dotu 
 
 UC-NRLF 
 
 *B a^a 177 
 
http://www.archive.org/details/downeastcomedydrOOadamrich 
 

 »-' DOWN EAST 
 
 A Comedy Drama in Four Acts 
 
 BY 
 
 JUSTIN /aDAMS 
 i^iithor of '' Trtss/' '' At the Picket-line," ''Dawn" 
 
 *' Our Daily Bread" etc, 
 
 6 
 
 .■el#l^. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO 
 
 1900 
 
DOWN EAST 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 EzEKiEL Fletcher, Village postmaster and justice of the 
 peace, 
 
 Charles Desmond, The mail carrier, 
 
 Ralph Thorne, Tourist. 
 
 Jonas Desmond, Charley's uncle. 
 
 Deacon Perkins, Town constable as well. 
 
 Will Wash White, Of Southern ancestry. 
 
 Patrolman Rounds. 
 
 Elizabeth Fletcher, Who keeps things a-moving. Better 
 known as * ^ Bets. ' ' 
 
 Hannah Fletcher, Zeke's boss. 
 
 Myra Bigelow, The village beauty. 
 
 Act I. — The store and post office at Swapstown, Me. 
 Act II. — Jonas Desmond's faritiyard. "^ 
 
 Act III. — Interior of the 61d ^ist-mill. 
 Act IV. — Parlor of the Palmer House, Chicago, during the 
 World's Fair. 
 
 Costumes. — Modern, but in keeping with the locality of the 
 play. 
 
 Copyright, 1897, by Justin Adams 
 
 Ah 
 
 Note. — The author charges no royalty for the presentation 
 of this play by amateurs. 
 
 f. 
 
Down East. /4^/4 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE. — A coiintry store a7id post office. Opening c. showing 
 landscape beyo7id. Door leading to liviiig rooms r. u. e. 
 Counter L. obliqued up and down stage. Upper part of 
 counter has post boxes on it with small ope?iing for passing 
 mail through. Barrels, kegs, etc., itif 7^0 nt of counter. Files 
 of tin cans on counter. Small high desk up R. Sign read- 
 iftg ^'Bicycles repared.'' Other signs hanging aboict, but 
 not too much misspelled. Lights full up. Eight bars of 
 lively music for rise of curtain. 
 
 Enter Deacon Jenkins, c. 
 
 Deacon. Anybody to hum? Well, looks kind o' deserted. 
 Now if I contemplated a raid on the U. S. mail, this would be 
 "iity'opportunity. Hullo ! Hullo ! ! {Bangs counter.^ Fire ! 
 Smallpox ! Hen hawks ! 
 
 Enter Hannah, r. u. e. 
 
 Hannah. You'll find Zeke's gun behind the woodshed 
 door. Where are they, deacon ? 
 
 Dea. Well, they haven't been here yet; but they might 
 have been and carried off all them leghorns of yourn — ^jest as 
 I might have carried off your whole shop and nobody to pre- 
 vent me. Who's tending store to-day? 
 
 Han. Goodness knows. I thought Bets was out here all 
 the Vime. Zeke's gone down to have the mare shod. Bets! 
 jjcts i^"" I wonder where she's got to. {Looking around.^ 
 
 Dea. You may as well look for a needle in a haystack. 
 She's anywhere 'tween here and judgment-day. 
 
 Han. I never saw such a gal. Last night she went out 
 driving. Grandther Levkins thought it would do his rheuma- 
 tism good to take a little exercise, so Bets agreed to drive him 
 out. 
 
 Dea. Did he get the exercise ? 
 
 ^c^ OrfjoMi ^% (lo 9^ C-* 
 
Han. Did he? She dumped him out way down by the 
 sawmill and he had to leg it three miles home. 
 
 Dea. Why I saw him this morning and he was smart as a 
 cricket. 
 
 Han. Well, I guess the walk must have limbered him up. 
 I know the old mare got limbered up. Lost two shoes, broke 
 a trace, and sprung the hind ex of the kerriage. 
 
 Dea. Bully for Bets ! She's putting money in circulation. 
 Mrs. Fletcher, hev you got such a thing as a dog muzzle ? . 
 
 Han. Dog muzzle ! Let me see. 1 think we have, but 
 I'm blessed if I know where Zeke keeps 'em. Bets would 
 know. I wonder where she is. Bets ! {^Enter Myra, c.) 
 Good-mornin', Myra. How's mother? 
 
 Myra. Better, thank you. Is there any mail for us? 
 
 {Goes L.) 
 
 Han. I don't know, Myra, j^t look 'em over and see. 
 
 ._;|-i?vA. ^ (IVIyra goes behind post-office boxes.) 
 
 Dea. Ef there's anything for me there, Myre, jest hand it 
 out. 
 
 MvR.\. All right, deacon. 
 
 Han. Dog muzzle. Let me see. 
 
 Myra. Mrs. Fletcher, how long has Bets been ridi*^^- 
 bicycle ? 
 
 Han. Didn't know she ever rode one. 
 
 Myra. I just met her down the road on one. 
 
 Han. Land's sake ! That's where she is. A gentleman 
 left his bicycle here last night to be fixed and she's appropri- 
 ating it. 
 
 Zeke (outside'). Whoa ! Gol darn you ! You needn't feel 
 so pesky kittenish jest cos you've got a new pair o' shoes on. 
 
 Dea. Here comes Zeke now. 
 
 Zeke (outside). Whoa, I tell you; you needn't be so darn 
 proud of 'em, the neighbors '11 find it out soon enough. ^ 
 
 Enter Zeke. ^ 
 
 Zeke. That old mare o' mine's for all the world like a 
 woman. She's got a new pair o' shoes on and she's been 
 showing 'em off as ef she'd gone barefoot all her life. How 
 do. Miss Myra. What yer doing of? Helping yourself to 
 the United States mail? Jest leave what you don't want, and 
 we'll pass 'em round among the other inhabitants of this ere 
 town. 
 
DOWN EAST. 5 
 
 Han. Don't blame her, Zeke. If you'd stay here and tend 
 to your own business, mebbe folks wouldn't have to sort their 
 own mail. 
 
 Zeke. I left Bets here. Where is she now, breaking up 
 more teams and harness ? 
 
 Han. No, it's bicycles this time. 
 
 Zeke. Great Scott ! You don't mean to tell me she's taken 
 that chap's bicycle ! It'll be her own neck this time. {Shout 
 outside?) What's that? {Goes to door.) By Jehosaphat, here 
 she comes down the hill lick-a-de-split. {Lively music. ) 
 
 Han. She's steering straight for the horse trough. Look 
 out! 
 
 Dea. She's going into it. 
 
 Zeke. Look out, pull on your nigh rein. Look out ! 
 {Crash outside ; Han. screams and faints in Dea.'s arms, l.) 
 She's broken her neck. {Comes down and sits on kegy r.) I 
 knew she would. 
 
 Myra. No ! Only the bicycle. Here she comes. 
 
 Zeke. Is she alive ? 
 
 Enter Bets with bicycle in two pieces. She is a wreck. 
 
 Bets. You bet I am. It takes more'n that to kill me. 
 
 {Gives bicycle to Zeke.) 
 
 Han. You — you mischievous imp — ^just look at your dress. 
 
 Bets. It's right in style for my next ride — a divided skirt. 
 
 Zeke. Look at that bicycle tnat I stayed up all night try- 
 ing to fix. 
 
 Bets. Don't get excited, there's plenty of glue in the shop. 
 
 Zeke. Yes, and there's plenty of string if you'd broken 
 your neck. 
 
 Bets. Did you see me come down that hill ? Phew ! I 
 thought I was coming by telegraph. I was going all right till 
 the critter spied that horse trough. 
 
 Zeke. Critter, what critter? 
 
 ^T7-c Why, tiie bicycle, when it saw that trough. 
 
 HIlY^^. Nonsense, child, the machine can't see. 
 
 Bets. Well, then it smelt it. Anyway it knew the trough 
 was there for it made straight for it. 
 
 Zeke. Well, it stopped when it got there. 
 
 Bets. Yes, but I didn't. I kept straight on. All of a 
 sudden I noticed I didn't have any bicycle under me. 
 
 Zeke. No, but the ground was there. 
 
 Bets. It's a good thing it was, or I'd gone clear through to 
 China, If you ever want to make a statue of me, you'll find 
 
O DOWN EAST. 
 
 my mould out there in the mud about twenty-five feet this side 
 of the trough. 
 
 Zeke. We may want to make a statue to put on your head- 
 stone if you ride any more bicycles. Look at that. I told 
 that chap last night that I could fix it. All the trouble was a 
 spike through the rubber that let the air out. I just cut the 
 hole a little bigger, filled the tube with bran instead of air, 
 sewed the hole up and thought I had it fixed. Now what '11 I 
 say to him ? 
 
 Bets. Tell him you found a weak spot and broke it a pur- 
 pose so's he wouldn't break his neck. 
 
 Zeke. That wheel's gone beyond repair. I'll have to take 
 the wheel off 'n my bran new wheelbarrow to replace it. 
 
 \_Extt with bicycle f R. u. e. 
 
 Han. Bets, you know where the dog muzzles are. Get 
 one for Deacon Perkins. [^Exit r. u. e. 
 
 Bets. All right ! 
 
 (^Gets tape measure and measures his face ^ Deacon sitting 
 on barrel.^* 
 
 Dea. What's that for? 
 
 Bets. I'm trying to find out what size you take. Hold 
 still. Do you want your whiskers to go inside or to hang 
 through ? 
 
 Dea. It isn't for me, you young jackanapes. 
 
 Bets. Who's it for, your wife? I don't blame you. 
 
 Dea. No, my dog. Something's the matter with him; he 
 keeps snapping at things. 
 
 Bets. Say, deacon, have you been trying your sermons on 
 him? 
 
 Dea. I've tried everything I know of. 
 
 Bets. Why don't you try a square meal ? 
 
 Dea. You get me that dog muzzle and stop your shenan- 
 igin. 
 
 Bets. All right, deacon ! Here you go. ( Gives ri^\.^^_ 
 
 Dea. Charge it. If it don't fit, I'll bring it back. \Exit o,. 
 
 Bets. Oh, never mind ! It might fit one of the children. 
 {At desk.) Charge it. Let me see, I forgot the price, but I 
 guess two dollars will cover it. 
 
 Mvra. It's very strange that I don't get a letter. {Comifig 
 from behind counter. ) 
 
 Bets. Yes, it is very strange. Perhaps it's because no one 
 has written to you. 
 
 Mvra. Oh, yes, he must have written. 
 
 
 )g<,,<rr ffi ^ -i^^^ 
 
DOWN EAST. 7 
 
 Bets. He! Which he? What he? Who he? Charley 
 Desmond ? 
 
 Myra. Charley Desmond. No ! A gentleman named 
 Thorne. An acquaintance I made in New York last winter. 
 
 Bets {aside), Thorne. I'll bet it's the fellow that left the 
 bicycle to be fixed. Well, when he sees it now it'll be a 
 thorn in his side. (^Aloud.) I thought you were engaged to 
 Charley Desmond. I don't see what business other fellows 
 have writing to you. Ain't one enough at a time? 
 
 Myra. It might be for you, but I like a little adventure. 
 You couldn't blame me if you saw him. He's a picture, and 
 he's dead in love with me. 
 
 Bets. Who, Charley Desmond ? 
 
 Myra. No, the other fellow. Charley Desmond indeed ! 
 A countryman who'll never rise above the level of a village 
 lout. And to think my father was fool enough to want me to 
 marry such a loadstone. (^Crosses r.). 
 
 Bets (coming c). I don't like to hear you talk that way of 
 him. He's a good, honest fellow. There isn't an out about 
 him unless it's his elbows and knees. But it isn't the clothes 
 that make the man, it's the grub he eats. Joking aside, every- 
 body thinks you are engaged, and if his future wife shouldn't 
 speak well of him, who should ? 
 
 Myra. His future wife ! The very thought makes me sick 
 at heart. 
 
 Char, (outside). Whoa, Emma ! 
 
 Bets. Here he comes now. 
 
 (Bets crosses l. Enter Char., c.) 
 
 Char. Good-morning ! 
 
 Bets. Hullo, Charley ! Speak of the evil one, you know. 
 
 Char. Thanks ! So you were speaking of me. What was 
 it, Myra, good or bad ? 
 
 Myra^-^ It couldn't be good, if it was about your actions 
 latelv.^-^Cr^j-j-^i- up (Z.) 
 
 Char. Goodness gracious ! What have I been doing now ? 
 It seems to me you're taking me to task a great deal of late. 
 What's it all about? 
 
 Myra. Oh, nothing ! I'm not your keeper or your mother- 
 in-law. If you're too obtuse to see your own faults, just listen 
 to the village gossips and learn. [^Exit c. 
 
 Char, (throws down bag). There's the noon mail. Bets. 
 
 Bets (emptying bag behind post office). You don't seem to 
 be very down-hearted by what your future wife just said. 
 
 VSkA^'Y-i^JlM i^ti O^^i^^ Cn^ C 
 
8 DOWN EAST. 
 
 Char. No ! Whatever her suspicions, they're unjust; that^ 
 satisfies me in my own conscience. She's a good girl, but I 
 wish she'd reserve her lectures until we're alone. 
 
 Bets {aside). See the difference between them. He won't 
 say a word against her. {Aloud.) When are you going to be 
 married, Charley? / o c 
 
 Char. I don't know. It seems to be getting farther and 
 farther away. . 
 
 Bets. Yes, like flying a kite, only it's hard to tell who's 
 holdmg the strmg. Look out it doesn't break altogether. 
 
 Char. Or some mischievous person come between and 
 cut it. 
 
 Bets. Would you feel very bad ? 
 
 Char. I don't know. 
 
 Bets {aside). I wish I could find out if he's stuck on her. 
 (^Leaning on counter.) It's strange that your father and her 
 father should have been so sot on the idea of your marrying. 
 
 Char. Yes, it is strange. Sounds like a chapter out of a 
 story, don't it ? 
 
 Wash {outside). Peck of potatoes and a bag of flour. 
 Enters c. and repeats several times to himself. 
 
 Bets. Hullo, Wash, what makes you look so pale? 
 
 Wash. I've been running. I was in a hurry so I wouldn't 
 forget what I was sent for. 
 
 Bets. And what is it ? 
 
 Wash. A bag of potatoes and a peck of flour. 
 
 Bets. You're twisted ; you mean the other way. 
 
 Wash. What, a bag of flour and a peck of potatoes ? No, 
 I don't; I said it all the way down, so's I wouldn't forget it; a 
 bag of potatoes and a peck of flour. 
 
 Bets. We don't sell flour by the peck. You are twisted. 
 {Enter Zeke, r. u. e. ) Ain't he, dad ? 
 
 Zeke. What is it? I reckon I can take the tw^^ out. I 
 took It out of that bicycle, so's it's just as good as ne\v^C^ 
 
 Wash. I want a bag of potatoes and a peck of floor! " ^ 
 Zeke. You go back home and ask 'em if that's right. 
 Wash. Three miles? Say, I think you're fooling me. 
 ii I find out I'm right I'll boycott dis place. 
 
 r- 117 11 T , iExit c, grumbling. 
 
 Char. Well, I must be going. {Crosses up c.) 
 Zeke. Don't be in a hurry, Charley. 
 
 Char. I've got the mail bag for the Corners, and they'll 
 have my scalp if I don't move along. Au revoir, \Ex'it c. 
 
 
DOWN EAST. 9 
 
 Bets. Bon soir ! Say, dad, why is he going to marry 
 Myra Bigelow? Do you think he's stuck on her? 
 
 Zeke. Stuck on her ? 
 
 Bets. Yes, sweet on her. 
 
 Zeke. Oh ! Well, I don't know about that, but her father 
 and his father were very chummy, and they patched up some 
 sort of a bargain to have the youngsters marry. Her father 
 has been dead these long years, and I suppose his father's 
 anxious to carry it out on that account. 
 
 Bets. But where's his father? 
 
 Zeke. Chicago, I believe. Been West for years. Pretty 
 well fixed too, I hear ; at least so Jonas says. 
 
 Bets. Don't you think it best to let people choose their own 
 wives and husbands? 
 
 Zeke. Yes ! I did, so'd your ma, and a pretty mess we 
 made of it too. 
 
 Bets. You don't mean that, dad. . 
 
 Zeke. Well, I s'pose I don't ; the old woman's good enough, 
 but she's got such an all-fired habit of having opinions of her 
 own. 
 
 £nfer Ralph, c. 
 
 Ralph. Now, my friend, have you repaired my bicycle? 
 
 Zeke, Yes, sir, it's as good as new, in fact it's better, for 
 now it's tried and tested. 
 
 Bets (aside). No wonder I couldn't work it. See what 
 long legs he's got. 
 
 Ralph. What's the damage? {Puts hand in pocket?) 
 
 TjY.y.y.. Oh, it wasn't damaged much. 
 
 Ralph. I mean your charge for repairs. 
 
 Zeke. Oh, we'll make that all right — say about five dollars. 
 
 Ralph. Five dollars ! I'm not buying a new one. 
 
 Zeke. Nqj but you may have to. 
 
 Ralph. ^ /Five dollars is exorbitant — an imposition. 
 
 ^■iiEi itiVell, I may shave it a little. How would fifty 
 cents strike you? 
 
 Ralph. That's more like it. 
 
 Zeke. Come out here and see what you think of the job. 
 
 \_Exeunt both, r. u. e 
 
 Bets. I'll bet that's the fellow Myra expects the letter 
 from. I wonder if it's in this mail. {Looks them over.) 
 Yes, here it is ; and here's a letter for Charley from Chicago. 
 Phew ! but it's a big one. Looks like the kind dad gets from 
 Washington. What he calls official business, 
 
 
10 DOWN EAST. • 
 
 Jonas {outside). Whoa ! 
 
 Bets. Here comes Charley's uncle — the worst old skinflint 
 in town. I wish he'd sit down on that keg; I'd like to upset 
 these cans on him. {Hides behind counter?) 
 
 Enter Jonas c. A soft, oily, hypocritical character , with 
 strong nasal twang. 
 
 Jonas. No one here. I wonder if the letter for Charles 
 has arrived yet. I'd give a good deal to intercept it. {Goes 
 toward post office, y 
 
 Enter Ralph, r. u. e. 
 
 Ralph. Ah ! Mr. Desmond ! 
 
 Jonas. Oh Mr. Thorne ! How you frightened me. 
 
 Ralph. Well, have you any news for me ? 
 
 Jonas. What kind of news ? 
 
 Ralph. Regarding Myra. I wrote her last night asking 
 her to be ready to fly with me to-day. I told her to send the 
 answer by you. 
 
 Jonas. I don't think she could have received the letter. 
 You can rest assured though that she is ready and willing to 
 go. I have pumped her on the subject, and her head is com- 
 pletely turned. 
 
 Ralph. Poor little fool ! Well, I'll turn it back for her. 
 Every girl should have a little experience, and if they have it 
 early in life, they'll settle down all the quicker. Here is the 
 plan I propose. I'll ride over to Milton on my bicycle. You 
 bring her in your carriage. There we can take the train, and 
 no one will know us as it's ten miles from here. 
 
 Jonas. I'll do it. When do you start? 
 
 Ralph. Just as soon as my machine is oiled. 
 
 Jonas. Good ! I'll follow in five minutes. \ My team is 
 standing at the door now. \ 
 
 Ralph. But why do you take such an interest itv.tl^s^. 
 
 Jonas. I don't want her to marry my nephew. " 
 
 Ralph. Isn't she worthy? 
 
 Jonas. Yes, but he isn't worthy of her. 
 
 Ralph. Come, tell that to the marines; what's your true 
 object ? 
 
 Jonas. Well, I don't mind telling you. His father, my 
 brother, died lately, leaving a fortune. If he marries her be- 
 fore a year is up he inherits; if he doesn't, the money comes to 
 me. 
 
 vk^^yyiK ^YIaAm ^ fe Jt? (/H C 
 W/t^^ ^K^/^ ^ 7^ Qo (Ai C 
 
Q^yu<jx^ YL^^^dM /\down east. II 
 
 Ralph. Oh ! I see. Well, old man, you may count on the 
 money, and if I'm ever hard up, I'll touch you. 
 
 Enter Zeke, r. u. e. 
 
 Zeke. Your machine's all ready. I used the best axkr 
 grease on the market. ^^^^.^^^^^"^ 
 
 Ralph. All right ! (^Exit Zeke, r. u. E^.-'d^on't go the 
 same way I do ; I'll take the turnpike.^^,^-'^''''^ 
 
 Jonas. All right ! I'll see yop^-efT \^Exit both^ r. 
 
 Bets. Well ! there's apak^ beauts. Here's his letter to 
 her. By Jiminy, he iefgot to seal it. {Takes letter out?) 
 Shall I give it to4»Bflf7 No ! I'll save her if I can. Let me see. 
 Thorne is to ride to Milton on his wheel and Jonas is to take 
 Myra in his carriage. {Goes to c. door.) Oh ! If that horse 
 would only drop dead. I hope to goodness dad '11 make a 
 wreck of the bicycle. This letter I'll keep for the present. 
 Some day, if she gets over her craze for this fellow, I'll show 
 it to her. She'll thank me then as much as she'd blame me 
 now. What shall I do with the envelope ? I have it. ( Goes 
 to desk.) Her mother's grocery bill. {Laughs, puts bill in 
 envelope and seals it.) I'd like to see her face when she opens 
 f\ it. {Goes behind t)ost office.) 
 
 \jijL upf<Mym^ 
 
 Enter Myra, c. 
 
 Myra. Oh, Bets ! has the mail been sorted ? 
 Bets. Yes, long ago, and I think there's one for you; yes, 
 there it is. {Gives it.) 
 
 Myra. Good ! His handwriting. 
 
 Enter Wash, as before. 
 
 Wash. I got it right dis time fo suah, a bag of flour and a 
 peck of potatoes. \^Exit Myka^;^ 
 
 Bets. Are yon dead sure ? ^^v5ot>^ 
 
 /^<^?ffv r-Jad sure for certain. ^f« iTKri 
 
 Bets. I don't believe it. You'd better go back again. /^ jg- 
 Wash. I won't do it. ^-^ 
 
 (Ralph rides by c. door on bicycle,) 
 
 Bets {aside). There he goes. {Aloud.) I'll bet you a 
 dollar you're wrong ; go back and see. 
 
 Wash. It's a go for a dollar. I'll prove it. 
 
 Bets. Take that team at the door and ride the longest way. 
 {Work up quickly.) 
 
12 DOWN EAST. -^ 
 
 Wash. Dat Jonas Desmond's, he'd kill me. 
 Bets. No, he won't. He said I could use it any time I 
 wanted ; take it and ride for your life. 
 
 Wash. All right ; you're to blame. l£xit. 
 
 Bets. Hurray ! Now let's see them elope. 
 
 (^Noise of whip and carriage ; enter Jonas, rutis to c. Bets 
 runs behind counter?) 
 
 Jonas. Who's that with my team? Here, come back; 
 that's my team. 
 
 Ejiter Myra, c. 
 
 Myra. Mr. Desmond, what does this mean ? See, this is 
 his letter to me. 
 
 Jonas (taking if). A grocery bill ! There's trickery here. 
 
 {Starts up c. and runs into Zeke, who enters with boxes in 
 hand ; they all fall on Jonas, who staggers and sits on 
 keg near counter. Bets jumps on counter with flour 
 scoop and pours flour on him. Myra <^i'i>w -fit., sobbing. j^ 
 Enter Hannah, r.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 ■ 
 

 ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE. — Desmond Homestead. Landscape hacking ; cottage 
 L., woodshed's:.., chopping-block and wood R. c, log down R. 
 Wash discovered chopping wood and singing. 
 
 Wash. I never saw such hard wood in all my life. Tears 
 to me when Jonas Desmond hires me to chop wood for him, he 
 does something to make it hard. It's just like him, anyhow. 
 He's de meanest man in town anyway. Hyar I've chopped 
 dat ar woodshed full, and all I git for it is one dollar. Ought 
 to git two anyhow. Neber mind ! If he don't give me two 
 he'll find de balance missing in chicken some fine morning. 
 I've taken an observation of his chicken-coop, and I knows all 
 the bearings. I know just which perch de fattest ones roost 
 on, so's I kin put my hand on 'em in de dark. (^Enter Jonas 
 from house.^ Oh, lor ! I wonder if I've been tinking aloud. 
 
 Jonas. Haven't you got that wood all chopped yet? Or 
 do you think you're going to get another dinner out of it? 
 
 Wash. No, sir ! I didn't like your dinner yesterday, so I 
 guess I won't stop to-day, thank you. 
 
 Jonas. Oh, you didn't, eh ? Well, the next time you come 
 I'll engage a French chef. • What didn't you like about it? 
 
 Wash. Well, sir, to begin wid, de taters wasn't mealy, 
 and de baked beans didn't have lasses enough to 'em. Den 
 you didn't have any dessert to top off wid. I always like a 
 little dessert, say, for instance, a nice piece of watermillion. 
 
 Jonas. Well, you impudent nigger, the next time you'll get 
 a nice piece of my shoe leather. Hurry up with that wood. 
 
 Wash. All done, sir ! Shall I make out a bill? 
 
 Jonas. No! here's the dollar I promised you. {Gives 
 silver dollar. ^ 
 
 ^ --^ mDic ch -^gji^'t a dollar; it's only fifty-three cents. 
 Where's^^^^^^^-^S? 
 
 Jonas. The rest you owe me for the ride you took in my 
 team yesterday. (^Sits l. and enters the account in book.) 
 
 Wash. Oh, say, Mr. Desmond, dat ain't right. Bets 
 Fletcher was to blame fur dat. She tole me to take your horse, 
 she did. 
 
 Jonas. I know she did. I'll settle with her later. Get out 
 of here now or I'll set the dog on you. 
 
14 DOWN EAST. 
 
 Wash {goes upK.), Dat's a clear case of bunco. {Aside.) 
 Never mind, I'll fix him fur it. {Rooster crows outside.') 
 Yes, you're the fellow dat'll make up the difference. I'll be 
 around to see you 'bout twelve o'clock to-night. \^Exit, r. u. e. 
 
 Jonas. What's to be done ? I must get that pair of young 
 fools married. I was thwarted yesterday, but I'll not give up 
 the game so easily, for it means fifty thousand dollars to me. 
 I suspect my nephew had something to do with that letter. He 
 is the most interested party. {Enter Charles, r. u. e.) Oh, 
 Charles ! got your mail delivered ? 
 
 Char. Yes, uncle. {About to exit in house ; Jonas crosses 
 to R.) 
 
 Jonas. Charles, do you know the penalty for meddling 
 with the United States mails ? 
 
 Char. No ! It doesn't interest me. Something heavy, I 
 presume. I get paid for carrying them from the train to the 
 offices; that's all I know about them. Why do you ask? 
 
 Jonas. Oh, nothing ! I suspect a certain letter was opened 
 and the contents extracted, that's all. 
 
 Char. You don't suspect me? 
 
 Jonas. Oh, bless you, no ! 
 
 Char. Then why did you speak to me about it ? 
 
 Jonas. Oh, a warning, that's all. 
 
 Char. You may keep your warnings to yourself. Uncle 
 Jonas. I don't need them. \_Exit in house. 
 
 Jonas. Young puppy ! But I'll bring him down. {Enter 
 Ralph Thorne, l. u. e.) Ah, Mr. Thorne ! 
 
 Ralph. Well, a nice botch you made of things yesterday, 
 and a pretty fool I looked waiting four hours for you. 
 
 Jonas. It couldn't be helped. My plans miscarried. 
 When she received your letter, it contained nothing but a 
 grocer's bill. 
 
 Ralph. A grocer's bill ! Then my letter^ was tampered 
 with, and somebody knows our secret. Whatv=*^^,:; done? 
 
 Jonas. Make new plans. I expect Myra ' '^^ ^ ^ '^ee n;e^ . 
 at any moment. Poor girl ! she is sorely disix^. 
 
 Ralph. She has some busybody working in ner interest — 
 they will tell her mother all. Depend upon it. She'll be kept 
 under surveillance and my best plan is to decamp. 
 
 Jonas. Will you give up a wife so easily ? 
 
 Ralph. Wife ! Who said anything about making her my 
 wife? 
 
 Jonas. Why, I thought 
 
 Ralph. You thought too much. 
 
DOWN EAST. 15 
 
 Jonas. Then if you don't intend to marry her, I'll have 
 nothing more to do with the affair. (^Crosses l.) 
 
 Ralph. Oh, yes you will. Having gone so far, you'll con- 
 tinue. You'll do this for your own sake ; for if I drop her, she 
 will marry your nephew and you lose a fortune. 
 
 Jonas. But she must be married. If you simply elope 
 with her, she might get sick of her bargain, or you might. 
 
 Ralph. Probably I'd be the one to tire first. 
 
 Jonas. Yes, then she'd return and the fool might marry 
 her even then. So to place her beyond his reach, she must be 
 married. 
 
 Ralph. Oh ! then you get the money if he fails to marry 
 her. The will doesn't provide for the possibility of her marry- 
 ing another ? 
 
 Jonas. Exactly ! there's the weak point. I think my 
 brother must have been insane when he made it. 
 
 Ralph. How much money is there at stake? 
 
 Jonas. Why do you ask ? 
 
 Ralph. I was thinking perhaps if you made it an object I 
 might marry her. {Sits r., lighting cigarette?) 
 
 Jonas. How much of an object ? 
 
 Ralph. A good stiff one. I'm almost broke and require a 
 stake. 
 
 Jonas. Would ten thousand dollars tempt you ? 
 
 Ralph. Yes, it would tempt me, but I think I could resist 
 the temptation. Now if you offered twenty thousand I cer- 
 tainly should yield. 
 
 Jonas. Twenty thousand ! Why, man, his father wasn't a 
 millionaire ; what will there be left for me ? 
 
 Ralph. That doesn't concern me. I merely mention the 
 smallest figure that might tempt me to fall from grace and 
 deaden my conscience to the extent of marrying. Perhaps 
 you do not know the sacrifice I would make by marrying. I 
 would be no longer a free agent, for, try as you will, a wife will 
 becp'ile 'more or less familiar with your private affairs. Be- 
 sides my business would be hampered. 
 
 Jonas. Business ! I didn't know you were in business. 
 
 Ralph. What did you think I lived on — air ? 
 
 Jonas. Is your business successful ? 
 
 Ralph. Yes. Sometimes. At all events, it's a money 
 making business. 
 
 Jonas. Would you mind telling me in what line it is ? 
 
 Ralph. Well, at present, it's in the matrimonial line. 
 Come, Desmond, I don't know what the principal is; but I'll 
 
 ^^^A^^^dus ^^^ ^\ 
 
1 6 DOWN EAST. 
 
 take chances on my commission at twenty thousand dollars. 
 (^Crosses L.) 
 
 Jonas. Is that the least you'll take? 
 
 Ralph. Oh, I couldn't think of doing it for less. Besides, 
 it may cost half that for a divorce, so you see I wouldn't net 
 much after all. 
 
 Jonas. Well, then, it's a bargain. Now we can work 
 openly. She is of age to-day and can marry you at once. 
 
 Ralph. But first we'll draw up a little paper with figures 
 and signatures on it. 
 
 Char, {inside). Uncle Jonas, is that Mr. Fletcher ? 
 
 Jonas (crosses l.). No ! it's a stranger. You'd better 
 take a walk up the road, he may come out. I'll send Myra to 
 you when she comes. 
 
 Ralph. All right; and while strolling, I'll think up the 
 legal phraseology for that little paper. \Exit l. u. e. 
 
 Jonas. I'd like to know what his business is ; something 
 crooked, I'll be bound. Twenty thousand dollars ! It's a 
 good deal, but, as he says, only a commission ; agents must be 
 paid something. {Enter Myra, r. u. e.) Ah, my dear. 
 
 Myra. Oh, Mr. Desmond, have you no consolation to offer 
 me ; have you heard from Ralph ? 
 
 Jonas. Yes, my dear, dry your pretty eyes ; you shall see 
 your Romeo soon. 
 
 Myra. I thought he would have been angry with disap- 
 pointment and leave me for good ; then I should have been 
 forced into this hateful marriage with your nephew. {Enter 
 Char.) My mother is constantly urging me to accomplish it. 
 Is there no way to escape it ? 
 
 Char. Yes ! there is, for I now know your heart. I would 
 not marry you, if our fathers rose from their graves to ask it. 
 
 Jonas. You have been listening. 
 
 Char. Only to the last few words. 
 
 Jonas {aside). Ah, then he does not know the bargain we 
 made. {Crosses R.) /" ^"^ ^"^*^v. 
 
 Myra. It's as well that you have spoken as you did ; for 
 had you remained silent, I should have been forced to speak. 
 
 Char. You should have done so long ago. 
 
 Jonas. Of course you know what you are giving up. 
 
 Char, {crosses c). Yes, and so do you. I am giving up 
 the wealth my father toiled to save ; but it could not purchase 
 happiness if we had made this fatal mistake. 
 
 Jonas. It's a pity you could not carry out your father's 
 wishes. 
 
DOWN EAST. 17 
 
 Char. We might have but for you. You lost no chance to 
 come between us and foster the canker eating into our hearts, 
 r^n't flatter yourself that I couldn't see it. With the fox's 
 cunning you have planted the seeds of discontent, magnifying 
 our faults to each other, working night and day to separate us, 
 and for what ? P'or the paltry gold that I have lost. Take it, 
 and may it burn into your very heart the words hypocrite and 
 traitor. 
 
 Myra. Charles Desmond, you forget yourself. 
 
 Char. For the love of heaven don't listen to that man. I 
 ask you in the name of chastity and virtue to shun him as you 
 would a snake. His counsels are worse than the snake's in 
 Paradise. We might have been happy but for him. Perhaps 
 we might not love as we read of in books, but by doing our 
 duty by those who are dead {lifts hat) we should at least be 
 obeying a commandment that says, '' Honor thy father and thy 
 mother." But all that is over now and through him. As he 
 has told you of my faults, so he has told me of yours. Myra, 
 go back to your mother ; listen to her, for she is the young 
 girl's truest friend. But I implore you in the name of our 
 happy childhood, don't listen to him. He is all that's bad, a 
 second Judas, for he would sell your soul for money. 
 
 Jonas. Stop, sir ! These are my premises, and I shall not 
 allow such language here. 
 
 Char. Nor shall you hear it again. Fve slept for the last 
 time beneath your roof. I'he air I breathe shall no longer be 
 poisoned by your presence. 
 
 Myra. Charles, don't speak so, I beg of you. 
 
 Char. Come, Myra, come with me. Let me take you to 
 your mother. 
 
 Myra. No ! I cannot go. At least not now. 
 
 Jonas. Your grandiloquence is wasted. She knows what 
 friends to trust. 
 
 Char. I hope she may when most she needs a friend. 
 Mvja-, if such a time should ever come, do not let pride stand 
 ^^1 the way, but come to me as to a brother. Come to me as 
 you used when we were playmates, and you will find that the 
 little boy, who fought your battles then, has but grown to the 
 man who is ready to fight them now. \^Exit r. u. e. 
 
 (Myra seated l. crying ; Jonas hesitates,) 
 
 Jonas. I — I — Myra, you see the kind of fellow you have 
 escaped from ? 
 
 Myra. Yes, I see him now as I should have seen him be- 
 
1 8 J)OWN EAST. 
 
 fore, and know that I have lost the truest heart that ever beat 
 in the bosom of an honest man. (^Crosses r. and sits on log.y 
 
 Jonas. I can't make headway there just now. I'll have to \ 
 let this fire cool off. I'll send Ralph to her ; b^yi^at time her 
 fever will subAde, and she'll be ready for the antidote. 
 
 Enter 'Ei^.T^^^eeting him ; they eye each other as they pass. 
 
 Bets{W^s hmgare^). I woncfer if I touched him. I 
 
 think he'd leave a slimy streak like a snail. Some one ought 
 to step on him and put him out of misery. That dude is up 
 the road there, too. I'll bet I sent him on a wild goose chase 
 yesterday. Ha ! ha ! ! Hullo ! there's Myra. There's more 
 mischief brewing. Myra ! 
 
 Myra. Oh ! Is it you, Bets ? 
 
 Bets. Yes, only little me. Myra, there's a secret between 
 you and a certain party and I'm in it. 
 
 Myra (rises). Who told you so? 
 
 Bets. I dreamt it. I dreamt a stylish, handsome fellow 
 came a-sparkin' you and cut Charley Desmond out. 
 
 Myra. Well, perhaps that much is true. 
 
 Bets. Yes ! But there warn't nothing in the dream about 
 Charley blowing his brams out, or doing anything more des- 
 perate than taking a drink o' cider. 
 
 Myra. What was in your dream ? 
 
 Bets. Well, the stylish chap didn't pan out well. 
 
 Myra. What did he do to deserve your bad opinion? 
 
 Bets. It's what he didn't do ! He didn't marry you. He 
 just skipped with you and let it go at that. 
 
 Myra. You're insulting. (Crosses l.) 
 
 Bets. Can't help it, that was the dream. 
 
 Myra. There's something back of all this. 
 
 Bets. Yes, Myra, there is, there is my wish to see you 
 happy. Oh, promise me, Myra, that whatever happens you 
 will not go with him, except as his wife. 
 
 Myra. I don't know what right you have to ask this. 
 
 Bets. Only the right that one good girl has to see her sis- 
 ter happy — for such we have always been — you will promise, 
 Myra? I ask it as a special favor. 
 
 Myra. Well, then, I promise. 
 
 Bets. Thank you. Now I feel that you are safe. 
 
 Enter Ralph and Jonas, l. u. e. 
 Myra. Ralph ! {Runs to him.) 
 
c4^ -K^ (^'/(.^^ 
 
 DOWN EAST. 19 
 
 Ralph. Well, Myra, I wrote you a letter yesterday which 
 you did not receive ; perhaps this young lady can tell us some- 
 thing about it. 
 
 Jonas. Yes, I believe she sometimes handles the mail. 
 
 Bets. Yes, you're a male that I'd like to handle for a while. 
 I bet I'd put a postmark on you. • 
 
 Ralph. I suppose you know there is a penalty attached to 
 opening other people's letters. 
 
 Bets. Not when they're unsealed, mister. 
 
 Ralph {aside). Can I have been so negligent ? {Aloud. ) 
 Then you do know something about it ? 
 
 Bets. I didn't say I did. Thought you had me, didn't 
 you ? Supposing a letter falls out of an envelope on to the 
 floor, and supposing a grocer's bill lays beside it on the floor, 
 how should I know which one fell out ? 
 
 Ralph. Then you have my letter ? Give it me. 
 
 Bets. I haven't got it here. Anyway, you can't have it 
 till I see if you keep your word. 
 
 Ralph. Then you read it ? 
 
 Bets. Certainly ! That's what I went to school for. In 
 it you made certain promises to Myra there. I just want to 
 see if you meant them. 
 
 Ralph. Myra, do you doubt me ? 
 
 Myra. No, Ralph, not for a moment. 
 
 Jonas. And if you do {to Bets) just remain here for a 
 while and you'll see something to open your eyes. 
 
 {^Exit R. u E. 
 
 Bets. Well, it won't be you. I'd rather shut 'em when 
 you're around. 
 
 Ralph. Come, Myra. I've something to say to you in 
 private. 
 
 Bets. Don't forget your promise, Myra. 
 
 Myra. Never fear. {^Exeunt Myra and Ralph, l. u. e. 
 
 Bets. What do they mean ? I wonder if they're going to 
 be married after all. My ! Wouldn't Charley's cake be 
 dough. Well, if she doesn't marry Charley {bus. of bracing 
 up) somebody else may have a chance at him. 
 
 Enter Char., r. u. e. 
 
 Bets. Hullo, Charley ! you just miised it. 
 
 Char. Missed what? 
 
 Bets. Seeing Myra Bigelow strut off with another fellow. 
 
 Char. Well, that wouldn't interest me. 
 
 Bets {puzzled). Wouldn't it? I thought it would. 
 
20 DOWN EAST. 
 
 Char. Did you? No? The fact is, it's all over between 
 Myra and me. (6>'/x R.) 
 
 Bets {quickfy). Jiminy ! you don't say so. (^Changing 
 tone.) 1 mean that's bad. (Sits beside him.) 
 
 Char. I don't think so. 
 
 Bets (joyously). Don't you? Neither do I. Ahem ! So 
 you're free now, eh? 
 
 Char. Yes, Bets, I'm free. 
 
 Bets. You seem to be awful glum. 
 
 Char. Well, I've had several things to worry me lately. 
 
 Bets. Yes, that's so, you're living with your uncle, for one. 
 
 Char. Then you mustn't forget that my father died but 
 recently. 
 
 Bets. Oh ! I forgot all about the letter. (J^ises.) That 
 just puts me in mind of it. 
 
 Char. What letter ? (J^ises.) 
 
 Bets. It came in yesterday's mail and I've been carrying 
 it around all day to give to you. Now you're going to jaw 
 me, ain't you? (Gives letter.) 
 
 Char. That depends on how important it is. (Opens it.) 
 From Ward and Clarke, my father's attorneys. 
 
 (Bus. Bets looks over his shoulder. He perceives her and 
 moves across stage. She gradually comes back of him and 
 looks again.) 
 
 Char. Jerusalem ! (Bets redoubles attention. Charles 
 winks at audience and pretends to read.) ^^ My dear sir : — If 
 there is a young lady in your vicinity named Bets Fletcher, 
 she's wanted by our local police for shop lifting." 
 
 Bets. Where does it say that ? 
 
 Char, (laughs ; Bets sees that she is caught). Just a little 
 curious, aren't you. Bets ? 
 
 Bets. I can't help it. It's my mother's fault. 
 ,Char. Well, sit down here and you shall hear it. (They 
 sit on log R. He reads letter.) 
 
 ^^ Charles Desmond. Dear Sir: — We take pleasure in in- 
 forming you that a new will has been found, and that it is be- 
 yond doubt the last testament of your father. He has revoked 
 the clause about your marriage to Miss Bigelow, and by the 
 terms of it, you inherit his entire fortune unconditionally. ' ' 
 
 Bets. Phew ! 
 
 Char. *^We have sent you by express negotiable bonds 
 and stocks to the extent of five thousand dollars to pay imme- 
 diate expenses, and would advise your presence here to settle 
 
DOWN EAST. 21 
 
 the estate. Yours truly, Ward and Clarke." Dear old gover- 
 nor ! bless his memory. 
 
 Bets. Hooray ! Tiger ! ! {Both rise.^ 
 
 Char. I'm off to the express office. (^Going r.) 
 
 Bets. You're not going to jaw me. 
 
 Char. No 1 I feel so happy I could kiss you. (^Kisses her 
 and starts off.^ 
 
 Bets. Oh, say ! You did that so sudden I hardly got the 
 flavor of it. 
 
 Char, {kisses her). Bless you, Bets, stay here till I come 
 back. I'll fly. \_Exit r. u. e. ^jA/ 
 
 Bets. What a pity a kiss is such a short thing, but the ^f-^jTy 
 feet lasts a long time. Why, what am I doing — falling in love^*^> 
 with Charley ? Why, he'll be a rich man and never waste a /(c#X. 
 thought on me. (T^ / 
 
 Enter Zeke and Jonas, r. u. e. 
 
 Zeke. You say you've got her mother's consent. 
 Jonas. Yes ! yes. 
 
 Zeke. Then why don't she attend the wedding? 
 Jonas. You know she's an invalid. 
 
 Enter Myra and Ralph, l. 
 
 Zeke. Are these the patients — I mean the subjects ? 
 
 Jonas. Yes, and here's the license. 
 
 Zeke. Well, as justice of the peace, that's all I need. 
 {Reads it.) 
 
 Bets {aside, r.). They're going to be married, sure. 
 
 Zeke. That is all right. Are you going to witness it ? 
 
 Jonas. Yes. 
 
 Zeke. Well, come on. I've got all the apparatus with me. 
 I'll do a good job on it, but I won't guarantee it to last. 
 
 [^Exit Zeke in house. 
 
 Jonas {aside). Neither will I. \_Exit Myra. 
 
 Ralph. How about that little contract ? 
 
 Jonas. We'll sign it inside. 
 
 Ralph. All right ; and we'll do that first. 
 
 [^Exeunt both in house. 
 
 Bets. Well, I'm glad she's doing the job ship-shape. 
 Dad'U attend to that. He's good on tying knots. He used 
 to tie a beaut on the end of a rope when he gave me a licking. 
 
 Enter- Char., r. u. e. 
 Char. Bets, are you there? It's all true. I have 'em 
 
4 .^. •^' 
 
 22 ' DOWN EAST. 
 
 here. They look like pieces of paper, but they're worth five 
 thousand dollars. 
 
 Bets. Will wonders never cease ? My head's going round. 
 
 Char. So's mine. 
 
 Bets. Well, you want to stop it for you'll see something in 
 a minute, that'll paralyze you. 
 
 Enter all from house. 
 
 Zeke. There, sir, that's as neat a splice as ever you see. 1 
 believe it's customary for the officiator to kiss the bride. 
 
 Ralph. But in this case more honored in the breach than 
 the observance. 
 
 Char. The bride — why, Myra. 
 
 Ralph. I beg pardon, Mrs. Thorne. 
 
 Char. Married ! 
 
 Jonas. Yes, married and by that act you become a beggar. 
 
 Char. Not yet. A new will has been discovered, leaving 
 me everything. 
 
 Jonas. It's a damn lie. 
 
 Char. Is it? Possession is nine points of the law, and 
 here are five thousand dollars in stocks and bonds. 
 
 Bets. And plenty more where they came from. 
 
 ^CURTAIN. 
 
\\fiMi.(rtJ^ \, 
 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE. — Interior of an old mill. Any rough interior ^ with 
 door in R. flat. Wall running down stage about two feet 
 from L. side, with door up stage. Small hole down stage 
 just large enough to put an arm through. Shelf on iiiside 
 below small hole. Supposed to be a closet with a brick or 
 two fallen out. Inside of closet must be seen by audience. , 
 Stage half dark. Old boxes scattered about. Large box Oi/^f^ 
 up c. Steel jaw trap set up l. This scene can be played^ if 
 necessary^ in a plain kitcheii or prison^ with an old fireplace 
 L., instead of closet. /^ J^ p^^ ^^^^t^^ Hjoi 
 Enter ]oi^ as hurriedly. ^^^^h^Hf^ 
 
 Jonas. Oh ! they'll never find them here. No one dares 
 come here after dark, for it's whispered that the place is haunted. 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! Now to use their superstition to my advantage. 
 The young puppy will flaunt his riches in my face, will he ? 
 Now let him find his stocks and bonds. {Hides bttndle of 
 papers on shelf through small hole.) I'll leave them there till 
 the excitement of the robbery subsides ; then with my other 
 belongings, I will take them with me and leave this place for 
 good. I have turned all I possessed into money, (takes out 
 large pocketbook and shows money,) five thousand dollars in 
 crisp new bills. When the stocks and bonds are sold I shall 
 have five thousand more. Enough to last me the balance of 
 vay didiys. (Noise outside.) What was that ? Somebody com- 
 ing ! I must not be seen. (Starts for door.) 
 
 Enter Ralph. 
 
 Ralph. Ah ! I thought I couldn't be mistaken. \ 
 
 -Jonas. How did you know I was here ? 
 
 Ralph. I followed you, and we couldn't meet in a better 
 place, for our interview must be private. 
 
 Jonas (aside). I don't like his manner. (Aloud.) Well, 
 what do you want ? 
 
 Ralph. Twenty thousand dollars. 
 
 Jonas. Why, man, I haven't twenty thousand cents. You 
 know how my scheme failed. 
 
 23 
 
24 DOWN EAST. 
 
 Ralph. That's no reason why mine should. I hold your 
 agreement to pay me twenty thousand dollars to marry that girl. 
 I fulfilled my part of it, now fulfil yours. 
 
 Jonas. I can't. I can't. I haven't a cent in the world. 
 
 Ralph. That's a lie. I happen to know that you sold to 
 the bank to-day mortgages for five thousand dollars, and you're 
 reputed to be worth more. 
 
 Jonas. No, it's not so. I'm a poor man. When I signed 
 that paper with you I had prospects, but now I have none. 
 
 Ralph. And what prospects do you think I have? The 
 prospect of dragging out a life with a woman that I shall grow 
 to hate, knowing as I shall, that she is but a stone about my 
 neck. And do you think I would burden myself with this for 
 nothing ? No ! I did it for the money that I will have if I 
 tear its weight out of your cowardly carcass. (Advances.) 
 
 Jonas {shrinking). Stand off; I'll call for help ! 
 
 Ralph. Call and be damned. No one will hear you. I 
 told you we could not find a better place, for I intend to have 
 that money or leave you here a corpse. 
 
 Jonas. Help ! help ! {Starts to go ; Ralph seizes him.) 
 
 Ralph. Not so soon. You have the money on your person 
 that you got for the mortgages. Will you give it up ? {Shak- 
 ing him by throat.) 
 
 Jonas. Yes, yes, I'll give it. (Ralph releases him.) 
 
 Ralph. You will ? Then I'll take it on account. 
 
 Jonas {on floor). Have pity on me. I swear to you, it's 
 all I have in the world. I intended to leave these parts with it 
 and make it last me for life. Don't leave me a beggar, de- 
 pending on my nephew for bread. You know how he must 
 hate me after what I've done. 
 
 Ralph. A beggar? And what's to become of me? Whom 
 shall I beg of — my wife? She hasn't a penny in the world. 
 Her mother casts her off, and she is left entirely on my hands. 
 When I think of this I could kill you. 
 
 Jonas. Mercy ! Mercy ! 
 
 Ralph. Get up out of that, you cur, and don't tempt me 
 to crush your life out. Give me the five thousand dollars you 
 have and I'll give you the contract. Do it quick before I 
 change my mind. 
 
 Jonas. Oh, this is terrible. {Taking out money .) 
 
 Ralph {snatching it). Shut up with your snivelling. 
 {Throws down paper.) There's your contract, and consider 
 that you've made fifteen thousand dollars. {Going.) 
 
 Jonas. You haven't heard the last of this. 
 
 OcfrTKJL^ (p^^^-ri Ufl? 0-Jv^<Jr. 
 
uijiyduO r^^ f\ 
 
 DOWN EAST. 25 
 
 Ralph. Haven't I? If I hear any more of it, it'll be the 
 worse for you. 
 
 jEnfer Zeke anci Bets. 
 
 Zeke. What'U be the worse for you ? 
 Ralph (swinging him round). Out of my way, you old 
 fossil. [Exit. 
 
 (Zeke swings into Jonas and knocks him down.) 
 
 Bets. Here, come back here and do that over. You didn't 
 do it right. 
 
 Zeke. One good turn deserves another, Jonas. What's 
 the matter with him? {Rubbing leg.) 
 
 Bets. Nothing, dad. The matter's with you. 
 
 Zeke. We heard a noise up here, and came to investigate. 
 
 Jonas. He's angry, that's all. Disappointed in his mar- 
 riage. 
 
 Zeke. Well, I told him I couldn't guarantee it. ( Crosses r.) 
 
 Bets. I don't blame you, dad. It didn't seem to have the 
 right flavor about it. 
 
 Zeke. You were kicking up such an all-fired racket. I 
 cal'lated there must be trouble. 
 
 Jonas. No, nothing serious. We did have an argument. 
 {Fixing collar y etc.) 
 
 Bets. You look as if he put up a pretty good one. 
 
 Zeke. I thought mebbe tramps were in here. This old 
 ranch ought to be burned down. I'm going to ask Deacon 
 Perkins to burn it. (Jonas nervous.) 
 
 Bets. What a roast the rats will get. 
 
 Zeke. Yes, if I don't clean 'em out first. I've got a big 
 trap set over in that corner. {Going c.) Going, Jonas? Sure 
 there wasn't no trouble with that youngster? I'm justice, you 
 know, and deacon's constable, and 'tween us we're a hot 
 potato. 
 
 Bets. Yes, and that fellow just dropped you like one. 
 
 Enter Char, quickly. 
 
 Char. Ah, Zeke. I've found you at last. 
 Bets. He wasn't lost. 
 
 Zeke. There's no reward coming to you. I haven't been 
 advertised. 
 
 Char. There's been a robbery committed. 
 Zeke. Get out. Where? 
 
26 DOWN EAST. 
 
 Char. The five thousand dollars that was sent to me in 
 stocks and bonds have disappeared. 
 
 Zeke. Stolen ? 
 
 Char. Yes. 
 
 Zeke. By whom ? 
 
 Char. I don't know. 
 
 Jonas. Do you suspect any one ? 
 
 Char. No. 
 
 Bets. I do. 
 
 Char. Whom ? 
 
 Bets. Your uncle Jonas. {Points.') 
 
 Jonas. Me ? Absurd ! 
 
 Zeke. On what grounds do you accuse him ? 
 
 Bets. On these grounds, right here. 
 
 Zeke. I mean what makes you think so ? 
 
 Bets. Because he was the only one that knew where 
 Charley kept them. 
 
 Jonas. The thief is that man Thorne. I heard a noise in 
 the house this morning, and saw him ride away. I saw him 
 again about an hour ago, and followed him here. I charged 
 him with it, and he threatened to kill me if I divulged. You 
 see, Charley, the risk I run for your sake. My throat still 
 aches from his fingers. 
 
 Zeke. Then that was the trouble ? The darned skunk ! 
 And he slipped through my fingers. 
 
 Bets. Come on, let's run him down. 
 
 Char. Uncle Jonas, you shall be rewarded. {Shakes 
 
 hands.') 
 
 Zeke. 
 
 Jonas. 
 
 Zeke. 
 I'll leg it. 
 
 Bets. 
 
 Which way did he go ? 
 The turnpike, I think, on his bicycle. 
 Come on, Charley, get out your plug and chase him. 
 \_Exeunt Char, and Zeke. 
 He won't get far on the turnpike. I spilled a whole 
 paper of tacks there yesterday. 
 
 \^Exit. Jonas about to take papers out. 
 
 Reenter Bets. 
 
 Bets. What are you waiting for, Mr. Desmond? Why 
 don't you join in the hunt? 
 
 Jonas. I — I was going. 
 
 Bets. Then get a wiggle on. \_Exit Jonas. 
 
 Bets. I wonder what he was going to stay behind for? 
 There's something mighty mysterious here. {Noise outside. ) 
 What's that ? I wonder if he's coming back, or waiting out- 
 
DOWN EAST. 27 
 
 side. ( Creeps up to door and opens it suddenly ; Wash dis- 
 covered.) 
 
 Wash. Oh ! oh ! oh ! Good Lor' ! How you frightened 
 me. 
 
 Bets. What were you doing there ? 
 
 Wash. Why, all de village are out searching for de man 
 dat married Myra Bigelow, and dey told me to come up here 
 and see dat he didn't get in here to hide. 
 
 Bets. Then why didn't you come inside? 
 
 Wash. I was trying to work up my courage. 
 
 Bets. A nice soldier you'd make. Just stay in here, and 
 if any one comes — grab him and hold him. [^Exit./ttl^ 
 
 Wash. Gr-r-r-ab him and hold him. Supposing it's ^{Jjih, 
 ^Mier" — or an^'it." It might be a ghost without either ^ 
 masculine or feminine tense. I wonder what a ghost is like ? 
 Dey say dey' re white. If I was to see one I bet it would be a 
 toss up to see which was de whitest, me or de^hos^. y^(BETS 
 moa7ts outside.) UmaL^ X^^^ fd /o^Li^ tiyi/t 
 
 Wash. What am dat? Oh, Lor' ! dis place gives me we^ j 
 shivers. Oh, I ain't going to be scared. {Whistles. Same^f^ 
 tune repeated outside ; work up bus.) Psha ! dat' s a funny- ^U^ 
 graph, dat's all. {Da7ices, ending in break. Break repeated V^mM 
 with slap sticks.) Dat was an echo. {Repeats.) No, it's a^^idy 
 ghost for sure. ( Claps hands y repeat outside, does it several 
 times, finally stops suddenly and catches Bets, who claps.) 
 Dat's de time I fooled de ghost. Ha ! ha ! ha ! {Sits in chair 
 and laughs ; enter Bets with sheet ; taps him on shoulder ; he 
 nearly faints. Work up bus., she exits.) Oh, Lor' sakes ! all ^^^, 
 the deeds of my past life rise up before me. Ebery chicken Ij^^iar 
 ever stole squawked at me. Will dey nebber come back to re- ^j^ 
 lieve me? I can feel my wool turning white. I'll be like 
 Mary's little lamb. {Steps in steel trap.) Oh, Lor' ! de devil's 
 got me for sure. Help ! help ! 
 
 Enter Bets. 
 
 Bets. What is it, a rat in the trap ? Give me a club till I 
 kill him. {Takes chair.) 
 
 Wash. Don't strike. Miss Bets, don't strike, it's me, 
 William Washington White. 
 
 Bets. Is that you, White Wash ? I mean Wash White. 
 
 Wash. Dat's me. Bets, and I'm in trouble. 
 
 Bets. Well, you've put your foot in it this time. {Noise 
 outside ; she releases him.) They're coming back. {Enter 
 Charles with lantern, lights up.) Did you catch him? 
 
28 DOWN EAST. 
 
 Y^x^aAh aw 
 
 Char. Yes, they're bringing him up here. 
 
 Wash. Golly ! I must see de parade. \^Exit. /I 
 
 Char. I missed you and thought perhaps something had^*^ 
 happened. '^^ 
 
 Bets. And if something had happened to me, Charley, 
 would you feel bad ? 
 
 Char. Of course I would, Bets. Don't you know I 
 would ? 
 
 Bets. Oh, dear. I hope something will happen to me. 
 
 Char. Why ? Do you wish to mflict misery on me ? 
 
 Bets. I dunno ! It would be awful nice to have some one 
 feeling miserable about you. Say, for instance, if I was sick 
 abed, what would you do ? 
 
 Char. I don't know. I suppose I would send you flowers 
 every day. 
 
 Bets. Would you? I'm going to catch the measles to- 
 morrow. You can choose for me. Which shall it be, the 
 measles or the mumps? I know w^here there's a case of each. 
 
 Char. Well, of the two evils choose neither. {Noise out- 
 side.^ Here they come. 
 
 Enter Zeke, Deacon with Ralph, Jonas, Wash, supers if 
 desired y and Hannah. 
 
 Zeke. Right in this way. We ain't quite up to New York 
 in getting a bang up courthouse ; but we kin deal out justice 
 and see fair play just as well, and a darn sight better. 
 
 Bets. Hear ! Hear ! (Zeke p/aces large box o,. for desk,) 
 
 Zeke. What are you doing here, old woman? Who's 
 tending store ? 
 
 Han. No one. Store's shut up. I guess I want to see the 
 fun as much as you do. 
 
 (Zeke c, Hannah r. c, Deacon, Ralph, Wash r.. Bets, 
 Char, and ]o^ as l.) 
 
 Bets. Look out, dad. She means business. 
 
 Ralph. Come, go on with this farce. Why am I brought 
 here ? 
 
 Zeke. You weren't brought here to ask the court ques- 
 tions ; the shoe is on the other foot. Are you guilty or not 
 guilty ? 
 
 Ralph. Guilty of what ? 
 
 Zeke. There you go asking questions again. Did you 
 commit the deed ? Now answer it straight or I'll commit you. 
 
DOWN EAST. 19 
 
 Ralph. You are committing yourself and overstepping 
 your authority. 
 
 Zeke. Young man, we haven't been justice of the peace 
 for ten years to have you come along and tell us our business. 
 
 Han. No, Zeke, so we haven't. (Steps beside him.) 
 
 Bets. I'm in the family, too. {Steps up, ) 
 
 Ralph. I insist on knowing of what I am accused. 
 
 Dea. Mebbe 'twould be as well, Zeke, to tell him. 
 
 Zeke. What's the use? He'd only deny it. 
 
 Dea. I know, but he'd have to find it out sooner or later. 
 
 Zeke. Well I s'pose he would ; somebody' d let the cat out 
 of the bag. Young man, the learned counsel, I mean constable, 
 in the goodness of his heart, for he's a church deacon as well, 
 has seen fit to ask the court to be lenient, so the court will. 
 
 Han. Yes, we'll tell you. 
 
 Bets. Ahem ! So we will. 
 
 Zeke. You are accused of larceny. 
 
 Han. Yes, stealing. 
 
 Bets. Yes, swiping. 
 
 Zeke. You are accused of — ahem ! pinching stocks and 
 bonds to the amount of five thousand dollars from one Charles 
 Desmond. 
 
 Ralph. And who accuses me ? 
 
 Jonas. I do. 
 
 Ralph. You ? You contemptible dog ! A nice accuser you 
 are, a man who would sacrifice his own soul for money; I 
 might expect it of you. 
 
 Jonas. Let him be searched, you might find the money on 
 his person. 
 
 Zeke. A good idea. Deacon, with your assistance. 
 
 (They search him. Jonas tears up contract, and throws 
 pieces through hole in wall unseen by all but Bets.) 
 
 Bets {aside). I wonder what that paper was he tore up. 
 
 Zeke. What's this? Money? (Finding bills.) 
 
 Jonas. He has sold the bonds for money ; count it. 
 
 Zeke. That's what I'm doing. 
 
 Ralph (to Jonas). Oh, why didn't I complete the job 
 and kill you ! 
 
 Dea. I'd advise you not to say too much, mister. It may 
 count against you. 
 
 Zeke. Five thousand dollars to a cent. 
 
 Han. Good gracious ! Enough to buy the whole town. 
 
 Bets. With the people thrown in. 
 
30 DOWN EAST. 
 
 Jonas. You see what he has done? Fearing detection, he 
 at once converted the bonds into cash. The amount exactly 
 tallies. Upon this evidence I charge him with the crime. 
 
 Zeke. You charge ! What business have you got to charge 
 anything. The court will do the charging. Ahem ! I am 
 the court. 
 
 Han. We, Zeke. We ! 
 
 Bets. Yes, we are the people. 
 
 Zeke. At home and in the shop — yes ; but here — no ! 
 Here I am the whole shooting match. Prisoner, I hereby 
 charge you with a peck of potatoes, ahem ! 
 
 Bets. Don't talk shop, dad. 
 
 Zeke. I should say, I charge you with grand larceny. 
 (Hannah w/iisj>ers to him.) Eh! Indict? No, that sounds 
 too cityfied. They indict and they subpoena and they twist 
 and turn, till finally the fish gets away. But we'll say jest 
 what we mean in good plain English and that is, that we think 
 that fellow stole the money from Charley Desmond and we're 
 a-going to do our gol-durndest to put him through for it. 
 
 All. Hurrah ! 
 
 Dea. Zeke, I think we'd better hold him till the next meet- 
 ing of the regular court. 
 
 Zeke. He's too heavy to hold. We'll jest jug him. Pris- 
 oner, there's enough evidence to board you awhile at the 
 town's expense. 
 
 Ralph. Before you take me away, give me at least the sat- 
 isfaction of explaining how I got that money. That miserable 
 wretch yonder paid it to me to marry Myra in order to spoil 
 Charles Desmond's inheritance. 
 
 Jonas. It's a lie. 
 
 Ralph. Search him and you will find the agreement we 
 both signed to that end. 
 
 Jonas. Search me then and see. (Zeke searches him.) 
 
 Bets (aside). Oh, that puts an idea into my head. 
 
 Char. What is it. Bets ? 
 
 Bets. Nothing. ( Whispers to Char. ; he nods,) 
 
 Zeke. Nothing there 'cept a handkerchief and a horse 
 chestnut. 
 
 (Bets hides at back.) 
 
 Ralph. Nothing ! He has destroyed it then. 
 
 Dea. Come, we'll take a walk to the cooler. 
 
 Zeke. This court is now adjourned. (All hurrah.) 
 
 [^Exeunt Dea., Ralph, Jonas, Wash and Char. 
 
DOWN EAST. 31 
 
 Zeke. Mother, how did I conduct this case ? 
 
 Han. We conducted it well, Zeke. 
 
 \^Exeunt Zeke and Hannah. 
 
 Bets {coming out from behind box). All gone. Now to 
 see what that paper was. {Puts arm in hole and finds bundle 
 of stock.) Jiminy Christmas ! I've stumbled on to the whole 
 shooting maich. {Noise.) Somebody coming. 
 
 ( Takes steel trap and goes through door into closet^ shutting 
 door. Enter Jonas cautiously .) 
 
 Jonas. All gone. It won't do to leave the prize here. It's 
 not safe. 
 
 {Puts arm through hole. Bets springs trap on his hand.) 
 
 Bets. But you are ! {She rushes outy opens door and 
 calls.) Come on. I've caught the thieving rat and there he is. 
 
 Enter Zeke, Char. Wash and Han. Bets c. with stock. 
 Jonas howling with pain. Trap too large to be pulled 
 through hole and holds him there. Lights up. 
 
 ^ CURTAIN. / 
 
 \ 
 

 i4>-v^»^-«-# 
 
 ^^^^^^c^/^.K.^J''^- 
 
 SCENE. — Parlor A. iii Palmer Houses Chicago ^ during 
 World's Fair. Char, disguised as a c ountry man^ ^ii^£^i^M 
 fred talkifig with ^kLVYi. , ^l(CV >Uki U^a^^X^J^ (y^^^ uw 
 
 Ralph. Yes, my dear Mr.' Middleton, it is necessary for 
 
 me to observe the profoundest secrecy in the transaction of this 
 
 * business, therefore I cannot give you my address. A letter 
 
 directed to John Vogel, general delivery, Chicago, will always 
 
 reach me. 
 
 Char. And you say you have always worked this paper 
 without suspicion ? 
 
 Ralph. Without the slightest. It is made by a man who 
 was formerly employed in the Treasury Department, and un- 
 derstands his business thoroughly. Why, just look at one of 
 the bills. (Char, does so.) See the hair marks in the paper? 
 I'd defy any bank cashier in the country to detect it. 
 
 Char. And you'll sell me this hundred five dollar bills for 
 one hundred dollars in gold ? 
 
 Ralph. That was the agreement we made by letter, Mr. 
 Middleton. 
 
 Char. All right, sir, there's your money. {Gives gold and 
 takes package of bills.) 
 
 Ralph. Correct ! It's time that waiter came with the 
 drinks we ordered. 
 
 Char. Yes, this financiering makes a man awful thirsty, 
 doesn't it ? 
 
 Ralph. So it does. I tell you what to do, Mr. Middleton. 
 When the waiter comes, pay him with one of those bills just to 
 test their value. 
 
 Char. No ! I might git ketch ed, and I'm not well ac- 
 quainted here. I guess I'll wait till I git home in Connecticut 
 and work 'em off on my respected townsmen. They ain't ac 
 cute there. 
 
 Ralph. Oh, there isn't the slightest danger. 
 
 Char. Ain't tlje^e — welL then, heje — you work it on him 
 (^Gives one.) I'X'- ^ I'-C: t\ u 
 
 Ralph. All right ! I will, — ^just to^show you. 
 
 I 
 Enter Wash c, with tray and tivo glasses of 7vine. 
 
 32 
 
WJVxo^ ^K^ijL^i^f3/yx^ C 
 
 DOWK EASt. 33 
 
 Wash. Sorry to keep you waiting so long, gents, but we're 
 awful busy to-day. {They take drinks.^ 
 
 Ralph {aside). Awful busy, eh, a good time. Here's a 
 five dollar bill. Sorry I haven't anything smaller. 
 
 (Char, removes false beard and winks at Wash.) 
 
 Wash. Dat's all right, sir. We could change it if it was 
 a six dollar bill. {Aside.) Oh, what a lamb he is. He's , 
 walking right up to de sacrifice. \_Exit c.Qo^ 
 
 Ralph. Here's that we may do business often, Mr. Middle^.Z^u^ 
 
 ton. l^, 
 
 Char. Oh, now that we've got the ball a-rolling, I guess 
 we'll be all right. {They drink.) That's pretty good cider, 
 ain't it ? 
 
 Enter Wash. 
 
 Wash. Here's your change, mister. {Gives change to 
 Ralph.) 
 
 Ralph. All right. (Wash waits,) Oh, here's fifty cents. 
 
 Wash. Tank you, sir. {Aside,) Dat's a good generous 
 tip. 
 
 Char, {aside). With my money. 
 
 Wash. I beg pardon, sir. Dere's a lady in the corridor 
 wants to see you. 
 
 Ralph. To see me ? What name did she ask for ? 
 
 Wash. For Mr. Thorne. 
 
 Ralph. That's not my name. 
 
 Wash. Dat's what I told the lady. But she said you was 
 de gemmen she wanted to see, if you called yourself Julius 
 Caesar. 
 
 Char. Ha ! ha ! you gay young dog. One of your 
 mashes, eh? Well, I'll be going and give you a chance. 
 
 Ralph. No, don't hurry. {To Wash.) Tell the lady I 
 can't see her. 
 
 Wash. All right, sir. [^Exit. 
 
 Ralph. Some beggar, I dare say, who has heard of my 
 philanthropy. 
 
 Char. Yes, that's the way a charitable man gets imposed 
 upon. 
 
 Myra {outside). I tell you he shall see me. {Enter c, 
 poorly dressed.) He must see me. 
 
 Ralph. You here? Well, good-bye, Mr. Middleton ; 
 write me, won't you? 
 

 fe. 
 
 EAST. 
 
 Char. Oh, yes, good-bye. {Aside.^ Poor Myra, I never 
 thought it would come to this. \_ExU c. ^f 
 
 Ralph. So ! You have chosen to follow me on the streets, 
 eh, thinking perhaps to come here and shame me? ^^^ 
 
 MvRA. No, for I know that you are dead even to shame. 
 I followed you to demand what is my right, an explanation. 
 
 Ralph. An explanation of what ? 
 
 Myra. Of why you left me in a desolate attic room with- 
 out friends or resources and never came near me for a month. 
 
 Ralph. Perhaps it was a hint of what you may expect if 
 you insist on remaining my true and loving wife. 
 
 Myra. Your loving wife? You flatter yourself. Let me 
 tell you, — you played upon a schoolgirl's folly, but never upon 
 her love. 
 
 Ralph. Oh, you don't love me? Well, perhaps you can 
 find more lucrative fields. (^Crosses l.) 
 
 Myra. What do you mean ? 
 
 Ralph. I mean there's no need of your w^anting. If I were 
 a woman with such a face and form, well — I wouldn't starve. 
 {Sits l.) 
 
 Myra. Ah! {Half faints.^ I understand you now, and 
 this is my punishment. Oh ! just Heaven, it is too severe. 
 Are you a man ? Do you realize what you have done ? You 
 have not only punished me for my folly, but the blow has fallen 
 on another, my mother. It was too much for her. It killed 
 her. Do you hear ? She is dead. 
 
 Ralph (rising). I have heard enough. This interview 
 can end right here. This is a public parlor and no place to 
 ventilate family troubles. 
 
 Myra (starts to go). No, you shall not go. (Stops him.) 
 You have caused all this misery, and I refuse to suffer it alone. 
 You are my husband and the law shall do me justice. (Loudly.) 
 
 Ralph. Stop your infernal noise or. I'll choke you. (Rushes 
 at her.) 
 
 Myra. No, I will not. 
 
 RXlph. You won't? We'll see. (Chokes her.) Now will 
 you be silent ! 
 
 Enter Char, not disguised ; throivs him off R. 
 
 Char. You cowardly cur ! 
 
 Ralph. Charles Desmond ! You'll champion her, will 
 you? 
 
 Char. Yes, with my life. 
 
 Ralph. Then take that. 
 
DOWN EAST, 35 
 
 (^They Ji^ht ; she screams, Char, knocks Ralph down up 
 stage c, Char. r. corner, Ralph recovers ; pulls revol- 
 ver. Enter Zeke, all dressed up, c. D. and catches him 
 with crook on cane about his neck, Ralph turns and 
 aims at him ; Zeke strikes his hand with cane and he 
 drops pistol.') 
 
 Zeke. How do, Mr. Thorne. 
 
 Ralph. Is this a conspiracy on your parts ? (71? Myra.) 
 It seems you have several friends and allies at your beck and 
 call. Then let them prove their friendship, for you'll never 
 see me again. {Picks up pistol and starts for c. d.) 
 
 Enter Hannah c, sees pistol pointed at her, screams and 
 throws tip her hands. 
 
 Han. Don't shoot, my hands are up. 
 
 Ralph. Bah ! \^Exit. 
 
 Zeke. That ain't a cowboy, mother. 
 
 Han. Land sakes ! I thought my last hour had come. 
 
 Zeke. Mother's heard so much about the West, she stops 
 and shakes with fright at every cigar sign. 
 
 Han. Myrey Bigelow, is that you ? 
 
 Myra. Yes, Aunt Hannah, that was my name ; would to 
 Heaven it were still. 
 
 Zeke. It might have been if I'd refused that job. Well, I 
 said I wouldn't guarantee it. 
 
 Han. There ! there ! child, don't cry. {Kisses her and 
 sits on sofa r., Zeke motions Char, to other side of stage.) 
 
 Zeke. Purty tough case, ain't it? 
 
 Char. Yes ; poor girl, she has bitterly paid the price of 
 her folly. 
 
 Zeke. How did you get along with the other matter ? 
 
 Char. Fine ! He walked right into the trap. 
 
 Zeke. Just like Jonas did into Betsy's trap, eh? Is it 
 ready to spring on him yet ? 
 
 Char. Almost ready, but not quite. 
 
 Zeke. Say, Charley, can't you manage to entertain the old 
 woman awhile? I've been trying to lose her, so's I could take 
 in the sights. 
 
 Char. I'll try. 
 
 Zeke. The deacon's here with us. 
 
 Char. Is he ? 
 
 Zeke. Yes, and having it all his own way. You see he's 
 a widower, and can go where he likes. He's been on the 
 
36 DOWN EAST.' 
 
 Midway and whirled round the wheel {whispers)^ zxiA seen the 
 coochee-coochee gals, and I ain't seen nothing yet. Had to 
 trot the old woman around dry goods stores ever since I got 
 here. 
 
 Char. That's too bad. 
 
 Zeke. I want to see the menagerie they tell so much about. 
 
 Char. Menagerie ? 
 
 Zeke. Yes, where they see the elephant and buck the tiger. 
 I'm afraid deacon will have twice as much to tell about when 
 we git back as I will. 
 
 Char. But where's Bets all this time? 
 
 Zeke. Oh, she's gitting fitted to a new gown. Wait till 
 you see it. It's a stunner. It cost enough for five ; but we're 
 a doing things up brown, if I have to wet the sugar to pay 
 for it. 
 
 Bets {outside). Which parlor did you say, Wash ? {Music 
 still on,) 
 
 Wash {outside). Parlor A, first left. 
 
 Zeke. Here she is now — shade your eyes. 
 
 Han. Here comes Bets, she'll cheer you up. 
 
 Bets {outside). You needn't come, Wash ; I can find it. 
 
 Wash {outside), Dat's all right. Miss Bets, you want to be 
 in style. {Enter,) Miss Bets Fletcher ! 
 
 Enter Bets aitd exit Wash c. 
 
 Bets. Here I am. Ain't this in it? Hullo, Charley ! I'm 
 awful glad to see you. {Shakes hands violently,) 
 
 Char. Not more than I am to see you. 
 
 Zeke. Ain't she a poem ? {Examining dress,) 
 
 Bets. Look out, dad. Don't breathe on it. It soils easily. 
 
 Han. Zeke, she's a dream. 
 
 Zeke. Yes, a dream of bankruptcy. 
 
 Han. I'm going to have one just like it. 
 
 Zeke. Yes, then you'd be a dream. The kind you have 
 after eating mince pie. * ( Crosses L. ) 
 
 Bets. Is that Myra? 
 
 Han. That's who it is. 
 
 Bets. Why, Myra, my old chum. {Kisses her,) 
 
 Zeke. I guess this would be a good time for me to sneak. 
 {Tiptoes to c. D.) 
 
 Bets. Why ! Myra, what's the trouble? 
 
 Myra. Don't ask me, Bets. Don't ask me. 
 
 Han. {sees Zeke about to exit c). Zeke Fletcher ! 
 
 Zeke. Yes, mother ! 
 
 ^^<jK^<L^^ yc^^ jC^t:^OK C , 
 
 I 
 
DOWN EAST. 37 
 
 Han. Where were you going? 
 
 Zeke. Just to see if the deacon was coming. 
 
 Han. Oh ! 
 
 Char. I'll tell you what the trouble is, Bets. The man 
 who swore to love and protect her has proven a scoundrel be- 
 yond belief. 
 
 Han. Yes, he actually threatened my life with a gun. 
 
 Zeke (aside). I'll try again. \ 
 
 Bets. I wouldn't let that trouble me. I'd get back at him 
 by wearing bloomers. 
 
 Han. Zeke Fletcher ! 
 
 Zeke. Yes, mother ! 
 
 Han. Where were you going that time ? 
 
 Zeke. Going to see how far I could git afore you called me. 
 
 Bets. Why don't you get a divorce? 
 
 Myra. That's not so easy. 
 
 Bets. Yes, it is. You're in Chicago. 
 
 Char. On what grounds would she sue ? 
 
 Bets. Any old grounds. Everything goes here. The 
 place is full of go, that's why it's called Chica-go. 
 
 Char. A divorce is not a bad idea. I'm sure I could 
 testify as to his cruelty. (Zeke about to sneak out,) 
 
 Enter Deacon c. 
 
 Dea. Hello, Zeke, where are you going ? 
 
 Zeke. Nowhere ! You've just spoiled it. 
 
 Han. We've found her, deacon, and it's lucky we did too. 
 He might have had her drawn and quartered by this time. 
 
 Dea. {shakes hands with Myra). Myra, I'm glad to see 
 you, but sorry to find you in so much trouble. 
 
 Myra. Deacon, you were my mother's dearest friend. Tell, 
 me, did she forgive me? /iA^>i^/%n*^ (f-^t^ C/^^«4^'C-t^(:l^»^/ 
 
 Dea. Yes, Myra, she forgave you. What's more, she left "^ 
 you everything she had. 
 
 Myra. My dear mother. {Sits on sofa with Dea.) 
 
 Bets {aside). I wish I could get a chance to talk with 
 Charley alone. 
 
 Dea. Yes, Myra, she appointed me her executor. That's 
 why I'm here, to bring you back if you care to go. 
 
 Bets {aside). I have it. {Crosses and whispers to Zeke, 
 while Han. talks to Char.) 
 
 Myra. If I care to go ! It has been my wish night and 
 day to cancel all this bitter present and be once more as I was 
 in the happy past. 
 
38 DOWN EAST. 
 
 (Zeke nods and hides behind chair l.) 
 
 Bets. Mother, (Han. comes l.), I'm afraid you're going 
 to miss the best part of the Fair. 
 
 Han. How so ? 
 
 Bets. Well, this is the day that the Midway Plaisance rides 
 the Ferris Wheel, and you don't want to miss it. 
 
 Han. Lor' sakes ! I wouldn't miss it for the world. 
 
 Bets. And then you want to see some of the big buildings. 
 
 Han. Oh, I can see them to-morrow. 
 
 Bets. No ! they may be gone to-morrow. They do things 
 quick here. Why, I saw one this morning twenty stories high. 
 
 Han. Now, Bets, don't you fool me. 
 
 Bets. No ! They're not fish stories either. 
 
 Han. I must get Zeke to go with me. 
 
 Bets. Yes, where is he? 
 
 Han. {looking about). Zeke ! Zeke Fletcher ! He's es- 
 caped. He's been trying to all day. Zeke ! come back here. 
 \^Exit c. and r. Zeke walks out whistling c. and l. 
 
 Dea. Yes, Myrey, you needn't trouble about the future; 
 it's all in your own hands. But if you ever have anything to 
 do with that scoundrel, you're not the gal I take you for. 
 
 Bets. You needn't worry about that. He'll soon be in a 
 place where he can't trouble her much. A place where he 
 won't have to wonder where his next meal is coming from. 
 
 Dea. I hope so. Come, Myrey, come with me. 
 
 Myra. I don't deserve this kindness. 
 
 Dea. We won't argue that. You've been thoughtless, not 
 blameful. \_Exit Dea. and Myra, r. u. e. 
 
 Bets. Now, Charley, they are all gone, let's have a nice 
 social confab. 
 
 Char. With all my heart. {Both sit on sofa.) 
 
 Bets. Does it seem long to you since you saw me ? 
 
 Char. Yes, it seems a year. 
 
 Bets. That's good ! 'Twas only a month, though. 
 
 Char. Have you missed me. Bets ? 
 
 Bets. Oh, yes ! I've had to go after the mail myself. 
 
 Char. Is that the only reason you missed me, Bets ? 
 
 Bets. Oh, no ! {Aside.) Now it's coming sure. I feel 
 as if I was blindfolded and expected to bump against some- 
 thing. {Aloud. ) What were you going to say ? 
 
 Char. Nothing ! 
 
 Bets. Oh! 
 
 Char. That is, I had a (question to ask. 
 
DOWN EAST. 39 
 
 Bets. Well, go ahead. Don't be nervous — nobody's lis- 
 tening. 
 
 Char. Well, I was afraid it might arouse unpleasant mem- 
 ories. 
 
 Bets. Oh, no it won't. I'm prepared. It won't startle 
 me. What was it? 
 
 Char. Well, I was about to ask if you 
 
 Bets. Yes ! if I Oh, come, spit it out. 
 
 Char. Well — if you — know how Uncle Jonas is getting on. 
 
 Bets {disgusted^. No, I don't. And I don't care. He's 
 breaking stone, I believe — at any rate he's got a government 
 job, and will have for the next five years. 
 
 Char. There ! I knew you wouldn't like to have me speak 
 of it. 
 
 Bets (aside). Oh, how thick he is. (Aloud.) Charley! 
 Did you get all your money ? 
 
 Char. Yes, every cent. 
 
 Bets. I suppose you're a rich man now. 
 
 Char. I'm beyond want, unless I make a foolish specula- 
 tion. 
 
 Bets. Ahem ! Such as getting married, for instance? 
 
 Char. Oh, no ! I don't mean that. 
 
 Bets. Then you do intend to speculate in that line ? 
 
 Char. Yes, if a certain party would go into the scheme 
 with me. 
 
 Bets. Why don't you ask her? I suppose it's a '' her." 
 
 Char. I think I will. % 
 
 (Dead silence. He looks at her, she at him — repeat several 
 times ^ finally catch each other,) 
 
 Bets. Do you remember the day I brought you that letter? 
 
 Char. Yes, I remember it well. 
 
 Bets. Do you remember what you did ? 
 
 I'^HAR. Yes, I was so overjoyed. 
 You did it twice, didn't you? 
 .>Jo, only once, 
 /hat? 
 
 A^hy, ran to the express office and got the money. 
 es and crosses to c. ; aside). He needs one of 
 /-story buildings to fall on him. (Aloud.) - Don't 
 ler anything else you did that day ? 
 fe ! I — I kissed you. 
 
 es, you did 1 and you were so excited I don't be- 
 zant to. 
 
I .,40 .\ DOWN EAST. 
 
 (QLj^^ /C "fe ^ ^ C, 
 
 P B Char. Yes, I did, Bets, and it set something going here. 
 {Hand on heart,') 
 
 Bets. It couldn't be wheels there. 
 
 Char. Yes, the wheels of love, and they've revolved ever 
 since until the friction is too much for me to bear alone. Tell 
 me. Bets, can you return my love ? 
 
 Bets. No, not yet. 
 
 Char. No ? 
 
 Bets. No ! Cos, I'm not through with it yet. I want to 
 keep it. 
 
 Char. Bets, my darling. {About to kiss her.) 
 
 Bets. Oh ! Don't kiss me here. Somebody may see you. 
 Come up here. {Takes him up to corner l.) 
 
 Char. My own love. {About to kiss her.) 
 
 Enter Wash. (^ 
 
 Wash. I beg pardon, Mr. Charles. Dat fellow wid de roll 
 of bills is coming back, and he's got a policeman wid him. 
 Char. Good, he has saved me the trouble. 
 Wash. Here he comes. 
 
 Enter Zeke, drunk. 
 
 Zeke. Whee ! I've seen it all. I didn't have much time, 
 but I made the best of it. I saw everything. {Sings ** Streets 
 of Cairo " or something appropriate.) 
 
 Bets. Dad, here comes mother. 
 
 Zeke. Where? {Braces up and crosses stage to L.) 
 
 Enter Ralph, c. 
 Ralph. Oh ! You are still here, I see. 
 
 Enter Deacon and Myra, r. u. e. ^ 
 
 Dea. So be you, and it's a darn good thing my power S 
 constable don't extend to Chicago, or I'd make it hot for you. 
 
 Zeke. Go it, deacon ! Let's lick him on general prf 
 ciples. {Advancing. ) 
 
 Bets. Dad, he^ comes mother. 
 
 Zeke {retreatn. Where? 
 
 Ralph {to DEa.). Who are you ? 
 
 Myra. This gentleman is executor of my mother's will, and 
 came here to take me home. 
 
 Ralph {aside). She an heiress; what a fool I've been^j 
 {Aloud.) Myra, can you forgive me? 
 
 1 
 
 
DOWN EAST. , J 
 
 Myra. Never ! Your last word to me was a promise that 
 
 iT him. man who ..saulttd „e. (/b/i,, & Char ) ' Arl 
 
 Ralph. What do you mean ^ 
 yoS. ^ '""''" "'^' y°" °"'y "^^^'-'d ™Pe enough to hang " 
 
 Char. Yes, Mr. John Vogel ! I am Mr Middleton tn 
 whom you sold these green goods Middleton, to 
 
 goo^'dTman, Hf ''"' "" ^'''^'*^)- ^'^ ' ^^^^l ' the green 
 her^ttt [Jt:^^,')'"^ '^ ^^^^"^^ h^ P--d one on, and 
 .«.!™.;,.f'"''^^'°'*^°"«"^^-'^ofhopeforme? (.S/. , 
 Bets. I have. You won't get more than ten vears for fhk - 
 
 OFFICER. Come ! 
 
 As they go up, enter Han., c. 
 
 seenanvthk,^thJl? "^^a '"""^ *'^" ^'S^^^^' ^ut I haven't -• 
 seen anythmg that pleased me as much as this. 
 
 Rft<5 Tk^-^' , \.Exit Ralph and Officer. 
 
 -Bets. There s one, ma, that'll please you more (Points ' 
 fo -L^^^, who ts making Muff to appear sober.-) ^ 
 
 hTn" ^fV:i^'^^'^^^"^e^l--hing all over the city for you. ' 
 
 StT' v^rV^^'''. ""^y ^^ ^"^''^ ^h^' ^e ^ere about ? 
 iiETS. Yes, if you're sure you love me. 
 
 Char. Sure, Bets, yes, sure ! 
 
 IK^rJ!"- ^^' ""^l ^o* ^ tl^ey do in Chicago, where the 
 livorce judge works over time? ^ 
 
 ry^ ^3" 1^;--^ 
 
NEW BOOKS FOR LITTLE ONES. 
 
 In Child Land. 
 
 A COLLECTION OF DRILLS, SONGS, FINGER-PLAYS AND RECITA- 
 TIONS FOR LITTLE CHILDREN. 
 
 Written and Compiled by NELLIE E. CASE and LAURA B. CASE. 
 
 This excellent collection, the work of an experienced teacher of the 
 young, comprises eight finger-plays, complete with music, sixty-nine 
 recitations and colloquies, and three new drills — a Doll Drill, for ten 
 little girls, a Sun-Flower Drill, for ten little girls, an Attitude Drill, 
 for any number — all complete with music. It contains matter suited for 
 school, home or exhibition purposes, and fills a want not supplied by any 
 other book. 
 
 Price 30 Cents. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART L— FINGER PLAYS. 
 
 LITTLE HELPERS, THE BIRDS, 
 
 THE SNOW BIRDS, THE CHILDREN'S PLAY, 
 
 OLD SANTA CLAUS IS COMING, THE MICE, 
 
 THIS LITTLE PIG WENT TO MARKET, 
 
 MR. SQUIRREL. 
 
 PART II. -RECITATIONS. 
 SIXTY-NINE SELECTED RECITATIONS FOR LITTLE ONES. 
 
 PART III.— DRILLS. 
 
 DOLL DRILL (for ten little girls). 
 
 SUNFLOWER DRILL (for ten little girls J. 
 
 ATTITUDE DRILL, ''GOOD NIGHT.'' (Song.) 
 
 The Dolls' Frolic. 
 
 AN ENTERTAINMENT FOR CHILDREN IN ONE SCENE. 
 By ROSEHARY BAUM. 
 
 Two boys and three girls. Costumes fanciful; scenery unimportant. 
 An extremely pretty and picturesque entertainment for children, intro- 
 ducing music. The title amply indicates its character. Plays fifteen to 
 tAventy minutes. 
 
 Price 15 Cents. 
 
 Senif postpaid^ on receipt of price ^ by 
 
 BAKER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS. 
 
LATEST PLAYS. 
 
 The Old Maids' Convention- 
 
 AN ENTERTAINMENT IN ONE SCENE. 
 By LAURA M. PARSONS. 
 
 Author of " Jerusha Dow's Family Album," " The District 
 School at Blueberry Corners," Etc. 
 
 One male, twenty female characters and specialties. Costumes eccen- 
 tric; scenery unimportant; can be produced on a platform without any. 
 This is an excellent version of a widely popular entertainment which has 
 long existed in manuscript, but is now for the first time offered in print. 
 It is practically for all female characters, since Prof. Pinkerton, its one 
 man, may be represented by a lady, if desired. " Pinkerton's Electric 
 Transform(h)er " is a marvelous invention, whatever the sex of its dis- 
 coverer, and is capable of creating great amusement. This entertainment, 
 of which it is a feature, is brightly and humorously written, and moves 
 along briskly to a laughable conclusion. Lots of good characters and 
 opportunity for specialties. A worthy successor to the popular *' Prof. 
 Baxter's Great Invention." Plays an hour and a half with specialties. 
 Price, .... 25 Cents. 
 
 SYNOPSIS. 
 
 Scene.— The Old Maids' Matrimonial Club. The Club in executive 
 session. Quotations. An unpopular sentiment. The Secretary's report. 
 The report of the Treasurer. " Candy kisses." The Lookout Committee. 
 " Widower Goodhope." A bachelor by the name of Rigby. " I don't care 
 if he hasn't a dollar." A few suggestions toward the propagation of 
 matrimony. The club in debate. A literary interlude. Prof. Pinkerton's 
 advent. A scientific exposition. Testimonials. " Before using your 
 Transform(h)er I was totally blind, and now I can see my finish." The 
 great invention at work. *' Blonde or brunette ? " Old maids made new. 
 A great success. A difficult case. Somewhat overdone. " The machine 
 can make no mistake." A hard problem. *' I want to be a man." The Pro- 
 fessor phazed but not daunted. " Drink the stuff and pile in." An explosion 
 — of laughter, 
 
 POPPING BY PROXY. 
 
 A FARCE IN ONE ACT. 
 By O. E. YOUNG. 
 
 Two male, four female characters. Scenery easy, costumes rustic. This 
 is a very amusing, if somewhat athletic farce, suitable for the young ar.d 
 robust, and likely to be popular among people who rejoice in practical 
 joking and high animal spirits. It is distinctly not a drawing-room play, 
 but is full of good, broad, boisterous fun, and tells a very entertaining 
 story. Plays forty-five minutes. 
 
 Price 16 Cents. 
 
 Seni^ posipaidy on receipt of price ^ by 
 
 BARER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS. . 
 
LATEST PLAY5. 
 
 A RANK DECEPTION. 
 
 A FARCE IN TWO ACTS. 
 
 By LILLI HUGER SMITH* 
 
 Three male, three female characters. Costumes modern; scenery 
 very simple — can be easily produced in a drawing-room, as in its original 
 performance. An admirable farce, turning upon presumed incidents of 
 the Cuban war, and addressed to the very best taste. Its story is cleverly 
 imagined and told with skill and ingenuity; its characters are admirably 
 chosen and drawn; its humor, which has a strong Gilbertian flavor, is 
 abundant and original. It is altogether an entirely exceptional piece of 
 its class, and is warmly recommended. De Bluster is a capital part for a 
 man, and all the three ladies are very strong. An excellent acting play, 
 equally strong in good lines and in telling situations. 
 
 Price 16 Cents. 
 
 SYNOPSIS. 
 
 ACT I — Madelina's lovers. " I won't marry any one who does n't take 
 part in this glorious war." De Bluster's dilemma. Wheelshaft's resolu- 
 tion. The army contract. De Bluster's bluff. Dora's mission. Relief for 
 the wounded. The Red-Cross nurse. Defamation of character. A hero's 
 outfit. Off to the war. 
 
 ACT II — "Conquering Hero Cigars." Madelina's stocking. The war 
 over. Dora's return. De Bluster's "Tough Riders." Frederick's little 
 scheme. Dora's discovery. Mrs. C. decorates. Breaking the news. Wheel- 
 shaft looking for gore. The " General's " arrival. The Tough Rider's 
 story. The bubble breaks. De Bluster busted. 
 
 The Ladies of Cranford. 
 
 A Sketch of English Village Life Fifty Years Ago. 
 
 IN THREE ACTS. 
 
 By MARY BARNARD HORNE, 
 
 Thirteen female characters. Scenery very easy; costumes important, 
 but not very difficult to manage. Dramatizations of Mrs. Gaskell's quaint 
 and humorous tale have been very popular the last two seasons, and this, 
 the latest one, is believed to be also the best. The interest of the piece is, 
 of course, chiefly in its characters and their humors, but Mrs. Home has 
 contrived to extract a sufficient dramatic interest from the suggestions of 
 the story, and has put its amusing incidents upon the stage with admir- 
 able tact and skill. This is a valuable addition to the number of high- 
 class plays for ladies, and is strongly recommended. 
 
 Price .... c ... 26 Cents. 
 SYNOPSIS. 
 
 ACT I — Miss Matty's parlor. Economy 4 la Cranford. Courting 
 under difficulties. A point of etiquette. Miss Matty's romance. A long- 
 lost brother. A cow in flannels. Afternoon tea. The bank failure. 
 
 ACT II — Miss Matty shop-keeping. ''Licensed to sell tea." A mar- 
 riage in Cranford. A customer. The Great Llama of Thibet. A gentle- 
 man to see Miss Jessie. Business methods. A shock to Cranford. Miss 
 Matty's equanimity. 
 
 ACT III — A card party. The seat of honor. Jessie's engagement. 
 The Hon. Mrs. Jamieson. Carlo and the cream. Sinking the shop. Mrs. 
 Jamieson's compliment. Good news. Breaking it gently. " Peter's come 
 back." A man in Cranford at last. Prosperity. 
 
 Sent^ postpaid, on receipt of price ^ by 
 
 BAKER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS. 
 
A NEW PATRIOTIC PLAY. 
 
 BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER. 
 
 A Military Drama in Five Acts. 
 By BERNARD FRANCIS MOORE. 
 
 Author of "The Rough Rider," "Captain Jack," Etc. 
 
 Nine male, two female characters. A stirring play of strong sym- 
 pathetic interest turning upon incidents of the Civil War. The thousands 
 who placed " The Rough Rider," by the same author, will find a similar 
 success in this piece, which is distinguished by the same qualities of 
 humor and action. Two strong leading parts, Irish comedy, and a strong 
 heavy part ; all other parts effective. Easy to stage, and perfectly suited 
 for amateurs, for whom it was specially written. Costumes modern and 
 military ; scenery simple but varied. Plays a full evening. 
 
 Price 16 Cents. 
 
 SYNOPSIS: 
 
 ACT I.— The Bennett home. *'That blamed Irishman." The coming 
 struggle. "Yes or no." The first rebel captured. A soldier's wife. The 
 traitor. A blow and its recoil. The declaration of war. Brother against 
 
 BROTHER. 
 
 ACT II.— The Union camp. The spy. The fortune of war. A secret 
 move. In a tight place. Ladies in camp. Cornered. The dispatches. 
 The capture. Face to face. 
 
 ACT III.— The court-martial. The weight of evidence. Self-betrayed. 
 Alabama Joe, the scout. A life at stake. The whole truth. The tie of 
 blood. A brother's testimony. The prisoner's defence. "I am guilty." 
 The fate of a spy. Death. 
 
 ACT IV.— The prison cell. Alone with death. A surprise. True love. 
 A chance of escape. A strange promise. Brothers and rivals. The trap. 
 "The underground route." An impossible condition. "Then die like a dog." 
 An interruption. Changing guard. "Now is your time." "I love my coun- 
 try, but you are still my brother." The escape. 
 
 ACT v.— Home again. The neglected farm. An Irish-American 
 affair. Sentenced. "The first girl you meet." Living or dead. In dis- 
 guise. "One slip of the tongue, and I am lost." A disagreable visitor. A 
 message from the tomb. "Thank God ! he died like a man with his face to 
 the foe." The cup and the lip. "Michael, you have saved my life." A trai- 
 tor's death and a patriot's love. The end op all. 
 
 An Old Maid's Wooing- 
 
 A Drama in Two Acts. 
 
 By riARTHA RUSSELL ORNE. 
 
 Author of "The Country School," "A Limb o* the Law," Etc. 
 
 Five male, four female characters. Scene, a single easy interior ; cos- 
 tumes modern. An amusing little play of American rural life, full of 
 genuine humor with touches of pathos. The dramatic interest is strong, 
 but that of character is even stronger. Easy to play and all the parts 
 effective. Acts one hour. 
 
 Price 15 Cents. 
 
 Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, hy 
 
 BAKER. 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS. 
 
A NEW IRI5H DRAMA. 
 
 FAUQH=A=BALLAQH 
 
 or, THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 
 
 A Romantic Irish Play in Three Acts. 
 
 By BERNARD FRANCIS MOORE. 
 
 Author of "Captain Jack," "The Irish Agent," "The Rough Rider," etc. 
 
 Nine male, two female characters. Scenery varied but simple ; cos- 
 tumes military and ragged. Another Irish drama in this author's well- 
 known and popular style, like its predecessors easy and effective to act, 
 and true and sympathetic in its presentation of Irish character. All 
 characters effective, both comedy and serious. Plays a full evening. 
 
 Price 25 Cents. 
 
 SYNOPSIS: 
 
 ACT I.— The wearing of the green. The patriot priest. Black Don- 
 ald's courtship. The spy. Gerald and Alice. Out of exile. The hour of 
 need. The Squire's plot. An unseen witness. The man of the hour. "I 
 know that I can trust you." The accusation. A counter plot. To the res- 
 cue. The tables turned. The Green above the Red. 
 
 ACT II. — The outlaw's home. An awkward squad. A soldier priest. 
 Brother and sister. A discovery. Betrayed by a friend. A good smoke. 
 Kitty Callahan and the ghost. Kissing a spirit. An unfortunate substi- 
 tute. "Take that for yer throuble." The captured spy. The Squire's danger. 
 Alice's escape. "Let us hang the both of them." A halt. Face to face at 
 last. The man of God. Good for evil. "The road lies before you — go!" 
 The Red above the Green. 
 
 ACT III.— The cabin in the hills. Myles ahead. Another taste of the 
 spirit. Kitty's suspicions. The ghost's command. "In order to save 
 yer life, I'll marry ye." The e^^le and the crow. An unwelcome visitor. 
 Offers of peace. The silver lining. The outlaw's wooing. Myles and the 
 Squire. " Now will I bust him on the head wid a bit o' rock ? " A free 
 pardon. Forgive and forget. Westward ho! The Stars and Stripes over 
 
 ALL. 
 
 A Black Trump. 
 
 A " Black-Face'* Comedy in Two Acts. 
 
 By DAVIS RISDON. 
 
 Three male, four female characters. Scenery, a simple interior; cos- 
 tumes, modern and rough. An entirely unique piece of its kind,— a 
 " straight" comedy of light but serious interest, written almost entirely 
 for "colored" characters. A very amusing piece, full of characteristic 
 darkey humor, its dialect and character-drawing being wholly^ excep- 
 tional in truth and vigor. Recommended as a downright novelty m enter- 
 tainments. Plays an hour. 
 
 Price 15 Centg. 
 
 Senfy postpaid, on receipt of price, by 
 
 BAKER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS. 
 
NEW PLAV5. 
 
 THE MOONSHINER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 A Play of Mountain Life in Three Acts. 
 
 By BERNARD FRANCIS MOORE. 
 
 Author of "The Wrecker's Daughter," **The Rough Rider,*' etc. 
 
 Five male, three female characters. Scenery very easy ; costumes mod- 
 ern and rough. An easy hut telling melodrama suited for young people 
 who like plenty of " go " and action, and who may have liked this author's 
 " Wrecker's Daughter." Easy to get up, cast small and good throughout, 
 in all respects suited for amateurs who want to do a little serious acting 
 without getting beyond their depths. Plays an hour and three-quarters. 
 
 Price . . . . . . 15 Cents. 
 
 SYNOPSIS: 
 
 ACT I.— Dave Martin's house. Gerald and the gun. The revenue 
 men. A bitter past. Father and daughter. A shadow from the grave. 
 The confession. "I killed him." The lost wife. "The fairy of the 
 mountain." Blarney. The traitor. An enemy in the camp. A double 
 motive. The price of liberty. An accidental meeting. "Be warned in 
 time." A counter warning. The stranger. " My God, my husband." 
 Reunited. 
 
 ACT II.— The cave in the mountains. The midnight raid. "There's 
 no such word as fail." Gerald's discovery. Dave's last offence. A Judas's 
 kiss. " Too late, too late." After fourteen years. Mother and daughter. 
 The " wildcat " still. A generous gauger. " I am here not to capture but 
 to save." The counter-mine. For love's sake. Drawing the net. The 
 meeting. An infamous bargain. A husband's arm. " Never, you devil ! " 
 Foiled. \ _^ 
 
 ACT III.— In New York. An anniversar^T^ Visions of the past. Mat- 
 rimonial schemes. An enemy in the dark. " He may strike through 
 those you love." An alliance. For richer and for poorer. Gerald's uncle. 
 The serpent on the hearth. Chloroformed. Just in time. " Your bullet 
 pierced his heart." Revenged. 
 
 The Man From Texas. 
 
 A Farce in One Act. 
 
 By BERNARD FRANCIS MOORE. 
 
 Two male, two female characters. Costumes modern ; scenery simple. 
 An easy and amusing slap-dash farce for young people. The " Texan 
 desperado " is a capital part. Plays twenty-five minutes. 
 
 Price 16 Cents. 
 
 Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 
 
 BAKER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS. 
 
LlLSi 
 
 NEW PLAYS. 
 
 Nan, the Mascotte. 
 
 A Comedy-Drama in Four Acts. 
 
 By GILBERT PATTEN. 
 
 Nine male, four female characters. Scenery not difficult; costumes 
 modern. An up-to-date American melodrama, full of action and interest. 
 This piece was originally produced by professional talent under the title 
 of " Men of Millions," and was a great success. It has been played from 
 manuscript by amateurs for several seasons, but is now printed for the 
 first time. Its characters are all effective and nearly all of fairly even 
 prominence. Soubrette, strong lead, strong "heavy," "hayseed" and 
 " dude " low comedy, and " old maid." Three men and one woman may 
 "double," thus reducing cast by four people. Strongly recommended. 
 Plays two and a half hours. Permission to perform must be obtained 
 from the author. 
 
 Price . 35 Cents. 
 
 SYNOPSIS: 
 
 ACT I.— Caleb's home. Social ambitions. " Borrying." Nan, the 
 mascotte. The cut finger. " If mother should see us." Laying down the 
 law. An unwelcome return. A bitter disappointment. Her husband. 
 " You have not seen the last of me ! " Deacon Smartweed and the " wid- 
 der." The see-saw. The accident. " What'll the parson say?" An es- 
 trangement. Flood's return. The meeting. " That blow is enough." The 
 murder. 
 
 ACT II.— In New York. Lawyer vs. doctor. The speculator. The life 
 of Wall street. The mascotte. The mysterious chamber. "The man is 
 mad." Nan and the dude. The real man. In society. Prompting Cupid. 
 A "duck " and a " quack." Eavesdropping. An understanding. A finan- 
 cial crisis. The wolf in sheep's clothing. The cat's out. Breakers 
 ahead. 
 
 ACT III.— The Deacon's visit. A changed wife. Golden Queen stock. 
 The mascotte's warning. The dude and the deacon. " Dunno's I ever saw 
 anythin' like that before." Tl<e lantern. "Some garden sass for Sister 
 Baldwin." The red ^T^l-a^i-^^The hc^r of trouble. Sacrificing her child. 
 The black door. The big chief and the butler. A fateful letter. His re- 
 venge. A fearful price. A ruined man. Nan to the rescue. Saved. 
 
 ACT IV.— Back in the country. A dude sportsman. " A weglar 
 wuffian." A trial shot. " Gweat Motheth ! the hat wath on a manth head." 
 The Deacon's experiences. Frackett's goat. The widow's rescue. Butted 
 into matrimony. Flood's escape. A false report. A blessing in disguise. 
 The secret of the room. Jimsy again. Hunted down. The arrest. Nan's 
 enlightenment. For better or for worse. " What'll the parson say ? " 
 
 An Awkward Squad. 
 
 A Sketch in One Scene. 
 
 By ROBERT n. BAKER. 
 
 Eight male characters, two verv subordinate. A very rapid and viva- 
 cious fifteen-minute sketch, suita{)le for vaudeville purposes, turning 
 upon a timely mHitary subject. Irish, Dutch, "hayseed" and "dude" 
 comedy parts. All right. 
 
 Price ir* Cents. 
 
 StiHff postpaid^ on receipt of price ^ by 
 
 BASER, 5 HAMILTON PLAGE, BOSTON, MASS.