A A 1 2 2 3 7 5 4 3302 Wiggin Old Peabody Pew THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES Hie Old Peabody Pew: dramatized by Kate Douglas Wiggin: From ler book of the same imuel French: Publisher 8-30 West Thirty-eighth St. : New York Samuel French, Ltd. 26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND LONDON PRICE 35 CENTS The Old Peabody Pew: Dramatized by Kate Douglas Wiggin: From her book of the same Title. Samuel French: Publisher 28-30 West Thirty-eighth St. : New York Samuel French, Ltd. 26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND LONDON PRICE 35 CENTS COPYRIGHT 1917, BY KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN TS 3322 THE OLD PEABODY PEW This is an elaborately revised and extended ver- sion ot " The Old Peabody Pew ", and is fully pro- tected by copyright. Permission to act, read publicly, or make any use of it must be obtained from SAMUEL FRENCH, 28- 50 West 38th Street, New York. It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of royalty of five dollars, each performance payable TO Samuel French three days before the date when the play is given. Professional rates quoted on application. The tnithor suggests that there be no really eccentric dressing of the characters. Use old- fashioned costumes of twenty, thirty or forty years a^o: Nit the moment that the costuming is over- done the play suffers in consequence. Whenever this play is to be produced the follow- ing note must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play : This play is a dramatization by Kate Douglas Wi^rHn of her own story entitled " THE OLD PEA- BODY PF.^V ". and it is produced by special arrange- ment w'th SAMUEL FRENCH of New York. vfitq iK ^*~.-7f<'S'! *; f: THE OLD PEABODY PEW (WRITTEN PRINCIPALLY FOR USE IN OLD-FASHIONED CHURCHES.) Wing pews right and left and a pulpit platform connecting them furnish the stage. The wing pews must be kept vacant -for the use of the players. The pulpit may be removed or set back close to the wall. The three pulpit chairs, with other plain wooden ones of old-fashioned style, furnish seats for the Carpet Committee. The audience must be put in the right spirit and given a general knowledge of the story by hear- ing the following extracts from the book. The sexton rings the church bell three times, and then three times again to preface the appearance of the reader. This is very important as the play needs no curtain and can even dispense with foot- lights. The ringing of the church bell fixes the attention of the audience and sets the key for the performance. THE READER " Among the other hills of Edgewood, Tory Hill holds its own for peaceful beauty, and on its broad summit sits the white-painted meeting house. The old church has had a dignified past, dating from that day in 1761 when young Paul Coffin re- ceived his call to preach at a stipend of fifty pounds sterling a year. But that was over a hundred and fifty years ago and much has happened since. The chastening hand of time has lain somewhat heavily 6 THE OLD PEABODY PEW on the town as well as on the parish. When the sexton rings the bell nowadays, on a Sunday morn- ing, it seems to have lost some of its old-time strength, something of its courage ; but it still rings, and although the Davids and Solomons, the Mat- thews and Marks, of former congregations have left few male descendants to perpetuate their labors, it will go on ringing as long as there is a Tabitha, a Dorcas, a Lois, or a Eunice left in the community. This sentiment had been maintained for a quarter of a century, but it was now especially strong in Edgewood, as the old Tory Hill Meeting House had been undergoing for several years more or less extensive repairs. Mrs. Jeremiah Burbank was the president of the local Dorcas Society, and under her progressive rule there had been a new chimney, a new furnace and a cabinet organ. The greatest struggle of all had been for the women to earn enough money to shingle the roof, which had persisted in leaking for nearly half a century in spite of all expert advice and suggestion from the male members of the parish. The leaks were finally stopped and the Dorcas sisters leaned back in their rocking-chairs, draw- ing deep breaths of satisfaction. This temporary suspension of responsibility continued until a visitor from a neighboring city was heard to remark that the Tory Hill Meeting House ^vould be one of the most attractive churches in the state if only it were suitably carpeted. At the next meeting the Dorcases wearily took out their lead pencils, and when they had multiplied the surface of the floor by the price of carpet per yard, each Dorcas attaining a result entirely different from all the others, Jthere was a shriek of dismay, for the product would have dismayed a Croesus ! Time sped and efforts increased, but the Dorcases were at length obliged to content themselves with THE OLD PEABODY PEW 7 carpeting the pulpit platform and steps, their own pews, the choir and the two aisles, leaving the floor in the remaining pews, and the cushions for them, until some future year, unless certain prosperous or energetic parishioners, yielding to the force of ex- ample, should carpet and cushion their own pews. How the women cut and contrived and matched that hardly bought ingrain carpet, in the short December afternoons that ensued after the pur- chase ; so that, having failed to be ready for Thanksgiving, it could be finished for the Christmas festivities ! Many of you have belonged to such a band of faithful workers and when, in a moment, you see and hear them talking as they cut and stitch and sew it will seem like a little page of life opened before your eyes ! The love story too, that is hinted at in the first act as having begun in the church long ago, will be finished in your presence. Is there anything strange or out of place in that? Is it not possible that many and many a modest romance has begun and grown under the shadow of this old steeple ; one quite unlike that of this author perhaps, but still a romance ? That of Kate Douglas Wiggin is an imaginary one of the meeting and the parting of two undeclared lovers ; the secret wait- ing of the woman, the hopeless struggle of the man, and the glad reunion of the two in the house of the Lord, where their friendship had blossomed into love. Here the Reader leaves the printed text and speaks the following lines. So run the opening chapters of the book. Now at the background will you take a look? 8 THE OLD PEABODY PEW There is the Peabody Pew the right wing, Number Two (It's all pure fiction, any pew would do!) ; And this the very church, or so we'll make believe; And now for you the romance we will weave Of brightly colored threads with those of gray, Ending, like all true love tales, in the nicest way. The Dorcas members are the real thing, though; When Duty calls they never answer " No." Listen! they'll all be here in just a minute! You'll see the play and likewise you'll be in it ! You are the congregation ; do your share ; We'll act as if you really were not there! Attention, please ! The second bell you'll hear, And straightway then the players will appear. [The sexton rings the church bell three times. THE OLD PEABODY PEW ' ! ACT I CHARACTERS THE CARPET COMMITTEE of the Edgewood Dorcas Society : MRS. BAXTER, the minister's wife. MRS. BURBANK, president of the Dorcas Society. MRS. MILLER, wife of Deacon Miller, the sexton. MRS. SARGENT, a village historian. THE WIDOW BUZZELL, willing to take a second risk. Miss LOBELIA BREWSTER, who is no lover of men. Miss MARIA SHARP, quick of speech, sound of heart. Miss NANCY WENTWORTH, who has waited for her romance ten years and JUSTIN PEABODY, sole living claimant to the old Peabody pew. [One of the entrance doors of the church (both of cor.rse being behind the audience} opens audibly, end MRS. IERE BURBANK conies bustling in, zvith LOBELIA BREWSTER well in the rear. The voices are loud, as in an empty church. MRS. BURBANK (halfway up the aisle, calls back) : Shut the door after you, Lobelia ! Deacon Miller's. 9 10 THE OLD PEABODY PEW made us a good fire ; the church feels real com- fortable, and we want to keep it so if we can, with the committee comin' in every ten minutes. LOBELIA BREWSTER (coining in, and up the aisle) : "We're trie first, as usual ! Maria Sharp's got the ; key, and promised to be here at two o'clock. I don't know what we'd do if we couldn't unlock the church door with a hairpin, new-4hafr the minister has these ^pew^angled notions against keepin' the key under a brick by the steps. ' - MRS. BURBANK (ascending platform, where there are chairs and several heaps of carpeting on which work has evidently been done the previous day)': I don't know as it pays to be first, anywheres, Lobelia. LOBELIA (following her) : I guess it does, Mrs. Burbank. Perhaps that's the reason you're the Dorcas president. MRS. BURBANK : I never could make out the reason, so perhaps that is it ! I've got to take off my hat ; I can't ever seem to do good sewing with it on. --GaiFyeti? (Smooths her hair) LOBELIA (taking her hat off) : Yes; I don't mind. I could sew as well as some of the Dorcas members if I took my head off! MRS. BURBANK (laughing) : You might say that of quilting; but I guess the most of us are equal to earpct- sewing, Lobelia/ ( They take off wraps and put on aprons. MRS. BURBANK looks toward door) Here comes Mrs. Miller. (Calling down the aisle) : Close the door quick, Sarah Ellen! There's an awful draught! {MRS. MILLER bustles up the other aisle. MRS. MILLER : Why, I thought I'd be first. You been here long, girls? THE OLD PEABODY PEW II LOBELIA (getting ready for work): Oh, no! Not more'n a couple of hours. MRS. MILLER (taking off wraps and putting on apron) : A couple of hours! That's good! You will have your joke, Lobelia ! Mis' Sargent is right behind me, just coming over the brow, of the hill, and the minister's wife'll be here soon. LOBELIA : Well I declare, she's too good to last, Mis' Baxter is ! I don't know what the Lord was thinhin' about when He sent us a minister that could preach, and a wife that would work ! MRS. MILLER (taking a position where her speech can be heard) : And a perfect lady besides ! Yes.; I consider we're fixed for time and eternity, if only the Baxters'll stay, i'm so afraid -he-'ii-get ' 'arfiefter call that I always want to cover him up with a tablecloth whenever a stranger comes into meeting. [Constant business, to be worked out at rehearsal: taking off wraps and hats and hanging them over pews; putting on aprons; taking out workbags; and settling down to work, but not so soon as to make a long, monotonous scene of sewing. MRS. BURBANK (Who is now sewing) : I feel just the same as you do about the Baxters. Of course, my being away from the village for a few years, I lost track of some of the ministers. LOBELIA (sewing) : Well, you didn't miss much. Some of 'em was good ministers, and some of 'em was good men, but hardly one of 'em was both. And that last one never even got 'round to being a human creeter! He was a tip-top preacher and when he came to sociables and picnics, always lookin' kind o' like the potato blight, I used to think how complete he'd be if only he had a foldin' pulpit under "his coat-tails. They make foldin' beds nowadays, 12 THE OLD PEABODY PEW an' I s'pose they could make foldin' pulpits if there was a market for 'em. [Enter MRS. SARGENT. MRS. SARGENT (bustling up aisle quickly} : Fold- in' pulpits ! (Slight pause while the interest of her entrance holds the audience} Land sakes, I hope there won't be ! I'm no friend to foldin' beds ; but if they should invent a foldin' pulpit, the world would be duller than 'tis now ! [Enter MARIA SHARP by the aisle on the other side. MARIA: What's that about foldin' pulpits? I hope the Dorcas Society ain't goin' into that busi- ness! MRS. BURBANK : No danger ! Did you shut the outside door, Maria? MARIA: 'Course I did. I met Mr. Baxter just comin' from the Post-office. He had a letter in his hand for Nancy \Ventworth. If she stops to read it she won't get her share o' carpet done. MRS. MILLER : She'll stay later, then ; she always does. (With meaning, to the others} : Say! The minister took her a letter yesterday, so that makes two, now, this week. Mis' Buzzell's brother in Berwick says she had considerable attention when she visited there last winter. I hope we ain't goin' to lose her. MRS. SARGENT : No danger ! We shan't ! When a girl's so young she hasn't got any mind it's easy enough for her to make it up. When she gets to the thinkin' age it's a dif 'rent pair o' shoes ! MARIA : That's so ! As I can testify. LOBELIA : Yes ; if you once get to comparin' men you might as well give up all idea of gettin' married. THE OLD PEABODY PEW 13 Mebbe there's a little difference in men-folks but I guess there ain't any in husbands ! MRS. MILLER: I never thought Nancy had given up hope. She wears red an' I always think that's a sign. MRS. BURBANK (with a smile) I think Nancy's red cape just suits her. It shows cheerfulness and courage. MARIA (has been taking off her rubbers and un- pinning the skirt of her dress during the last speeches. She is now putting many pins into her mouth, and then sticking them into her waist} : Well, Nancy'd better get what attention she can in Berwick. There's none to spare hereabouts ; and what there is Jane Buzzell takes when she can get it. Some- times I think widders are worse'n old maids that way. MRS. SARGENT : There was plenty of attention for Nancy Wentworth once, for she was about the prettiest girl in Edgewood. She's pretty now ; but she has a sad look she never used to have ten years ago. She had no eyes for anyone but Justin Pea- body then. LOBELIA : Humph ! Men's eyes don't always face the same way as women's. MRS. MILLER (sewing, but speaking so as to get everybody's attention} : Well, if Justin Peabody hadn't gone away from Edgewood and stayed away I always thought that would'have been a match. Nancy never let on a word to a soul, from first to last : but all the same, everybody could see she was in love with Justin, and he with her, from the time they was tall enough to sing out o' the same hymn book. MRS. SARGENT : Well of course Justin wasn't in a position to offer marriage to any girl, those days. LORELTA : I never heard that men folks felt they had to oiler anything but marriage to a girl ! They generally think that's enough, without mentioning such triflin' inducements as board an' clothes ! MRS. MILLER : Well if he had offered, and she'd taken him, Nancy would 'a' been 'a' real helpmate. She wouldn't 'a'a leaned too hard on any man. MARIA : Nobody could have leaned on Justin Peabody without tippin' him over. I always liked him, but he wa'n't very stiff backed, Justin wa'n't! MRS. SARGENT : Sh-sh ! There's Nancy now, corning in with the minister's wife. ALL: Hush-sh-sh! [MRS. BAXTER and NANCY WENT WORTH enter from another door than the first one used. ALL: How d'ye do, Nancy. Good afternoon, Mis' Baxter. NANCY (brightly) : How d'ye do, all! Sorry to be late, but I'll make it up by sewing longer. [MARIA begins sewing. She is seated on a corner of the platform in order to break up the stiff line of chairs. MRS. BAXTER: So will I. My custard curdled, and I had to run over to Nancy's and borrow an- other egg. (Ascending platform steps) Excuse my best dress, ladies. The minister's bringing home company to sifpper to-night. MRS. BURBANK : Don't apologize ! We're glad enough to see you, Mrs. Baxter, if you don't take a stitch. [MRS. BURBANK shakes hands. Gives MRS. BAXTEB. her chair and takes another. ALL: Yes, indeed! MRS. BAXTER: Thank you. THE OLD PEABODY PEW 15 LOBELIA : And tell us how to make custard with one egg. I always want two ; but my hens act as if they'd never heard o' custard. [NANCY seats herself and lifts two lengths of carpet. -A^ARiA (standing suddenly, and speaking forcibly, with gesture) : Sakes alive ! Don't take that strip, Nancy! (NANCY starts- at- MARIA'S sudden speech} Jane Buzzell sewed there last time, and the carpet'll fall right to pieces in your hands ! You know her ! She said jshe-'was depending on the tack hammer to work. JANCY: -Ok^ 1 11 T lUinlf T'tt'M'ilrlfc . . . I don't believe we've got more than an hour's sew- ing left, do you, Mrs. Burbank? MRS. BURBANK : I don't think so. ... Oh ! How I wish we'd had the money to buy enough carpet for the whole floor at once ! Sometimes I think our Carpet Committee did wrong to set the example and carpet their own pews and leave the others bare. Just stand up, girls, and look at 'em. [ Each one rises as she speaks, holding work. Then, pointing in turn : MRS. MILLER: There's mine; pink and blue Brussels. MRS. BURBANK: Mine's striped stair carpeting, but I'm not a mite ashamecf of it. MRS. SARGENT: Mine is straw matting; but it's nice and new. MARIA: Mine's a breadth of my parlor tapestry. 'Tain't exactly a church pattern but it cost three dollars a yard thirty years ago ! LOBELLIA : Look at mine ! Red was all I had, and I could pick out my pew from the meeting-house common. The floor looks like Joseph's coat ! MRS, BARTER (graciously) : I mustn't be proud 1 6 THE OLD PEABODY PEW if mine is new and like the aisle strips, for the Dorcas Society gave it to me. MRS. MILLER: Well, you deserve the best, Mis' Baxter. (Patting Mrs. 'Baxter's shoulder; all nod in agreement) NANCY (affectionately) : So she does! I'm going to bring mine over and lay it after supper ; it's all made. Who's going to tack down this piece? (They all sit) - MRS. MILLER: The deacon and Mr. Burbank and Lobelia's father are coming in and try all the lamps to-night ; so they said they'd tack down the platform carpet then. That'll be a mercy! We wouldn't have any trouble if we only had more men folks to help along. LOBELIA (standing to shake her skirt) : Or else none at all ! If it wan't for dogs an' dark nights I shouldn't care if I never saw a man. It's havin' so few that keeps us all stirred up. If there wa'n't any anywheres, we'd have women deacons and carpenters and painters, and get along first rate, for somehow the supply o' women always holds out, same as it does with caterpillars an' grasshoppers. (All laugh) MRS. SARGENT: My goodness Lobelia! Your tongue cuts both ways like a new-fangled bread- knife. MARIA : What's the good, anyway, of our slaving ourselves to death to buy carpeting for all the pews when half of 'em are never set in? [Somewhere during this conversation NANCY must touch some letters carried in her little workbag, as if she were thinking of them. The audience will note this. THE OLD PEABODY PEW 17 MRS. SARGENT (shaking her head sadly and con- fwMm<7)j^_People don't take church going sc seriCuslyas they used to.. LOBELIA: Most of 'em take it so seriously they stay to home ! [MRS. BURBANK has risen and moved to borrow some thread. She stands, threading needle and waxing thread, and is in a position to speak eloquently, her last sentences being a good-natured imitation of a Dorcas Society meeting. MRS. BURBANK (to MARIA) : Don't lose heart, Maria. You know you'd be the last to let the floor go uncarpeted, or have the church closed. (Speak- ing to the whole committee) : We've said dozens of times to one another that we would stand by this old meeting house and keep it from rack and ruin. Our grandfathers and our grandmothers have wor- shipped under this roof. Then isn't it our part to keep it tight against wind and weather? Our fathers and mothers trod this floor. Doesn't that make it a sacred spot to us? This church was handed down to us a hundred and fifty years ago as a precious heritage, and we're going to hand it down to the children, in our turn, sweet and clean, and good and sound. (With a smile and quick - change of manner} : All in favor, manifest it by the usual sign. Contrary minded? It is a vote! [All the women's right hands are raised, and laughter and applause follow. MRS. BURBANK sits. NANCY: Good, Mrs. Burbank! MRS. SARGENT (rising as at a meeting) : There ' never are any contrary minded when Mis' Burbank's 18 THE OLD PEABODY PEW \in the chair. We can't work too hard for our dear Id church ! [RS. BAXTER (rising) : And, being the House of \rod, we are going to take as good care of it, at leasty as we take of our own houses, and have as muchXpride in it. {Sits) MRS. ^BURBANK : (Aside) Isn't she lovely? M.ARiA\(zviping her eyes): I know! I'd work my fingers\ to the bone only I do get discouraged. . . . Nancy, let's sing something. That'd make the sewing go easier. NANCY : Shall we sing " Siloam " ? [A second's paiise of quiet sewing, to change the mood, then NANCY starts the hymn. The women sing very softly, without accompaniment. The hymn may be easily arranged for sopranos and first and second contraltos.] " By cool Siloam's .shady rill, How fair the lily grows ; How sweet the breath beneath the hill, Of Sharon's dewy rose ! Dependent on Thy bounteous breath, We seek Thy grace alone, In childhood, manhood, age, a'nd death, To keep us still Thine own."\ MRS. MILLER (after the voices have died away, looking around the church) : That's a good hymn! It always kind o' rests me ! Oh, if only we could have had the pews painted before we laid the carpet ! MRS. BAXTER: I never noticed how scarred and dirty they were till we began to make improvements. NANCY : The hymn made me think of the story about the poor old woman and the lily. Do you remember ? MRS. BAXTER : I don't think I do. NANCY: Someone gave her an Easter lily, and THE OLD PEABODY PEW 19 she set it in a glass pitcher on the kitchen table. After looking at it for a few minutes, she got up from her chair and washed the pitcher until the glass shone. Sitting down again, she glanced at the window. She had forgotten how dusty it was, and she took her cloth and burnished the panes. Then shj scoured the table, then the floor, then blacked th-' stove before she sat down to her knitting. And of course the lily had done it all just showing by its whiteness how grimy everything else was. MRS. BAXTER : -Thut'u ~t true, ao tho goopcl, NaiiLyt" And I can see how one thing has led to another in making the church comfortable. But my husband says that two coats of paint on the pews would cost more than we can afford just now. MARIA (standing suddenly on the steps of the pulpit platform) : See here! How about cleaning 'em ? I don't believe they've had a good hard wash- ing since the Flood. LOBELIA : What, Maria ? You don't mean the Dorcas to scrub 'em ? NANCY: We've done everything else why shouldn't we scrub? There's nothmg against it in the Orthodox creed, is there, Mrs. Baxter? MRS. BA^ER (smiling) : Why, no. .Eezelciarj himself " cleaned the temple," so the^Bible says, you know. MRS. SARGENT (ft^tipfiantly) : So he did! Don't that beat all for a coincidence? LOBELIA (poking her neighbor) : I guess if there was any real scrubbing Mrs. Hezekiah done it! ^General laughter and Meds-of-appr&va-l) MRS. BURBANK: I declare, girls, we could do it! Or, at any rate, we could wipe off the worst of 'em. I saw Deacon Miller had two pots o' water on the stove, and plenty of cloths, ready to wash the lamp 20 THE OLD PEABODY PEW chimneys to-night. We could use 'em well's not, and then get some more ready for the men folks. MRS. SARGENT : I wish Jane Buzzell would come. She ain't much on fine sewing, but she's certainly an elegant scrubber. [The WIDOW BUZZELL, middle-aged and -very at- tractive, slams the outside door and comes up the aisle, speaking in a loud and genial voice. MRS. BUZZELL: Well, here I am! Who's talkin' about my bein' an elegant scrubber? CHORUS : All of us. MRS. BUZZELL : I bet that compliment had an under side to it. Didn't the sexton scrub the plat- form ? NANCY : Yes. But we're going to wipe down the paint on some o' the worst pews. MRS. BUZZELL: Well, why don't you? And say girls, why don't you scrub the steeple ! The weather vane looks kind o' dusty too. But, I don't care ! I'd rather scrub than sew, any day. LOBELIA : We thought so, Jane, by your com- ing at three, when the meeting was at two ! MRS. BUZZELL: Mebbe you won't be so free with your talk, Lobelia, when you hear I stayed to home frying doughnuts to bring over here to kind o' hearten us up. . . . How you gettin' on ? MRS. BURBANK : We've about finished sewing, Jane. MRS. BUZZELL: I'm glad of that! (General laughter) MRS. MILLER (to MRS. BURBANK) : Then sup- pose you take my piece, Elvira, and let me go and get the water. LOBELIA : I'm through with my piece so I'll go too. If we've got to scrub let's begin before dark; THE OLD PEABODY PEW 21 though I guess we could see the dirt fast enough any time o' night ! MARIA : I brought along some cloths and towels for the men-folks, and left 'em in the back o' the church. They'll come in good. [MARIA leaves platform after MRS. MILLER and LOBELIA. MRS. BUZZELL turns in the aisle and joins them. They go down the aisle and dis- appear quietly to the place where the stove pre- sumably is. This leaves MRS. BURBANK, MRS. BAXTER, MRS. SARGENT and NANCY on the plat- form, first finishing their pieces of work, and then clearing up. This gives opportunity for quiet con- versation about former times and the old Peabody pew. Both here and in the conversation preceding NANCY'S entrance the love story must be clearly given to the audience.] NA.NCY (has folded her work, starts to go down to the Peabody pew) : There is nobody here to clean the right-wing pews, so I will take those. MRS. BAXTER : You're not making a wise choice, Nancy. The infant class sits there, you know. Families don't seem to occupy those pews nowadays, Mrs. Burbank. MRS. SARGENT : I can remember when every seat in the whole church was filled. The one in front was always called the " deef pew," and all the folks that was hard o' hsarin' used to set there. ?,!RS. BAXTER: The front wing pew hasn't been occupied since I came here. MRS. SARGENT : No ; Squire Bean's folks moved to Portland. The one back o' that is the old Pea- body pew where you're standing, Nancy, ain't it? NANCY (turning her face away) : I believe so; it's so Icn^ a^o I can hardly r~m'^er. MRS. SARGENT : I know 'tis because the aisle 22 THE OLD PEABODY PEW runs right up, facin' it. I can see old Deacon Pea- body settin' in that end, same as if 'twas yesterday. MRS. DURBAN K (standing and folding carpet) : He had died before Jere and I came back to live. In my time Justin Peabody sat in the end. Esther, the pretty sister, sat next,- and up in the corner Mrs. - Peabody, in her handsome crepe shawl. You used to sit with them sometimes, Nancy. You and Esther were great friends. NANCY: Yes, we were. (Lifting the old cushion): Oh! What's the use of scrubbing and carpeting when there are only six hassocks ad twenty cushions in the whole church ! I must mend this. LOBELIA (coining up aisle zuitli pail and cloth, and going fo front of left wing} : I shouldn't trouble myself to darn other folks' cushions. ^? MARIA (joining her, and begmning to wipe paint) : I don't know why! I'm going to mend my Aunt Achsa's cushion, though we haven't spoken together for twenty years. Hers is the next pew to mine, and I'm going to have my part of the church look decent, even if she is too stingy to touch her own pew. Besides there aren't any--J^eabodys left to do their own darning, and Nancy was friends with Esther. NANCY : Yes ; it's nothing more than right ->% sidering Esther. [MRS. BUZZELL has come up the aisle with a basket of doughnuts in one hand and a pail in the other. Any noise with pails, or any violent scrubbing must be avoided, especially when one of the char- acters has a "point to" make.} MRS. BUZZELL: Though he don't belong to the scrubbin' sex, there is one Peabody alive, as you know, if you stop to think, Maria; for Justin's alive. THE OLD PEABODY PEW 23 and livin' out West somewheres. At least, he's as much alive as ever he was : he was as good as dead when he was twenty-one, but his mother was al- ways too soft-hearted to bury him. (NANCY shozvs distress at the description of her former lover. A second's pause} Have a doughnut, girls? This is the contribution basket. It'll be kind o' pleasant to take something out of it once in a while, instead of puttin' in. (She passes doughnuts) MRS. BURBANK : I know Justin Peabody's alive and doing business in Detroit, for I got his address ten days ago, and wrote asking him if he'd like to give something toward repairing the old church. MRS. MILLER: Hasn't he answered? [NANCY tries to hide her interest in MRS. BURBANK'S reply. Then, while the others talk, she takes the Bible from the Peabody pew rack, also the letter from her belt or her pocket, opens the envelope, and standing in the pew so that she may be seen, quickly copies the quotations from a certain gospel referred to later.] MRS. BURBANK: Not yet. Folks don't hurry about answering when you've asked 'em for a con- tribution. I wrote to George Wickham he's the mayor of Wells, Montana. WTiat do you think he sent me? (Suspense) Fifty cents. (All show amusement or amazement) When I wrote him a receipt I felt like saying what Aunt Polly did when the neighbors gave her a little piece of beef : " Ever so much obleeged but don't forget me when you come to kill the pig." (Laughter) 'M^RS.- SARGENT (calling to MRS. BAXTER, who is moving toward one of the pew rails in the right wing) : Don't touch James Brace's pew. Mis' 24 THE OLD PEABODY PEW Baxter ! He don't worship with us now. He's turned Second Advent. MRS. BAXTER (good-naturedly) : Well, the pew's Orthodox, Mrs. Sargent, and it needs cleaning. MRS. SARGENT: I'll do it, then. He was in my Sunday-school class, and I feel responsible for him, though he was Maria's beau one time. /(Points this remark at MARIA, who is standing i/p on the pew opposite and wiping the glass of the windows) They say he's going to marry Mrs. Sam peters, who sings in their choir, as \oon as her/year's up. They make a perfect fool oj: him in that church. MARIA (with energ$\from her place of vantage} : You can't make a fooPof a/man that nature ain't begun with. I don't want Kim, and I can't see that Mrs. Peters will better herself much! MRS. BUZZELL (mounting on platform and wiping woodivork of pulpit thairx, where she is in a prominent position):/! don't blame her, for one! I f there's anything fuller than cookin' three meals a day for yourself/and settin'.down and eatin' 'em by yourself, and/ahen gettin' up and clearin' 'em away after yourself, I'd like to know it. I shouldn't want any good/riookin', pleasant-spoken man to offer himself to me, without he expected to be snapped up that's all ! LOBELIA/ (at work on some of the front-pew rails) : You needn't explain, Jane. We all know you're r>eady to take a second risk. (Genial, approval from all, including JANE BUZZELL hcfself) Mfes. SARGENT: If you've made out to get one husband in this county, Jane, you can thank the and not expect any more favors. MRS. BUZZELL (cordially): That's so! I used think my Thomas was poor company, and com- plain I couldn't have any conversation with him; THE OLD PEABODY PEW 25 but land ! I could talk at him, and there's con- siderable comfort in that ! And I could pick up after him\ M\s. BAXTER (now standing in a wing pew and iviping\glass on her side} : It's queer; but it does seem to\nake life worth while to have a man about the house\o take steps for and trot 'round after. NANCY :\Yes, if he's a good one, lik dear Mr. Baxter. MRS. BUZZELL (wiping and dusting on pulpit platform} : Weil, we are all hurnXh an' it don't do to be too partic'lkr. There's vtfst three husbands among the eight wonien scrubbin' here now, and ;he rest of us 's all old maids and widders. Nancy's only housemate is a cat. That /don't hardly seem right, but what can you do? Nfto wonder the men folks move away, .ike Justin P'eabody. A place with such a mess o' women- folk- ain't\healthy to live in ! LOBELIA (putting/ier clothHn a pail of water on a prominent corner of the platform} : I've no patience with m^n, gallivantin' oyer the earth ! I shouldn't wantyfo live in a livelier ^lace than Edge- wood, seems /s though. We wash\and hang out Mondays, icon Tuesdays, cook Wednesdays, clean house and rner.d Thursdays and Fridays, bake Satur- days, and/go to meetin' Sundays. As there ain't but seven days in a week I don't hardly see how they can dp any more'n that in Chicago. . . . Nancy, if you, 'scrub any harder on the Peabody pew you'll ta)re the paint off. There ! I've finished my share, ^tfid I'm going home now. NANCY : This is the third pew I've done. They look pretty clean on this side, Mrs. Burbank. I've got to come back after supper to lay my own pew carpet, and I'll do a little more then, if you say so. MRS. BURBANK: Gracious, no! You've done the worst ones, anyhow. You must all be real tired. (Puts on wraps} MRS. MILLER (coming forward} : Well, 'tain't precisely a novelty to scrub a church Saturday 26 THE OLD PEABODY PEW afternoon, when you've just done your own kitchen floor, and pantry, and shed ! (Looks pointedly at LOBELIA, then getting her things together) MRS. BAXTER: Do you really scrub your shed, Lobelia ? MARIA : Land, yes. She scrubs her hen-house, Lobelia does. LOBELIA : Well, there's a good many that would bear scrubbin' ! Good night, all. (On platform): I declare, now that I look at the floor, il's fairly unchristian, with our spots o' carpet. MRS. SARGENT : We've done our best and let's hope that folks will look up and not down. It ain't as if they was goin' to set in the chandelier. Come r Mis' Burbank, we must be goin'. MRS. BUZZELL: One tiling comforts me, and that is, the Methodist chapel ain't got any carpet at all. MRS. BAXTER (playfully) : Mrs. Buzzell ! Mrs. Buzzell ! MRS. BUZZELL : I only mean, now they can't talk about our spots ! Come on, Maria. I'm goin' home to my beans. Only me to eat 'em and plenty for a good, hearty man ! (Passes dozvn aisle) MRS. SARGENT (starting) : Aren't you coming, Nancy ? NANCY: Yes, in a few minutes. MRS. SARGENT (backing down the aisle and speaking to NANCY and MRS. BAXTER) : You just wait and see if the Methodists don't say they'd rather have no carpet at all than one that don't go all over the floor. I know 'em ! [General business of clearing up, getting on vvraps and moving toward the door has gone on during the last speeches. Good-bys from all, and faint THE OLD PEABODY PEW 27 chatter, growing fainter. MRS. BAXTER is thi last in line. NANCY is putting on her hat and coat. NANCY (calling MRS. BAXTER back}: Emily! Will you come back just a minute? . . . Do you know what I believe I'll do? Christmas and New Year's both coming on Sunday this year, there'll be a great many out to church. Instead of putting down my own carpet, that'll never be noticed, I'll lay it in the old Peabody pew : the minister always goes up that side, and it looks so forlorn ! MRS. BAXTER (beside her, at entrance to Pea- body pew} : I think that's a nice idea, Nancy. The wing pews are so conspicuous, and they're always- empty. But I don't like to have you come back the church'll be so cold. NANCY : Oh, I'll just run home and eat my beans- and brown bread, and come back with the carpet before six o'clock. I'll be all through before the men come in to work. (Hesitatingly} : And Emily! (Goes to platform hurriedly and finds ivorkbag in chair} MRS, BAXTER (turning} : Yes, dear. NANCY : Come here a minute. I want to show you something. (Sits in chair on corner of plat- form, MRS. BAXTER standing beside her on the' steps below, as she takes two letters from zvork- bag} You know Mr. Baxter brought me a letter from New York yesterday, and I told you it had nothing in it but one line, and no signature :. " Second Epistle of John, Verse 12." I looked it up, and it's this (reads from back of an envelope) : " Having many things to write unto you, I would not write with paper and ink : but I trust to come unto you, and speak face to face, that our joy may be full." (Speaking) : I thought at first it was frorrr that Mrs. Emerson who sang in the choir last sum- ,28 THE OLD PEABODY PEW mer, and that maybe she was coming back for Christmas. MRS. BAXTER: She was a good Bible scholar, I remember. Do you suppose she is coming? NANCY: I don't know; but I've got another letter this afternoon. MRS. BAXTER: Another f NANCY: Here it is. Isn't it queer? It says: "" Second Epistle of John, Verse 5." I've just copied it from the Bible (reads from the back of another envelope) : " And now I beseech thee> lady, not as though I wrote a new commandment unto thee, but that which we had from the begin- ning, that we love one another." {The women are close together looking at each other) MRS. BAXTER: It isn't signed, but I'm sure it isn't Mrs. Emerson. The handwriting tells no tales, for it's like print. (Searchingly) : Is there any- body else, Nancy? NANCY: No. (Turning her head and speaking with tears in her -voice) : Once once I thought there might be (brushing a tear away), but it was long ago I've put it quite out of my mind and there's nobody now. MRS. BAXTER (putting her arm around her) : There's Mr. Baxter, and me, and why, Nancy, there's the whole village ! Everybody likes you. NANCY: I know, and I'm grateful; and, Emily (taking both her hands, and speaking with a sense of humor), of course you'd rather have the whole village " like " you than the minister " love " you, wouldn't you? MRS. BAXTER (with an affectionate gesture) : Eorgive me, Nancy. I was trying to say the com- forting thing; but I know that it wasn't true. I wouldn't change my husband for a thousand villages. NANCY : I thought so. Come ; we must be going. THE OLD PEABODY PEW 29 And don't fancy I'm really unhappy; I'm not! (Takes up her belongings} I'm used to it; though the letters unsettled me somehow. [MRS. BAXTER starts ahead down the aisle rather rapidly; when halfway down she speaks back without turning. MRS. BAXTER : You'll have to bring your lantern when you come back, Nancy. NANCY (settling her hat and buttoning up her coat as she walks) : Yes, and my tack hammer, and some clean cloths and towels for the lamps. MRS. BAXTER (turning, half way down aisle): Why not come to supper at the parsonage, Nancy? NANCY (joini/ig her and speaking so as* to be heard plainly} : No, Emily, dear. I've got to feed my cat ! The minister is your family 'Zekiel's mine. [They close the inside door, and noisily slam the outside one, to show the audience they have left the church. {Give time for applause. [After NANCY and the minister's wife have left the church there is a minute's pause, after which the sexton rings the church bell three times, then three times again. Then the Reader rises from his or her seat in the front " body pew," steps out and gives the second extract from the book, giving a hint of the love story during NANCY'S temporary absence from the scene. THE READER " While Nancy is running across the church com- mon, eating her lonely supper and feeding ' 30 THE OLD PEABODY PEW the cat, her only housemate, I will tell you a little about Justin, the only living claimant to the old Pea- body pew. The Edgewood branch of the Peabody family were all of unblemished birth, character and educa- tion, but few of them had ever made good in busi- ness affairs. The farm dwindled during the long illness of Justin's father. His death was soon followed by that of Justin's mother, and then by that of his frail sister Esther. Justin, though only twenty-one, struggled to maintain the home acres and make a living on them; but, although pests of all kinds flourished on his land, the crops never did ! He finally left the farm and engaged in a business in the. nearest city; but it was something quite un- suited to his abilities and after a year of discourage- ment he relinquished that hope of amassing wealth. He came back to Edgewood under a cloud of depression, convinced himself that he was destined to be a failure, and quite upheld in his opinion by the entire neighborhood, who criticized and admon- ished him until he was sore and embittered. He drew his slender patrimony from the bank and left the village without a good-by to anyone but Nancy. Even that was a stiff and formal affair that froze the heart of the girl who loved him, and who believed he only needed to be helped and cheered to achieve something worth while. Justin shook Nancy's hand and told her that he was off for the West, where a position of quite un- known and uncertain character awaited him. His own heart was like lead in his breast ; and there was something in his throat that would have been a sob had he voiced his true feeling ; but turning at the gate of Nancy's house he lifted his hat once more and said : THE OLD PEABODY PEW 31 *' Well ! You'll see me back when my luck turns, Nancy ! " Even that brief phrase had a hint of explanation, a hint of balm in it ; and on that balm Nancy Went- worth had lived, for no messages or letters ever came to supplement it. As a matter of fact Justin's luck never had turned to any appreciable extent. Once in the ten years he had lost money in an investment that bade fair to round out his too slender salary. He had nothing to offer a woman, and his pride forbade the entangling of a wife in his troubled affairs. He always hoped, or fancied he noped, that Nancy would marry, but was particularly glad when he found out twice in his ten years' ab- sence that up to that time she had not. So was life going with him when on a stormy night in December he was walking from his place of business toward the dreary house where he ate and slept. As he turned the corner he heard a woman say to another, while they watched a man stumbling down the street : " Going home will be the worst of all for him to find nobody there! " That was what " going home " had meant for Justin Peabody these ten years ; but he afterward felt that it was strange that the thought should have struck him so forcibly on that particular day. Entering the boarding house, he found a letter with the Edgewood postmark on the hall table, and took it up to his room, his heart beating with mingled hope and fear. He kindled a little fire in the air-tight stove, watching the flame creep from shavings to kin- dlings, to small pine and then to the round, hard- wood sticks ; then when the result seemed certain he closed the stove door and sat down to read the letter. His heart fell to find it from a stranger, but the 32 THE OLD PEABODY PEW writer, Mrs. Burbank, president of the Edgewood Dorcas Society, asked him, simply and graciously, for a contribution to help the women keep the old Tory Hill Church in repair. The very mention of the church sent his thoughts back to his dead father, mother', sister, and another woman who had been dearer than all. Whereupon all manner of strange things began to happen in his head and heart and flesh and spirit as he sat there alone, his hands in his pockets, his feet braced against the legs of the stove. It was a cold winter night, and the snow and sleet beat against the windows. He looked about the ugly room : at the washstand with its square of faded oilcloth in front and its cracked bowl and pitcher; at the rigors of his white iron bedstead, with the valley in the middle of the lumpy mattress and the darns in the rumpled pillowcases. Then he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His soul sickened and cried out like a child's for something more like home. It was as if a spring thaw had melted his ice-bound heart, and on the crest of a wave it was drifting out into milder waters. He could have laid his head in the kind lap of a woman at that moment and cried : " Oh, comfort me ! Give me companionship or I die ! " The wind howled in the chimney and rattled the loose window sashes ; but the pressure of the Edge- wood letter in his hand had worked a miracle. It was a June Sunday in the boarding-house bedroom ; and for that matter it was not the boarding-house bedroom, at all : it was the old meeting house on Torv Hill. The windows were wide open, and the smell of the purple clover and the humming of the bees were drifting into the sweet, wide spaces within. He was sitting in the end of the old; Peabody pew, and THE OLD PEABODY PEW 33 Nancy was beside him dark-haired Nancy, under the shadow of her muslin hat. " By cool Siloam's shady rill, How fair the lily grows ; How sweet the breath beneath the hill, Of Sharon's dewy rose! The melodeon gave the tune, and Nancy and he stood to sing, taking the book between them. His hand touched hers, and as the music of the hymn rose and fell, the future unrolled itself before his eyes : a future in which Nancy was his wedded wife, and the happy years stretched on in front of them until there were little curly heads in the old Pea- body pew, and mother and father could look proudly along the line at the young things they were bring- ing into the house of the Lord. The recalling of that vision worked like magic in Justin's blood. His soul rose and " stretched its wings " as he sprang to his feet and walked up and down the bedroom floor. He would get a few days' leave and go back to Edge wood for Christmas, to join, with all the old neighbors, in the service at the meeting house ; and in pursuance of this resolve he hastily packed his valise and started for the rail- way station without any supper. He did not dare write Nancy after the long silence between them. He wanted to see her and try to guess his fate by a look into her face ; but he could not resist sending a mysterious message from New York and another from Boston. On a sheet of white paper he simply printed the first time : "Second Epistle of John, Verse 12"; and the second sheet carried merely another line : " Second Epistle of John, Verse 5." If Nancy looked up these references and what 34 THE OLD PEABODY PEW woman would not? she might possibly remember a boy-and-girl letter of the same sort that had once passed between them when they were schoolmates. He was a failure. Everything his hand touched turned to naught, but he had never loved any woman but Nancy. If he took the risks, and if she would take them, perhaps after all he could make a better living for two than for one. At any rate he would go home and, if she were still free, tell her that he was an unlucky good-for-naught, and ask her if she would try her hand at making him over. At this moment he has finished his supper at the Tory Hill Tavern and is walking to Nancy Went- worth's house as fast as his feet will carry him. He pauses by the old church, to wonder at its white- ness ; its fresh-painted blinds ; its newly gilded weather vane. A pale, vagrant light wanders from place to place inside the building; one of the outer doors is ajar, and he steps softly into the little entry. Meantime Nancy is there before him, doing her last womanly offices for the dear old Peabody pew. She does not see him, and after a few moments he feels that he is witnessing something sacred, never intended for his eyes ; and filled with love and gratitude and reverence he tiptoes out of the church to knock at the door and give her warning before he enters to put his case before her. TO BE SPOKEN SOFTLY YET DISTINCTLY Now, friends, imagine that you are not here, Nor lights, nor voices ; Nancy will appear To carry on the work she loves so well. She does not know that Justin's come to tell The story that she's waited long to hear ; That story's not for us at all ; her tear, Her smile, and Justin's these shall sacred be, THE OLD PEABODY PEW 35: Forever hidden both from you and me. The sexton for the last time rings the bell ; It's Nancy's entrance and my exit fare you well! [The sexton rings the church bell three times] ACT II [NANCY opens outside door, closes it hard, enters and walks up aisle with a lighted lantern, a ham- mer and a small roll of carpet already cut to fit the Peabody pew, so that it needs little tacking. She puts carpet on the pezu cushions, takes a small kerosene stove from under the front wing pew, lifts it to platform, lights it and puts a flatiron on top. She ascends platform, puts her coat over a chair and takes off her hat. Then she turnsi up the skirt of her dress, goes to the Peabody pew and quickly puts in the few tacks needed to 'keep the pew carpet temporarily in place. She~ is out of sight for a few seconds only, during which the audience hears the tap of the hammer. [Just as she rises, JUSTIN enters noiselessly and comes softly halfway up the right-hand aisle, where he stands motionless, in view of two-thirds of the audience. [NANCY, ignorant that she is watched, takes the" old hymn book from the pew rack, carries it to platform, " tries " the iron, carefully irons out a few of the leaves, turns out flame of stove, kisses the page of the open book, lays it against her cheek and replaces it in the rack. Then she quietly kneels on a hassock in the pezv and bends- her head over the rail in front for just an in- 36 THE OLD PEABODY PEW stant's prayer. NANCY must be within the view of the audience to hold the interest. If the plat- form is too low the ironing may be done on the seat of a chair and she may even kneel there if necessary. The following scene will be more ef- fective if the church can be slightly darkened.] {JUSTIN covers his eyes and bows his head. (NANCY vises in a moment, looks at the pew ten- derly, goes slowly and sadly to the platform, and, just as she is about to put on her red cape, her loneliness overcomes her; she sinks into the chair and, burying her face in the cape, gives way to tears. \Thc moment this happens JUSTIN shows that he feels he is watching what is not intended for his c~!cs. He retreats very softly, " backing " down the aisle on tiptoe quickly and closes the inside door behind him; then knocks once, then twice, more loudly. [NANCY starts, sits up in the big pulpit chair, brushes tears away, smooths hair. JUSTIN (opening door and speaking through the chink): Hello! Don't be frightened! Is Miss Nancy Wentworth here ? NANCY (startled and tremulous) : I'm here. Who what's wanted? JUSTIN (opening the door and striding halfzvay up the aisle): You're wanted, Nancy; wanted badly, by Justin Peabody, come back from the West. {NANCY rises, stands silent, moves toward center of plat f 01 m, her hand on her heart. THE OLD PEABODY PEW 3> NANCY: Is it can it be Justin Peabodyl or is it Justin Peabody's ghost? JUSTIN (coming to end of aisle and facing plat' form) : No, it's Justin Peabody himself. I said I'd come back to you when my luck turned, Nancy. Well, it hasn't turned, after all ; but I couldn't wait any longer for a sight of you? Have you given a thought to me in all these years, Nancy? NANCY: What do you think? You said you'd come back to me when your luck turned. Don't you think I've remembered that? JUSTIN (humbly): I think perhaps you have; for all women are good, and- you are better than the best. But I won't come a step nearer till I tell you that I'm still a failure, as men go ; though I've never loved any woman but you. Does that make any difference ? NANCY (smiling tearfully) : Well, a man isn't wholly a failure who can say that. JUSTIN (stepping nearer) : You ought to despise me for coming back again with only myself and my empty hands to offer you. NANCY : What you've just told me means they aren't quite empty. JUSTIN (with wonder) : Do you count love? NANCY (earnestly) : A woman always counts love. (Coming one step nearer) : Why didn't you write, Justin? How could you keep silent all this time, without giving me a sign, even of friendship ? JUSTIN (one step nearer) : I don't know! I was tuo discouraged to think of anything but my fa.ljre. 1 wasn't sure that you really cared anything about me ; and how could I have written, or asked you to marry me. when I hadn't a dollar in the world? NANCY : There are other things to give a woman besides dollars, Justin. JUSTIN (going nearer but still awaiting a warmer welcome) : Are there? Well, you shall have them all, Nancy, if you can make up your mind to do 38