that is. "S" "S" "Satterthwaite" 
 "Smalley" - (Loudly and emphatically) 
 Smith! Clarence Smith ! - He s the very first Smith 
 there is in it! (Reading) "Clarence Smith, zo 
 ologist. B orn, June, I3tfa, 1890, at Zubesi Mission 
 Station, Congo River, Africa - (Looking up) 
 Well, I should say he did have cannibals ! (Read 
 ing again) Son of Gabriel C, Medical Missionary, 
 and Mardia S., Grad. Coll. Physical Science New- 
 castle-on-Tyne, England. Postgrad. Polytechnique, 
 France. D.S.C. - (Repeating) "D.S.C." 
 
 BOBBY. It means he s a Doctor of Science. I 
 had a prof, was one ole Doc. Toser! 
 
 CORA. (Reading) "Doctor of Science. Chief 
 en en iomologist" - (Looking up inquiringly) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Absently, not looking up from his 
 letter) "Entomologist. It means some body that 
 studies bugs. 
 
 CORA. (Gravely) Bugs? How lovely! (Read 
 ing again) Chief ento-tomologist and curator of 
 entomology, Sturtevant Biological Laboratories. 
 Fellow N. Y. Acad. Sciences ; mem. N. Y. Zoological 
 Soc society Address Sturtevant Biological Labor 
 atories, N. Y. (Looking up, dazed) Did you ever 
 
CLARENCE 119 
 
 hear anything like it? And that just means Clar 
 ence! 
 
 VIOLET. (Huskily) Smith! Clarence Smith! 
 {Rising) 
 
 (CLARENCE has finished the letter and hears her. 
 He comes to her.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Slowly) Why, you knew it was 
 Smith, didn t you ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Still dazed, shakes her head dumbly 
 before speaking, huskily) No. No, I didn t. 
 
 CLARENCE. Is it is it going to make a differ 
 ence? 
 
 VIOLET. (Groping forwards rises) I couldn t 
 I couldn t - 
 
 CLARENCE. You mean you couldn t because it -s 
 Smith ? 
 
 VIOLET. (Just over a whisper, brokenly) 
 "Smith s" beautiful! 
 
 CLARENCE. (Gently) Yes it will be. (She 
 looks up at him.) 
 
 CORA. (Disturbed to MRS. WHEELER j What are 
 they talking about? 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (Smiling) Sh! They re go 
 ing to be married. (Almost a whisper, but briskly) 
 
 CORA. (In a feeble voice) W r hat? 
 
 (BOBBY comes down.) 
 
 CLARENCE. I ve got our things at the door, and 
 I telephoned for a car. It s here. 
 
 VIOLET. (Tremulously, pathetically) Do you 
 think I can go way with you like this when I ve 
 just found out your name? (She gives him her 
 hand for an instant.) 
 
 CLARENCE. Oh, Violet! (He means it, pro 
 foundly, as a lover, but it has unintentionally, much 
 the effect of CORA S "Oh, Clarence!") 
 
120 CLARENCE 
 
 BOBBY. (Approaching) Vidlet (Gulps. 
 
 She looks at him; he is unable to bear it. Spenks 
 hastily, with a choke) I ll go help carry out your 
 baggage! (Exits hurriedly L.) 
 
 CLARENCE. (Heartily, shaking hands with 
 WHEELER ) Good-bye and thank you, Mr. Wheeler ! 
 
 WHEELER. (Earnestly) Good luck to you, Doc 
 tor Smith! (No emphasis on "Doctor") 
 
 WARNING 
 
 VIOLET. (Gasping) Doctor 
 
 WHEELER. Why, certainly; Doctor of Science. 
 He s called "Doctor," of course. 
 
 CLARENCE. (Crosses in front of VIOLET shak 
 ing MRS. WHEELER S hand) You ve been so kind, 
 Mrs. Wheeler. (Quickly going on to CORA) Good 
 bye, Cora. 
 
 CORA. (Looking straight front, her hands already 
 behind her) I won t. (Speaks quickly but not 
 loudly.) 
 
 MRS. W. (Quickly and cordially) Oh, we re all 
 coming out to see you off. (They all move to L. 
 except CLARENCE and CORA) We ll say good-bye 
 out there! 
 
 (Exit L., taking WHEELER S arm at the door. VIO 
 LET runs back and kisses CORA on the cheek, 
 hurriedly, and then runs out L. CORA is un 
 changed in adamantine attitude, though a very 
 short sniff is heard from her.) 
 
 CLARENCE. Good-bye, Cora. 
 CORA. I won t. 
 
 CLARENCE. Won t you say good-bye to me? 
 CORA. (Unchanging) I won t ! I hate engaged 
 men ! I hate em, I hate em, I hate em ! 
 
 CLARENCE. Won t you say good-bye to me, dear? 
 CORA. I won t. (Then suddenly, but still look- 
 
CLARENCE 121 
 
 ing straight forward) What d Violet say if she 
 heard you were already around callin other women 
 "dear"? 
 
 CLARENCE. Well (Moves TL.) if you won t sfay 
 good-bye I ll have to go and confess it to her! (He 
 looks back from the doorway) Good-bye? 
 
 CORA. ( Not moving anything but her eyes, which 
 follow him sidelong) I hate em, I hate em, I hate 
 em ! (CLARENCE makes a gesture of farewell and 
 resignation; Exit L. CORA sinks into a chair L.c. 
 just behind her, unchanged, repeating mechanically) 
 I hate em, I hate em, etc. 
 
 (MRS. WHEELER enters "L., smiling, but with tears 
 in her eyes. CORA continues.) 
 
 MRS. WHEELER. (As she comes) They were 
 dears ! Wasn t he lovely ? Cora ! Didn t you tell 
 them good-bye ? (CLARENCE is seen outside the sun- 
 room window up c. in bright sunshine. He raises 
 the window. MRS. WHEELER goes up, exclaiming) 
 Oh, look ; it s Clarence ; he wants you to 
 
 CLARENCE. (Calling in) Good-bye, Cora dear! 
 
 (CoRA leaps up suddenly.) 
 
 CORA. (In a loud, tremulous, sweet voice) Oh, 
 good-bye! (She runs up, ^vaving her handkerchief. 
 He waves his hat, shouting "Good luck! Good 
 bye!" and runs off to L. outside. MRS. WHEELER 
 goes to window, waving her handkerchief. CORA 
 comes down, not weeping but swallowing. She sits 
 again. Swallowing, gently) Oh, Clarence ! 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
"CLARENCE" 
 
 PROPERTY PLOT 
 
 ACT I 
 
 3 high-back settees. 
 
 1 library table. 
 
 2 straight-back upholstered chairs. 
 I straight-back mahogany chair. 
 
 I mahogany clock. 
 
 I upholstered armchair. 
 
 I box cigars off stage L. 
 
 Note-book. 
 
 I large engagement book. 
 
 I pencil (Eversharp). 
 
 ACTS II, III, IV 
 
 I piano and bench. 
 I lamp 
 
 I mahogany armchair. 
 I small couch. 
 I pedestal with Chinese god. 
 I piano cover (black and gold). 
 12 sheets music (on piano). 
 Large couch. 
 
 I ferge table behind couch. 
 I writing table. 
 
 1 chair for writing table. 
 
 2 small vases. 
 Saxaphone, off-stage R. 
 
 122 
 

 EH 
 
 ^R^Cl 
 
 Is 
 
 \ 
 
 fe 
 
CLARENCE 123 
 
 I upholstered chair. 
 
 I side table. 
 
 i vase on side table. 
 
 I small, straight-back chair. 
 
 1 vase on mantel. 
 
 2 small tin-painted flowers on mantel. 
 Stationery in desk blotter (blue) Ink on stand, 
 
 pens. 
 
 i brass bowl with autumn leaves. 
 Fireplace. 
 
 i bowl, with flowers on piano. 
 I ash receiver table behind couch, 
 i bowl cosmos same. 
 4 newspapers. 
 i book blocks with books. 
 Magazines "Vogue" and "Vanity Fair." 
 
 1 brass bowl with flowers on balustrade. 
 
 2 blue vases with autumn leaves on platform, 
 i small Chinese rug. 
 
 i brown all-over carpet, 
 i red all-over carpet. 
 4 pairs portieres. 
 
 4 pairs curtains. 
 
 i strip red carpet on platform, 
 i carpet on stairs. 
 
 1 brass ash receiver. 
 
 5 books. 
 
 3 magazines. 
 
 2 vases on pedestal with flowers. 
 2 medallions. 
 
 i box Corona cigars. 
 
 6 other cigars. 
 i doorbell. 
 
 i pair dish covers (tin) for cymbals, 
 i kitchen spoon. 
 I tin tray. 
 I saxaphone. 
 6 coffee cups. 
 
124 CLARENCE 
 
 6 saucers. 
 
 6 spoons. 
 
 Coffee pot with coffee. 
 
 Sugar bowl and creamer. 
 
 Sugar. 
 
 Spoon for sugar. 
 
 Silver tray. 
 
 I O Cedar mop for Delia. 
 
 1 book off-stage for Cora Act IV. 
 5 encyclopedias. 
 
 Automobile tools, including wrench. 
 Letters on tray, Act IV. 
 Newspaper with picture for Stem. 
 Letter in envelope for Clarence. 
 Red book for Cora on table Act IV. 
 Music for Mrs. Wheeler on piano. 
 Newspaper for Mr. Wheeler II-IVth Acts. 
 "Vogue" on couch L. IVth Act. 
 Also newspapers IVth Act. 
 
 2 empty clothing boxes tied together. 
 Cigar for Mr. Wheeler Act III. 
 
 Letters and circulars on salver Act IV off R. 
 Also containing letter for Clarence. 
 
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DOROTHY S NEIGHBORS. 
 
 A brand new comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of 
 New Co-Ed," "Tempest and Sunshine," and many other successful plays. 
 4 males, 7 females. The scenes are extremely easy to arrange ; two plain 
 interiors and one exterior, a garden, or, if necessary, the two interiors 
 will answer. Costumes modern. Plays 2J^ hours. 
 
 The story is about vocational trainimg, a subject now widely discussed; also, 
 the distribution of large wealth. 
 
 Back of the comedy situation and snappy dialogue there is good logic and 
 i sound moral in this pretty play, which is worthy the attention of the experi 
 enced amateur. It is a clean, wholesome play, particularly suited to high school 
 production. Price, 30 Cents. 
 
 MISS SOMEBODY ELSE. 
 
 A modern play in four acts by Marion Short, author of "The Touch 
 down," etc. 6 males, 10 females. Two interior scenes. Costumes mod 
 ern. Plays 2^4 hours. 
 
 This delightful comedy has gripping dramatic moments, unusual character 
 types, a striking and original plot and is essentially modern in theme and treat 
 ment. The story concerns the adventures of Constance Darcy, a multi-million 
 aire s young daughter. Constance embarks on a trip to find a young man who 
 had been in her father s employ and had stolen a large sum of monty. She 
 almost succeeds, when suddenly all traces of the young man are lost. At this 
 point she meets some old friends who are living in almost want and, in order to 
 assist them through motives benevolent, she determines to sink her own aristo 
 cratic personality in that of a refined but humble little Irish waitress with the 
 family that are in want. She not only carries her scheme to success in assisting 
 the family, but finds romance and much tense and lively adventure during the 
 period of her incognito, aside from capturing the young: man who had defrauded 
 her father. The story is full of bright comedy lines and dramatic situations and 
 is highly recommended for amateur production. This is one of the best come 
 dies we have ever offered with a large number of female characters. The dialogue 
 is bright and the play is full of action from start to finish; not a dull moment in 
 it. This is a great comedy for high schools and colleges, and the wholesome 
 story will please the parents and teachers, We strongly recommend it. 
 
 Price, 30 Cents. 
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 
 
 An exceptionally pretty comedy of Puritan New England, in threa 
 acts, by Amita B. Fairgrieve and Helena Miller. 9 male, 5 female char 
 acters. 
 
 This is the Lend A Hand Smith College prize play. It is an admirable play 
 or amateurs, is rich in character portrayal of varied types and is not too difficult 
 While thoroughly pleasing. Price, 30 Cents. 
 
 (The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City 
 
 New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 
 
The Touch-Down 
 
 A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, tmt 
 any number of characters can be introduced in the disenables. Cos 
 tumes modern. One interior scene throughout the play. Time, 2# 
 hours. 
 
 This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the story ( 
 life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co-educational college. It deals with 
 the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football Eleven, and 
 the humorous and dramatic incidents connected therewith. 
 
 "The Touch-Down" has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs 
 are sung, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High 
 schools will make no mistake in producing this play. We stroagiy 
 recommend it as a high-class and well-written comedy. 
 
 Price, 30 Cent* 
 
 Hurry, Hurry, Hurry 
 
 A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. 5 males, 4 female** 
 One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2# hours. 
 
 The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates 
 that her pretty niece must be affianced before *vhe is twenty-one, and 
 married to her fiance within a year, if she is to get her spinster 
 relative s million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell 
 daughter about the will, so that she may make her choice untrara- 
 meled by any other consideration than that of true love. The action 
 all takes place in the evening the midnight of which will see her 
 reach twenty-one. Time is therefore short, and it is hurry, hurry, 
 hurry, if she is to become engaged and thus save her father from 
 impending bankruptcy. 
 
 The situations are intrinsically funny and the dialogue is sprightly. 
 The characters are natural and unaffected and the action moves with 
 a snap such as should be expected frem its title. Price, 30 Cents. 
 
 The Varsity Coach 
 
 A three-act play of college life, by Marion Short, specially adapted 
 to performance by amateurs or high school students. 5 males 4> 
 females, but any number of boys and girls may be introduced the 
 action of the play. Two settings necessary, a college boy s room a*4 
 the university campus. Time, about 2 hours. 
 
 Like many another college boy, "Beb" Selby, an all-round popular 
 college man, becomes possessed of the idea that athletic prowess is 
 anore to be desired than scholarship. He is surprised in the snidst f 
 A "spread" in his room in Regatta week by a visit from his aunt 
 who is putting him through college. Aunt Serena, "a lady of the old 
 school and the dearest little woma*i in the whole world," has hastened 
 to make this visit to her adored nephew under the mistaken impression 
 that he is about to receive the Fellowes prize for scholarship. Her 
 grief and chagrin when she learns that instead of the prize Robert 
 has received "a pink card," which is equivalent to suspension for poor 
 scholarship, gives a touch of pathos to an otherwise jolly comedy of 
 college life. How the repentant Robert more than redeems himself, 
 carries off honors at the last, and in the end wins Ruth, the faithful 
 little sweetheart of the "Prom" and the classroom, makes a story of 
 dramatic interest and brings out very clearly certain phases of modern 
 college life. There are several opportunities for the introduction oi 
 college songs and "stunts." Price, 30 Cents. 
 
 r he Above Are Subject te Royalty When P reduced) 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City 
 
 few and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed F^ee n 
 
The Return of Hi Jinks 
 
 A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short, author of "The Varsity 
 Coach," "The Touch-Down," etc. 6 males, 8 females. Costumes 
 dodern. One interior scene. 
 
 This comedy is founded upon and elaborated from a farce comedy 
 Jn two acts written by J. H. Horta, and originally produced at Tuft s 
 College. 
 
 Hkam Poynter Jinks, a Junior in Hoosic College (Willie Collier 
 type), and a young moving picture actress (Mary Pickford type), are 
 the leading characters in this lively, modern farce. 
 
 Thomas Hodge, a Senior, envious of the popularity of Jinks, wishes 
 to think up a scheme to throw ridicule upon him during a visit of 
 the Hoosic Glee Club to Jinks s home town. JinJ-s has obligingly acted 
 as a one-day substitute in a moving picture play, in which there is a 
 fire scene, and this gives H9dge his cue. He sends what seems to 
 be a bona fide account of Jink s heroism at a Hoosic fire to Jink s 
 home paper. Instead of repudiating his laurels as expected, Jinks 
 decides to take a flyer in fame, confirms the fake story, confesses to 
 being a hero and is adored) by all the girls, to the chagrin and dis 
 comfiture of Hodge. Of course, the truth comes out at last, but 
 Jinks is not hurt, thereby, and his romance with Mimi Mayflower 
 comes to a successful termination. 
 
 This is a great comedy for amateurs. It is full of funny situations 
 and is sure to please. Price, 30 Cents. 
 
 J 
 
 une 
 
 A most successful comedy-drama in four acts, by Marie Doran, 
 author of "The New Co-Ed," "Tempest and Sunshine," "Dorothy * 
 Neighbors," etc. 4 males, 8 females. One interior scene. Costumes 
 modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 
 
 This play has a very interesting group of young people. June i 
 an appealing little figure, an orphan living with her aunt. There are 
 a number of delightful, life-like characters: the sorely tried likeable 
 Mrs. Hopkins, the amusing, haughty Miss Banks of the glove depart 
 ment, the lively Tilly and Milly, who work in the store, and ambitious 
 Snoozer; Mrs. Hopkins s only son, who aspires to be President of th 
 United States, but finds his real sphere is running the local trolley 
 car. The play is simplicity itself in the telling of an every-day story, 
 and the scenic requirements call for only one set, a room in tha 
 boarding house of Mrs. Hopkins, while an opportunity is affotded to 
 introduce any number of extra characters. Musical numbers may be 
 introduced, if desired. Price, 30 Cents, 
 
 Tempest and Sunshine 
 
 A comedy drama in four acts, by Marie Doran. 5 males and 3 
 females. One exterior and three interior scenes. Plays about 2 hours k 
 
 Every school girl has revelled in the sweet simplicity and gentle 
 ness of the characters interwoven in the charms that Mary J. Holmes 
 commands in her story of "Tempest and Sunshine." We can strongly 
 recenamend this play as one of the best plays for high school pro 
 duction published in receat years. Price, 30 Cents* 
 
 (The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
 
 BMMOBBIMBnBMBBBMnmMI Illll IMMMnMMMWaMMMHMaiMMMHBnN*BB 
 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York Cits 
 
 w and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on 
 
JUST PUBLISHED 
 
 Nothing But the Truth 
 
 A Farcical Comedy in Three Acts 
 
 By 
 
 James Montgomery 
 Cast of Characters 
 
 Bob Bennett 
 
 B. M. Ralston 
 
 Clarence Van Dusen 
 
 Bishop Doran 
 
 Dick Donnelly 
 
 Gwen 
 
 Mrs. Ralston 
 
 Ethel 
 
 Mable 
 
 Sable 
 
 Martha 
 
 SCENES 
 
 ACT 1. A Broker s Office 
 
 ACT 2. Parlor of a Country Home 
 
 ACT 3. 
 
 TIME: The Present 
 
 "Nothing But the Truth" is built upon the simple idea 
 of its hero speaking nothing but the absolute truth for a 
 stated period. He bets a friend ten thousand dollars 
 that he can do it, and boldly tackles truth to win the 
 money. For a very short time the task is placidly easy, 
 but Truth routs out old man Trouble and then thing s be 
 gin to happen. Trouble doesn t seem very large and 
 aggressive when he first pokes his nose into the noble 
 resolve of our hero, but he grows rapidly and soon we 
 see our dealer in truth disrupting the domestic relations 
 of his partner. In fact, Trouble works overtime, and 
 reputations that have been unblemished are smirched. 
 Situations that are absurd and complications almost 
 knotted, pile up, all credited to Truth, and the result of 
 the wager to foster and cherish that great virtue from 
 the lips of the man who has espoused the cause of truth 
 to win a wager. 
 
 It is a novel idea and so well has it been worked out 
 that an audience is kept in throes of laughter at the 
 seemingly impossible task to untangle snarls into which, 
 our hero has involved all those he comes into contact 
 with. It is a clean bright farce of well drawn character* 
 and was built for laughing purposes only. 
 
 William Collier played "Nothing But the Truth" for a 
 year at the Longacre Theatre, New York, and it has been 
 on tour for over two seasons. 
 
 After three years continuous success on the profess 
 ional stage we are now offering "Nothing But the Truth" 
 for amateur production. It is one of the funniest and 
 brightest farces ever written, and it is admirably suited 
 r*> amateur production. 
 
 60 CENTS 
 
Xj^x^/ " 
 
 ERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GENERAL LIBRARY 
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 HE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFOf