E KJ TCHEN
FRENCH, 25 West 45th SU New York
Come Out of the
Kitchen
A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS
By
A. E. THOMAS
BASED ON THE STORY OP THE SAME NAME BY ALICE DUER
MILLER
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on
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"Come Out of the Kitchen"
All rights reserved
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE COM-
PANY (HARPER'S BAZAR)
COPYRIGHT, 1916, (IN NOVEL FORM), BY THE CENTURY
COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY A. E. THOMAS
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Printed in the United States of America by
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The following is a copy of the play-bill of the first
performance of "COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN," at
the George M. Cohan Theatre, New York, October 23,
1916.
GEORGE M. COHAN THEATRE
HENRY MILLER
PRESENTS
RUTH CHATTERTON
WITH BRUCE McRAE AND A STRONG CAST
IN
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS
BY
A. E. THOMAS
(Based on the story of the same name by Alice Duer
Miller.)
CAST OF CHARACTERS
OLIVIA DANGERFIELD. Alias Jane Ellen . .Rum CHATTERTON
ELIZABETH DANGERFIELD, Alias Araminta. .BARBARA MILTON
MRS. FALKENER, Tucker's Sister MARGUERITE ST. JOHN
CORA FALKENER, Her Daughter ALICE LINDAHL
AMANDA, Olivia's Black Mammy . .MRS. CHARLES G. CRAIG
BURTON CRANE, From the North BRUCE McRAE
THOMAS LEFFERTS, Statistical poet HARRY MESTAYER
SOLON TUCKER, Crane's Attorney and Guest
WILLIAM H. SAMS
PAUL DANGERFIELD, Alias Smithfield. .CHARLES TROWBRIDGE
CHARLES DANGERFIELD, Alias Brindlebury ROBERT AMES
RANDOLPH WEEKS, Agent of the Dangerfields
WALTER CONNOLLY
TIME. The Present.
PLACE. The Danger-field mansion in Virginia.
2115034
SYNOPSIS OF SCENES
ACT I. Drawing-room of the Dangerfield man-
sion. NOTE: During this act the
curtain will be lowered for ten sec-
onds to indicate the passing of four
hours' time.
ACT II. The kitchen afternoon two days later-
ACT III. The dining-room just before dinner on
the same day.
Come Out of the Kitchen
ACT I
SCENE: See photograph. Drawing-room of the
Daingerfield mansion a rather stately, big, old
family homestead of the typical Virginia coun-
try sort. There's a fireplace at R v two windows
at L. The entrance, L.C., is from the hall at
rear. When the door is opened the foot of the
staircase is seen. All the furniture and appoint-
ments, while originally high-class and still
beautiful in their simple colonial way, show
signs of long use. Over the fireplace hangs, on
R. wall, a portrait of Grandfather Daingerfield
in a Lieutenant's uniform of the Confederate
States of America. On the mantel is a clock
set and a little miniature of a young girl in the
dress of 1840. It is beautifully set in gold
frame.
AT RISE: ELIZABETH, CHARLES and PAUL DAIN-
GERFIELD are discovered. CHARLIE is at R.C.
ELIZABETH is wearing her hat (seated L.C .) and
a walking-suit. PAUL is standing c. In short,
the family is evidently ready for departure.
PAUL is the oldest of all the Daingerfield chil-
dren, being about twenty-four. He is a tall,
7
8 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
slim, grave young man, thoughtful but with
little initiative,. ELIZABETH is a year or so
younger, inclined to plumpness not a bad sort,
but a little sulky by nature. CHARLIE is the
youngest of the group, being a lad of scarcely
seventeen, quick-moving, spirited and rather
merry.
After the curtain rises, the three are silent a
moment. Presently PAUL looks at his watch,
evidently expecting someone.
CHARLES seated chair R. c.
PAUL. (Before speaking, moves up stage, then
down again c.) Reckon the old place is going to
miss us? (A pause.) Been a long time since there
weren't any Dangerfields at all under this roof. (A
pause.) Grandfather Daingerfield looks a little re-
proachful, doesn't he? Never mind, never mind,
old boy. Of course, it's pretty hard being left
alone in the old house with a confounded Yankee
millionaire, but after all, it's only for six weeks.
So for Heaven's sake, cheer up.
CHARLEY. That's the idea, Grand-dad. That's
the idea, but (Looks at painting over fireplace.)
Well, anyhow, dear Grandma don't look so grumpy.
We're not leaving you for long, and we don't like it
any better than you do but we need the money.
PAUL. Need the money ! I should say we do.
ELIZABETH. (Breaking her rather sullen silence
for the first time) I don't like it. I don't like it at
all. I've said so from the beginning.
PAUL. Heaven knows you have, Bess. You've
said it and said it and said it until I'm beginning to
get sick of the sound of your voice.
ELIZABETH. I don't believe father and mother
would approve of it for a moment.
PAUL. (Seated armchair R. of table R.j Well,
9
we've got to do the best we can. If poor old dad
had his health it would be different. Do you real-
ize he and mother have been abroad almost a year?
CHARLES. (Coming to back of chair c.) Year
next week.
PAUL. Traveling around from Wiesbaden to
Marienbad and from Marienbad to Carlsbad and
poor dad getting- worse all the time.
CHARLES. Going from bad to worse, so to speak.
ELIZABETH. (Rises, moves up c.) Charlie, how
can you joke about such a thing?
CHARLES. (Turns up c. } stopping her) Sorry
I didn't mean it. I'd give my right arm for dad if
it would help him, and you know it.
ELIZABETH. (Crosses to L. side of PAUL sud-
denly, as if struck by a brilliant idea.) Paul, why
can't we mortgage the place? (Crosses to back of
table R.J
CHARLES. Oh, (Laughs.)
PAUL. (Laughs) You know perfectly well
there's a mortgage on this house that weighs a ton.
CHARLES. That's why it leaks so when it rains.
(Comes down and sits R. of table L.)
PAUL. When this house was built they put a
mortgage on it before they put the roof on. And
that mortgage got married and raised a big family
and they're all alive still. Randy Weeks told me
you couldn't raise another cent on this place to save
your life.
ELIZABETH. If only dad hadn't quarrelled with
Uncle Jefferson !
PAUL. Yes, I know, it's bad luck that dad should
have fallen out with the only Daingerfield that has
a cent, but he did and now Aunt Josephine's got
to take us in out of the wet for the next six weeks,
and the poor old dear can't afford it, either.
ELIZABETH. Well, I don't like it. (Stamps fact,
io COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
moves to back of chair L. of table to CHARLIE.J I
don't like it. I say it again, what will people say?
PAUL. What'll they say if we don't pay our bills?
CHARLES. Ah, now, Bess, what's the use of kick-
ing? It's too late now, anyhow, and think of the
$5,000.
ELIZABETH. $5,000 for six weeks! Why, Paul,
the man must be crazy ! It's bad enough to rent the
place to a Northerner but thts man's evidently a
lunatic as well.
PAUL. Not at all. He's just a rich man who
doesn't care what it costs him so long as he gets
what he wants. And just now he wants to live in
an old-fashioned Southern country house for the
next six weeks in the height of the hunting season.
ELIZABETH. (Moves to chair L. of table R.C.)
Well, I don't like it.
CHARLES. (Rises. Exasperated. Goes up c.)
Go on and hate it, then. Have a good hate, only
for heaven's sake, dry up.
ELIZABETH. You know perfectly well you don't
like it yourself. (Sits chair L. of table.)
PAUL. Of course we don't we only (Rises
and goes to mantle.)
ELIZABETH, (c.) You wouldn't have consented
to it at all if Olivia hadn't talked you into it. It's
all her doing.
CHARLES. Well, is it her fault if Livy's got more
sense than all of us put together? Here's father
and mother abroad fighting for father's life and here
we are at home dead broke and not one of us got
the gumption to raise a dollar till Livy up and shows
us the way, and just because you don't think it's
dignified (Goes back of ELIZABETH, digging her in
shoulder. ELIZABETH exclaims.) to rent the old
place, you sit around and sob. Dignified!
PAUL. (Goes to CHARLIE and taps him on R.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN II
shoulder.) Hush! Charlie! Hush! That's enough.
(Turns up above table R.C.)
CHARLES. (Not heeding him, moves back to
mantel) Of course it ain't dignified, neither is
starving.
ELIZABETH. Oh, I reckon we shouldn't starve.
CHARLES. We'd starve, or beg, or sponge. Which
would you rather do?
ELIZABETH. Well, I tell you, I don't think
CHARLES. (Throwing up his hands) Oh, Bess,
for the sake of heaven please! (ELIZABETH rises
as OLIVIA enters.)
(Enter OLIVIA at rear. This is the third Dainger-
field in point of age, being a year or two older
than CHARLIE. She is of 'medium height, very
slender and graceful, with blue-grey eyes, light
brozvn hair and mobile features. She is clearly
the beauty of the family arch, dainty, piquant,
a bit of a flirt, humorous, quick, impulsive, in
short a distracting young person. She, like the
others, is dressed for going away and is just
finishing putting on her gloves.)
CHARLES. (Up R.c.J Hello, Livy. Thank the
Lord, you've come!
OLIVIA, (c.) What's the matter?
CHARLES. Sit on Bess, for heaven's sake; no-
body else can do it. (Moves to golf clubs.)
OLIVIA. What is it, Bess? (Comes to front of
table L.cJ
ELIZABETH. I was only saying what I've said a
dozen times before: I don't like turning the old
place over to a strange Yankee, and I don't think
father and mother would approve, either.
OLIVIA. (Crossing to BESS.J No, dear, I reckon
they wouldn't. I reckon they don't approve of
12 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
earthquakes. Are you all ready? (Goes to L.C. to
back of table L.cJ
PAUL. Just waiting for Jack Curley to turn up
with his wagon-load of servants. (Goes up R.) I
thought he could take us back to town on his re-
turn trip. We'd only have an hour to wait for the
up train and will get to Aunt Josephine's for din-
ner. (Closes door, then down c. over to R. of
OLIVIA.,)
ELIZABETH. That's another thing. I wouldn't
mind leaving the place so much if we were going to
leave it in the care (Meeting OLIVIA, who comes
to her, L.C.) of our blessed old darkies, but this
turning it over to four white servants from Wash-
ington persons we've never seen in all our lives
well!
PAUL. (Crosses to mantle) Oh, they're all right.
They've the best of recommendations.
ELIZABETH. Well, all I've got to say is that any
Yankee who doesn't know that Virginia negroes are
the best servants in the world has a lot to learn.
OLIVIA. Yes, dear. (Then she adds, obviously to
create a diversion) I don't think your hat is quite
straight.
ELIZABETH. Humph! (However, she goes
promptly to the nearest mirror, L. betiueen windows.)
CHARLES. (Coming to back of chair) Bess makes
me sick. You'd think to hear her talk that the rest
of us had been sitting up nights trying to find some
way to drag the family honor in the dust, and
OLIVIA. (Seising his hand and inspecting the
fingers closely) What's this?
CHARLES. What ?
OLIVIA. Cigaretes again!
CHARLES. (Chagrined) Well, I can't help it.
(Goes up R.C. OLIVIA follows up a bit.)
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 13
(Enter AMANDA at rear. This is a short, fat, typi-
cal old negro mammy, formerly OLIVIA'S nurse
and absolutely devoted to her. She carries &
small bag that bears OLIVIA'S initials. She is
evidently much depressed.)
AMANDA. Honey child
OLIVIA. Well, Mandy!
AMANDA. Here's youah little grip sack, Miss
Livy.
OLIVIA. Set it down by the door, please.
AMANDA. Ya'as, Miss Livy. (Puts bag on chair
L. of c. door and drops apron and duster.)
OLIVIA. Have all the others gone?
AMANDA. (Turning c.) Ya'as, Miss Livvy. Dey
all done gone.
OLIVIA. Sam and Wash and Jeff and Liza?
AMANDA. (A step c. to OLIVIA,) Ya'as, Miss
Livy, all of 'em.
OLIVIA. You understand, now, you're all to stay
at the cabins until you're sent for.
AMANDA. Ya'as 'm.
OLIVIA. You're not to come within half a mile
of the house not one of you you understand?
AMANDA. Miss Livy, honey child, how how
long dish yer banishin' gwine foh to las'?
OLIVIA. About six weeks.
AMANDA. Am* I done gwine foh to see you-all
foh six weeks?
PAUL. (Crosses down R., leans on mantel) No,
Mandy, we're all going to stay with Aunt Josephine.
AMANDA. Mighty funny, Ah calls it mighty
OLIVIA. (Reproving her) Mandy!
AMANDA. Ya'as 'm. (A pause.)
OLIVIA. (Going to her) You mustn't worry,
Mandy, we'll all be back soon.
14 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
AMANDA. (Drazving OLIVIA'S head down to her
capacious bosom) Oh, Honey! My li'l lady baby.
OLIVIA. There, there, you old dear, it's all right
it's all right. There, now there you just run
along and don't forget to feed my doves.
AMANDA. No'm, Ah ain' gwine fergit nothin'.
(Going.)
OLIVIA. Good-bye, Mandy, good-bye. Don't you
worry, now.
AMANDA, (c.) No, Miss Livy, I ain't goin'
worry needer but all I got to say is dish yer
Yankee man he mus' be funny Yankee man don't
want niggahs round w'en his folks all done come
down here foh to sot us free. An' oh, Miss Livy, I
ain' gwine let you go widout me. I jus' cain't do it !
PAUL. (Sternly, at L. corner of fireplace)
Mandy !
AMANDA, (c. Turns to OLIVIA^ Yes, sir. Ah
ain' nevah been 'way fum yer befoh, not since you
was a li'l baby what I- could lif wid one finger.
W'en you-all went to New Yawk wid yoh paw an*
maw, didn' I go' long too? W'en you-all was in
Washin'ton w'en yoh was makin' all dem big laws,
in the White House, didn' I go' long too ? Wha' foh
cain't I go wid you dis time, too?
OLIVIA. (R. of AMANDA ) I've told you, Mandy.
Aunt Josephine's hardly got room in her little hovel
for us. There wouldn't be any place for you.
(Goes to L. of chair, sitting on arm.)
AMANDA. Listen, honey, listen. Ah doan tak'
up much room. (All laugh.) Ah'd jes' as soon
sleep on de flo'.
OLIVIA. (Kindly but firmly) Mandy, that's
enough. It's all settled. (Goes to MANDY.)
AMANDA. Oh, Ah doan' want to leave you, Miss
Livy. I doan' want to leave mah li'l lady baby.
OLIVIA. Now, don't be silly, Mandy. (Taking
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 15
her hands.) It's all right. I'll soon be back. Now,
honey, you run along. (Pushes AMANDA and moves
L. to above chair R. of table L.C. Looks at minia-
tures, then sits chair L.C.)
AMANDA. I'm gwine. Oh, Miss Livy. (Goes a
few steps. All turn.) Ah done hab a terrible bad
dream las' night ah
OLIVIA. Ha! Ha! Ha! Get along with you.
You're always having bad dreams. Run now, I
mean it !
AMANDA. (Going) Yas, Miss Livy. But dish
yer dream Ah done hab las' night (Coming
down.)
OLIVIA. Run now, I mean it. Don't you forget
a thing I've told you.
AMANDA. I cain't forget nuthin'. I never forget
nuthin'. (Takes letter from skirt pocket. Laughs.)
Oh, I clean forgot dis here letter what Sam got over
at de post-office dis morning. But I never forgits
nuthin', honey . . . never. (AMANDA laughs and
exits. CHARLIE closes door after AMANDA'.? exit.)
ELIZABETH. What's your letter ?
OLIVIA. (At chair L.C. Looking at it for the
first time.) Why, it's from mother. (Crosses to
armchair R.C. and sits. The others crowd eagerly
about her.)
CHARLES. Where's it from? (Coming down to
OLIVIA'S L. shoulder.)
OLIVIA. (Who has torn it open) Vienna.
PAUL. What's she say? (Sitting on back of
table, leaning over OLIVIA.)
ELIZABETH. How's father? (Brings chair from
L. and sits on the left side of OLIVIA.)
OLIVIA. (Beginning to read)
Vienna, Oct. 23d.
My Darlings :
You will doubtless be anxious to hear how your
16 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
father and I are faring in this strange land. You
must have already received my last letter written on
the day of our arrival. Well, since then, your father
has been examined by the specialists at the hospital.
I ought not to conceal from you that they think his
condition very serious. In short, they think an
operation is the only chance. But it will not be for
a fortnight yet, as they want to build up his strength.
And now some business.
(OLIVIA pauses in the reading and gulps down a
lump in her throat. The others also show their
grief. Presently she goes on.)
PAUL. Business ?
OLIVIA. some business. Enclosed is your
father's check for $2,895. Ask Paul to send it at
once (that's underlined), at once to John R. Charles,
Washington agent of the New York Life Ins. Com-
pany. Your father hasn't the address, but you will
find it in the top drawer of his desk in the library.
Don't fail in this because if things should because
if things should if things should go wrong, the in-
surance money would at least keep us all together
for a little time to come. And now, my dears, don't
worry too much. We are all in God's hands. Your
father suffers little pain. He sends his love to all
of you and so do I. I will send you a cable when
the time comes. God bless and keep you all, my
dears. Mother.
(A pause follows the reading of the letter, while the
little group struggle dwtnbly with their sorrow.
At length OLIVIA rises, moves to window L.J
PAUL. Let me see it.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 17
(OLIVIA gives him the letter and the check and goes
to the window and looks out. There is a glimpse
of a little pocket handkerchief as she dabs her
eyes. ELIZABETH sits in chair R.C. PAUL goes
c., looking at the check.)
PAUL. Two thousand eight hundred and ninety-
five dollars. Whew!
OLIVIA. (Near window L.) How much will that
leave in the bank?
PAUL, (c.) About two hundred and fifteen.
CHARLES. When's the interest on the mortgage
due?
PAUL. Next month.
CHARLES. The Yank pays his rent in advance,
doesn't he?
PAUL. Yes, thank God.
CHARLES. That'll make $5,215, thanks to Livy.
Some difference, eh?
OLIVIA. (At window Lj Isn't it time Jack Cur-
ley was getting here?
PAUL. (Crosses to L.C. Looking at his watch)
More than time. Can't see what's keeping him.
OLIVIA. (Turning back to the window) Here's
somebody in a Ford. (PAUL crosses to window.)
Oh, it's Randy Weeks. Let him in, Charlie.
(Crosses c.) No servants left, you know. (OLIVIA
crosses to BESS. CHARLES goes out, leaving door
open.) Wonder what Randy wants.
ELIZABETH. (c. Significantly, looking at
OLIVIA, putting her chair back L.C.) Reckon I could
guess without trying more than once.
OLIVIA. (Smiling) Oh, you, hush now !
ELIZABETH. (Teasing) Going to take him, Livy ?
OLIVIA. Nonsense !
ELIZABETH. Why don't you take him or leave
him?
i8 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
PAUL. (Comes behind table, between them and
stands L.c.j Don't ask silly questions, Bess. Why
does a fisherman use a rod and reel and an almost
invisible line when he could yank 'em out with a net ?
Because it's more fun.
ELIZABETH. Humph! Not for the fish.
(Crosses in front of table R.c.j
OLIVIA. Oh, yes, but that's what he gets for
being a fish! (Crosses to L. PAUL goes up stage
a little.)
(Enter RANDOLPH WEEKS and CHARLIE. WEEKS
is a nice but commonplace young Virginian of
thirty years or thereabouts. PAUL goes up and
greets WEEKS, then comes L. CHARLES goes R.
of WEEKS at c.)
ELIZABETH. Hello, Randy.
WEEKS. Hello, Bess.
OLIVIA. The birds are just flitting, you see.
WEEKS, (c.) Yes, I'm glad I caught you in time.
You see, I'm afraid I've bad news for you. I was
down at the station and only two people got off the
Washington train a Baltimore drummer and a dar-
key with one leg.
ALL. Well, what on earth, etc. (Ad lib. ELIZA-
BETH sits L. of table, CHARLIE a step forward.)
WEEKS. And now I just got a telegram (Pro-
duces telegram) from that Washington intelligence
office. (ELIZABETH pushes CHARLES and takes his
place.)
OLIVIA. Those servants not coming? (Stands L.
of L. table.)
WEEKS. No seems they changed their minds at
the last moment.
PAUL. (Coming down by WEEKS CHARLES goes
B. to mantel.) But why ? Why ?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 19
WEEKS. Didn't say. Too far from the city, per-
haps.
PAUL. But this is terrible leaving us all in the
lurch at the last minute.
WEEKS. Yes I know it is.
OLIVIA. Look here, Randy. This is a mighty
serious thing for us. Mr. Crane or whatever his
name is is arriving almost any moment, isn't he?
WEEKS. Yes he's coming in his motor.
CHARLES. (At mantel R.) And not a servant in
the house.
ELIZABETH. Good thing, too. Only one thing to
do. Get our blessed old darkies back.
OLIVIA. Bess, you know that's no good
(Sits chair L. of table L.c.J
WEEKS. Livy's right. Mr. Crane was very par-
ticular about that. A full staff of white servants
and no darkeys around the place that's what he
said. It's in the lease, too.
PAUL. (Comes to WEEKSJ But it's not our
fault. Don't you think that, under the circum-
stances, he
WEEKS. No, old boy, I don't. The matter of the
servants was the only thing he was particular about,
but he made it quite clear that if his wishes in that
line were not respected he would not spend a night
in the place. Of course, I dare say that within a
few days we could round up another bunch. Mean-
time
ELIZABETH. Couldn't you telegraph him not to
come for a week ?
WEEKS. I reckon not. He's on his way here now
and he's asked two or three guests. (Moves to
back of table R.)
PAUL. Well, I reckon it's all off, then. (Crosses
and puts L. arm around OLIVIA.) We've done our
best. (Goes to window.)
'20 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
CHARLES. (Crosses to fireplace. ELIZABETH joins
him at mantel) $5,000 gone up the flue. Phew!
WEEKS. (Back of table R.) I'm mighty sorry.
It's a dirty trick and so I telegraphed 'em.
CHARLES. Much good that does. We're $5,000
out and all we get is the privilege of sassing 'em.
And we can't say what we think over the wire, any-
how.
OLIVIA. (Rises, crosses to L. of WEEKS c. Very
soberly) Look here, Randy, you know what a facer
this is. You don't suppose we'd have consented to
rent the old place if we hadn't been pretty near rock
bottom, do you ?
WEEKS. You don't have to tell me. I reckon I
know.
OLIVIA. It's it's kind of hard to talk about.
Poor old dad's over there fighting .for his life, that's
all he can do and the rest of us are pretty close
to the wall. This $5,000 would have kept us going
quite a while. (OLIVIA goes up c., sees AMANDA'S
apron, picks it up and looks at it. Also picks up
duster. BESS sits R.c.J
WEEKS. fR.c.J Don't I know it? That's why I
boosted the price up on him till I felt like a highway
robber. Oh ! I know a real estate agent is supposed
to have a hide like a hippopotamus ; but $5,000 for
six weeks (Gives low whistle.) I could be
arrested for that! (Comes in front of table L.)
PAUL. (At L., gloomily) Well, you needn't
worry. You're safe now.
WEEKS. (Approaching PAUL and taking his hand)
I'm horribly sorry, old boy really I am.
PAUL. Thanks, Randy, thanks you did your best
for us. (Crosses to chair L. between windows L.
Pause.)
OLIVIA. (Puts on apron, curtseying) Well, what
you-all wants for dinner?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 21
PAUL. Now, Livy, is this a time for your non-
sense ?
OLIVIA. Does I look like the cook or doesn't I?
ELIZABETH. Livy, for goodness' sake
CHARLES. But surely, Livy, you're not thinking
of
WEEKS. Hold your horses. Livy's not joking.
She's got hold of something.
OLIVIA. Randy, there were four of those serv-
ants, weren't there?
WEEKS. Yes, four. (CHARLES comes down R.
ELIZABETH comes front of table R.j
OLIVIA. What were they?
WEEKS. (Front of table L.J Why, a butler, an
upstairs girl, and a sort of all-around boy for the
boots and errands and so on and a cook.
OLIVIA. What you-all wants for dinner?
PAUL. Olivia, is this a time for your nonsense ?
OLIVIA. Does I look like the cook or doesn't I?
Charlie's the usual boy.
CHARLES. I'm the what ?
OLIVIA. (To ELIZABETH ) You're the upstairs
girl.
ELIZABETH. Me!
OLIVIA. Paul's the butler!
PAUL. I'm the butler!
OLIVIA. And I'm the cook. (WEEKS has not
moved since speaking. He now moves up L. and
across back to mantelpiece.)
PAUL. Nonsense! (Crosses to OLIVIA c.)
ELIZABETH. (Collapsing on chair Rj Well, did
anybody ever hear
PAUL. (Comes down R. of table L.cJ Livy, you
don't mean it.
CHARLES. (Crosses in front of table to OLIVIA,)
Olive !
OLIVIA. Now don't call me Olive. That's not my
22 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
name and I don't like it. An olive is nothing but an
Italian prune.
CHARLIE. But, Livy (Sits L. of table Rj
WEEKS. Look here, Livy, you don't mean it?
You're not really serious?
ALL. See here, Livy, what in the name of etc.,
etc. ('OLIVIA comes down. PAUL comes to her be-
low table.)
OLIVIA. (c. Quieting them) Hsh! Hsh!
Please ! Now, look here. (WEEKS gets around
back to mantel R.J When mother and dad went
abroad they took $6,000 with them. Most of that's
gone. They left $5,000 in the bank for us. When
the life insurance policy is paid there'll be $215 of
that left, and the unpaid bills are a foot high. Every
stick and stone and living creature is mortgaged to
the last cent. Horses, hunters, cattle, sheep, every-
thing but the dog, and we'd have mortgaged him if
he hadn't had the mange. There's not a soul that
we can turn to not a soul there's only ourselves,
and what can we do? Nothing not a thing!
PAUL. But Livy ! (Advancing to her) See here,
there must be some other way.
OLIVIA. Oh, Paul ! I'm not complaining, but you
see, we've never learnt how to do anything. Bess
and I particularly just entertained girls, and
Charlie hardly out of school. (Exclamations from
CHARLIE. ELIZABETH rises and goes up to WEEKS
by mantel.) And you, Paul, are going to do won.-
derful things, I know, when you've finished your
law course ; but meantime here's a chance to make
good.
CHARLES. Make good? (Moves R. and stands
below table.)
ELIZABETH. Make what? (Comes below table
*.;
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 23
PAUL. That's all very well, Livy, but I don't
exactly picture myself as a domestic.
OLIVIA. Why not? You'd look a dream (All
laugh. She slips duster through his arm. ELIZA-
BETH joins CHARLES front of table.) Bess, Charlie !
Oh, Paul ! can't you see, whether we like it or not,
it solves our problem, it solves father's problem
it'll be for dad. Can't you understand ? sick among
strangers, and you hesitate. (Weeps.)
WEEKS. (At mantel. After a pause) Livy,
you're wonderful, but I don't quite see how
PAUL. Same here, Sis. I don't see how we can
do it.
OLIVIA. Why not ?
ELIZABETH. We'd be sure to be found out.
(OLIVIA comes down c.)
CHARLES. Sure. Neighbors would come in
people we know
PAUL. They'd give us away.
ELIZABETH. And what would they think?
C ELIZABETH and CHARLES close to table.)
WEEKS. Yes, Livy. It's a splendid idea, but I'm
afraid it wouldn't work.
OLIVIA. Why not ? (Crosses to WEEKS R.) None
of us has ever seen Mr. what's his name?
WEEKS. Crane Burton Crane.
OLIVIA. He wouldn't know us from Adam.
PAUL. But the others, our neighbors people
we've grown up with
OLIVIA. Now wait, dear. This is Thursday, isn't
it?
WEEKS. Yes.
OLIVIA. Don't you think you could get a new lot
of white servants here from Washington by Mon-
day?
WEEKS. Yes, it's just possible.
24 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
OLIVIA. Telegraph, telephone, go yourself, offer
them double wages, anything to get them.
WEEKS. I might, yes, I think it could be done.
OLIVIA. Then don't you see, we'd have only three
days for our little masquerade. It would be quite
safe. Mr. Yankee Man surely won't be giving a
party for a day or two and the third day is a Sun-
day.
WEEKS. And now I think of it, he said he was
coming here for a rest.
OLIVIA. (Coming up c. between ELIZABETH and
PAUL.J There don't you see, Paul. Charlie
Bess just three days of it and it's all right.
ELIZABETH. I I don't believe I could. (Sits
front of table nj
OLIVIA. Bess Boys not for dad? (They re-
main silent for a moment. OLIVIA comes c. to R. of
PAUL.J
PAUL. So, I'm the butler.
OLIVIA. Oh, Paul, you will ? You darling ! (She
gives him a kiss.)
PAUL. Now hold on, Sis, I haven't said yes.
OLIVIA. Charlie !
CHARLIE. Oh, all right . . . me for the boots
but how do you do it ?
OLIVIA. But you will ! And me for the kitchen.
And I can cook thank Heaven ! It's the only thing
I can do! (Pushing WEEKS to c.) Randy, do go
and look out of the window. (WEEKS crosses to L.
lower window. OLIVIA crosses to L.,)
PAUL. Yes, but how does one buttle?
OLIVIA. Oh, it's quite simple. You open the
door, answer the bell, wait on the table and wear a
dress suit in the day time, so they can tell you're not
a gentleman. (CHARLES sitting all the time.)
ELIZABETH. (Sitting front of table Rj Yes, but
I don't know how to be a rnaid.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 25
OLIVIA. All you have to do, child, is to set the
rooms to rights, and make the beds.
ELIZABETH. Yes, but I never made a bed.
OLIVIA. (Laughing) Oh, poor Mr. Yankee
Man! Before we've done with you we shall have
avenged the South! (All laugh except BESS.,)
(Horn heard off.)
ELIZABETH. I I think it's awful !
OLIVIA. Quick ! He's here ! Quick ! Upstairs,
all of you. (They all rush for their different be-
longings. CHARLIE up R. of door c. for golf sticks.
ELIZABETH crosses L. for bag, colliding with PAUL
as he is crossing for his books, and all making for
door up c.) There's a lot of old things up in the
garret, Paul dress suit, you know. Charlie
apron, something of that sort.
(They exit up staircase, exclaiming.)
CHARLES. I know just watch me!
ELIZABETH. I don't know where a thing is.
(Horn heard off ad lib.)
WEEKS. Sh! look out, Livy.
OLIVIA. Is he here?
WEEKS. (Looking from window) Yes, just get-
ting out of the motor. (Both move to window.)
Sh! look out, Livy.
OLIVIA, (c. Peeping from the window) He
doesn't look so poisonous at a distance.
WEEKS. The other man's the chauffeur.
OLIVIA. You'll have to let him in, Randy. (Opens
door up c.) Tell him anything you like keep him
26 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
busy a few minutes I've got to go and make up the
cook. (She starts to go.)
WEEKS. But I I won't be mixed up in it.
OLIVIA. But, Randy, dear, you are mixed up in
it. (At door.)
WEEKS. I tell you, I won't have anything to do
with it.
OLIVIA. Don't be silly, Randy. You can't give
us away and you know it.
WEEKS. What'll I say to him?
OLIVIA. Tell him anything you like. Ha, ha, ha !
Poor Mr. Yankee Man! Well, anyhow, he will
have good things to eat.
(OLIVIA goes out R. When OLIVIA runs upstairs,
knocker heard off R. WEEKS walks down R.
When WEEKS is down R., knocker again. When
WEEKS up c. again, knocker again. WEEKS
exits c. to L. After a pause WEEKS returns and
with him CRANE. The latter is tall, good-look-
ing, dark, young man of 28 or 30. He wears
a heavy motor coat and carries a motor cap in
his hand.)
CRANE. (They enter c. from L.) Awfully good
of you, Mr. Weeks, to be here to welcome me in
person. (Takes off the motor coat and drops it on
the chair L. of c. door.) I suppose this is the draw-
ing-room. (Looking about him.) Ah, yes, the
usual family portrait, I see. (WEEKS at door c.
CRANE picks up the miniature.) Oh, I say, this is
delightful.
WEEKS. Yes, it's a sort of heirloom. (Closes
door c. He crosses to chair L. of table L.cJ
CRANE. (Looks about and crosses to chair L. of
table R.c.J Rather nice furniture.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 27
WEEKS. Yes, it's all very old. (Crosses to chair
L. of table L.C.)
CRANE. I believe you. Quite sure it's safe to
sit on?
WEEKS. Oh, certainly.
CRANE. All right. Let's try it. (They both sit
down.) I understood you to say the place has never
been rented before.
WEEKS. Never, sir.
CRANE. (With a quizzical smile, looking about
him) It seems quite likely.
WEEKS. (In his professional manner) I am sure
the place will please you it's delightful colonial
flavor
CRANE. It's historic dilapidation-
WEEKS. Its boxwood garden its splendid lawns
its stables, accommodating twenty-five horses.
CRANE. (Smiling) Yes, I appreciate the place,
all right, but I do not consider it in good repair.
However, it's only for a short time. Oh, by the way,
how about the servants? (WEEKS rises.) Now
that I think of it, I haven't seen any servants. (He
looks at WEEKS, who obviously balks at entering
upon a career of mendacity.) Mr. Weeks, (Rises.)
you haven't forgotten the stipulation of the lease
regarding servants?
WEEKS. (Quickly) Oh, no, sir, no, no, indeed.
CRANE. Well, what about 'em where are they?
(Moves to c.)
WEEKS. (Making heavy weather of it) Why
ah really, I er I don't exactly know I
CRANE. Don't know?
WEEKS. That is I mean to say I reckon they
must be upstairs. You see, they arrived only a
few minutes before you came, and I er daresay
they must be up in their rooms er sort of getting
used to their new ah circumstances.
28 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
CRANE. Oh, I see. You're sure they're all right ?
(Crosses R.)
WEEKS. Oh, yes, certainly. I've ah known
them a long time.
CRANE. (At mantel, laughing) I see personal
friends of yours!
WEEKS. Well ah yes, in a way.
CRANE. No reason why not . . . my valet's one
of my best friends convalescing from influenza
so I couldn't bring him along. Poor devil had a
hell of a time, too. (Laughs and moves to c.)
WEEKS. (Gets well to the L V his eye on the door.
Moves up c.) Oh, yes, I understand. Now, Mr.
Crane, I think I'll have to be running along.
CRANE. (Stopping him) Oh, don't go. Stay
and share my first dinner here.
WEEKS. Really, I'm afraid I (Edging
toward door.)
CRANE. Come, come, do, now, like a good fel-
low. I'm expecting three guests Mrs. Falkner and
her daughter and Mr. Tucker, my attorney but
they may not get here till after dinner, and I'd hate
to dine alone. Besides, you engaged the cook and
if she turns out to be rotten, the least you can do
is to share my sufferings. Come, now, what do
you say?
Warn CURTAIN
WEEKS. Well, really, Mr. Crane, I er
(Enter at rear OLIVIA, now quite made up in her
character of cook. Her object is to retrieve
her handbag on chair L.C. without being seen.)
CRANE. Ah, you will, eh ?
WEEKS. Thank you, yes.
CRANE. Fine then that's settled. And now
(Turns and sees OLIVIA just as she has almost es-
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 29
caped with the hand-bag.) Hello (She stops.)
Who's this? (Up a little.) Who are you?
OLIVIA. (Turning and speaking with a marked
brogue) Faith, I'm the cook.
CRANE. (Opening his eyes at her beauty) God
bless my soul, are you, indeed ?
OLIVIA. Yes, your honor.
CRANE. And what are you doing in here?
OLIVIA. Faith, then, I was just after comin' in
to get me luggage.
CRANE. Luggage ?
(WEEKS waves to her that initials are showing. She
turns bag. CRANE watches business.)
OLIVIA. I was afther leavin' it in here before
your honor arrived. (She glances at the bag, sees
the initials "0. D." are painfully suspicious, and in-
stantly turns the bag so as to hide them.)
CRANK. Oh, I see. All right.
OLIVIA. Thank yez, sor. (Going.)
CRANE. Oh, cook. (Obviously smitten and wish-
ing to see more of her, moving up stage a little.)
Are you a good cook?
OLIVIA. (In doorway) Sure, and I never heard
anyone complain about me cookin' yet.
CRANE. What are your specialties?
OLIVIA. Me what, sor? (Pretending not to un-
derstand.)
CRANE. Excuse me, I mean what do you do
best?
OLIVIA. Faith, then, 'tis all one to me, sor, so
long as it's vittles. 'Tis meself can take the sole
of your honor's shoe and turn it out so's it'll melt
in your honor's mouth.
CRANE. (Laughing) Heavens! I hope you
won't do anything like that.
30 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
OLIVIA. Sure, I didn't say I would, sor. I said
I could. And full well it is Misther Weeks himself
is afther knowin' I could, if 'tis the simple trut* he'd
be speakin'.
CRANE. How about it, Mr. Weeks?
WEEKS. (Somewhat sulkily) I er really well
she she can cook.
OLIVIA. (Apparently nettled by this grudging
testimonial) Ha ! Cook, is it ! Cook, indade !
Sure I can cook. If anybody's after saying I can't
cook it's a liar I'd be calling-
CRANE. (Interrupting) Well, that's all, I think.
OLIVIA. Thank you, sor. (Turning.) And is
there any little thing your honor'd be likin' for din-
ner, this day?
CRANE. Why, yes, you might find a whiskbroom,
stew it up so I'll think it is a terrapin a la Balti-
more.
OLIVIA. Faith, then, I c'u'd do that aisy if I had
only the whiskbroom but I'm that strange in the
house yet I don't know where anything is. Thank
you, thank you. (She makes a little curtsey and
goes out.)
CRANE. Well, I'm darned! Is that the cook?
Why, she's a Dresden China shepherdess. . . She's
a figure off a Grecian urn. I say, Weeks, couldn't
we dine in the kitchen ?
CURTAIN
SCENE II
(Curtain falls to indicate the passage of four
hours. It rises again in half a minute.)
(Chandelier lights, demi-tasse service for two per-
sons and spirit lamp alight on table R.c.J
(When the curtain rises, the time is after dinner.
MRS. FALKNER and her daughter CORA are sit-
ting, drinking their after-dinner coffee. They
are both in evening gowns. MRS. FALKNER is
a stout old warrior of fifty odd years with a
narrow mind of her own and no objection to
speaking it. Her daughter is a handsome girl
of twenty-five or twenty-six, a big, strong,
healthy creature of the Amazonic type, straight-
forward and likeable and rather clever.)
MRS. FALKNER. (Seated armchair R.C. as curtain
rises. With demi-tasse cup in hand) Now, Cora,
there's sense in .what I say. You can't deny it.
CORA. (Seated R. of table L.C., reading "Vogue")
No, Mother, I'm not denying it.
MRS. FALKNER. Burton Crane's a very fine fel-
low, isn't he?
CORA. Of course of course.
MRS. FALKNER. And if I do say it, you're a very
pretty girl, aren't you?
31
32
CORA. Well, really, Mother (Protesting.)
MRS. FALKNER. Oh, piffle ! Triple piffle ! Mod-
esty's all very well but not when practiced to ex-
cess! Crane's a fine fellow. You're a fine girl. I
see no obstacle whatever to your happiness. Do
you?
CORA. Hush, Mother, they'll hear you. (Glances
apprehensively at the door.)
MRS. FALKNER. Nonsense! This isn't a New
York flat. Besides, it's time. You're settled. I
must say your marriage will be a great relief to me.
CORA. Oh, Mother !
MRS. FALKNER. It was all well enough when you
were a child, but the income your poor father left
me was never sufficient for two grown women
brought up to subsist exclusively upon necessary
luxuries and luxurious necessities. Better have a
little talk with your Uncle Solon about the state of
our bank account. If you are the sensible girl I
take you for, it will accellerate your progress to the
altar. (Drinks coffee.)
CORA. But, Mother, you speak as if all I had to
do was to give Burton a chance to propose. He's
had plenty of chances.
MRS. FALKNER. A proposal is never a matter of
chance. It's a matter of calculation. He needs
more than a chance. He needs a push. Well, that
ought to come easy now. Oh, don't look so shocked.
He comes of a good stock. He's not difficult to
look at and if he is as rich as mud, why, three
rousing cheers for that. So, co-operate, my dear,
co-operate, sympathetically
CORA. (Sighs) Very well, Mother. (Rises, lays
magazine on table, goes in front of same.)
MRS. FALKNER. (Suspiciously) Cora
CORA. Yes, Mother?
MRS. FALKNER. Come here, please.
H
D
o
HJ
2
O
C
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 33
CORA. Yes, Mother. (She does so. Crosses be-
low table L.C. to c. and stands.)
MRS. FALKNER. Don't tell me you are still al-
lowing yourself to think of that that person.
CORA. What person, Mother?
MRS. FALKNER. You know very well whom I
mean. Tom Lefferts, of course.
CORA. Why, Mother!
MRS. FALKNER. Once and for all, I wont have it.
The man's a trifler, and, what's worse, a pauper;
you can't contradict me.
CORA. No, Mother, I'm not contradicting- you.
(Turns and comes L.J
MRS. FALKNER. Calls himself a poet !
CORA. Oh, no, Mother, it's other people who call
him that.
MRS. FALKNER. Well, has he ever denied it?
When an honest man's called a thief, he denies it,
doesn't he?
CORA. Must we go over all that again? (Front
of table.)
MRS. FALKNER. Not a dollar to his name ! How-
ever, I merely wish to be understood once and for
all that I won't have it.
CORA. Very well, Mother. (At window.)
MRS. FALKNER. Look here, Cora, it strikes me
that you're suspiciously submissive all at once. You
haven't been seeing that man ?
CORA. Why, of course not, Mother, how can you?
(Comes to back of table L., joining WEEKS, who
enters.)
(TUCKER and WEEKS come in from the dining room.
WEEKS is dressed as we saw him before, the
others are in evening dress. TUCKER is a mid-
dle-aged lawyer, cautious, crafty, and self -im-
portantly dignified. They are both smoking.)
34 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
TUCKER. (Coming to L. of MRS. FALKNERJ My
dear, do you mind if we finish our cigars in here?
MRS. FALKNER. Of course not. To tell the
truth, I'm dying for a cigarette myself.
CRANE. Of course, of course. (He gives her a
cigarette, then offers case to CORA.J Cora?
CORA. No, thanks. (R. of WEEKS. )
MRS. FALKNER. Oh, take one, Cora. Now-a-
days, not smoking makes a woman look so conspicu-
ous.
(TUCKER, back of table R., holds spirit lamp while
MRS. FALKNER lights cigarette.
TUCKER. (Stands R. of MRS. FALKNER after
placing spirit lamp on tray.) What a fine old room
this is!
MRS. FALKNER. Oh, yes it has its atmosphere.
CORA. (Who has been wandering about, picks
up the miniature) Oh, look, Mother ! How lovely !
Look, Uncle Solon. (Crosses to MRS. F. Shows it
to her.)
MRS. FALKNER. Ah, yes, to be sure.
TUCKER. All little frills.
WEEKS. (Down L.) It's the grandmother of
these people here.
CORA. What delightful clothes !
MRS. FALKNER. Ah yes delightful. Glad we
don't have to wear them. (Rises. Goes to R. and
stands by mantel.) Though I did once at a cos-
tume ball. I looked a sight! (TUCKER crosses
up R.;
WEEKS and TUCKER. Oh, no, no
(CoRA takes the miniature back to its place on the
little table. She sits in chair R. of table L.C.
Enter BURTON CRANE, door c.)
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 35
CRANE. Well, Mrs. Falkner, our cook can cook,
can't she? (Crosses to R.C. and lights his cigarette
with spirit lamp on table R.C.)
MRS. FALKNER. She's too good to last. (WEEKS
is back of table L.cJ
CORA. (Seated R. of table L.cJ It was a delicious
dinner, wasn't it, Uncle Solon?
TUCKER. (At back of chair R.C. Moves to c. of
stage) Well, it's a little early to decide. My ex-
perience is that you can tell more about a dinner two
hours after you've eaten it.
CRANE. (Standing back of table R.J Once a
lawyer, always cautious. (All laugh. MRS. F. goes
back of small table.)
TUCKER. (At c.) Not at all. My contention is
that to assume that a dinner is a good dinner merely
because it has an agreeable taste is leaping to a con-
clusion which has not as yet a sufficient foundation
in known facts.
CORA. You're asking a good deal of a cook,
Uncle. (MRS. F. flicks ashes from cigarette.)
CRANE. I should say so. (Crosses to TUCKER at
c., -who goes up, looking at portrait R. of door.) Of
course, I'm delighted to have you here and I shall
do all I can to insure your comfort, but really I
shall have to ask you to digest your own dinner.
(All laugh.) Eh, Mr. Weeks?
WEEKS. (L. of table L.cJ Seems fair to me.
MRS. FALKNER. (Sitting in armchair again) The
trouble with my brother, Mr. Weeks, is that he's a
lawyer first and a gourmet afterwards. By the way,
my dear Burton, you were good enough to say you
wished me to assist in supervising your domestic
menage. (TUCKER crosses at back to back of
table R.)
CRANE. (Comes down to her c.) Did I ?
36 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
MRS. FALKNER. Then the sooner we begin the
better. Will you kindly ring?
CRANE. Oh, certainly, of course. (Crosses front
of table to bell cord below fireplace and pulls once.
No sound heard off stage.) But why?
MRS. FALKNER. I wish to inspect the staff at
once.
CRANE. (Stands in front of mantel smoking ciga-
rette) Oh, but do you think that's necessary, just
now?
MRS. FALKNER. I think it desirable.
CORA. (Seated L.c.J Oh, Mother, couldn't it go
over till morning?
TUCKER. (Moves to c. a step or two.) The
sooner the better, I should say. Let 'em know
you're not to be trifled with. (Turns to CRANED
They're probably a pack of shirkers.
WEEKS. (Indignantly, back of table L.C.) Mr.
Tucker ! I assure you
TUCKER. Oh, yes, of course, Mr. Weeks, you
picked 'em out, didn't you? Still, just as well to
give 'em to understand you've an eye on them.
(Goes' to back of table R.cJ
(WEEKS sits chair L. of table L.C. Enter SMITH-
FIELD (formerly PAULJ. He is in the conven-
tional butler's garb, with the exception of a pair
of patent leather boots. His hair is parted in
the middle clear to the back of his neck and is
brushed forward from his ears. He gives the
best imitation of an ultra British butler that he
can muster.)
SMITHFIELD. (Leaving door open) I think you
rang, sir?
CRANE. Oh, Mrs. Falkner
MRS. FALKNER. Come here, my man. What is
your name?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 37
SMITHFIELD. (c.) Smithfield, milady.
MRS. FALKNER. Ah, yes, of course. All I could
think of was Jones
SMITHFIELD. Yes, milady.
MRS. FALKNER. Ask your fellow servants to
come to the drawing-room at once.
SMITHFIELD. Very good, milady. (Turns to go.)
MRS. FALKNER. And don't call me "milady." I
lay no claim whatever to that title.
SMITHFIELD. Yes, milady er I beg your par-
don but having served the nobility for a number of
years perhaps madame will understand.
MRS. FALKNER. Yes yes of course run along.
Oh, Smithfield! (He turns.) Oh, no I think
that's all.
SMITHFIELD. Thank you, milady damn! (Turns
up c. to door.)
MRS. FALKNER. Eh, what?
SMITHFIELD. (Going to her) Madame. (He
goes out, making grimace at WEEKS. Goes out ma-
jestically closing door after him.)
MRS. FALKNER. Really, the man has an excellent
manner. Where did you say you got these servants,
Mr. Weeks?
WEEKS. (Seated L. of table L.C. Not having
thought of such an inquiry, is badly stumped by it,
but he does the best he can.) Why er from the
Billingtons. The Crosslet-Billingtons, of whom, no
doubt, you have heard?
MRS. FALKNER. No never never in my life.
Do you know them, Burton?
CRANE. Never heard of 'em. Do you know them
well?
WEEKS. Er as well as anybody, I think. One
of our Southern families very nice people.
MRS. FALKNER. And how did the Crosslet-Bil-
lingtons come to part with these priceless gems?
38 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
WEEKS. The the family is now abroad, but I
assure you I had much difficulty to arrange it. Irf-
deed, it was not until almost the last moment
however, I sincerely hope it will all turn out for
the best.
(SMITHFIELD returns with ARAMINTA (formerly
ELIZABETH) and BRINDLEBURY (formerly
CHARLES). ARAMINTA is costumed as an up-
stairs girl and is half-frightened and half-sulky.
BRINDLEBURY wears a red neckerchief, a green
baize apron and leggings, and his hair is tousled.
He looks like a Dickensian horse-boy. SMITH-
FIELD comes into the room. The other two stay
in doorway.)
SMITHFIELD. I beg pardon, Milady- Cook will
be here directly.
MRS. FALKNER. You haven't been long in this
country ?
SMITHFIELD. No, Milady.
MRS. FALKNER. It's quite obvious Not long
enough to be corrupted, I should say. You under-
stand, of course, that you are responsible for the
discipline below stairs. (CRANE and WEEKS are at
fireplace.)
(CHARLES cannot restrain his mirth. ELIZABETH
calls him to order. Seeing MRS. FALKNER
glaring, he turns laugh into a cough.)
SMITHFIELD. Oh, yes, Milady. I beg pardon. I
never 'ave any trouble of that sort.
MRS. FALKNER. Burton, I think Smithfield will
do.
CRANE. Very glad to hear it. (SMITHFIELD steps
up stage R. of door.)
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 39
MRS. FALKNEK. Let the young woman come here.
(ARAMINTA steps forward below MRS. FALKNER.
CHARLES gives her a slight push, which she re-
sents.)
MRS. FALKNER. What is your name ?
ARAMINTA. (In a tone of deep annoyance) Ara-
minta! (The name jolts WEEKS and SMITHFIELD
severely. She gives WEEKS a look. CHARLES
laughs guiltily up C,)
MRS. FALKNER. Araminta! What a name!
CRANE. What's the matter with it?
MRS. FALKNER. (CHARLEY starts toward the
miniature on table L.cJ Might as well be Gwendo-
lyn. Young woman, some sensible person should
have restrained your silly parents. My daughter
and myself are to be called at 8 after you have
drawn our baths. Breakfast in our rooms a half-
hour later. (ARAMINTA, about to go up, stops as
MRS. F. continues) And see here, my girl, you
keep your hands off my silk stockings you under-
stand? I don't know if you're aware of it, Burton,
but the average housemaid has a perfect passion for
silk stockings they simply can't resist 'em. (Con-
temptuously) And now I wish to speak with that
boy.
BRINDLEBURY. (Anxiously) Yes, ma'am. (In-
stead of approaching her, however, he backs close
up to WEEKS and the audience sees that he is trying
to pass him something 1 behind his back.)
MRS. FALKNER. Let the boy come closer. (PAUL
comes down on CHARLES' L,.)
BRINDLEBURY. Yes, ma'am, certainly, ma'am.
(He now approaches her for inspection.)
MRS. FALKNER. (Pompously) What is your
name?
40 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
BRINDLEBURY. I, ma'am, am the useful boy, as
they say at 'ome.
SMITHFIELD. You'll find him h'excellent with the
boots, Milady.
BRINDLEBURY. (Gaily) Boots! Ah, boots, ma'-
am, to me partickerly a ridin' boot, now
(Whistles and waves duster.)
MRS. FALKNER. (Checking his enthusiasm) Boy !
Answer when you're spoken to. What is your
name?
BRINDLEBURY. (Looks at WEEKS for help, but
gets none.) My name, ma'am, is B-R-I-N-D-L-E-
B-U-R-Y. (Everybody amused.)
MRS. FALKNER. Brindlebury!
BRINDLEBURY. Pronounced Brindy, ma'am the
old Sussex name, ma'am, with which I 'ave no
doubt, you, as a student of history
MRS. FALKNER. (With deep disapproval) Bur-
ton, I think you'll have trouble with that boy.
CRANE. (Looking at the boy and exchanging a
smile of involuntary sympathy) I think I'll find
him all right.
MRS. FALKNER. Brindy! It's a preposterous
name. I think I shall call you just "boy."
BRINDLEBURY. Thank you, ma'am. (Starts to
go.)
MRS. FALKNER. And, Boy, as for the boots !
BRINDLEBURY. Yes, ma'am.
MRS. FALKNER. Take care you don't remove the
trees from mine. I'll have no hands inside my
boots but my own or feet, either. That will do.
BRINDLEBURY. Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.
MRS. FALKNER. (She waves them away. BRIN-
DLEBURY and ARAMINTA are sent off c. by SMITH-
FIELD. They exit laughing.) And now, Smithfield,
send up the cook at once.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 41
SMITHFIELD. (At door c.) I beg pardon, ma'am.
Here comes the cook.
(OLIVIA comes in. Her kitchen garb has in no
way diminished her charms. Quite the con-
trary, in fact. SMITHFIELD exits after OLIVIA
is well on.)
MRS. FALKNER. (Sitting up, convulsively, and
levelling a lorgnette at her) You are the cook !
OLIVIA. (In her best brogue) Faith, then, I am,
ma'am.
MRS. FALKNER. (Staring at her) Bless my soul !
(CoRA unconsciously draws nearer, and TUCKER
also, clearing his throat somewhat loudly. WEEKS
is clearly nervous.) And what is your name?
(OLIVIA hesitates.) I say, what is your name?
(WEEKS conies to the rescue and they speak to-
gether.)
OLIVIA and WEEKS. (Together) Jane (Al-
most together) Ellen.
MRS. FALKNER. There seems to be a difference of
opinion.
OLIVIA. (In a dovelike voice) Me name is Jane-
Ellen, ma'am.
MRS. FALKNER. Well, Jane-Ellen, I suppose you
have references.
WEEKS. (Hastily interposing) Oh, the very best,
I assure you.
MRS. FALKNER. (Not relishing the interruption)
Mr. Weeks, if you please
WEEKS. From the Crosslet-Billingtons, Mrs.
Falkner, but unfortunately I have left them at my
office. To-morrow, if you wish
OLIVIA. (Taking a paper from her apron pocket
and timidly handing it to MRS. F.) Here's me
character, ma'am.
42 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
(TUCKER takes it from OLIVIA, takes reference from
envelope and hands former to MRS. FALKNER,
who snatches it.)
MRS. FALKNER. (Holding out at arm's length
and reading it) "To whom it may concern : This
is to certify that I recommend the bearer, Jane Mc-
Sorley, as a reliable girl and a competent cook. I
have known her since her birth. She is leaving 1 me
for reasons of her own. But she is the best cook
I have ever employed. Olivia Daingerfield."
Ahem ! It is a flattering testimonial, and who is
Olivia Daingerfield? Mrs. Daingerfield, I suppose?
(Hands paper back to TUCKER, who hands it to
OLIVE A. )
WEEKS. Er no no. Mr. and Mrs. Dainger-
field are in Europe, I believe.
MRS. FALKNER. Your friends travel a good deal,
don't they?
WEEKS. Miss Olivia Daingerfield is one of the
daughters.
MRS. FALKNER. Oh! (To OLIVIA,) And may I
ask what were these "reasons of your own," my
girl?
OLIVIA. Excuse me, ma'am!
MRS. FALKNER. Why did you leave Miss Dain-
gerfield's service?
OLIVIA. Must I be af ther tellin' ye that, ma'am ?
MRS. FALKNER. I think so.
OLIVIA. Faith, then, I couldn't stand the woman
any longer. I was sick and tired of seein' her
around the place.
MRS. FALKNER. Indeed ! (To OLIVIA) My girl,
let me see your hands. (WEEKS goes up R. Re-
luctantly, OLIVIA approaches and holds out her hands
for inspection. MRS. F. stares at them.) Humph!
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 43
Manicured! So you couldn't stand seeing her
around any longer, eh?
OLIVIA. Indade, ma'am, I could not, then. Sure,
she was wan av them meddlin' females always pokin'
her nose into things was none av her business.
(MRS. F. winces slightly. CRANE and TUCKER en-
joy the dig.)
MRS. FALKNER. Ahem ! And you went from her
to the Crosslet-Billingtons ?
OLIVIA. Who, ma'am?
MRS. FALKNER. That was the name, wasn't it,
Mr. Weeks?
WEEKS. (Hastily, behind table L. of OLIVIAJ
Yes, yes, from the Daingerfields to the Crosslet-Bil-
lingtons. Didn't you, Jane-Ellen ?
OLIVIA. Maybe I did, sor. I could never be get-
tin' that quare name straight in me head.
MRS. FALKNER. (Bluntly) My girl, have you
ever been married?
OLIVIA. God forbid, ma'am.
MRS. FALKNER. (Not heeding her) Or engaged ?
OLIVIA. Faith, ma'am, has that same anything
to do with me cookin'?
MRS. FALKNER. Jane-Ellen, don't be imperti-
nent.
OLIVIA. No, ma'am. 'Tis a sin we sh'u'd all pray
fer strength to avoid.
(MRS. FALKNER starts. CRANE and TUCKER smile.)
MRS. FALKNER. Jane-Ellen, will you answer my
question? Have you ever been engaged?
WEEKS. If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Falkner, for
saying so, I really
MRS. FALKNER. Kindly do not interfere, Mr.
Weeks.
OLIVIA. (Short pause) Oh, ma'am, 'tis not that
44 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
I've anything to conceal. I was engaged wanst
Pat Conlon his name was as fine a broth av a boy
as iver came out av Ireland. We was to have mar-
ried lasht June, on'y, d'ye see, there was a quarrel
an' I I jusht can't bear to think av it every time
me mind gets runnin' on it, it just seems like
(Goes a few steps up L. She pulls out a handker-
chief and begins to sob quietly. The men all gather
round her to comfort her. CORA rises.)
CRANE. Oh, Jane-Ellen, please, please don't cry.
Nobody wants to hurt your feelings
TUCKER. Look here, my girl, don't do that.
(OLIVIA murmurs inarticulately through her sobs.)
MRS. FALKNER. Well, really, I've had enough of
this. (Rises.)
CRANE. (Rather stiffly, down R.J My dear Mrs.
Falkner, I think perhaps we all have for the pres-
ent.
MRS. FALKNER. (Angry) Oh, well, come, Cora.
I think I'll say good night. (She goes out at rear
in high dudgeon, TUCKER opening door for her c.)
CORA. (Coming down c.R. of OLIVIA ) Oh, Jane-
Ellen, you mustn't cry. Mother didn't mean to hurt
you. (Going.) She shouldn't have said that. (A
fresh burst of quiet sobbing comes from the hand-
kerchief.) Oh, well, J suppose I'd better go, too.
Good night. (CORA goes out. TUCKER hurries
down to OLIVIA.,)
TUCKER. (L. of OLIVIA, to comfort her) I'm
quite sure my sister did not mean to be unkind.
There, now there there. (Pats her shoulder.)
(MRS. FALKNER re-appears 1 at door c., saying im-
peratively)
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 45
MRS. FALKNER. Solon!
TUCKER. Yes, my dear.
(MRS. FALKNER exits c. to R. Reluctantly TUCKER
goes out, leaving CRANE alone with JANE-EL-
LEN. CRANE goes to right, then turns sud-
denly to c. and intercepts WEEKS as the latter
is about to speak to JANE-ELLEN, unseen by
CRANE. CRANE shakes hands with WEEKS, who
exits door c. After a pause, outside door L.
slams.)
CRANE. Now, see here, Jane Ellen, please don't
cry please just just as a favor to me. Mrs.
Falkner has gone.
Warn CURTAIN
JANE. Gone, has she ? (Suddenly showing a face
quite innocent of tears, rather roguish, in fact.)
Faith, I'm feelin' better already.
CRANE. Jane! What in the name
JANE. Sure, then, I suppose herself 'u'd V been
askin' me was me hair all me own next or was me
gran' father a dhrinkin' man an' what was me fa-
vorite flower.
CRANE. Well, God bless my soul!
JANE. Faith, an' hope he will, sor. Was there
anything else, sor?
CRANE. No o.
(JANE goes up c.)
CRANE. (Hastily) I mean yes yes!
JANE. Yes, sor. (She returns to c.)
CRANE. Now, Jane Ellen, just one thing. I
should like you to feel perfectly happy here.
JANE. Faith, sor, 'tis mesilf that's hopin' to.
CRANE. So if there's anything I can do to to
46 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
make you feel er happier, I want you to promise
you'll let me know.
JANE. Anything, sor?
CRANE. Yes, anything" at all anything.
JANE. Yes, sor. (Starts up c., opens door, then
returns as CRANE continues.)
CRANE. I mean don't send the butler, come to
me you yourself er personally and tell me.
Will you?
JANE. Sure an' I might.
CRANE. No, but will you?
JANE. Yes, sor.
CRANE. That's fine. Now now . . . I'm sure
we shall get on splendidly together, you and I.
Shan't we?
JANE. Faith' that's as may be, sor, but we
might.
CRANE. Might? What do you mean by that?
JANE. Sure an' ye niver can tell.
CRANE. Eh ?
JANE. Sure, sor, we must always be hopin' for
the best. But we might, sor, aye, we might. Thank
ye, sor. (Going up to door, she exits.)
CRANE. (Running up to door, calling) Oh,
cook, cook !
JANE. (Appearing at door R. side) Yis, sor?
CRANE. (Standing in door L. side) About break-
fast I I shall want some breakfast.
JANE. Yis, sor. Not till the mornin', I suppose,
sor?
CRANE. No, no yes certainly, not till in the
morning.
JANE. Some fruit, coffee, toast an' eggs, sor?
CRANE. Yes, of course, eggs eggs.
JANE. About three minutes, sor?
CRANE. Yes three minutes.
JANE. An' belike a bit av bacon, sor?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 47
CRANE. The very thing.
JANE. Just broiled to a crisp, sor?
CRANE. Just as I like it.
JANE. Very good, sor, an' ye said the eggs ten
minutes, sor?
CRANE. Yes ten minutes. (She closes door
suddenly and is out of sight. Bus. of pulling door
back to place finds JANE on the other side of the
knob.) No no three minutes.
JANE. Very good, sor, but ye can just as aisy
have thim ten minutes as three. Tis the water
does the b'ilin' not me, sor. Good-night to you,
sor. (Exits door c. to R., leaving door open this
time.)
CRANE. (In the doorway c., looking after her)
Good-night, Jane-Ellen.
JANE. (Outside ~R.) Good-night and the top of
the morning to ye.
CRANE. Well, God bless my soul ! (Turns, fac-
ing audience, with a pleased laugh.)
CURTAIN
ACT II
SCENE : The kitchen.
TIME: Two days later in the afternoon.
The kitchen is a cheery apartment zvith one window
R.C. looking into the garden. There is a door
c. into the garden, which remains open through-
out the act. On the R. are swing doors. Then
there is a kitchen cupboard, then below that
down R. a sink. A jingle bell indicator with
numbers one to six hangs over the swing doors.
When the door of the kitchen cupboard is open
one sees brooms, mops, etc., and the shelves
full of tinned things. At the sink is a hand
pump and drainage to carry away water. Up
stage L. is a door which opens on a passage
which in turn leads to the larder. Below it is
a kitchen range, upon which stand several
saucepans and kettles, steam going in some of
them. Down L. is the kitchen back door and
upon it hangs a roller towel. Between the c.
door and the L. corner of the kitchen is a dresser
covered with copper utensils, baking pans, etc.
Down L.C. is a biff kitchen table. Small cane-
bottomed chair between the dresser and the pot
rack. Big cane-bottomed chair R. of table. Be-
tween the door and the windovv a small cane-
bottomed chair and a boot box containing
brushes, rags, etc. There is a shelf over the
fireplace for salt, etc. The curtain rises on a
few strains of "Liza Jane"
48
H
D
o
ta
8
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 49
DISCOVERED: BRINDLEBURY washing dishes at sink.
He throws out water from dishpan, pumps it
full again from the hand pump, and starts wash-
ing more dishes. PAUL at rise is drying dish
with dish towel, which he places on the drain-
ing board of the sink. He then takes tray
which is leaning against tipper end of sink
and holds it while BRINDLEBURY places the
washed and dried dishes on it. JANE-ELLEN is
standing L. of table, slicing sweet potatoes into
baking pan. When tray is full, PAUL starts to
go, but is stopped by BRINDLEBURY.
BRINDLEBURY. Hold on, butler. You can take
one more.
SMITHFIELD. Look here, I'm no juggler. Always
room for one more is your motto. First thing you
know, you'll make me spill the lot.
CHARLES. Oh, run along now, and don't talk
back.
SMITHFIELD. Well, if we smash many more
there won't be enough to go round. (CHARLES
drops a dish in the sink.) Lord ! Save the pieces !
(He goes out R-3E.J
JANE. (L. of kitchen table L.C V slicing sweet po-
tatoes into baking pan.) Charley! Mother's best
china ! You must be careful !
BRINDLEBURY. Gee! I couldn't help it. The
darn thing slipped. (They resume their work.
Pause.) Heard anything from Randy?
JANE. (Goes to stove L., looking at soup in the
pot) No, and we ought to. It's been two days
already.
BRIND. I reckon he don't dare to telephone.
JANE. (Back at table) I rather thought he
might try to sneak in and see us. (Puts butter on
potatoes.)
50 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
BRIND. He'd better hurry up. I'm beginning to
feel as though I needed an understudy.
JANE. (L.C. between table and stove ) You! Oh,
I'm not worried about you. It's Bess that bothers
me.
BRIND. Oh, Bess! She's all right. She
(He drops another dish, crashing into the sink.)
JANE. Charley! Well, really
BRIND. Gee ! I'm sorry !
JANE. I don't want you to be sorry. I want you
to be careful. It's a good thing you don't have to
earn your living washing dishes.
BRIND. Is that so! What am I doing now, I'd
like to know? (Breaks another plate in sink.)
JANE. You're breaking up housekeeping.
(Enter ARAMINTA, door R-3E., carrying two or
three lace collars.)
JANE. Hello, Sweetness. What's the matter now,
honey? (ARAMINTA gets an ironing board from L.
cupboard and slams it down on the table, then
goes to the stove for a flatiron. She gets a
holder from upper end of mantel L., picks up the
iron, and goes to the ironing board and begins to
iron the collars.) And how's the dragon to-day?
ARAMINTA. (Ironing) I'd like to wring her
neck. (Slams down iron on collar.)
BRIND. Oh, naughty! naughty!
ARAMINTA. You shut up! (CHARLES, startled,
drops plate in sink.) I guess you'd be cross too if
you had to wait on that old hen all day and all night.
Nothing ever suits her. This is the third time I've
ironed these collars. I hope they choke her!
(JANE-ELLEN pours syrup in potatoes. SMITH-
FIELD re-enters with an empty tray and pro-
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 51
ceeds to fill it up with more freshly washed
dishes.)
JANE. But, Bess, dear!
ARAMINTA. (Imitating MRS. FJ "My good
girl" this and "my good girl" that! If she's what
they call a lady up North, I'd like to see what they
call the other thing! (To JANE, who goes to the
stove L., business with pots, kettles, etc.) Oh, I'm
in it because you dragged me in, but I give you fair
warning, if Randy Weeks doesn't produce those
servants pretty quick, I'm through. I can stand
just about twenty-four hours more of that old hen,
and that's all.
SMITH. (Coming up a little R.cJ See here.
Bess, you don't seem to understand
ARAMINTA. Oh, dry up! All you have to do is
to serve her meals. How'd you like to hook her
up? (CHARLEY laughs. JANE-ELLEN fills a cup
with hot water from kettle and pours it on potatoes.)
JANE. (To upper end of table, to ARAMINTA)
I know, honey, I know it's very hard, but it wont
last long. And I daresay you are rather trying.
You always forget the tea strainer from her break-
fast tray, or you don't remember to call her at eight
or something. You're not very competent. (Goes
to door L. and wipes her hand on towel.)
ARAMINTA. Competent! Of course I'm not.
Why on earth should I be competent ?
JANE. No, dear, of course not. Only, you see,
she doec"'* know that. And I do think you might
remember the tea-strainer.
ARAMINTA. Well, it's more trouble to me than
to her. Don't I have to chase downstairs and get
it? Competent! (She slams the flatiron viciously
on the table.) I wish I had her here, I'd iron her!
JANE. Bess, dear, I don't see how you can
52 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
when you know what's at stake. Why, at this very
moment dear old daddy may be (She chokes
up and stops and puts the towel hanging on door
L.IE. to her eyes.)
SMITH. I say, sis, that's a towel, not a hand-
kerchief.
ARAMINTA. (Going to her in contrition) Oh, I
know, Livy. I'm a pig but if I'm a pig, she's a
cat! (JANE puts pan of potatoes in oven.)
BRIND. She's a dragon, a hen, and a cat. Some
menagerie ! (A bell rings.)
SMITH. (Looking at the indicator on the wall)
Number 4, Bess.
ARAMINTA. (Puts down iron, starts across to
door R.3E .) There she goes again ! I don't see how
that bell stands it. (Seizing the collars, now ironed,
and starting for the door.) If she doesn't look out,
I will steal her silk stockings. (She goes out R-3E.
angrily. JANE resumes work at table.)
SMITH. (About to depart with the dishes) She
sure is a pretty nasty old party and no mistake.
BRIND. She's no worse than old Tucker. I'd
like to poison him.
JANE. (Ironically) Things run in the family,
don't they? Now we're all so good-natured, aren't
we? (The bell rings again. To SMITH J That's
your bell, Paul. (Takes tray from SMITHFIELD.^
SMITH. (Looking at the indicator) Number 2.
(Assuming his servant's manner) Very good, sir.
You said "Go to hell," sir? Thank you, sir! Af-
ter you, sir. (He goes out, R-3.J
JANE. (CHARLEY breaks plate in sink.) Oh,
Charley! Take this tray into the butler's pantry,
and for heaven's sake, don't drop it ! (As BRINDLE-
BURY goes out he stumbles. After exit rattling of
plates heard off.) And please do try not to break
any more. (Left alone, she puts the ironing board
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 53
back up L.C. and puts iron back on stove. RANDY
WEEKS furtively opens the kitchen door down L.
and walks in. JANE crosses to L., above table to
stove.) Randy !
WEEKS. (Comes to c.) Hello, Livy!
JANE. Any news? Have you got them? Are
they coming? Oh, do say they are! (She clutches
his arm excitedly.)
WEEKS. Yes, I think so!
JANE. Oh, Randy, you are a darling ! (She goes
out door up L. for a moment.)
WEEKS. But not 'till Tuesday. (Crosses to R. of
table.)
JANE. Tuesday? That's three days more. (Re-
turns with chicken and puts it on kitchen table.)
WEEKS. Couldn't get 'em a minute sooner, and I
think you're lucky at that. White servants willing
to come to the country are scarce this season. How
are things going?
JANE. I reckon we'll pull through if Bess doesn't
explode. She doesn't care very much for the chap-
eron. (Takes baking tin from lower shelf of pot
rack and puts it on kitchen table.)
WEEKS. (Laughs.) Don't blame her. Snob! I
say, Livy, are you glad to see me?
JANE. Never gladder to see anybody. (Putting
chicken in baking pan.)
WEEKS. Prove it.
JANE. All right. As a mark of my special favor,
I will allow you to freeze the ice cream. (Points
to freezer on the floor, table end at L.J
WEEKS. (Sarcastically) Livy, that's perfectly
splendid of you. (Taking freezer.)
JANE. Now, don't grumble. Go to work ! (Takes
pepper and salt cellars from lower end of mantel-
piece and places them on table.)
WEEKS. I don't know that I'm so crazy about
$4 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
freezing Crane's ice cream. (Sits in chair R. of
table. Takes out his handkerchief to hold freezer
handle.)
JANE. And Mr. Tucker's, too. Don't forget
him.
WEEKS. (Beginning to turn the crank of the
freezer) Tucker ! Humph !
JANE. (Relapsing into her brogue and beginning
deliberately to tease him) Faith, then, he's my fa-
vorite. He's what you might call a verile, dominat-
ing personality. (Salts and peppers chicken. But-
ters chicken.)
WEEKS. Humph ! (He turns the crank angrily.)
JANE. No, no, no, no! (WEEKS stops turning.)
Don't ye be turnin' so fast, ye'll be spoiling the des-
sert entirely, so ye will.
WEEKS. Look here. Do you mean to say this
man Tucker comes into the kitchen?
JANE. Not yet. (Gets flour in cup from flour
barrel up L.c.J
WEEKS. Not yet ! (Jumps up.)
JANE. A strong man, me dear. Sure, he looks
like the husband on the stage wid a dash o' powder
over the ear. (Flours the chicken.)
WEEKS. (Leaving the freezer and going to JANE
above table) My dear girl, you're not going to let
this man make love to you?
JANE. Sure it's not always aisy to prevent. (Gets
cup of hot water from kettle.)
WEEKS. (Above L. table) You've always pre-
vented me as often as you wanted to.
JANE. Often but not as often as that.
WEEKS. Oh, come now, drop the Irish. (He
makes a movement toward her.)
JANE. Sure, I need the practice. Now, then, you
get along back to the ice cream. (Pours water in
chicken pan.) Sure, if all's not well with the din-
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 55
ner, that awful ould woman'll be havin' us all frown
out, so she will now.
WEEKS. (Turns freezer slowly) They say Crane
is supposed to be engaged to her daughter.
JANE. (After slight pause she puts chicken in
oven.) Faith, then, I don't envy him his mother-
in-law. (Slams the oven door.)
WEEKS. Er what do you think of Crane? (A
pause and stops freezing.) I say what do you
think of Crane? (Leans both elbows on table cor-
ner.)
JANE. Oh, the man's well enough. (Puts dishes
she has been using in sink.)
WEEKS. You know, you're a funny girl. Now,
I always thought (Rises.)
JANE. (Waving him to the freezer) Freeze
freeze! (WEEKS sits again.)
WEEKS. Eh! (With a sigh) Oh, Lord! You
know perfectly well you can do anything in the
world with me. (He turns the freezer jerkily. JANE
crosses to closet R.2E. and gets Royal Baking Powder
can and cooking spoon. She returns to table L.cJ
JANE. Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! Not that way. It
ought to be a steady and even here let me show
you (She kneels R. of him by the freezer and
begins to turn the crank.) See like this slow
like (As she turns, WEEKS looks admiringly
at her.) Then like that. Do you see what I
(WEEKS puts his handkerchief on his knee. As she
turns, he kisses her. With a swift, savage move-
ment she breaks from his arms and stands pant-
ing and glaring at him. WEEKS drops initialed
handkerchief near table L.cJ
JANE. (With cooking spoon in hand after a
pause.) Randy Weeks, you go home, and don't
ever come back ! (Crosses to R.)
WEEKS. (L.C.) Oh, my dear
56 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
JANE, (n.c.) Go home! (She stamps her foot.)
WEEKS. Do you mean it? (WEEKS half turns
to go.)
JANE. I do oh, I do !
(TUCKER is strolling past door c., hears voices,
stops and listens. He cannot see WEEKS.)
WEEKS. The fact is, you're a cold, heartless little
flirt, who thinks of nothing but herself. You don't
care a bit what other people suffer. Bess is worth
ten of you.
JANE. Go and kiss her, then.
WEEKS. She wouldn't stand it. She's not that
sort.
JANE. (A few steps toward him, furious) But
I am! I stand it, do I? If I could, I'd thrash you.
As it is, I hate you !
WEEKS. (At bottom of table, sulkily) It's your
own fault. You tempted me.
JANE. Tempted you!
WEEKS. Yes, and you know it.
JANE. How did I know you were going to be so
silly?
WEEKS. You've always pretended to like me.
JANE. That's just what I did pretend.
WEEKS. You'll be sorry for saying that (Crosses
to L.J
JANE. I won't!
WEEKS. Yes, you will. I pity the man who mar-
ries you !
JANE. You'd marry me to-morrow if you could.
WEEKS. I would not !
JANE. You would!
WEEKS. Not if you were the last woman in the
world !
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 57
JANE. Randy Weeks, you go home! (WEEKS
exits L.IE. and slants door.)
(JANE laughs and picks up handkerchief that
WEEKS has dropped, looks at it and tosses it
into chair L.C. Puts freezer under table,
crosses in front of table. TUCKER, hearing the
door slam on WEEKS' exit, thinks of entering
kitchen. He looks cautiously to R. and L. Just
as he has made up his mind to enter, OLIVIA
drops WEEKS' handkerchief Into chair, and
CHARLIE enters R-3 with pair of boots. TUCKER
steps back.)
CHARLIE. I forgot the old geezer's boots.
(TUCKER glares at him and exits to R., giving him
another look of disapproval as he passes win-
dow. While CHARLIE polishes boots with
brush and rag which he takes from boot box
under window, he whistles "Liza Jane" JANE-
ELLEN goes out of door up L., returning and
bringing a bowl of cornmeal and a bowl of eggs
and, lastly, a jug of milk. These she places on
kitchen table.)
JANE. Is that all?
(At this moment No. 3 bell rings. CHARLIE slams
down lid of boot box and exits, polishing one
boot on seat of his trousers. JANE-ELLEN takes
syrup jar from table and crosses R. to cup-
board and puts it on shelf. Then to range. As
she crosses, TUCKER, seeing she is alone, comes
into kitchen. JANE-LLEN has been singing
"Liza Jane," but seeing TUCKER out of the cor-
ner of her eye, changes to "The Pretty Girl
58 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
Milking the Cow." At the end of the verse she
turns and smiles at TUCKER J
TUCKER. Good afternoon, Jane-Ellen.
JANE. The top av it to you, sor. (Turns from
stove, small saucepan in hand, to L. of table.)
TUCKER. (Down a step) I hope I don't intrude.
JANE. Oh, sir, I see 'tis an optimist ye are.
(Takes a wooden spoon from table and stirs sauce-
pan.)
TUCKER. (At c., with a superior smile) Ahem!
What can you possibly know of optimists, my girl ?
JANE. Sure, an optimist is a man that looks
after your eyes. (Brings saucepan to table, still
stirring.)
TUCKER. (Going to table, putting his L. hand
on it, leaning toward her) Jane-Ellen, I fear you
have a frivolous mind.
JANE. Oh, sor, indade an' indade, I hope not.
(As she speaks, she stops stirring sauce pan and
straightens up with the spoon in her hand. Puts
spoon on TUCKER'S hand.)
TUCKER. (Starting with the pain) Ouch!
(Moves to L.C., round chair to upper corner table.)
JANE. Oh, sor, an' did I burn you? Tis that
sorry I am, sor! (Puts saucepan back on stove,
stirring sauce.)
TUCKER. It's nothing! It's nothing! I was go-
ing to say that despite a certain lamentable tend-
ency towards frivolity which I observe in your nature
I well, I am an older man than your employer.
(Moving up to back of table.)
JANE. (Cheerfully) Oh, yes, sor, much oulder.
TUCKER. Ahem! Well, older, at all events. I
have seen more of life and perhaps understand more
thoroughly the difficulties which beset a young and,
I must say, pretty woman.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 59
JANE. (At stove, innocently) Why must you
say that, sor?
TUCKER. Why, Jane-Ellen, because it is the
truth. (Moves above table.) Ah, my dear child
(He approaches her. She seises a steaming copper
kettle from stove and hands it to him.)
JANE. Will ye kindly be holding that? The
stove is that crowded. (As he hesitates.)
(TUCKER takes kettle. Finding it hot, changes it
from one hand to the other. Going c., JANE
busies herself at stove. TUCKER looks anx-
iously out of door to see if anybody is likely to
catch him, in that predicament.)
JANE. Yes, sor, ye were about to say
TUCKER. (Going to back of table) Oh, yes!
Merely that if any little trouble should arise in the
household, I would like to know that you look upon
me as a friend. I should be glad to do you a good
turn.
JANE. Indade, then, you can do me that same
good turn right now.
TUCKER. (Beaming at her) My dear child, you
have only to name it.
JANE. Ye can be afther turnin' yer back on me.
TUCKER. You you wish me to go?
JANE. Sure ; the kitchen is no place for the likes
of a gintleman.
TUCKER. (Chuckles a moment, and then says)
Did you think so ten minutes ago? (He looks at
door through which WEEKS made exit. She gives
him a quick look before she answers.)
JANE, (Going towards the stove) Sure that
sauce is b'iling over. The divil and all is in that
stove. The minute I turn me back something b'iles
over. Will ye be holdin' this, sor? (She thrusts
60 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
copper saucepan into his L. hand and begins to
stir it.)
TUCKER. I'll try.
JANE. (Tastes the contents of the saucepan)
Sure I'm thinkin' 'twill be needin' a trifle more salt.
(She sprinkles salt into pan and, unseen by TUCKER,
sprinkles salt over his L. shoulder and L. arm.)
TUCKER. Really, I (TUCKER realises his
undignified position and looks R. and L.j
JANE. Oh, sure, your honor's got a bit of a dab
av soot on yer face. Hould still while I git a rag
and wipe it off. There. (Gets burnt cork with a
cloth from the stove she gives his R. cheek a dab
with the holder and now he has indeed a black
smear on his cheek.)
TUCKER. (Both hands full, cannot help himself)
Thank you, thank you very much, Jane-Ellen.
JANE. God bless us an' save us, sure there's an-
other little bit on your honor's chin. (She gives his
other cheek a smear of black.) There, now . . .
TUCKER. Look here, young woman, really, I
thank you very much.
JANE. Don't mention it, sir. Faith, someone'd
sure to be askin' where your honor'd been with
that face on you.
TUCKER. Yes, yes, yes exactly. That's why
if you don't mind taking these (TUCKER, still
holding bowls, reminded that some one might come
in and catch him.)
JANE. Sorry, sor, I will but just half a minute,
sor
(Enter BRINDLEBURY at
BRINDLEBURY. I say, Livy (He advances
R., stops short as TUCKER turns, then bursts into a
giggle at the sight.)
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 61
TUCKER. (Crossing majestically to him) May
I ask what is the cause of this unseemly mirth?
BRINDLEBURY. (Leaning against sink, convulsed
with laughter) Yes, sir, certainly you may ask.
Mr. Crane is just coming 1 up the drive in the motor.
TUCKER. (Stiffly, frightened at the idea of
CRANE catching him) I do not see the connection.
(Goes to table L.J But perhaps I had better go
and meet him. (Puts kettle and pot on table L. and
goes up c.)
BRINDLEBURY. (Near stool R., now no longer
amused, but getting angry. Looking at his sister)
Yes; I think I would if I were you. It seems to
me there are altogether too many men in this
kitchen.
TUCKER. (Starts to leave the room c., then
stops near door c., with as much dignity as he can
muster) Boy
BRINDLEBURY. Well ! (Threateningly,)
TUCKER. Are you speaking to me? (Mildly)
(JANE moves to R. of table. Has small saucepan
in hand.)
BRINDLEBURY. Yes. (Goes up to TUCKER, his
fists clenched. Very pointedly) I just wanted to
tell you that Jane-Ellen is my sister.
TUCKER. Indeed ! Well, Brindy, I can't confess
to taking any deep interest in your family relations.
(Down c. a step,)
BRINDLEBURY. Apparently you've taken enough
interest in one of 'em to come to the kitchen to
talk to her, and I won't have it.
JANE. (Motions reproof unseen by TUCKER,)
Brindy, don't
TUCKER. (Comes down) How dare you talk
to me in this
62 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
BRINDLEBURY. (Raising his fist and stepping
forward as if to strike TUCKER^ You get out of
this kitchen, or I'll
JANE. Brindy, what are you doin'? (Crosses
and pushes BRINDLEBURY down Rj
BRINDLEBURY. I know what I'm doing, all
right. (Sulkily going down R.)
JANE. (On R. of TUCKER,) Faith, sor, 'tis very
ashamed I am an' all but your honor will plaze
to remimber he's nothing but a lad.
TUCKER. (L.) He is quite old enough to know
better.
BRINDLEBURY. (Turning on him) How about
you ? You old chimpanzee !
JANE. Sure, sor, I hope ye can see yer way to
forgivin 1 him an' him on'y a poor, hard-workin'
lad like he is, an' an' so sorry an' all
TUCKER. (Up c.) He doesn't look very sorry.
BRINDLEBURY. No, and I'm not sorry, either.
TUCKER. There, you see. (Walking up to
door.) I shall certainly report him to his em-
ployer.
JANE. Now see what you've done.
TUCKER. Precisely.
BRINDLEBURY. I don't care. I'm glad of it.
JANE. Glad of it.
BRINDLEBURY. I don't care. D'you reckon I'm
going to have that old chimpanzee coming in here
making love to you?
TUCKER. (Indignantly) Old chimpanzee!
JANE. Oh, I suppose, if Mr. Crane was to come
in now, ye'd be throwin' the flatirons at him. I
reckon I can be takin' care av mesilf. Faith, don't
ye suppose I've iver been made love to before?
BRINDLEBURY. We ell, yes, I reckon you have!
CRANE. (Off) Hullo, fuck?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 63
(JANE-ELLEN runs of through door up L. CRANE
and CORA appear on the veranda. They are
about to pass by when CRANE glances in and
sees TUCKER. CRANE and CORA enter the
kitchen. As they do so BRINDLEBURY says
"Oh, gee!" and dashes out at R-3EJ
CRANE. Well, Tuck, we've been searching thq
house for you. (TUCKER moves to lower end of
table, facing audience. CRANE puts his hat on
chair R. of door c. They come down c.)
TUCKER. (Embarrassed) Have you? and I've
been looking for you everywhere.
CRANE. (Accusingly) Even in the kitchen.
(CRANE and CORA see his smut-covered face and
begin to laugh.)
TUCKER. (Indignantly) I beg your pardon?
CRANE. Good Lord! Tuck, what have you got
on your face?
CORA. (Crosses to TUCKER,) Oh, Uncle Solon!
Have you been in the coal-bin?
TUCKER. (Very angry) What is it? What is
it? What is it?
CRANE. Have you been kissing the stove?
TUCKER. Really, Burton (Starts to go to
CRANE, but is stopped by CORA.,)
CORA. Why, Uncle, you're all smeared up.
Here, do let me wipe your face. (She wipes away
the soot with handkerchief which she has taken
from his coat pocket, making it worse.) There
there that's better! ( TUCKER, thinking it better,
resumes his dignity.)
CRANE. Really, Tuck! Where have you been?
TUCKER. I er really, I can't imagine. (To
CORA,) I am obliged to you, my dear. (Goes L.
64 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
Suddenly remembering BRINDLEBURY'S insult) I
have something to say to Burton that I think you'd
better not hear.
CORA. Oh, how interesting! I'll go, anyway. I
promised mother I'd go for a walk. (She goes up
to doorway)
CRANE. May I go, too? (Moves up c. near
door.)
CORA. Of course.
CRANE. Good, I won't be long.
CORA. All right, Burton. (She goes out on the
veranda and disappears m..)
CRANE. Well, Tuck? (Coming down c to
TUCKER.)
TUCKER. I must ask you to dismiss that boy at
once.
CRANE. Who, Brindy?
TUCKER. Yes.
CRANE. Good Lord! What for?
TUCKER. He has been grossly insolent to me.
CRANE. Really !
TUCKER. In addition to which, he attempted to
strike me.
CRANE. Tuck! You don't mean it?
TUCKER. Unfortunately, I do!
CRANE. My dear Tuck! (He is torn between
his displeasure with the boy and 'his exasperation
at TUCKER. ) Well, of course, the boy'll have to
go. How did it happen?
TUCKER. (Moving a bit down L., then up to
CRANE,) Well you see, I I was in the kitchen
Do you know, the boy somehow acquired the ex-
traordinary idea that I had been making love to
the cook.
CRANE. Absurd !
TUCKER. Naturally !
CRANE. A man of your age!
o
o
U
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 65
TUCKER. (Not altogether pleased) I beg your
pardon. And you may be interested to know that
he distinctly stated that the cook was his sister.
CRANE. Nonsense, she can't be. She's Irish!
(Moves a little down stage R.)
TUCKER. (Turning and going up stage, looking
through door L.j E yes maybe she is maybe.
(Moves down to end of table.)
CRANE. Look here, Tuck, what the devil were
you doing in the kitchen?
TUCKER. (Coming L. to CRANE, embarrassed)
Well, I happened to be passing the kitchen door,
when I heard the voices of Jane-Ellen and some
young man who, I am sorry to say, was making
love to her.
CRANE. Anybody you know?
TUCKER. Well, I was unable to identify him,
but I fancy that he er must have kissed her.
CRANE. The lucky dog! (Turning down R.)
TUCKER. (Severely) I do not think that this is
quite the proper attitude for you to take.
CRANE. What do you suggest? (Turning to
TUCKER. )
TUCKER. The girl should be dismissed, of
course.
CRANE. Oh, you think so?
TUCKER. Certainly I do. (Turns down L.)
CRANE. I see.
SMITHFIELD. (Enters R.$E.) Beg pardon, sir.
(SMITHFIELD comes* down R. to sink.)
CRANE. Smithfield, Mr. Tucker tells me that
Brindy attempted to strike him, after using insult-
ing language. By the way, Tuck, what did he call
you precisely?
TUCKER. Ahem! I ah I believe he referred
to me as an old chimpanzee! (SMITHFIELD laughs
and busies himself at sink.)
66 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
CRANE. (Choking down a laugh) You see,
Smithfield
SMITHFIELD. Yes, sir, I can't seem to break
that boy of the habit of exaggeration. (TUCKER
glares at SMITHFIELD and walks furiously up stage
to R. of door c.)
CRANE. You'll dismiss the boy at once. (SMITH-
FIELD protests.) See that he packs up and is off
the premises in an hour. And now I want to speak
to the cook. (Goes up stage to dresser. He looks
towards door leading to the ice-box L..$E.)
SMITHFIELD. Here, sir?
CRANE. Certainly.
SMITHFIELD. (Fllows up R.C. a little) Beg par-
don, sir, but cook is lying down.
CRANE. (Having seen JANE through door) Eh,
who did you say was lying?
SMITHFIELD. (Blandly) Cook, sir. Lying down
to rest, sir.
CRANE. Ah, in the ice-box, I suppose.
(Enter JANE-ELLEN from L.3E. Goes to range and
examines saucepans.)
SMITHFIELD. Beg pardon, sir. My mistake,
sir.
CRANE. That will do, Smithfield.
SMITHFIELD. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. (He
retires, but is seen behind swinging doors R-3-E., lis-
tening.)
TUCKER. (Comes down stage) Shall I stay and
assist you, Burton?
CRANE. No, thanks, Tuck, please go.
TUCKER. Oh, very well, very well. (He starts
to go.)
CRANE. (Sees a man's handkerchief in the chair
L.C., looks at it. This your handkerchief, Tuck?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 67
TUCKER. (Examines it and gives it back.) No,
Burton, no, no "R. W." As you see, those are
not my initials. (He goes out.)
(CRANE examines the initials, starts, controls him-
self, glances at the cook and puts the hand-
kerchief into pocket. He leans on back of
chair.)
JANE. (Moving to L. of table) Yourself was
afther wantin' me, Misther Crane?
CRANE. Er yes Jane-Ellen, the fact is, I
(Sees SMITHFIELD peeping through pantry door.)
That will do, Smithfield.
SMITHFIELD. Er yes, sir, certainly, sir. (He
goes out reluctantly.)
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, I suppose you can guess
what I am going to say?
JANE. The luncheon was not satisfactory, sor?
CRANE. It was perfect. The trouble is about
what happened after luncheon.
JANE. Oh, sor, an' was it my fault now that
Mr. Tucker would be comin' in the kitchen?
CRANE. I'm not talking about that. You had a
previous visitor, I believe.
JANE. Yes yes, sor. ('L. of table.)
CRANE. (Hesitates throughout scene) Jane-
Ellen, I do not approve of young men coming into
my house and kissing the cook not well, not
strangers, anyhow. (Moves to c. a little.)
JANE. Yes, sor, 'tis meself quite agrees with
your honor.
CRANE. You mean to imply, perhaps, that it was
not your fault?
JANE. I'm thinkin', sGr, that in your class of
life, sor, no gintleman is iver kissin' a girl against
her will.
68 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
CRANE. Ahem! Well, he shouldn't. I don't
want to seem to offer you advice
JANE. Faith, then, I should be pleased if ye
would do that, sor. Advice is wan av the few
things- a gintleman may offer a girl in my position
an' she accept wid a clear conscience.
CRANE. Ahem! Well, then, if I were you, I
wouldn't have a young man like that hanging
around unless he intended to marry you.
JANE. Sure, sor, there's no doubt av his inten-
tions.
CRANE. (R. of table) Then he's proposed to
you?
JANE. (~L. of table) Almost every time he sees
me till to-day.
CRANE. But not today? Eh?
JANE. To-day, sor, faith to-day he said he'd not
wed me if I was the last woman in the world.
CRANE. And what did you think of that?
JANE. Sure, sor, I thought it wasn't true.
CRANE. (Turns back at R.cJ Ahem! I ...
I ... daresay you were right. Still, I can't see
why you let him kiss you, if you didn't . . .
JANE. (She comes front of table end) If your
honor pleases, 'tis not always possible to prevent.
You see, sor, I'm not so terrible big.
CRANE. Ah, yes, that now that you mention it
that is true. Is the young man able to support
you?
JANE. I think he is, sor.
CRANE. And yet you don't
JANE. No, sor. Ye see, sor, I've not the honor
to love him.
CRANE. (Steps on two to R. side of table) Do
you mean you'd rather work for your living than
marry a man you didn't love?
JANE. (Solemnly) Faith, sor, I would rather
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 69
<fie. (CRANE looks at her. She meets his gase.
His eyes are the first to fall. A long pause.) Will
that be all, sor?
CRANE. Yes, that's all. (Goes up c, to door.
Turns and sees her watching him.)
JANE. Thank ye, sor!
CRANE. (Goes to door) If that young man
comes bothering around you again, just you let me
know and I'll settle him.
JANE. Faith (Tossing her head) he'll not be
back ^CRANE laughs. She pauses) for a couple
of days.
CRANE. What! Oh! (CRANE goes out door
c.) I see. (JANE stands still in front of table
wondering.)
(SMITHFIELD opens door R-3 gradually, listening.
Comes in, then comes down c.)
SMITHFIELD. Say, Ljvy, did Crane tell you he's
fired Charley?
JANE. No. (Comes to him.)
SMITHFIELD. Well, he has.
JANE. Paul !
SMITHFIELD. (c.) That's right!
JANE. Of course, I expected it. What can we
do about it?
SMITHFIELD. I give it up.
JANE. (To SMITHFIELD at C.L. of him) Look
here, Paul. Randy Weeks slipped in a few minutes
ago to say he'd got a fresh lot of servants.
SMITHFIELD. Fine for Randy. When are they
coming ?
JANE. Not till Tuesday, he thought.
SMITHFIELD. Well, maybe we can keep going
till then.
70 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
JANE. Oh, Paul, we've just got to. (Goes to
front of table.)
SMITHFIELD. (Follows to R. of table pause)
Say, Livy, what did Crane want with you?
JANE. Nothing.
SMITHFIELD. Nothing?
JANE. Nothing much. (Pause.)
SMITHFIELD. Now, see here, Livy I think you
might tell me.
JANE. (Mischievously) We ... er ... had a
little talk
SMITHFIELD. Ay hat about?
JANE. About kissing.
SMITHFIELD. Kissing? (Turns a few steps $..)
JANE. Yes kissing and lovin' an' marriage
(Pause) and, oh, one thing and another. (She
goes to stove.)
SMITHFIELD. fit. of table) Well, good grief!
Livy, if you're not the most exasperating Look
here did he try to make love to you, too? You
know
JANE. (Picks up copper kettle from the stove.)
Paul, if you don't leave me alone, I shall certainly
throw a kettle at you. How on earth do you think
I'm going to get on with my work if you
SMITHFIELD. Gad ! I tell you one thing you're
altogether too good looking. The next sister I pick
out is going to be a sight. (Hurt.) Oh, well, if
you're not going to tell
JANE. I did tell you. We talked about kissing.
(Moving up to top of table.)
SMITHFIELD. (Angry) All right all right
keep it up. (Sits chair L.cJ But it doesn't seem
to me you're playing the game.
JANE. (Relenting, goes to back of his chair and
leans over, rumpling his hair.) Oh, Paul, dear.
I'll tell you sometime. Just now ... I ... I
can't. Oh, Paul, I feel all of a sudden kind of
faint and and lonesome. (PAUL pats her hand
on his shoulder.) Whenever I feel like that I I
just have to be kissed.
SMITHFIELD. (Rising) It's a good thing you
didn't feel lonesome when you were talking to
Crane. (Moves R. a little.)
JANE. I I did. (Moves to front of table.)
SMITHFIELD. (Turning) What?
JANE. Just a little.
SMITHFIELD. (Taking her in his arms) There
there, sis. Don't you bother. It's all right.
Why, where'd we all be if it weren't for
(Gives her a brotherly kiss.)
(CRANE comes through c. door. JANE sees him
over SMITHFIELD'S shoulder and starts back,
pushing SMITHFIELD, who turns and also sees
CRANE. SMITHFIELD goes to sink and busies
himself with dishes.)
CRANE. (Taking up hat from chair R. of door
c.) Oh oh please don't mind me. I just
came in for my hat.
JANE. Faith, Misther Crane, we were only we
were only
CRANE. (Politely) Yes?
SMITHFIELD. (Turning) Yes, sir, exactly, sir,
if you'll allow me to say so, sir.
CRANE. Say what?
SMITHFIELD. It it's precisely as Jane-Ellen was
saying, sir precisely, sir.
JANE. Yis, indade, sor, it's just like Smithfield
was afther tellin' your honor, so it is now.
CRANE. (Politely but icily) Ah, now you've ex-
plained it, it's all perfectly clear. (CRANE exits
door c. and passes window.) Ready BELL.
72 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
(JANE, wilted, goes to chair R. of table and sits de-
jectedly. SMITHFIELD puts plate on board, and
goes up C. a little, then crosses and stands R. of
her.)
SMITHFIELD. Well, what of it?
JANE. Oh, I don't like it.
SMITHFIELD. Nothing to cry about. All he saw
was the butler kissing the cook. That's all he can
think.
JANE. But I don't want him to think that. In-
deed I don't.
SMITHFIELD. Why not? Why the devi'i shouldn't
the butler kiss the cook ? Perfectly natural, isn't it ?
What's the harm ?
JANE. Oh, I suppose it's been done before.
(Rises.) But I I don't like it. I don't just seem
to like it at all (Crosses to front end of table and
faces PAUL,.)
SMITHFIELD. (Suspiciously) But why why
why? Look here, Uvy
JANE. (Facing him) Well, I'm looking.
SMITHFIELD. Er, I mean, does this man
JANE. (Calmly) Yes ?
SMITHFIELD. What I mean is ah (The
No. 2 bell rings. He looks at the indicator.) Oh !
Coming ! Coming ! Coming !
(SMITHFIELD goes out through butler's pantry.
JANE ELLEN, left alone, sets things to rights
on the stove, then exits for a moment up L. A
strange young man of furtive appearance cau-
tiously opens door L.IE. He gives a hasty
glance in room, then turns to close the door after
himself. He is tall, slim, good-looking, well
dressed, whimsical and evidently on some clan-
destine errand. He is TOM LEFFERTS. After
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 73
closing the door, he turns up stage rapidly to
door c., looks out to R V then returns down stage
again, but stops stock still as JANE-ELLEU bursts
upon him.)
JANE-ELLEN. Glory be ! An' who are you ?
LEFFERTS. Great Venus !
JANE. The same to you, sor !
LEFFERTS. (A step c., staring) Are are you
the cook?
JANE. Sure, they call me that, sor.
LEFFERTS. Heavens above I mean Heavens on
earth!
JANE. Well, sor?
LEFFERTS. Pardon my agitation ; I was expecting
to see the cook but not preciesly such a cook.
JANE. Very sorry I don't suit, sor. (Crosses to
sink.)
LEFFERTS. Oh, you do you do don't misun-
derstand me. You do!
JANE. Askin' your pardon, sor, but
LEFFERTS. Of course, you want to know what
the devil I want in your kitchen.
JANE. Somethin' like that, sor.
LEFFERTS. I'll tell you I need your help.
JANE. Ah poor man he's hungry. Now a bit
of a cold chicken, perhaps (Starts as if to go
to larder.)
LEFFERTS. Cease desist ! (She returns to sink.)
Do I look like a beggar?
JANE. Well, perhaps ye don't exactly.
LEFFERTS. And yet I am. I've come to beg your
service. Oh, yes, I'm hungry, but not for food. I
faint but for assistance ; I long for co-operation. I
yearn for a colleague.
JANE. Ye yearn for a colleen?
LEFFERTS. (c.) I didn't gay it, but I accept your
74 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
amendment. (Moves R. a little.) You will help me,
won't you ? Already I perceive that we are kindred
souls.
JANE. We're nothin' av the sort. We're total
strangers. An' av ye don't get out av me kitchen
this blessed minute (About to take up a dish
to throw.)
LEFFERTS. Wait ! Wait ! I beg you, do not con-
demn me unheard. I'm sure you have a kind heart.
No one so lovely could possibly (Goes to R.
side of the table.)
JANE. Whenever they want somethin', they tell
ye ye have a kind heart. What is ut?
LEFFERTS. Remarkable cook oh, did I mention
that my name was Lefferts ? (Moving a little L.J
JANE. Ye did not, sor.
LEFFERTS. Well, then, it is. Thomas Lefferts
at your service. And now, remarkable cook, there
is a lady visiting in this house
JANE. There is, then one. (Significantly.)
LEFFERTS. I am anxious for her to get this let-
ter (Puts hat on chair R. of table. He pro-
duces letter.)
JANE. Oh 'tis Mrs. Faulkner ye mean?
LEFFERTS. (Shouting) Oh, my goodness ! it is
not!
JANE. Oh, the other one?
LEFFERTS. You'll admit there's a difference
JANE. I will that.
LEFFERTS. I am anxious for Miss Falkner to get
this letter.
JANE. Well, Mr. Mr. Thomas
LEFFERTS. Lefferts.
JANE. Sure, there's the post office. (Crosses to
table and gets on with her cooking. Breaks eggs in
bowl.)
LEFFERTS. (Crossing to R. of table) Alas ! Ex-
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 75
ceptional cook, alas! that there should be in this
world persons so unprincipled as to open, lose, de-
stroy or otherwise interfere with correspondence
not their own. Yet so it is.
JANE. And that one would do it, too.
LEFFERTS. She would indeed. (A slight turn.)
In fact, she has.
JANE. She has?
LEFFERTS. (Down to her again) I see you un-
derstand me already. Said I not, O culinary mar-
vel, that we were kindred souls? You, too, have
been in love.
JANE. (Beating eggs in bowl) Me? Not yet,
sor, but I'm thinkin' av it.
LEFFERTS. (Wondering if she means him) That
is to say?
JANE. And not with you, neither.
LEFFERTS. (Backing away up c., then down
again to R. of table.) Oh no of course not cer-
tainly not. Well, then, I have the honor to be not
altogether unpopular with Miss Falkner, but to her
mother I am, as it were, the deadliest of poisons.
JANE. Tis a sort av a recommendation, sor.
LEFFERTS. In one way, no doubt in a way.
However, it has its inconveniences such, for ex-
ample, as clandestine excursions to foreign kitchens.
I trust you follow me, celestial cook?
JANE. Sure, ye mean sneakin' around the back
way? (JANE moves down to towel at door L.IE.,
wiping her hands.)
LEFFERTS. (Backing away.) Tis a bald, unim-
aginative phrase, but I'm afraid I do. However,
time is on the wing. Any moment we may be in-
terrupted.
(The door latch L.IE. clicks. JANE holds door shut.)
;6 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
JANE. Someone is here now! Who is it? Who
is it? Who
LEFFERTS. Heavens, I mustn't be found here!
(Looks around and rushes into closet R.2E., closing
door. JANE looks toward c. and finds LEFFERTS
gone.)
JANE. Why, where is he? The man's a sprite!
(She opens door. MANDY staggers in, out of
breath, and crosses to chair L.c. ) Mandy !
MANDY. How'dye, honey how'dye. (Fanning
herself with apron.)
JANE. What are you doing here? Didn't I tell
you not to come over?
MANDY. Yes yes you certainly did, chile.
Well well just just let me get ma breath. How
are you, honey? Powerful warm? What are you
doing, honey?
JANE. Making corn bread.
MANDY. Is that o, honey?
JANE. Yes, Mandy.
MANDY. Well, what's you all got in it ?
JANE. Three eggs
MANDY. That's right.
JANE. And milk-
MANDY. Yes, honey-
JANE. And I don't know how to go on.
MANDY. Well, maybe a little corn meal will help
some. (JANE gets corn meal on table, then gets
sugar from mantelpiece and puts it in bowl.) What's
the sugar for, honey? you don't put sugar in corn
bread.
JANE. Cooking for Yankee, Mammy. (MANDY
laughs, and carries egg shells to sink.)
JANE. How are you, Mammy ?
MANDY. Fse kicking, but not very high. How's
you all? (Takes up cloth and wipes basin.)
JANE. Oh, I'se a-goin', Mammy, but gruntin',
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 77
honey, gruntin'. What are you doing here, any-
way ? Don't you know I told you not to come here?
(Crosses to MANDY.,)
MANDY. Now you hesitate
JANE. No, I won't hesitate. Put it down.
MANDY. I tell you, chile, hesitate hesitate.
(Puts bowl down.) Laws, but you'se de most pes-
tiferous chile. Look here, honey, ah ah I'se done
got something what Mister Weeks told me to give
you. (Starts to fumble for letter.)
JANE. Oh, bother Randy Weeks ! (Crosses to c.
MRS. FALKNER'S and CRANE'S voices are heard out-
side door R.C.) For Heaven's sake, Mammy, some
one is coming, scoot ! Scoot !
MANDY. Scoot! Why, Miss Honey? Wherell
I scoot?
JANE. I don't know but scoot. Here, quick!
Cupboard quick !
(JANE grabs her by wrist, draws her across stage,
opens the closet door. LEFFERTS steps out, for-
ward, but is pushed into cover by JANE, who
then closes door, after which she rushes to left.
She slams the door on them just as CRANE and
MRS. FALKNER come in from, the veranda.
CRANE is still sulking from the result of his
previous visit to the kitchen and evidently re-
turning under MRS. FALKNER'S compulsion.
MRS. FALKNER, outside, before entrance)
MRS. FALKNER. (Off) I think I'd like to see the
kitchen.
CRANE. (At the door) Mrs. Falkner simply in-
sists on seeing your kitchen, Jane-Ellen. May we
come in?
JANE. Sure, sor, ye're as welcome as I don't
know what
78 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
MRS. FALKNER. Humph! (Turns up her nose.
Comes down c.)
CRANE. Thank you.
MRS. FALKNER, (Sniffing the air) Something's
burning.
JANE. Thank ye, ma'am. (She moves a sauce-
pan further back on the stove, then opens oven door
and turns chicken.)
CRANE. Nice bright kitchen, isn't it? (Goes to
dresser.)
MRS. FALKNER. I daresay. (Going up too.)
CRANE. And so clean.
MRS. FALKNER. Of course, on the outside. (Runs
handkerchief along woodwork c.) Humph! Jane-
Ellen, do you call that clean?
JANE. 'Tis that sorry I am, ma'am, but I've
hardly got me bearin's around the place yet. If ye
was to come in next week, now
MRS. FALKNER. Yes, I daresay or any time
when you knew I was coming. (Goes to closet door.
JANE'S voice stops her. Looks at the pump.)
Humph ! No running water.
JANE. Faith, ma'am, 'twas not me built the
house. (L. of table.)
(Enter ARAMINTA R.3E. Crosses to L. CRANE to
outside door c., not to hear ARAMINTA. ARA-
MINTA enters hurriedly from butler's pantry,
wearing a hat and is putting on her gloves.)
ARAMINTA. (Seeing only JANEJ I'm going out
for a walk, dear. If I don't, I'll explode.
JANE. (Aside to ARAMINTA ) Sh! Lookout!
ARAMINTA. I haven't (She sees MRS.
FALKNER and CRANE and stops.) I beg pardon. I
didn't notice -
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 79
MRS. FALKENER. (Gasping. CRANE re-enters)
Burton ! Burton !
CRANE. Eh? What's the matter?
MRS. FALKNER. (Staggering to a chair and col-
lapsing) That that woman!
CRANE. What ?
MRS. FALKNER. That woman is wearing Cora's
best hat!
CRANE. What ?
MRS. FALKNER. This really is too much. (She
fans herself with her handkerchief.) Even you will
admit this is too much ! fR. of table.)
CRANE. (Coming down c.) Don't be so excited.
It probably isn't Cora's at all. Araminta has prob-
ably just copied it.
MRS. FALKNER. Nonsense ! I think I know a
French model when I see it. Young woman, what
do you mean by wearing my daughter's hat?
ARAMINTA. (Tartly) Your daughter's hat?
Nothing of the kind !
MRS. FALKNER. (To CRANE) This is insuffer-
able ! To have that woman standing there in Cora's
hat which I purchased myself and tell me I don't
know the hat when I see it !
CRANE. Araminta, have you any explanation?
ARAMINTA. (Setting her teeth) None at all!
CRANE (Steps toward ARAMINTA,) Did Miss
Falkner by any chance say anything that made you
think she intended to give you the hat ?
ARAMINTA. She did not.
MRS. FALKNER. The idea! Give a housemaid a
forty-five dollar French hat !
CRANE. Then, Araminta, I'm afraid you must
take off the hat and give it to Miss Falkner and go
pack your things and be out of the house before
dinner. (Goes up stage L.C. LIVY and BESS ex-
change looks. SMITHFIELD fomes in R.3E .)
8o COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
SMITHFIELD. (Comes on whistling and dancing}
Beg pardon, sir.
CRANE. Smithfield, I have dismissed Araminta.
SMITHFIELD. Dismissed !
CRANE. (Moving to top of table) For wearing
one of Miss Falkner's hats. She has it on now.
JANE. (Coming to below table, L. of ARAMINTA,)
Oh, no, sir. I can explain that. The hat was given
her by Mrs. Crossley-Billington, she thinking it a
trifle too young for her, she being a lady now pos-
sibly Mrs. Falkner's age, though hardly looking
forty-five by candle-light, sir.
MRS. FALKNER. Really!
JANE. Faith, ma'am, if I may make so bould,
'twas the first night afther ye came here, an' Ara-
minta'd been unpackin' ye, sure wasn't it in the same
kitchen she was afther tellin' us Miss Falkner has a
bonnet the dead spit
CRANE. (Trying to stop JANE,) Yes, yes yes
yes. Now don't get excited.
JANE. av her own, and we was all advisin' her
fer not to be a-wearin' her own till ye was off the
place, so we was now. (She continues her explana-
tion ad lib.)
SMITHFIELD. (Speaks on cue of which JANE
continues) Just so, milady, exactly what I was go-
ing to say.
(At this point CORA enters c., goes to C.R. of CRANE,
wearing a hat which is the exact duplicate of
ARAMINTA'S.J
CORA. Burton, aren't you coming? (A step in-
side door.)
CRANE. Mrs. Falkner, look! (Indicates the two
hats. They all stare from CORA'S hat to ARAMIN-
TA'S and back again.)
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 81
JANE. (L. of ARAMINTAJ Faith, I said it. The
dead spit! (SMITHFIELD moves up stage.)
CRANE. Araminta, an apology seems to be due
to you. I have great pleasure in offering it, though
I must say if you had been a little more civil, the
whole matter could have been cleared up at once.
(Comes around R. of table.)
MRS. FALKNER. I think it outrageous that a serv-
ant should wear a hat which cost forty-five dollars !
(Down R.)
ARAMINTA. (Crosses to c., facing MRS. FALKNER.
Breaking out) Indeed ! And now I'll tell you what
/ think is outrageous, and that is that women like
you, calling themselves ladies, should be free to
browbeat and insult servants as much as they please.
a little down L.cJ
SMITHFIELD. Araminta, be quiet ! (Coming for-
ward.)
ARAMINTA. No, I won't! No one knows what
I've put up with from that old harridan!
MRS. FALKNER. (Gasping and moving forward)
Burton! Stop her!
ARAMINTA. And now I'm going to say what I
think.
CRANE. ('R. of table) No, you're not. We're all
very sorry this has happened, but you really can't
be allowed to talk like that. Smithfield, take her
away. Pay her off and don't let us see her again.
(SMITHFIELD takes the protesting ARAMINTA off
R.3E.J-
CRANE. (Advancing to MRS. FALKNER very apol-
ogetically) Really, Mrs. Falkner, you can't think
how sorry I am that
MRS. FALKNER. (R.C.) Yes, yes, no doubt no
doubt.
JANE. Don't ye be angry, ma'am. (Apparently
82 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
trying to mollify her.) Couldn't I be afther show-
in' ye the ice box or somethin' ?
MRS. FALKNER. The idea! Come, Cora, let us
leave this place at once. (Majestically she turns to
march off, and with the utmost dignity mistakes the
door at R.2E. for the door at R.C. and so opens the
closet door, discovering a white man and a colored
woman. MANDY bounces out like a rubber ball,
bumping into MRS. FALKNER. MRS. FALKNER, with
a shriek, backs out into the kitchen, going down R.J
CRANE. What's this? What's this?
JANE. God bless us and save us!
(MANDY emerges from the closet, staggers across
stage as JANE opens door for her. MANDY exits
L.IE. Then LEFFERTS appears in doorway of the
closet, hat in hand, and stands panting.)
CORA. (When laugh is over, coming down R.,
below cupboard) Tom Lefferts!
LEFFERTS. (With broken straw hat, disarranged
tie, wilted collar and a sickly smile) Er how do
you do?
MRS. FALKNER. (Crossing to c.) Burton, may
I ask what is the meaning of this?
CRANE. I haven't the slightest idea. Perhaps
Jane-Ellen will explain.
JANE. Faith, sor, an' I never set eyes on ayther
av thim before. (Exits through door up L.)
CRANE. Cora, you seem to know the young man.
CORA. Er yes allow me, Mr. Lefferts this is
Mr. Crane.
LEFFERTS. Er delighted to meet you. How are
you?
CRANE. May I ask to what I owe this unexpected
honor?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 83
LEFFERTS. Why er the fact is that is to say
ah
MRS. FALKNER. (Interrupting) The fact is,
Burton
LEFFERTS. (Rallying and making a fight for it)
Allow me, Mrs. Falkner. (Crosses to MRS. FALK-
NER c.) As the injured party
MRS. FALKNER. The injured party ! (Crosses to
CORA R.J
LEFFERTS. (c.) Precisely. I appeal to you, Mr.
Crane. Had I or had I not the right to assume that
if there was one place on earth where I would be
safe from Mrs. Falkner's pursuit it would be the
kitchen cupboard?
CRANE. Well, really I'm not in a position to
answer that.
LEFFERTS. (c. Warming up to his subject) Of
course. Certainly, any right-minded person would
say as much. Well, sir, secure in my confidence, I
retire to my closet for rest and er seclusion. Do
I get it? I do not. First of all I am forced to
share my closet, quite against my will, with a stout,
elderly female person of color. And as if that
weren't bad enough, who should burst in on me but
Mrs. Falkner. It's intrusion. That's what I call it
unwarrantable intrusion. And now, Mrs. Falkner,
I should like to know what the devil you mean by
it? (During the above speech MRS. FALKNER is
talking and scolding CORA, who is inclined to laugh.)
MRS. FALKNER. Mr. LefTerts !
LEFFERTS. Why the devil can't you keep out of
my cupboard?
MRS. FALKNER. (Crosses to CRANE L.cJ Burton,
this wild nonsense has gone far enough. This man
has pursued my daughter for over a year, despite
the fact that I have forbidden him to see her or to
communicate with her in any way. My judgment
84 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
of his character is, I trust, sufficiently confirmed by
this latest outrage. He calls himself a poet. What
he and that colored person were doing in that closet,
I leave it to him to say. (LEFFERTS goes up to door
c., protesting.)
CORA. Oh, Mother ! (Half -laughing, she goes up
and joins LEFFERTS near door c.)
MRS. FALKNER. (Without stopping) And now,
Burton, my daughter and I have trespassed suffi-
ciently on your hospitality. We will return to Wash-
ington by the first train. Kindly have the motor
ready to take us. Cora, come with me. (She starts
to go. Going to cupboard again, she opens it and
slams it, exclamation of disgust. Hesitating) Will
some one be good enough to show me the way out ?
Come, Cora. (Exits door R-3 at back.)
LBFFERTS. With the greatest of pleasure, ma'am.
fMRS. FALKNER exits R-3 and CORA, after throwing
kiss to LEFFERTS. CRANE and LEFFERTS look
at each other and then fall to laughing quietly.)
LEFFERTS. (At length controlling himself) I
take it that things are fairly clear to you. That
woman is really a terror and I did want a word with
Cora
CRANE. Of course, I understand. It's all clear
enough. I'll do my best to square you with her.
(LEFFERTS moves down a little R.)
LEFFERTS. I'm afraid it can't be done. The devil
of it is I'm little better than a pauper and
CRANE. I take it you're staying in the neighbor-
hood?
LEFFERTS. Oh, yes only a mile away with the
Randolphs.
CRANE. (Thoughtfully) Well, then, come over
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 85
to dinner to-night and I'll try and make Mrs. Falk-
ner see reason. We'll see what can be done.
LEFFERTS. (Going c.) You're awfully good,
but
CRANE. Not a bit of it.
LEFFERTS. Well, if you're going to square me in
that quarter you'll need all the time there is, so per-
haps I'd better run. (Starts to door down L.J
CRANE. (Stopping him) Oh, come this way. I
will have my chauffeur take you over.
LEFFERTS. Thanks, thanks ! (Goes up to door c.)
CRANE. Oh, Mr. Lefferts, are you really a poet ?
LEFFERTS. Well, sometimes I have a jingle pub-
lished, but my real job is assistant editor of a thing
called the "Statistician." I merely write the jingles
as an antidote. (Goes up to the door c.) Ah, ah,
what does the good book say "What is whispered
in the closet shall be proclaimed from the house-
tops." How true! How true! (Exit c.)
CRANE. (Calling after him) I'll be with you in
a moment.
(At exit of LEFFERTS, CRANE walks down stage c.,
as if 'waiting for JANE, who after a pause en-
ters from L.3E. and comes down between table
and stove.)
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, I have a most unpleasant
task to perform. Perhaps you know when I leased
this house it was arranged with Mr. Weeks to fur-
nish a competent staff of white servants. Now you,
Jane-Ellen, are a most excellent cook and Smithfield
is competent enough, but as for the other two, you
know how competent they are. I shall pay you and
Smithfield six weeks' wages and I shall cancel the
lease and leave the house to-morrow. If the Dain-
gerfields want their money they can sue me for it as
long as they please.
86 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
(Gt
Very softly) Sure yoi
JANE.
don't mean that? (Moving round to R. oj taoie.j
CRANE. I do. (Coming toward her.)
JANE. Mr. Crane Mr. Crane you won't be
breaking the lease. Shure, there's no trouble at all
after once you get Mrs. Falkner out of the place.
Oh, Mr. Crane, please (She comes to R. of
table toward him slowly.)
CRANE. Oh, Jane-Ellen Jane-Ellen. You know,
you're a very strange girl. You are quite sure there
is not something you want to tell me? (She puts
out her hands, which he instinctively tries to take,
and she, almost without knowing, withdraws them.)
JANE. (Whispering) No, sir, no
CRANE. Because if there is, I feel sure you could
trust me to to understand. You seem to be in
some sort of trouble, and, if I can, I'd like, oh so
very much, to help you.
JANE. You're very kind, sir. But there is nothing
you can do. (Pause.) Nothing.
CRANE. Are you quite sure you cannot tell me?
Because, you see, Jane-Ellen, when you look like
that it seems somehow I just have to do something
about it.
JANE. You are very kind, sir.
CRANE. Now wouldn't it make it easier if you
could think of me just for a moment not as your
employer but just as a decent chap who would do
anything in the world to make you smile once again,
because you know, Jane-Ellen, when you smile
(JANE smiles) that's it! Come now, don't you
think you could tell me? (Pause.)
JANE. No, sor.
CRANE. Why not, Jane-Ellen ? (Pause.)
JANE. Well, sor, this is the way of it: Suppos-
ing supposing you was in a bad fix; supposing
those you loved, your very dearest, was to be sick
87
and in trouble ; suppose you picked out the grandest
plan to save them, and then, after you had done
your very best, everything was to go smash well,
sor, that's the time there's nothing left to do but
just to creep into your own heart and shut the door.
CRANE. (Patting her hand) I'm sorry, Jane-
Ellen. I'm sorry
(CRANE exits door c. without stopping. JANE be-
gins to cry softly. Goes up to door c., leaning
her head against it, and when MANDY enters,
turns her back so the tears will not be evident.
MANDY enters door L.IE.)
MANDY. Say, I done found dat Why,
honey chile, is you cry in', hun' honey lamb, child,
now don't you go spoilin' your blessed blue eyes.
(Goes to JANE at c.)
JANE. (With her back to MANDY,) It's nothing,
Mammy nothing !
MANDY. (Standing in front of chair L.C., ready
to seat herself later) Well, I done found that letter
that Mr. Randy Weeks done gib me. He say it's a
cable.
JANE. (Turning slowly to front) A cable?
MANDY. Yas'm, honey.
JANE. (Taking cable, opening it, but not looking
at it) Mammy, I'm afraid.
MANDY. Dear, dear honey chile!
JANE. Oh oh mammy! (She slowly opens
cablegram and reads. She drops it and puts hands
to her face.)
MANDY. Honey chile, what's the matter?
JANE. Oh, it's daddy! the surgeons have oper-
ated on him.
MANDY. Oh, he's gwine to be all right, honey.
JANE. They don't know, they don't know it's
88
too soon to tell. Oh, mammy, mammy, if he
shouldn't get well, what will I do, what will I do?
Oh, mammy, oh, mammy, if he shouldn't get well!
(Weeping JANE falls into MANET'S arms and
MANDY seats herself in the chair L.C., lifting
JANE on her lap and rocking her to and fro, as
a child.)
MANDY. My little lady baby, my little lady baby.
SLOW CURTAIN
ACT III
SCENE: The dining room. See photograph.
TIME: Just before dinner on the same day as ACT
II.
The room has two windows at L. They are
low French windows opening on a practical
veranda.
The entarnce from the hall is at rear L.C.
The entrance to the butler's pantry is at R.C.
This door to the butler's pantry entrance
has a screen in front of it. Just below this door
R. a serving table stands against the R. wall. A
beautiful old mahogany sideboard stands R.
against the wall at R. The dining table that
stands at c. is oval and not very large just big
enough for four persons, in fact. There are
lighted candles on the sideboard. The room is
lighted by chandelier c. See light plot.
DISCOVERED: At rise, SMITHFIELD is just finishing
setting the table. He stands at back of table.
Enter BRINDLEBURY at R.C. His get-up is
totally different. He wears a grey wig, very
suspicious-looking, grey side-whiskers and a suit
of nonedescript clothes much too big for him.
BRINDLEBURY. (Poking his head around the
screen) Hist !
89
90 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
SMITH F;ELD. Look here, Charlie, didn't I tell you
to lie low ?
BRINDLEBURY. (Coming in around screen) Yes,
but Livy says
SMITHFIELD. I don't care what she says. You've
got to keep out of sight as much as possible or it'll
be all up.
BRINDLEBURY. Aw, say, Paul, they'll never sus-
pect. Didn't I help take the old lady's trunks down-
stairs right under her very nose ?
SMITHFIELD. Yes, I know, but
BRINDLEBURY. (At upper end of the sideboard
Rj And say, just look at this. D'ye ever see a
finer limp? (He stumps up and down R. with the
walk of a man with a stiff leg.)
SMITHFIELD. (c.) It's a good enough limp
but your make-up's rotten (Crosses to R., near
screen) and your voice is worse. Don't you ever
get near enough for Crane to speak to you. Keep
away under cover, not that it makes much difference,
I reckon.
BRINDLEBURY. Why, what do you mean ?
SMITHFIELD. Oh, nothing. You'll know soon
enough. (He goes out at R.C. BRINDLEBUKY goes R.J
(Enter CRANE from the hall door L.C. He wears a
dinner coat.)
CRANE. Oh, Smithfield.
BRINDLEBURY. Eh? (Hand to ear.)
CRANE. (Seeing BRINDLEBURY, who is upstage
above sideboard) Here, I say (BRINDLEBURY
stops.) What's your name?
BRINDLEBURY. (In a thin, squeaky voice) Yes,
sir. I'm lame. Been so ever
CRANE. (Standing L. of table c., shouting) No,
no. I asked your name.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 91
BRINDLEBURY. When I came? Oh, this after-
noon, sir. Mr. Smithfield he telephoned to my wife
sir he says "Susan," he says, "Susan "
CRANE. (Sternly) Come here.
BRINDLEBURY. Hey ?
CRANE. Come here. Let me look at you (At
this BRINDLEBURY limps slowly to L., below table c.,
and jumps out of the lower French window and dis-
appears.) Here! What's the matter with you?
(He dashes out of the window in pursuit.) Come
here!
(MAMMY enters, sees CRANE and BRINDLEBURY exit,
she roars with laughter. Enter PAUL.J
MANDY. (Near window down Lj For de good
Lawd's sake, foot carry me fast! I wonder what's
dat? (Feels about for cable. Enter PAUL R.cJ
PAUL. (Crossing to c. front of table) What are
you doing here, Mandy?
MANDY. Ne' mind, ne' mind, is you-all alone,
honey ?
PAUL. Yes, Mandy, what is it?
MANDY. Marse Randy he done give me another
one of them cable-urns. (She gives him cable-
gram.) He told me to fetch it right up to you-all.
Lordy Massa, Paul, I'se just full o' cable-ums.
Heah yo' is. (Hands him cablegram.)
(PAUL reads it, standing c., in front of chair.)
PAUL. (Softly) Mandy, Mandy! Thank God!
MANDY. About yo' paw, Marse Paul ?
PAUL. Yes, Mandy. Father's out of danger,
thank God!
92 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
MANDY. Ain't de Lawd good ! (Quickly) Where
my lil' white baby? (Crosses to R.C.)
PAUL. In the kitchen, Mandy.
MANDY. Marse Paul, Miss Livy she's worry in'
her little heart out. You give me dat cable-urn. I
just tote it down to her. (He gives it to her.
Crosses to R.C.) Dis mammy want her baby to get
his blessed news fast ! (Going) Oh, ain't de Lawd
good? Ain't de Lawd good? (Exits door R.C.)
(SMITHFIELD moves R., takes up and looks at cable
envelope. TUCKER enters door L.cJ
TUCKER. (Comes to R.C. above table.) Smith-
field, have you seen Mr. Crane anywhere?
SMITHFIELD. No, sir. Oh, here he is. (Exits
door R.C.)
CRANE. (Appears at window, enters room and
sits on window-sill.) Phew! Haven't run so fast
since I was in college.
TUCKER. (R.C.) May I inquire?
CRANE. Certainly. I've been chasing Brindy.
TUCKER. Brindy !
CRANE. (Going up c.) No less. There's his wig.
(Tossing wig to TUCKER, who catches it.)
TUCKER. Good gracious ! Then
CRANE. Precisely. The aged servitor with the
stiff leg Brindy
TUCKER. (Above table R. end of same) Good
Lord! I shouldn't be surprised if we were all mur-
dered in our beds.
CRANE. Which leads us to the next step. (Takes
wig from TUCKER as he crosses to R.C. TUCKER
moves -L.)
(Enter SMITHFIELD from R.C. with cigar tray.)
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 93
CRANE. Smithfield
SMITHFIELD. Yes, sir. (SMITHFIELD approaches
CRANE.J
CRANE. I fear your new useful man won't do.
He seems to me a bit too ancient.
SMITHFIELD. (At R. below CRANE,) Oh, sir, he's
not so old as he looks.
CRANE. I thought not.
SMITHFIELD. Only 66 his next birthday.
CRANE. Sixty-six !
SMITHFIELD. Or 7.
CRANE. Surprising, eh, Tuck?
TUCKER. Very.
CRANE. Is he married?
SMITHFIELD. Not yet, that is he's a widower of
many years' standing. His poor wife dying when
her first baby was born that's Mr. Crosslett-Bil-
lington's present chauffeur, sir.
CRANE. The baby?
SMITHFIELD. Yes, sir no, sir. That's how I
happened
CRANE. That's enough, Smithfield. Your aged
friend is Brindy who Brindy is, God knows. Don't
stop to pack. Mr. Weeks will send your things.
Get out of my house at once. And if you want a
testimonial I will write you one saying that you are
the most competent liar of my acquaintance. And
there's a souvenir for you. (Tosses wig to SMITH-
FIELD. SMITHFIELD looks at the wig, rolls up his
sleeves as one in anguish, and swallows hard once
or twice.)
SMITHFIELD. Thank you, sir. (With a gulp)
Will that be all, sir? (Goes up a little.)
CRANE. Quite all.
SMITHFIELD. Thank you, sir. (Goes up and
takes salver from sideboard, placing wig in it. He
goes out at R.cJ
94 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
CRANE. Well, Tuck, we seem to be shrinking.
(Sits in chair R. end of table c.)
TUCKER. (L. of table, leaning on chair L. of table
end) In the course of a long and varied experience
at the bar
CRANE. Yes, yes, to be sure. Now will you
oblige me by telephoning Mr. Weeks to come out
here at once? I think we'll end this episode imme-
diately. The ladies have left us, one in tears the
other in wrath three out of four servants have de-
parted. The roof'll be falling in next.
TUCKER. (Going) I'll telephone Mr. Weeks at
once. (Starts toward door L.C. Stops.)
CRANE. Good !
TUCKER. (Pause) Oh, but it's nearly dinner-
time.
CRANE. Ask him to dinner, then.
TUCKER. Very well, Burton.
CRANE. I asked Lefferts, too.
TUCKER. That man ! Really
CRANE. Oh, come off, Tuck. Stop that bad imi-
tation of your sister. Lefferts is a fine chap and
you know it. Run along, please.
TUCKER. (At door L.C., turning) By the way,
Burton, who's going to serve this dinner ?
CRANE. Oh, that's what I'm going to see about
now.
(TUCKER exits door L.C. CRANE rises and goes to
pantry door, stops, then rings bell cord at man-
tel and comes down to back of armchair, R. end
of table, and stands waiting. JANE appears
R.C. After a pause.)
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, come here.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 95
(JANE is very gentle and rather wistful, but confi-
dent of the kindly reception which she does not
get.)
CRANE. (Severely) Jane-Ellen
JANE. (Standing on his R.j Oh, sor, this time,
faith I know what's afther makin' ye scold.
CRANE. (Stiffly) I am not going to scold.
JANE. (Smiling good-naturedly) Sure, sor, an'
that's a wonder, so it is. (She gets no answering
smile.) Ah, now, Misther Crane, sure an' I couldn't
be afther givin' Smithfield away over that nonsense
about the boy, now c'u'd I ?
CRANE. Really, I haven't considered the matter
at all.
JANE. Why, Misther Crane, what's come over
ye?
CRANE. Be good enough not to ask questions. I
wish to give some orders.
JANE. Orders? (Stiffens herself and freezes.)
Indade, sor?
CRANE. Two gentlemen are coming to dinner
that makes four in all and as Smithfield is gone,
you will have to serve dinner as well as cook it.
JANE. (Folding arms) No, sor, certainly I'll
not.
CRANE. What !
JANE. Faith, 'tis a cook I am and not butler at all.
CRANE. You will do as you are told.
JANE. Ill do no such thing, then.
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, you will serve dinner.
JANE. Misther Crane, I will not. (There's a brief
pause.)
CRANE. We seem to be dealing with the eternal
problem between employer and employed. (Crosses
to L.C. front of table c.) You're not lazy, the work
96 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
is nothing, yet you deliberately choose to stand on
your rights on a purely technical point.
JANE. I'm doin' nothin' of the sort, then.
CRANE. I should like to know what you call it.
JANE. Sure, I'm making myself just as disagree-
able as I can. Tis charmed I'd be fer to oblige a
gintleman that asked me nice an' polite like, but
whin a man talks about orders an' me doin' as I'm
told, all I got to say to that man is he'd ought to be
thinkin' av thim things before he's dismissin' me two
brothers, so he'd ought. Orders ! Humph !
CRANE. Your brothers ! Do you mean to tell me
Smithfield is your brother, too ?
JANE. Well, sor, I wasn't meanin' to tell ye, but
'tis a fact.
CRANE. Rather unusual for an Irish girl to have
English brothers, isn't it?
JANE. (After a pause) Faith, the two av thim
was raised in London from a couple av kids.
CRANE. Whereas you were brought up in Ire-
land?
JANE. I was, then God forgive me!
CRANE. And Miss Olivia Daingerfield has known
you all her life?
JANE. Sure, she was on'y writin' a testimonial.
You know what them things is.
CRANE. Say, why didn't you tell me before that
Smithfield was your brother?
JANE. Faith, I can't see what difference it makes
at all.
CRANE. (Now suddenly high-spirited) Why, it
makes all the difference in the world. If he's your
brother he's got a perfect right to (Coughs
and moves to L. several steps.)
JANE. To what?
CRANE. (Returning to c.) Ah er that is to
say, I apologize for everything I've said since you
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 97
came in here, and I ask you most humbly if you
won't be so kind as to help me out. You are going
to be an angel and serve dinner, aren't you ?
JANE. Didn't I say I would if I was asked polite-
like?
CRANE. Thank you, thank you, ah ! Indeed, Jane-
Ellen you are an angel. (He exits door L.C. JANE*
follows around to L.C.)
(After a moment, SMITH FIELD peeks in, around
screen.)
SMITHFIELD. Hist !
JANE. (Starting. Goes to back of table c.) Oh,
Paul ! You frightened me. Where's Bess and
Charley ?
SMITHFIELD. Up in the garret playing checkers.
JANE. The poor dears must be starved. Tell
them not to make any noise. I'll slip up after din-
ner and bring you a bit, if there's any left. Now be
quiet, all of you ! (Crosses down to chair L. of
table.)
SMITHFIELD. Yes! But what are you going to
do?
JANE. I told you.
SMITHFIELD. But it's no use. The game's up.
JANE. All the same, I'm going to stay and see
the last card played.
SMITHFIELD. What's the good? He's going to
break the lease and get out to-morrow. I heard old
Tucker telephoning to Randy to come over at once.
You can't do anything. Come on. Let's all get
away.
JANE. No, indeed.
SMITHFIELD. (Going toward her. Easy) You're
not going to go on, doing this man's work ?
JANE. He may change his mind.
9 8
SMITHFIELD. Livy-
JANE. Besides, the poor man's got to eat.
SMITHFIELD. Now look here, Livy, I think
you
JANE. Hsh ! Somebody's coming ! (Drops down
R.c. to sideboard.)
(SMITHFIELD hastily goes out at R.C. TUCKER
comes in from the hall door L.Cj
TUCKER. Ah, Jane-Ellen
JANE. Good evenin', Misther Tucker.
TUCKER. (Close to her) The time has come
sooner than we thought when I can be of assistance
to you.
JANE. Yes, indade, sor. (She thrusts a carving
knife and fork into his hands.) Tis a dale of work
for a poor girl. Will ye kindly put them at Mr.
Crane's place? Right over there. (He hesitates,
then awkwardly puts knife and fork ends toward
armchair L. end of table.)
TUCKER. (Starting toward her) I'm very sorry
indeed that things have happened so. But you see,
Mr. Crane
JANE. (Waving him, back) Oh, sor, not that
way. Niver turn the point av a knife toward the
chair. 'Tis bad luck, sor.
TUCKER. Oh, indeed! (Places knife and fork
properly.) But, as I was saying QANE blows
out candles down R. end of the sideboard R.)
JANE. Faith, 'tis a wicked bad butler ye'd make,
an' no mistake.
TUCKER. (Returning to her at the sideboard)
There is something I want to say to you before any-
one comes in.
JANE. Have ye a match about ye, now? (She
holds candelabra between TUCKER and herself.
COME OUT 'OF THE KITCHEN 99
TUCKER produces a gold match-box.) Av course.
Sure ye're a match for anywan, so ye are now. Will
ye kindly be lighting 'em for me?
TUCKER. (Lights candles as JANE holds them
up.) I suppose you know Mr. Crane is leaving to-
morrow.
JANE. So I've heard, sor.
TUCKER. And you are about to lose your place.
JANE. Yis, sor. 'Tis the first wan I iver lost.
TUCKER. (Insinuatingly) Why not make it the
last? (Candle and nose business.)
JANE. Sor?
TUCKER. Why not come to me? I could offer
you a position you need never leave.
JANE. Please leave me pass. sor.
TUCKER. Not till you've heard me. (She rings
silver dinner bell violently with her left hand, hold-
ing candle in right.) Ah, my dear child (He
moves toward her, looking very much as if he in-
tended to embrace her. She avoids him.) Jane-
Ellen, what are you doing?
JANE. Faith, sor, I can't be runnin' all over the
house callin' people to dinner.
TUCKER. There's something I want you to-
tell
(Enter CRANE hastily door L.C. TUCKER crosses
front of table to L.J
CRANE. (Coming to c., back of table. To TUCKER,
who looks rather sheepish) What the deuce are
you doing here, Tuck?
TUCKER. I ah I was assisting Jane-Ellen to
set the table. (JANE-ELLEN laughs and exits
through screen door.)
CRANE. The devil you were !
ioo COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
TUCKER. Do you mean to say you question my
word?
CRANE. You bet I do!
TUCKER. (At door) And may I ask what you
think I was doing?
CRANE. Well, I don't think you were picking
daisies.
(TUCKER exits indignantly at door L.C., closing it
after him.)
CRANE. Jane-Ellen Jane-Ellen!
JANE. (Entering) Yis, sor.
CRANE. Was Mr. Tucker making love to you?
JANE. Well, sor, I couldn't be sayin' for sure.
CRANE. Nonsense ! Don't you know ?
JANE. Faith, then, how's a poor girl to know?
The gintlemen have so many ways of makin' love.
CRANE. (Turning to look at JANE, who stands
up R. of the screen. CRANE is L. of it.) The
trouble with you is, Jane-Ellen, that you are a damn
sight too pretty.
JANE. Oh, Mr. Crane, stop yer blarney.
CRANE. (Imitating her brogue) As if every man
you know for the last five years had not been saying
the same thing to you.
JANE. (Giving him a sidelong look) Sure, sor,
none av thim was iver afther sayin' it quite like
that, sor. (Swiftly she turns and is gone into the
butler's pantry. CRANE laughs and watches her off.
She changes to maid's black dress.)
(Voices of men are heard in the hall. CRANE turns
as LEFFERTS and WEEKS enter door L.cJ
CRANE. Ah ! Mr. Weeks ! Mr. Lefferts ! Glad
you could come at such short notice, Mr. Weeks.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 101
WEEKS. (At mantel) Well, I'm not far away,
but I couldn't have made it without the little Ford.
LEFFERTS. (Near window L.) Yes, it's the motor
car that makes country life possible.
CRANE. Yes, and it's the Ford makes it prob-
able. (Laughs. Goes to sideboard.)
LEFFERTS Very true but tell me where are the
ladies ?
CRANE. (Who has busied himself at the side-
board.) Oh, didn't Tucker tell you?
LEFFERTS. No.
CRANE. They were suddenly called away.
LEFFERTS. Called away?
CRANE. Yes. I'm sorry but one of them felt
that both of them must go.
LEFFERTS. Humph ! (Crosses to front of table
R.j No need to ask which one.
CRANE. I think not. And one of them left a note
for you. (Gives LEFFERTS a note.)
LEFFERTS. (c. Delighted. Opens letter and
moving L. a little) Thank you.
CRANE. (At sideboard. A pause while LEFFERTS
opens his note and reads.) By the way, Mr. Lef-
ferts, as a professional statistician, you've probably
heard of a periodical called "The Financier."
LEFFERTS. Oh, yes. (Puts letter in pocket.)
CRANE. Well, I own it. Never read it, but I own
it. Don't know a damn thing about it. I inherited
it. I need an editor. Could you do it?
LEFFERTS. I? (Going a little up to CRANE, very
surprised.)
CRANE. Yes present editor's leaving. He
doesn't know it, but he is. Like the job?
LEFFERTS. Would I ! ! ! (WEEKS moves back to
mantel.)
CRANE. (At sideboard, pouring sherry from de-
102 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
canter into four glasses) Give you five thousand
dollars to start with, if that's enough.
LEFFERTS. (Going to him) Enough ! You'd bet-
ter look out or I'll kiss you. But, joking apart, you
don't know what this means to me. (They shake
hands.)
CRANE. Oh, that's all right. (LEFFERTS drops
down R. Enter TUCKER.J Ah, here's the genial
Tuck. (CRANE crosses to sideboard.) Just in time
for a glass of sherry. (Gives the men their glasses.)
Tuck, you know Mr. Lefferts?
TUCKER. (Coldly) I have heard of him.
LEFFERTS. Favorably, I trust.
TUCKER. From my sister, Mrs. Faulkner, sir.
CRANE. Well, here's a toast. Here's to Cupid,
the statistician. (All laugh.)
WEEKS. Don't know what it means, but here's
to it. (All laugh and drink.)
CRANE. Oh, any toast will do, if the drink's
right.
LEFFERTS. (Smacking his lips) Ah! Now,
that's something like sherry. (WEEKS moves L.)
TUCKER. (Putting glass on sideboard and going
c. behind table) Very good wine indeed, Burton,
very good. (To WEEKS J Are you fond of sherry,
Mr. Weeks?
WEEKS. Oh, we drink quite a lot of it down here.
(During the last two speeches CRANE has shown
LEFFERTS the handkerchief he picked up in the
Second Act. As if saying, "There's going to be
some fun with Weeks." c., back of table)
CRANE. Oh, by the way, Mr. Weeks, this is yours,
I think. (He takes handkerchief from his pocket
and gives it to WEEKS J
WEEKS. (Coming to his R., TUCKER going down
L.) Mine ?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 103
CRANE. Yes. "R. W." your initials, aren't
they?
WEEKS. _ (Rattled, taking handkerchief) Why,
yes yes it must be mine. (Moves L,C.)
CRANE. I found it in the kitchen this afternoon.
(LEFFERTS laughs.)
TUCKER. (Looking at WEEKS, then to CRANE)
Where?
CRANE. In the kitchen.
(TUCKER turns a glare of illumination on WEEKS.
Then TUCKER goes up stage.)
WEEKS. (Moving down L.) Yes yes thank
you very much er awfully warm for this time
of year.
CRANE. Very. Pray be seated, gentlemen Mr.
Weeks, Mr. Lefferts, Mr. Tucker.
(LEFFERTS sits R. end of table; WEEKS sits with
back to audience. TUCKER sits at back of the
table, -facing WEEKS J
TUCKER. I am ready, for one.
CRANE. (All seated.) Always, Tuck, always.
(JANE ELLEN enters with soup plates. She crosses
to CRANE as if to put them on the table. CRANE
jumps from his chair, taking the soup plates
from tray. He watches JANE-ELLEN exit.)
LEFFERTS. Wonderfully attractive country around
here, Mr. Weeks, isn't it?
WEEKS. Glad you appreciate it, Mr. Lefferts.
Is this your first visit down here?
LEFFERTS. Yes. I am as you've probably
guessed, a Northerner.
104 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
(TUCKER turns, sees CRANE holding plates and gazes
toward the butler's pantry.)
TUCKER. Burton, what are you doing with the
soup plates?
(CRANE, rather annoyed, sits down, putting soup
plates in front of him,,)
WEEKS. I hope this wont be your last visit, Mr.
Lefferts. Where are you staying?
(JANE ELLEN brings on soup tureen. Takes it to
CRANE. He removes it from tray and places it
in front of him. Starts to serve.)
LEFFERTS. I am staying with some friends, the
Randolphs friends of yours, I believe.
WEEKS. Yes. Jack Randolph and I went to
school together.
TUCKER. (To LEFFERTS J May I trouble you for
the olives, please?
LEFFERTS. (Passing them) Yes, I think I heard
Jack speak of you.
WEEKS. We had three years at school together
at Charlottesville. You are very fortunate to be
here this season of the year.
LEFFERTS. How's that ?
WEEKS. This is our hunting season, you know.
TUCKER. Will you please pass me the almonds?
LEFFERTS. Oh, yes. (Passes them, rather an-
noyed.)
(By this time JANE-ELLEN has served soup to
WEEKS. WEEKS has not noticed that it is JANE-
ELLEN who is serving the table. As she puts
the soup plate down he sees her hand and arm
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 105
are obviously not those of SMITHFIELD. His
eyes follow her arm up till they come to her
face. He is horrified. JANE-LLEN makes a
face at him and turns back to get soup for
LEFFERTS. Passes soup to LEFFERTS.^
TUCKER. (As JANE passes soup to LEFFERTS,)
Will you please pass me the salt ? (This time LEF-
FERTS passes him salt, pepper, the butter-dish, but-
ter knife, and anything else he can think of. JANE-
ELLEN has given soup to TUCKER. Exit JANE-EL-
LEN, returning almost immediately. Men start to
drink their soup.)
CRANE. How is the soup, Tuck?
TUCKER. Excellent, Burton, excellent. QANE
stands with tray in hand with back to the screen.)
LEFFERTS. Very soothing. (Pause.)
WEEKS. Just right. Just right. (Pause.)
CRANE. You can't beat these people down here
for soup.
(CRANE signals to JANE, who removes soup plates,
going to WEEKS first, then LEFFERTS second.
As JANE takes LEFFERTS' plate he looks up at
her, and as she exits with plates to pantry it is
almost as if he was drawn out of his chair by
her charm. He takes a few steps toward^ the
pantry, then turns, facing the audience, saying,)
LEFFERTS. By jove! that must be the face that
launched a thousand ships,
CRANE. I beg your pardon. (LEFFERTS sits
down again.)
TUCKER. No, it's the cook and you've seen her
before, too.
LEFFERTS. Oh, yes, oh, yes! Very lovely little
person, don't you think so?
106 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
TUCKER. (In a superior manner) I confess I
have not been able to take much interest in the per-
sonal appearance of servants.
CRANE. Really, Tuck ?
LEFFERTS. I say beauty is beauty wherever you
find it.
(JANE brings in plate of corn bread and places it
c. of table. She takes up tureen and exits into
pantry.)
TUCKER. Such a preoccupation with beauty has
always struck us as decadent.
LEFFERTS. What, exactly, Mr. Tucker, is your
definition of decadent?
TUCKER. Decadent is decadent is it is simple
enough, I think decadent is
CRANE. Yes, Tuck, what is it?
TUCKER. I shall trouble you for the almonds.
LEFFERTS. A very comprehensive definition.
TUCKER. During a long and varied experience at
the bar
LEFFERTS. Anyhow, the soup was delicious.
(JANE enters with the roast chicken on platter and
places it before CRANE, then goes with vege-
tables on tray to serving table.)
CRANE. Mr. Lefferts has been complimenting
your soup, Jane-Ellen.
JANE-ELLEN. Thank you, sor.
WEEKS. Look here, Mr. Crane, what I should
like to ask, is what has become of Smithfield ?
CRANE. (Carving chicken) Smithfield oh,
Smithfield is indisposed.
WEEKS. You you mean he is sick ?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 107
(JANE hands plates to three men WEEKS, LEF-
FERTS and TUCKER .)
CRANE. No, no, no, I am sick. Sick of him.
(TUCKER laughs and guffaws with his mouth full.)
CRANE. (Continuing) I have discharged him,
also the boy Brindy and the housemaid, Araminta.
WEEKS. What !
CRANE. Yes, Mr. Weeks.
WEEKS. You mean er er you mean to tell
me that you and Mr. Tucker and the cook are alone
in this house ?
CRANE. I regret to say that Mr. Tucker also
leaves me this evening.
WEEKS. But but but (JANE goes to serv-
ing table for vegetables.)
CRANE. Not now, Mr. Weeks, a little later. Af-
ter dinner, for the present let's enjoy ourselves.
TUCKER. Yes, yes, yes, will you please help me
to some butter? (He discovers butter where LEF-
FERTS placed it. JANE serves the vegetables.)
W r EEKS. Certainly, by all means, but what 1
should like to ask you, you can't mean, you don't
intend to
CRANE. I won't trouble you with my particular
plans. My experience, Mr. Weeks, has been that
nobody cares anything about anybody else's trifling,
little plans. Their small, domestic complications.
LEFFERTS. Oh, come now, I'm not so sure. It
strikes me Mr. Weeks is very much interested,
aren't you?
WEEKS. (Stammering, but determined) Yes
yes I am extremely sincerely. You see, I know
what would be said in a community like this what
would be thought. You you get my idea?
io8 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
CRANE. Not exactly, and what is more, what
people think is a matter of small consequence to me.
WEEKS. Yes yes as a rule, of course but in
this case I'm sure you'd agree with me if I can
only
CRANE. Doubtless, doubtless, but what is it ex-
actly that you do mean?
LEFFERTS. It's perfectly clear. Mr. Weeks means
that in such a small community as this if a young
woman should find herself in a position considered
compromising by all the most prominent novelists
and dramatists, she would
(JANE-ELLEN, in passing the vegetable dishes, man-
ages to rub hot dish against TUCKER'S neck.)
TUCKER. (Leaping to his feet with something
like a curse) Oh ! Ouch ! What the devil are you
doing?
JANE. Oh, sor, an' I'm so terrible sorry.
TUCKER. Sorry ! Huh ! (Mopping at his neck.)
JANE. I'm not much used to waitin' on the table.
(Puts vegetables down, gets bottle of claret and
crosses.)
CRANE. Tuck! Tuck! It's all right, Jane-El-
len. Don't give it another thought. (Sees TUCKER,
whose face is twisted with anger.) Mr. Tucker has
forgotten it already, haven't you, Tuck ?
TUCKER. (Angrily) Oh, yes, yes, of course.
(TUCKER sits again.)
LEFFERTS. (Looking about) What a fine old
house this is. I'd like to know its history.
TUCKER. Well, sir, it belongs, as you perhaps
know, to a family named Daingerfield, who held a
highly honored place in the history of this country
until they unfortunately espoused the wrong side of
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 109
the Civil War. (JANE indignant at this. She turns
away without serving TUCKER with wine.)
TUCKER. Here, here! Burton, she has omitted
me.
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, you have omitted Mr. Tucker.
JANE. Oh, yes, sir. (Fills TUCKER'S glass and
exits.)
WEEKS. (Angrily) In this part of the country,
sir, we are not accustomed to thinking it the wrong
side.
TUCKER. (Bowing slightly) I believe, sir, that
I am voicing the verdict of history.
CRANE. (Lifting his glass to stay the quarrel)
Gentlemen, I am very pleased to see you all here.
(All raise their glasses and take a sip.)
LEFFERTS. (Having started an embarrassing
topic, is now anxious to turn the talk to safer chan-
nels) Anyhow, the present generation of Dainger-
fields seems to be an amusing lot.
(JANE enters and goes to serving table.)
LEFFERTS. Randolph was speaking about them
only last night. He says one of the girls is par-
ticularly enchanting now what was her name?
Such a pretty one oh, yes, Olivia.
JANE. (Front the serving table) Yes, sor?
(WEEKS is terrified at this. JANE-ELLEN serves
vegetables again to LEFFERTS.J
CRANE. No one spoke to you, Jane-Ellen. (He
continues to look at her.)
JANE. No, sor.
LEFFERTS. Randolph said she was a wholesale
fascinator engaged to three men at one time last
summer.
i io COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
WEEKS. (Springing to his feet) Mr. Lefferts,
I'd be obliged to you, sir, if you'd tell Mr. Randolph
with my compliments that that's not true.
LEFFERTS. Oh ! Isn't it ? Well, I'm sorry.
WEEKS. Oh, I don't blame you. You're a
stranger here, but I do blame him for circulating
this groundless gossip about one of the loveliest
young ladies in this State.
JANE. (Presenting vegetables) Potatoes, sor?
(WEEKS and JANE exchange bitter glances.)
WEEKS. Thank you, no. (JANE-ELLEN goes to
sideboard. Exits with vegetables on tray.)
LEFFERTS. Awfully sorry, Mr. Weeks, but really
I thought it all rather to the lady's credit espe-
cially in a neighborhood where it must be rather
dull if you don't care for hunting.
WEEKS. (In great exasperation) That's not the
point ! The point is that it's not true !
LEFFERTS. (Conciliatory) As you say, just as
you say.
(Enter JANE. She takes LEFFERTS' plate into pan-
try, then to CRANE'S plate and WEEKS'.,)
WEEKS. (Now much excited) Miss Olivia
Daingerfield is one of the most admired and re-
spected young ladies in Virginia, I may say in
the entire South. I have known her and her fam-
ily since they were children, er
TUCKER. Eh ?
WEEKS. Since she was a child and I should
certainly have known if anything of this kind had
been the case. (JANE- ELLEN exits into pantry with
CRANE'S plate.)
LEFFERTS. Undoubtedly you are right, Mr.
Weeks, undoubtedly. Yet I confess I never heard
of a girl announcing more than one engagement at a
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN in
time, though once or twice I have known girls who
(During LEFFERFS' speech, as JANE-ELLEN passes
behind TUCKER, he drops his napkin. While
he stoops to pick it up, she takes his plate away.
When he discovers the loss of his dinner it is
the last straw. He looks first at the table, won-
dering where his dinner has gone. Then he
looks after JANE-ELLEN as she exits, partly with
anger and partly with pathos.)
TUCKER. (Exclaiming) Burton, my dinner
CRANE. Excuse me. She's not used to serving,
but she's doing quite well.
(CRANE and JANE, with ice cream, meet face to face
R. CRANE rises and crosses to door R.C. with
chicken and platter, meeting JANE with the ice-
cream bowl. She puts down bowl and takes
platter from CRANE, putting it in pantry.)
CRANE. Pardon me, Mr. Lefferts, I interrupted
you. We were speaking of (Returns to table
and sits.)
LEFFERTS. I was speaking of the fascinating idea
of a young lady being engaged to three men at the
same time.
CRANE. Perhaps that is the coming fashion.
LEFFERTS. (Interrupting) I think perhaps you
might tell us, Mr. Weeks, what the great beauty of
the country looks like.
WEEKS. I can't think this is the time or place for
retailing the charms of a young lady as if it were
a slave market. (JANE-ELLEN takes ice-cream bowl
to WEEKS. )
JANE. (To WEEKS ) Ice cream, sor?
112 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
WEEKS. (Helping himself) Thank you.
LEFFERTS. It does not seem to me that I have
spoken at all disrespectfully of the lady.
TUCKER. Certainly not! Certainly not!
CRANE. It seems to me, Mr. Weeks, if you'll
pardon my saying so, that you couldn't be any more
touchy about it if you yourself had been one of the
young lady's simultaneous nances. (JANE turns
slightly up c., laughing.)
(TUCKER has been looking with admiring eyes at the
ice cream, and when LEFFERTS has helped him-
self he naturally thinks he will be served next,
and turns, almost putting his hand out to take,
the spoon, when JANE-ELLEN deliberately passes
him and goes to CRANE.,)
WEEKS. Nothing of the sort, sir. Nothing of
the sort
CRANE. Oh, of course not. Nobody says you
were. Still, I see no reason why you shouldn't give
us a hint as to whether Miss Daingerfield is blonde
or brunette, tall or short. (JANE, on CRANE'S L.,
offers him ice cream.)
WEEKS. (Now thoroughly wretched, with a glance
at JANE-ELLEN) Perhaps, perhaps I see reasons
that you do not. (JANE now passes cream to
TUCKER .)
CRANE. Perhaps. Well, I'll tell you. Jane-El-
len is well acquainted with Miss Daingerfied.
(JANE takes ice cream off.)
WEEKS. Oh, no no.
CRANE. What? Have you forgotten the excel-
lent testimonial the lady gave our cook?
WEEKS. Eh?
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 113
CRANE. I think you were present when Mrs.
Falkner read it aloud.
WEEKS. Oh oh yes certainly. (JANE enters
and goes to sideboard.)
CRANE. (Rising) Jane-Ellen, you've often seen
Miss Olivia Daingerfield?
JANE. (At sideboard. Takes taper from cigar
tray and lights taper at candelabra down R. and
lights spirit lamp on the cigar tray.) Yes, sor, now
and thin.
CRANE. Tell us, what was she like ?
JANE. (Coming forward, thoughtfully) Well,
sor, it's not for the likes av me to say a word ag'in'
a young lady that Misther Weeks admires so much.
('WEEKS flicks his napkin warningly below table to
JANEj All the same, I got me own reasons for
thinkin' there was more in thim yarns about her
bein' numerous engaged than what Misther Weeks
appears to be thinkin'. Servants picks up a good
deal, sor, an' they do say that Miss Daingerfield,
WEEKS. (Bursting out) Olivia!
JANE. Yis, sor, Miss Olivia Daingerfield. There
bein' two av thim, Miss Olivia an' Miss Elizabeth,
and as fer looks, now (Reflecting) Well, she
was a very tall a little taller than yourself.
CRANE. With flashing black eyes, perhaps.
JANE. Yis, sor, an' heaps av blue-black hair.
CRANE. And a deep contralto voice a perfect
goddess, in fact.
JANE. Oh, yes yes a perfect goddess, except
for a bit av a cast in wan eye. (LEFFERTS laughs.)
WEEKS. Nothing of the sort! Nothing of the
sort!
JANE. Well, sor, of coorse, 'twas no more than a
little wee wan, an' ye couldn't be seein' it at all, un-
less ye was very close to th young lady. Mebbe
114 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
that's why Misther Weeks was niver afther seein'
it.
WEEKS. Nothing of the sort.
JANE. An' she had a terrible, dignified way wid
her oh, terrible dignified ! She'd make you shake
in your shoes, she would. (Gets cigar tray from
sideboard.)
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, we're very much obliged to
you. It was perfect. I feel almost as if Miss Olivia
Daingerfield were standing here this moment before
me.
JANE. (Stands R. with tray in hand, then moves
to L. of LEFFERTS. ,) Faith, sor, if she was, wouldn't
it be you that'd be standin' ?
(LEFFERTS takes cigarettes and lighter which she
places on table. JANE crosses to sideboard and
blows candles out.)
CRANE. For my part, I had imagined her as quite
different. I had supposed her, for instance, of me-
dium height, soft blue eyes, soft light brown hair,
and a mouth QANE exits to pantry. CRANE
hesitates and looks at JANE-ELLEN as if for an in-
spiration.)
WEEKS. (Remains seated.) I regret to say, Mr.
Crane, that if this conversation continues to deal
disrespectfully with the appearance of a young lady
(He rises angrily) for whom
(JANE-ELLEN re-enters from pantry with after-din-
ner coffee. JANE-ELLEN serves coffee, serving
as follows LEFFERTS, WEEKS, CRANE and
TUCKER. As she puts down TUCKER'S cup she
also puts sugar bowl down. As TUCKER puts
out his hand to take sugar, she pushes it to
LEFFERTS. The men take cigars and cigarettes.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 115
JANE exits into pantry. The men now settle
down to smoke, leaning back in their chairs.
Taking the cue from CRANE, all expel a cloud
of smoke from their mouths at the same mo-
ment. There is a slight pause.)
CRANE. Disrespectfully ! Nonsense ! Now, I
leave it to you, gentlemen, whether anything disre-
spectful has been said of Jane-Ellen's old employer.
(Murmurs from all, "No! Certainly not!")
!(JANE, having finished, exits into pantry. Ad lib.
talk and bus. of cloud of smoke from each of
the four.)
LEFFERTS. (Having finished) Ah ! That chicken
was delicious and those sweet potatoes, Southern
style um! Can't get 'em up North.
CRANE. Mr. Weeks, you've eaten nothing.
WEEKS. No I I wasn't very hungry.
LEFFERTS. (Solemnly) Late luncheon, Mr.
Weeks ?
WEEKS. Yes rather.
LEFFERTS. Nothing the matter with your appe-
tite, Mr. Tucker.
CRANE. No, Tuck, in all the excitement, I believe
you never missed a stroke. (TUCKER hurriedly
places coffee down and jerks his chair angrily back.)
LEFFERTS. (To TUCKER) You're a friend of the
kitchen. (All laugh at TUCKER.)
TUCKER. Possibly possibly. (Pointedly) How
did you like our kitchen yourself? (LEFFERTS a bit
jarred, coughs.)
CRANE. (Coming to his rescue) How do you
like it, Tuck? (TUCKER coughs. To WEEKS) Nice
kitchen, isn't it, Mr. Weeks ? (WEEKS is just drink-
ing coffe0 and some of it goes the wrong way.)
ii6 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
(JANE enters and goes down to the sideboard.)
WEEKS. Oh, the kitchen's all right, I reckon.
CRANE. (Rising as he sees JANE re-entering)
Gentlemen, stand. (ALL rise, glasses in hand.) To
the ah kitchen !
(JANE exits quickly into pantry.)
LEFFERTS. (All seated again) By the way, where
are all these Daingerfields, anyhow?
CRANE. I understand Mr. Weeks to say that Colo-
nel and Mrs. Daingerfield were abroad. (JANE re-
enters and goes to sideboard.) The Colonel's quite
ill, I believe, or am I wrong?
WEEKS. Yes, that's true.
CRANE. Not seriously, I hope?
(JANE-ELLEN, at the sideboard, closely watched by
CRANE, follows the conversation with the ut-
most anxiety as she puts liqueur glasses on tray.
WEEKS. Unfortunately, yes. There has been a
very serious operation recently in Vienna. In the
absence of the family, I, as their agent, receive their
telegrams and mail. Just before I came here this
evening there was a cable to say that the Colonel was
out of danger.
CRANE. Oh, I'm so glad. (JANE exits into pantry
again.) Of course you have forwarded the good
news to the children?
WEEKS. Oh, yes yes I have.
LEFFERTS. Where are they, did you say?
CRANE. Yes, Mr. Weeks, where are they?
WEEKS. (Who has reached the limit of endur-
ance) I regret I'm not at liberty to say. (WEEKS
rises and crosses to R. )
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 117
LEFFERTS. Oh, I'm very sorry. Really, I
wouldn't have asked for the world.
WEEKS. And what is more, Mr. Crane, I'm afraid
I am pressed for time. I understood Mr. Tucker to
say over the 'phone that you wished to see me on
business, so if
CRANE. (Rising) Certainly of course. I say,
Lefferts, would you and Tucker mind finishing your
cigars in the drawing-room? (Crosses up to door
L.cJ
LEFFERTS. (Rising) Of course not.
TUCKER. (Rising) With pleasure, Burton.
CRANE. You don't mind ? You and Tucker have
so much in common kitchens and things. Eh,
Tuck ? (Going to door, opening it and standing R. of
door.)
TUCKER. Possibly possibly but I understand
that Mr. Lefferts specializes in closets. (He goes
out with an air of dignified triumph.)
CRANE. (To LEFFERTS j Sorry to bother you, but
I shan't be long.
LEFFERTS. Fairy God-father, you may be just
as long as you like. Besides I've a letter to read.
(Produces it.) By the way, you said five thousand
a year, didn't you ?
CRANE. Yes, didn't you understand me?
LEFFERTS. Yes, but I love to hear you say it.
(LEFFERTS exits door L.cJ
CRANE. (Waving WEEKS to chair R.J Please
sit down, Mr. Weeks. (Closes door and sits in his
own chair, facing audience.) Mr. Weeks, I shall
leave this place to-morrow.
WEEKS. What?
CRANE. I have decided to break the lease.
WEEKS. Break the lease?
CRANE. Exactly.
WEEKS. On what grounds ? What do you mean ?
ii8 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
CRANE. The lease stipulated that you were to
provide a staff of competent white servants and you
are my witness that to-night I have nobody left but
the cook.
WEEKS. Oh, come now. We only agreed to pro-
vide the servants. We could not guarantee that you
would not dismiss them.
CRANE. And why did I dismiss them? I'll tell
you the housemaid for calling one of my guests an
old harridan to her face, mind you I could have
overlooked it if it had been behind her back ; the
boy for attempting to assault another guest, and the
butler for re-introducing this same violent boy into
the house disguised as an old man. I really ought
to have them all arrested. I rather think I will.
WEEKS. Oh, I hope I hope you don't mean that,
Mr. Crane.
CRANE. I shouldn't like to feel I had allowed a
dangerous gang to be turned loose on the country-
side.
WEEKS. I give you my word they are not that.
I know all about them.
CRANE. None the less, there is a good deal to be
explained. For example, how comes it that you are
I will not say a welcome but at least an assured
and certainly a surreptitious, visitor to my kitchen?
WEEKS. (Rising, much embarrassed, moves
around above chair.) I do not feel called upon to
explain my conduct to anyone.
CRANE. You refuse to answer?
WEEKS. I do.
CRANE. Upon statutory grounds?
WEEKS. What do you mean, sir?
CRANE. Upon the ground that to answer might
tend to incriminate or degrade you.
WEEKS. (Angrily) No, sir! Certainly not, sir!
And if you think you can
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 119
^ CRANE. Tut! Tut! Another thing; I should
like to ask you how an Irish girl like Jane-Ellen
can be a full sister to a pair of more or less Eng-
lishmen like Smithfield and Brindy ?
WEEKS. Nonsense !
CRANE. Yet that's the case.
WEEKS. Who said so?
CRANE. (Quoting WEEKS ) One of the most ad-
mired and respected young ladies in Virginia, I may
say in the entire South.
WEEKS. What's her name?
CRANE. That, my dear sir, is what I want you to
tell me. (Rises.) Well, sir, what have you to say ?
(Comes round back of table.)
WEEKS. Nothing.
CRANE. Do you deny that Brindlebury and Smith-
field and Jane-Ellen are brothers and sister?
WEEKS. I I don't see what that has to do with
it.
CRANE. You don't deny it ?
WEEKS. No ah and I don't affirm it.
CRANE. And you don't explain it ?
WEEKS. No. (Crosses to L. end of table.)
CRANE. And for all I know, Araminta is by
Jove ! (Enter JANE-ELLEN from pantry. CRANE
moves R.C. behind table.) Jane-Ellen (She
stops on the way to the sideboard.) Come here,
please. Jane-Ellen, is Araminta your sister?
JANE. (Hesitates, glances at WEEKS, then back
to CRANE, j Well, sor, ye see, I feel as if she was
we've been that long togither, sor an' she always
so swate and obligin' to me an' everythin' the like
o' that an' oh, sor, ye'll be excusin' me jist the half
av a minute, sor. I got some apples bakin' in the
shtove. (She bolts from the room into the pantry.)
CRANE. (Looks at WEEKS a moment, then comes
120 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
down R. of table.) There are four Daingerfield
children, I think you said?
WEEKS. Yes, four.
CRANE. Two boys and two girls?
WEEKS. Yes. (A pause.)
CRANE. Mr. Weeks, have you the assurance to
stand there and tell me, as a Southern gentleman,
that you think I have been treated down here with
all the consideration I deserve?
WEEKS. I think, on my honor, sir, that you have
been treated with unparalleled distinction, sir.
CRANE. Well, I have lived in one continuous
three-day riot, if that's what you mean. Have you
anything else to say?
WEEKS. No, sir nothing.
CRANE. In that case, I've no more to say except
good evening.
WEEKS. Good evening. (Moving up.)
CRANE. (Moving to mantel c.) I shall break
the lease. If you and the Daingerfields feel your-
selves aggrieved, you have my permission to sue.
WEEKS. But but my dear sir, if if you only
knew
CRANE. Perhaps but I don't and you won't
tell me.
WEEKS. I I oh! I can't I can't, and that's
the truth!
CRANE. Then good evening, Mr. Weeks.
(WEEKS is about to go, but returns.)
WEEKS. (Up to CRANE) One more thing it's
about you and and Jane-Ellen staying here all
alone.
CRANE. Oh, yes, you're concerned about the
cook's reputation.
WEEKS. Ye-es, I I am, sir.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 121
CRANE. Really, Mr. Weeks, don't you think this
is carrying Southern chivalry rather far?
WEEKS. No, sir, I don't.
CRANE. (Ringing the bell) Very well, we'll let
let the cook decide for herself. If she likes she can
go and stay the night with my chauffeur's wife.
WEEKS. (Scandalised at this, too) Mr. Crane!
CRANE. Dear me! Mr. Weeks, you seem very
hard to please.
(Enter JANE-LLEN from pantry.)
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, in a little while you and I
are to be the only persons left under this roof. This
idea strikes Mr. Weeks as undesirable. How do
you feel about it?
JANE. Me, sor?
CRANE. Would you like to go and sleep with
my chauffeur's wife?
JANE. Faith, sor, an' I don't think I would. Sure,
I'm much obliged to Misther Weeks, but I'm not
afraid.
WEEKS. But think think what will people say?
JANE. Faith, Mr. Weeks, they'll know nothin' at
all about it, av you was to hould ye're tongue. (She
goes to sideboard.)
CRANE. You see, Mr. Weeks. Anything else ?
WEEKS. (Almost purple with indignation) I I,
shall go at once and find her brothers. (Going.)
CRANE. (With a cry) Ah! Then you do admit
it!
WEEKS. Admit what?
CRANE. That they are her brothers.
WEEKS. (Shouting a mixture of rage and grief)
No, I don't! (With this he rushes from the room,
closing door L.C. after him. Pause. CRANE goes
down L J
CRANE. Please sit down, Jane-Ellen.
JANE. Thank ye, sor, but I'd rather be standin'.
CRANE. Just as you please. I shall be leaving
right after breakfast.
JANE. What, sor? (CRANE moves to c. in front
of table.)
CRANE. I have told Mr. Weeks that I've decided
to break the lease.
JANE. Sure, ye could get more servants in a day
or two. Misther Weeks was goin' to do that, any-
way. An' I'd be stayin' on till ye could
CRANE. It isn't that so much, Jane-Ellen. The
thing has not turned out as I had er expected.
My guests have all left me in various stages of
anger and well, my holiday's spoiled. I shall go.
JANE. Sure, 'twill be cruel bad news for for
the young Daingerfields, I'm thinkin'.
CRANE. I daresay they won't mind my going.
JANE. Ah, or, 'tis worse than that far worse.
They'd never have been rentin' the old place if they
hadn't been near starvin'.
CRANE. (Kneels on chair) You're very much at-
tached to them, eh, Jane-Ellen?
JANE. Ye might say that, sor.
CRANE. Especially to the old Colonel, eh ?
JANE. Yes, sir.
CRANE. But the tall, dark-eyed Miss Olivia, you
don't care much for her ?
JANE. Well, sor, if the truth was known she's
got her points.
CRANE. But you couldn't stand the woman any
longer.
JANE. What's that, sor?
CRANE. You were tired of seeing her around the
place. Didn't you say so?
JANE. Oh, well, faith I didn't care what I was
sayin' to that ould to that Mrs. Falkner, beggin*
your pardon, sor.
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 123
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, something was said at dinner
that distressed me deeply.
JANE. Who was it said it?
CRANE. You.
JANE. Me, sor?
CRANE. I was sorry to hear that you believed in
Miss Olivia's triple engagement.
JANE. What is it to you, when ye've not afther
knowin' her at all ?
CRANE. Oh, yes, I know her. (A pause.)
JANE. Sure I'm sorry I said anything about a
friemd av yours, sor. I was supposin' she was quite
a shtsanger to ye (She drops her eyes.)
CRANE. (Pause) I wonder if I shall ever really
know her. At times she seems very near, as near
as you are to me and, again, suddenly, like a sprite,
she dances far away. Why does she do that, Jane-
Ellen?
JANE. Belike, sor, belike 'tis only her way.
CRANE. I was afraid that perhaps it was because
she didn't trust me. Do you think it could be that?
Jane-Ellen, I love her. (Kneels in chair c. toward
her. Catches her hand. A pause) Will you tell
her when you see her ? (Pause.)
JANE. You must take a poor girl's advice an'
don't be hasty. Indade, she's a good bit av a minx.
(Pause.) Are ye quite sure, now
CRANE. Yes, yes. She's the most adorable crea-
ture I ever saw. And if she will not love me
JANE. (After a little pause, taking half a step
toward him) Faith, your honor, an' what then if
she will not love you? (CRANE drops hand.)
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, were you ever abroad in the
early morning in the springtime just before the
sun had risen?
JANE. Faith, then, I was.
CRANE. Well, then, you may remember that the
i2 4 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
trees, the flowers, the grass, the water, the sky all
the earth seemed waiting, hushed, with its fingers
on its lips waiting for the dawn. All my life's
been like that, Jane-Ellen, waiting, watching, for the
loveliest, the sweetest thing to happen. And now
now when it's so near
JANE. (After a pause) Sure. Tis very deep
an' chilly at that hour o' the mornin'.
CRANE. (In despair ttirns down L. a little.) Ah,
you're making fun of me !
JANE. Not me, your honor. Faith, 'tis not me-
silf c'u'd iver be that bould.
CRANE. Jane-Ellen, in a little while, when I pass
through that door, it may be for the last time, and
though I may never see her unforgetable face or
hear her blessed voice again, all that I am and hope
for is hers. And though her heart may never turn
to me I still shall bless her name because it is so
wonderful to know that anything so lovely as herself
can be. And that's my last message to her, Jane-
Ellen. Do you think you can remember to tell her
that?
JANE. Sure, then, I'll try. Only only she's that
conceited there'll be no livin' wid her at all, at all.
CRANE. But you must tell her just the same.
You will?
JANE. Faith, then, I will.
CRANE. Thank you. (He puts out his hand for-
mally. She lets him take her hand. Suddenly he
lifts it to his lips, then lowers her hand and turns
to go.) And now, good-bye, Jane-Ellen, good-bye.
(She pulls him back to original position.) Jane-
Ellen!
JANE. (With a little curtsey) Did you really
like me cookin'?
CRANE. Olivia! (They embrace.)
CURTAIN
ACT I
Three framed pictures (2 still life, 1 portrait).
One bell pull fastening.
One tapestry bell pull, brass end pieces.
Two brass curtain rods (12 rings on each).
Four brackets, supports for same.
Two pairs of grey curtains.
Large Axminster carpet (fawn).
Two Axminster rugs.
One Persian rug (brown).
One large blue and white vase.
One mahogany bracket clock.
One large painted satinwood settee.
Four small painted satinwood chair*.
Two arm painted satinwood chairs.
One Chesterfield.
One round painted aatlnwood table.
Three cushions (2 tapestry, 1 black satin).
One gilt French clock.
One Adam brass and iron fire grate.
One painted and inlaid satinwood writing desk.
Two coffee cups and saucers.
Two coffee spoons.
Electro-plated spirit lamp.
Small silver cigarette box.
Coffee.
Matches.
Cigars.
Cigarettes.
Letter (with cheque).
Letter (reference).
Two email ash trays.
One French footstool.
One circular gilt mirror with eagle.
One brass fender.
One set brass fire-irons.
One embroidery fire screen.
Two blue and white china bowls.
Two blue and white china vases (straight).
Three blue and white ohina vases with lids (1 not
Artificial roses.
Artificial chrysanthemums.
American magazines.
Miniature in oval gilt frame on table Ii. C.
Bag of golf clubs by door.
Attache case.
Strap.
Books.
Blotting pad.
Pen -tray.
Ink pot.
Pens.
Handbag with Initials O. D.
Duster.
Motor horn (Klaxon).
Door knocker.
Small round salver.
127
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ACT B
White stone sink, with plug on brass chain and waste pipe.
Stand for sink.
Braining board with hinged trestle.
Iron pump (secured with bolts).
Board packing for pump with bolts to secure to flat.
Shelf with attached brackets (pin hinges to cupboard backing).
Six bells with pendulums on board; three bells wired, clips to
attach whole to flat.
Green blind to window, clips to attach.
Two small rush-seated arm chairs.
Kitchen table covered American cloth.
Dresser with shelves.
Small kitchen table.
Pot rack with hooks, clips to attach to fiat.
Kitchen range.
Towel roller and supports. Clip to attach, to door,
Small flour barrel on dresser.
Coal scuttle.
Ice cream freezer.
Picture in frame (Geo. Washington).
Two roller towels.
Scrubbing brush.
Dish ni op.
Iron cau^uron.
Dustpan.
Hand brush.
Two brooms.
Mop.
Bannister brush.
Seven tins (provisions).
Enamel tray.
Plates to break.
Broken plate.
Six dishcloths.
Box containing boot-brush, pair of boots.
Two Willow pattern dishes on dresser.
Twelve Willow pattern plates on dresser,
Threa ;*ugs.
One enamel mup.
Two large bowls.
Two basins.
Tin of baking powder.
Sieve.
Packet of quaker oats.
Ironing board.
Two copper saucepans with lids.
Two small frying pans (copper).
Two large frying pans (copper).
Five baking pans.
Grid iron.
Five wooden spoons.
Kitchen clock.
Iron holder.
Pepper pot.
129
130 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN
Salt Shaker.
.Sugar dredger.
Kettle (large iron).
.<'lat iron.
Potato knife.
Kitchen knife.
Kitchen fork.
Plate.
Jam pot.
Stone bottle.
Nutmeg grater.
Three white cups.
White bowl.
Blue and white cup.
Two lace collars.
Chicken.
Blue, white and gilt disln
Two enamel bowis.
Blue and white Jug.
Tin bowl.
Grease.
Flour.
Cornmeal.
Doughnuts.
Butter.
Treacle.
Sherry.
Nutmeg.
Parsley.
Eggs.
Milk.
Handkerchiefs,
Letter.
Cablegram.
2
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ACT US
Oval dining table.
Six small chairs.
Persian rug.
Large Sheraton sideboard.
Mahogany serving table.
Mahogany firescreen.
Two 1 mahogany knife boxes
Square Turkey carpet.
Butter tray stand.
Green folding screen.
Oak fender.
Steel fireirons set with stand.
Bell pull fixing.
Printed linen bell pull, brass ends.
Bronze and marble clock.
Two bronze and marble ornaments.
Half round mahogany side table for oetweec wind'
Two pairs brackets for curtain rods.
Two curtain rods and rings doubled cram At L
Two pairs green silk brocade curtains.
Large blue and white vase.
White table cloths.
Table napkins.
Two three armed candelabra.
Carving knife and fork.
Dinner bell.
Set of six dish mats.
Two wine decanters.
Four sherry glasses.
Four large wine glasses.
Small plated salver doubled from A<Jt i.
Two plated forks.
Seven plated table spoons.
One plated soup ladle.
Four plated tea spoons.
Four plated coffee spoons.
Four large knives.
Four small knives.
Blue and white flower bow! doubled from At *
Artificial roses.
Plates, bread basket.
Two glass salt cellars.
Two plated salt spoons.
Glass and platfd butter dish.
Plated butter knife.
Glass dish.
Plated pepper pot.
Glass and plated salt shaker.
Wine basket.
Water bottle.
Four glass ice plates.
Plated dish with lid.
Plated spoon.
Small oak trey.
Cigar box.
Silver cigarette box.
Spirit tamp doubled from Act &
IS*
COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN i.3S
Pour soup plates.
Five meat plates.
Three vegetable dishes.
One meat dish.
Oak butler's tray.
Cut glass bowl.
Large plated tray.
Pour coffee cups and
(2 doubled from Act I).
Plated sugar basin.
Plated sugar tongs.
Plated cream jug.
Almonds.
Olives.
Salt.
Sherry.
Port.
Bottle of aiarat.
Coffee.
Sugar.
Soup.
Butter.
Bread.
Cornbread.
Chicken.
Doughnuts.
Vegetables.
Ice cream.
Cigarettes.
Cigars.
Matches-
Cablegram.
Letter.
Wig and vrhislci
LIGHTING PLOT
ACT I
SCENE 1
Footlighta. 2 circuits white.
1 circuit dark amber.
No. 1 Border Lights. 2 circuits dark amber.
Side Lights R. and L. Flood. Frost & Straw.
Strip Lights. Outside Door C. 2 dark amber strip lights.
Outside windows L. 2 white strip lights.
1 dark amber strip light.
Stage. Outside windows L. Bunch lights. Frost and Straw.
SCENE 2
Footlights and No. 1 Border Lights as Scene I.
Side Lights R. and L. Flood. Frost and dark amber.
Strip Lights. Outside door C. 2 dark amber strip lights.
Outside 1 windows L. 3 blue strip lights.
Outside windows. Bunch lights. Frost and steel
blue.
Chandelier. 2 dark amber candle fittings alight.
ACT II
Footlights. 2 circuits white.
1 circuit amber.
No. 1 Border Lights. 2 circuits amber.
Sidelights R. and L. Frost and straw. Flood
Stage. Small amber strip lights in door up R.
2 amber strip lights outside window and door R. C
2 bunch lights. Straw and frost on back cloth.
1 amber strip light outside door down L.
1 orange-red bulb in kitchen etove.
1 electric heater in stove.
ACT III
Footlights. 2 circuits white.
1 circuit amber.
No. 1 Border Lights. 2 circuits amber.
Sidelights R. and L. Flood frost and dark amber.
Stage. 1 amber strip light outside door R. C.
1 amber strip light outside door L. C.
3 blue strip lights outside windows L.
1 bunch lights outside windows L.
Chandelier. 3 amber bulbs.
Table lamps. 2 single table lamps on mantelpiece C.
134
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