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PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS, SAN FRANCISCO 
 1903 
 
5ENERAL 
 
 CtfjrigJit, i$OJ 
 PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
 
 The Tomoye Press 
 San Francisco 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 You, Mother, who have ever caught 
 What joys in laughter s ripples lie, 
 
 Who seldom let a mirthful thought 
 Unsmiled upon to pass you by, 
 
 To you these lines that I have done 
 I give in love as well as fun. 
 
 
Co 
 
 NTENTS 
 
 I. A DOMESTIC DILEMMA : 
 
 For two men and two or three women - i 
 
 II. HEROES : 
 
 For five women and two men zg 
 
 III. AN INNOCENT VILLAIN : 
 
 For one man and five women - - - 51 
 
 IV. ART FOR ART S SAKE : 
 
 For three women and two men - - 83 
 
 V. AN INTIMATE ACQUAINTANCE : 
 
 For five women - - - - - IQQ 
 
 VI. THE WEDDING of MAH FOY : 
 
 For three women and three men speaking parts 135 
 
 VII. Music HATH CHARMS : 
 
 For one man and one woman - - - 157 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 In regard to this farce, as to others contained in the 
 book, the author disclaims all attempt at any objeft more 
 ambitious than that of preparing something practical and 
 humorous, to suit the needs of the amateur aftor, of not 
 too aspiring an ambition. On this account, the scenes are 
 such as could be easily arranged in drawing-rooms or upon 
 a very simple and improvised stage. 
 
 Because a program for amateurs is not, as a usual thing, 
 expected to fill the entire evening, these farces consist of 
 one aft, which on an average would require about one- 
 half hour to perform. 
 
 The reader is also reminded of the faft that the desire 
 of the amateur "for something easy to aft,* for a play in 
 which the aftors have almost an equal amount of the work 
 to do, and for a certain simplicity of situation, limit even 
 a very modest "playwright" in the choice of matter and 
 character. 
 
 A DOMESTIC DILEMMA is written primarily for a golf 
 club entertainment, or any audience of golf players, and 
 is also arranged for opportunity to give as much or as little 
 vaudeville (dancing or singing) as is desired, in the scene 
 where CHRISTINE and the VALET entertain the unwelcome 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MR. MORTON. To this role of the VALET only a hint 
 of English accent has been ascribed, leaving that part of 
 the characterization to the aftor, who may possibly prefer, 
 anyway, to present him as a New Yorker. 
 
 As a usual thing, the fault of the amateur is to hurry 
 lines and situations, in a nervous manner, lacking sufficient 
 repose to give them their whole value, however slight that 
 value may be. And in this first farce especially, delibera 
 tion is urged, the lines being short and the changes fre 
 quent enough to insure liveliness without any necessity of 
 haste. In faft by hurrying it too much any effeft which 
 it might give would be lost. The costumes are modern 
 and the brighter the better. The roles of CHRISTINE and 
 NORA McGiNTY could be adled by the same person, in 
 case one wished more of a chance for afting than one part 
 alone affords. And in that case, NORA S costume should 
 be particularly flamboyant and absurd ; a big hat covered 
 with flowers, drawn low over the forehead, affording 
 something of a disguise. Her appearance should be such 
 as to raise a laugh at her entrance, before she speaks at all. 
 A real or part of a real telephone is an important adjunft. 
 
 The reader is reminded that a good reading play is 
 often a very different thing from one which ab well. 
 The author claims for these only that they have aftion 
 and amusing situations, and will be effective on the ama 
 teur stage. 
 
A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 /" H^yt^ j 
 
 MRS. JACK WYNN A young married "woman of nc housekeeping 
 
 genius, knoivn to her friends as Daisy. 
 CHRISTINE BRUCE Her friend. A young society girl devoted to 
 
 athletics. 
 
 NORA McGiNTY A servant. 
 HONORABLE HERBERT ASHMEAD A young Englishman of good family , 
 
 who is cxpcEled at the Wynn home as a guest for overnight. 
 His VALET. 
 DICK MORTON A young student, grave for his years. 
 
 The scene consists of the front room in Mrs. IVynri* s cozy 
 suburban residence. There is a door in the back wall, 
 C. , which opens in the front hall, and to the left of 
 this, a window. Another door in the right wall, at 
 one side, is supposed to open into the dining-room, be 
 yond which is the kitchen. In the room are a piano, a 
 sofa, table, chairs, bric-a-brac, and other ordinary 
 furnishings. A mirror hangs to the R. of the door 
 back. The curtain rising discovers the place in dire 
 and dreary disorder, not even a chair in its proper 
 place. Mrs. Wynn, her hair bound in a bandana, 
 forming a queer contrast to her pretty dress, is dis- 
 traftedly trying to get order out of chaos. At times 
 she stops to look at herself in mirror and rearrange 
 her hair. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Dear ! Dear ! [to herself] Dear ! 
 This is simply awful. Only one servant left in the house, 
 and a guest expefted by the next train. There ! [Throws 
 several articles and books under the sofa] I wish Jack 
 would come home unexpectedly. One s husband is so 
 useful at times. I could put him to sweeping off the front 
 steps. If I only had time [opens piano and dusts it 
 noisily] , I know I should make a good housekeeper. 
 
 VOICE. [Outside] Mrs. Wynn, where be ye? 
 Oh, Mrs. Wynn 
 
 ~ 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Here I am ! The cook calling to me 
 in my own house ! I am shocked to have answered her. 
 \Enter at door back, NORA, wearing a ridiculous 
 and gaudy street costume* and carrying boxes 
 and bundles innumerable.^ 
 Why, Nora, what do you want ? 
 
 NORA. \Vhy don t ye ask me to be seated, Mum, 
 like a lady should ? 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Seated ! Why should my cook sit in 
 my presence ? 
 
 NORA. Because I ain t ye re cook no longer, Mum, 
 I ain t nobody s cook. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. What ! Why, Nora, you weieacook 
 not ten minutes ago, out in my kitchen. I saw you there 
 peeling potatoes I saw you there with my own eyes. 
 
 NORA. What if I was? What if I was? Ye 
 needn t throw it up at me 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Nora, tell me the truth, are you going 
 to leave me ? 
 
 NORA. I am takin* leave, Mum. 
 MRS. WYNN. Why, oh, why ? 
 
 NORA. I don t know, Mum but the Prisident of 
 our Union she s a lady has called us all out we re 
 all on a strike, so I m a-goin . V^ 
 
 MRS. WYNN. But, J^ofa a guest is coming I 
 can t cook oh, what shall I do? \JVeeps.~\ 
 
 NORA. Sorry, Mum. [ Weeps in sympathy.^ The 
 only advice I can give ye is to form a union. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. A union of what? 
 
 NORA. I don t know, Mum. Just a union. It s 
 the best way. Good day, Mum, I m going, the 
 potatoes is all peeled, Mum, and the little duck the 
 little duck is just ready to put in the oven [through 
 fears ] it is on it is in the pantry shelf. 
 
 TTT 
 

 
 A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh! Oh! I never in the world 
 can get a dinner. I haven t time. O Nora ! Stay, stay! 
 
 NORA. [Solemnly."] Mum, I would, but I be 
 long to the union. Good-by, Mum, it is my juty 
 which calls me. [She gathers up all the boxes and de 
 parts, leaving MRS. WYNN weeping J\ 
 
 MRS. WYNN. What shall I do ? How I wish I 
 had been raised a cook! But I never had time to learn 
 how to cook; I was too busy dancing what s that? 
 O heavens ! Some one is ringing the door bell and I 
 can t go in this apron the door is opening he must 
 have pried open the lock I hear him coming this way 
 Mr. Ashmead wasn t expefted until four! Who can it 
 be ? It is probably that burglar who has been murdering 
 women in broad daylight, for their jewels [louder] 
 Wait! Don t come in! I mean, where shall I hide? 
 Oh, dear, I can t let a burglar find me in this apron! I 
 should have put on a clean one, but I didn t have time ! 
 [Gets behind piano with back toward door^] 
 
 [Enter CHRISTINE in traveling dress, carrying golf 
 clubs. ] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. [Solemnly from behind piano.~\ You 
 may take anything in the house if only you won t find 
 me. 
 
 CHRISTINE. What ? Whose voice is that ? Is this 
 a haunted house ? 
 
 MRS. WYNN. A woman burglar! 
 CHRISTINE. The ghost, I suppose! 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Well, I don t mind a woman burglar 
 seeing this old apron. [Comes out.~] 
 
 [Both womtn scream * CHRISTINE," "DAISY," 
 and rush into each other s arms. MRS, 
 WYNN leads CHRISTINE to sofa. ] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. What are you doing in this part of 
 the country, Christine ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Breaking golf records. I have come 
 
 [5] 
 
Drawing- Room PI ay s 
 
 here to stay a month with you. I like your golf course. 
 I may stay longer. [Business with golf clubs, ,] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. [Dubiously.] Oh, how nice! 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Taking off hat ana jacket. ] All I 
 want is a good bit of juicy beefsteak for dinner, bread and 
 butter and five or six eggs. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Don t you like duck? [Watching 
 other put an imaginary ball] 
 
 CHRISTINE. I loathe duck. I never eat it. Do 
 ring for the servant, Daisy dear, my trunk is in the hall. 
 This putter needs polishing. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Your trunk is in the hall ! Couldn t 
 you carry it up yourself ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. I suppose I could. My muscles are 
 in splendid condition and the trunk is mostly filled with 
 golf balls, but but 
 
 MRS. WYNN. I should think you would enjoy 
 carrying it up, just to show how strong you are. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, yes, but who s to see me do it? 
 How odd it would look, anyway, to the servants 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh, I have no servants! 
 
 CHRISTINE. You poor thing! Why, I heard you 
 married well. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh, I did! But they have gone. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Your husband ? [Polishes putter with 
 chamois skin from pocket.] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. No, all the servants have left and 
 my husband is in the city and a friend of his is coming to 
 stay here tonight 
 
 CHRISTINE. Tonight? How jolly! I don t mind 
 there being no servants. He can carry up my trunk. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. No! No! He won t. He, this 
 friend of my husband s, is a swell Englishman with a valet 
 and all that sort of thing. Imagine an Englishman com- 
 
A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 ing into a servantless home ! He can only stay one night, 
 though, as he has passage engaged for the next day. 
 
 CHRISTINE. [/;/ brown study. ] You are sure he 
 has a valet with him ? 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh, very sure! 
 
 CHRISTINE. Then be can carry up my trunk! 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh dear, oh dear ! Can t you see 
 how awfully mortifying it is for us what will this Mr. 
 Ashmead think of us ! And we are so far from the city. 
 I have telephoned to Jack, but he can t bring a maid. 
 He won t, and says he is too busy and he will arrive here 
 just in time for dinner, and there won t be any dinner. 
 
 CHRISTINE. No dinner ! And I ve gone around a 
 
 two-mile course since luncheon 
 
 [Door be II rings.] 
 {Both. } Oh ! {Both rise."] 
 MRS. WYNN. Now who can that be ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Perhaps your husband has succeeded in 
 finding a cook. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. I will look and see. [Goes to the 
 window] No, it is the Englishman s valet bringing his 
 boxes. What shall I do ? I can t open the door for a 
 valet. English valets are so fiercely proper. 
 {Bell rings again.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Of course not ; you can t open the door 
 for him. I will go. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh, that wouldn t do! He would 
 take you for the servant. [Both standing, looking into each 
 other"* s eyes, then laugh] 
 
 CHRISTINE. I ll do it. / // be the servant. Quick! 
 Quick! Give me a cap! [Places golf clubs and bag in 
 corner.] 
 
 [MRS. WYNN^/J her out in apron and cap, which 
 have been lying in chair.] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. What a nice little maid you make ! 
 E7] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 Now, I ll run. You let him in tell him td go into the 
 kitchen. I ll get the dinner. I ll be in the pantry. 
 
 [Exeunt MRS. WYNN and CHRISTINE at different 
 
 doors.] 
 [Re-enter CHRISTINE and VALET, who is very 
 
 English.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Mrs. Wynn said you were to go imme 
 diately into the kitchen. 
 
 VALET. Very well ; which way do I go ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. That door ! Wait ! First I want you 
 to carry Mr. what s your master s name ? 
 
 VALET. My master s name ? Ah ! Why, Ashmead, 
 of course. 
 
 CHRISTINE. You must carry Mr. Ashmead s boxes 
 upstairs, and my trunk - 
 
 VALET. Tour trunk ! I must carry your trunk 
 upstairs ? [Intense surprise.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Yes, my trunk ! I ve heard before of 
 the impertinence of English servants to Americans ! Do 
 you refuse to carry up my trunk? 
 
 VALET. Where are the other servants ? [Looking 
 Call them, don t you know ! 
 
 CHRISTINE. Other servants ! Oh, no, indeed there 
 are none. I am the only servant in the house. \_As he 
 looks at her, man slowly smiles. He walks down stage 
 and back again.] 
 
 VALET. Very well ; I am glad you are here. 
 Where is the trunk ? 
 
 [CHRISTINE darts into ball and drags in trunk.] 
 CHRISTINE. Here it is. 
 
 VALET. [Lifts it] Jove ! What a light trunk ! 
 It must be empty. 
 
 CHRISTINE. No, indeed ; it is half full of golf balls. 
 ~ 
 
A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 VALET. [Setting down trunk and sitting on it] Golf 
 balls ! I don t move from this place until I learn what 
 use you can possibly make of golf balls. You are Mrs. 
 Wynn s maid ? 
 
 <j* CHRISTINE. Yes. What business is that of yours ? 
 
 [Standing before him.] 
 
 VALET. Well, you are a very pretty one, at any rate, 
 and I think we will have good times together. Sit down. 
 Pray sit down. [He motions her to the other end of the 
 trunk.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. What ! Where ? There ? What do 
 you mean, Sir ? 
 
 VALET. I ve card of the howdashous cheek of 
 h American servants, and of course you re stuck up, my 
 dear, but I don t mind. May I smoke ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. No ! [He stops after getting out pipe 
 and striking match.] 
 
 VALET. Then I won t until later. In England 
 
 CHRISTINE. Do you refuse to go into the kitchen ? 
 
 VALET. Yes, I refuse ; but you have told me to go, 
 so you have done your duty. I suppose you scorn me 
 because I m a servant now. But mind, I am not a 
 servant always. In the summer, I m a 
 
 CHRISTINE. What ? 
 
 VALET. A professional golf instructor . [Glancing 
 at clubs in corner.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. A golf instructor ! Oh, how perfectly 
 delightful ! 1 thought you were much too good looking 
 to 
 
 VALET. To what don t mind me ! I am used 
 to admiration. To be 
 
 CHRISTINE. To be an Englishman s valet <7//the year. 
 VALET. No ; I wouldn t do that for anything. 
 
 CHRISTINE. I m so glad to hear you say it. Oh, won t 
 you come out and play golf with me tomorrow morning ? 
 
 79? 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 VALET. I really can t say. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, please say you will ! There are 
 my clubs ! 
 
 VALET. How do I know what sort of a game you 
 put up ? I never before knew a lady s maid who played 
 golf. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, never mind that. Say you will. 
 Say you will play golf with me ! I know you could 
 teach me such a lot. 
 
 VALET. No doubt. But you might not treat me well. 
 
 CHRISTINE. I will treat you very well I worship 
 golf. 
 
 VALET. Americans are so undemocratic. You might 
 remember all the time we were on the links that I am a 
 valet in the winter. 
 
 CHRISTINE. I should never think of it I promise 
 you. Really I play very well. My score is 48 
 
 VALET. Dreadful! [Laughs scornfully.] A dread 
 ful score ! 
 
 CHRISTINE. Do you think so ? Some one here said 
 that I put up a game almost like a man s. 
 
 VALET. Heaven forbid ! 
 
 CHRISTINE. What ! You must have a high ideal 
 of golf. 
 
 VALET. Of women, possibly. 
 
 CHRISTINE. I m sure I could never snubjw/. 
 
 VALET. But you won t allow me to smoke 
 
 CHRISTINE. You may now 
 
 VALET. Thanks. [He smokes. ] Won t you sit 
 down ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Where ? 
 
 VALET. Why er here ! [ Motions to other half 
 of trunk, .] 
 
 ~ 
 
A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 [CHRISTINE seats herself, after hesitating, coyly 
 beside him.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Now will you play golf with me ? [At 
 farthest end of trunk.] 
 
 VALET. I certainly will if Mr. Ashmead permits it. 
 Aren t you afraid of falling off, don t you know ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. And if Mrs. Wynn is willing. [Proudly. ] 
 No ; I am not going to fall off. 
 
 VALET. She must be a great swell if even her maid 
 belongs to the golf club. What do the other servants 
 belong to ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, she is " swell" ! Her servants are 
 Always leaving. They belong to unions, I suppose. 
 
 VALET. You won t leave er at least not while 
 I am here, will you ? [Moving closer to her.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. No ; I won t. I may lower my golf 
 score, if I stay. [Both kick their heels carelessly against 
 the trunk. Silence but for this noise, ,] 
 
 VALET. Do you know, I think we are getting along 
 famously. 
 
 CHRISTINE. I suppose your record is well known ? 
 
 VALET. In golf, perhaps. Some things I keep quite 
 secret ; but I mean we are getting along famously to 
 gether-- 
 
 ^.^^CHRISTINE. [Jumping up.] Oh ! 
 
 VALET. [Also jumping up.] Why, together we 
 could smash all the records in the world. 
 
 CHRISTINE. What a beautiful dream ! [Looking up 
 into bis eyes.] 
 
 [A ring at the door bell is beard. ] 
 
 There ! Some one is at that dreadful door again. [ Turns 
 away. ] 
 
 VALET. I will open the door for you. It is the 
 greatest pleasure to open doors for you ! [Follows her.] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, no, it might be Mr. Ashmead who 
 rang ! 
 
 VALET. I think not. Do let me go for you. I 
 want to do all the work for you while I stay, if I may. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, that will be very nice ! You may 
 open the door. 
 
 [Exit VALET. He goes out slowly puffing at pipe.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Sits on trunk, sighs. ] He is a dream 
 delightful handsome cute old thing ! I shall 
 be a servant always. I suppose my cap is becoming. He 
 afts like it. [She goes to mirror. ] 
 [Enter VALET.] 
 
 VALET. Ahem ! [She hurries from the mirror.] 
 Where is Mrs. Wynn ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Sh-h-h ! In the kitchen or the pantry. 
 Give me the card. [Reads.] Mr. Richard Morton 
 oh dear! Mr. Richard Morton I told him to stay 
 miles away. 
 
 VALET. Who is this Mr. Richard Morton ? [Puts 
 away pipe] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Sh-h-h-h ! He is the man I am en 
 gaged to. 
 
 VALET. [Sits down] Then I won t let him in. 
 
 CHRISTINE. For a valet I must say you are ex 
 tremely overbearing. [Standing] 
 
 VALET. But remember I am also a golf instructor. 
 [Takes up her cleik] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Don t I know it? Oh, why did that 
 man come ? He has no soul for golf. He will never let 
 me play golf with you. Never ! Never ! [Pacing 
 stage] 
 
 VALET. Then I won t let him in. [Feeling cleik 
 suggestively] 
 
 CHRISTINE. But it is cold out there on the veranda. 
 
 VALET. Perhaps. [Shrugs shoulders] 
 

 A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 CHRISTINE. Do you really want so much to play 
 golf with me? [Approaching him.] 
 
 VALET. Oh, very much ! [Pause.] Do you really 
 care for the man ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. I I don t know. [Drooping bead.] 
 VALET. You are in doubt. 
 
 CHRISTINE. I have told him lots of times that I would 
 never marry him. Why even his caddies laugh at him 
 on the links. 
 
 VALET. That settles him. You can never marry 
 such a man. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Why ? 
 
 VALET. How can an athletic marvel, such as you 
 are, one with a career before her 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh 
 
 VALET. For I can coach you right into the record- 
 breaking class. How can such an athlete as you marry a 
 man who can t even put? 
 
 CHRISTINE. How do you know he can t put? 
 
 VALET. I knew it as soon as I saw him. He hasn t 
 the eye. You do not love him. Break the engagement. 
 
 CHRISTINE. I have, lots of times. 
 
 VALET. Then he thinks that, like all American girls, 
 you do not mean what you say. Break it again. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Where ? 
 
 VALET. Here, now. I shall not undertake to coach 
 you until you have broken your engagement with that 
 shivering hound out there on the veranda. [Points toward 
 window.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, is he shivering ? Bring him in. 
 
 VALET. I wiil not bring him in. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Then how can I break our engagement ? 
 
 C 3] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 VALET. Write it to him I will take it out. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, what a dreadful thing to do ! What 
 a way to do it ! 
 
 VALET. I see you are not in earnest. You must 
 cultivate the proper sporting spirit. It is half the battle, 
 in golf. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Yes, I know it is. I well where 
 is the paper ? [He goes to table.] 
 
 VALET. Hear it is, my future golf champion, and 
 here is a pencil. 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Seats herself at table. Biting end of 
 pencil.] He must be awfully cold out there. Will you 
 let him in after I have written the message ? 
 
 VALET. Yes, in all probability. [Watching her] 
 
 v, CHRISTINE. [Writing] It gets easier to break our 
 engagement every time I do it. 
 
 VALET. What is that chap s business ? Some gro 
 cer s clerk, I suppose ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, no, he is a young theological 
 student ! 
 
 VALET. Break it off break it off quickly ab 
 solutely unsuitable. You American maids are shockingly 
 ambitious, don t you know. I suppose it is the influence 
 on you of your golf clubs. [She drops pencil and he gets 
 on knee to give it to her] Now a golf instructor, who 
 is a valet in winter, seems much more suitable for you. 
 You need no longer stay in domestic service, unless you 
 wish. [Still kneeling] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Ruing.] Sh-h-h-h ! Mrs. Wynn 
 might come in. You may see what I have written [they 
 read together, seated on trunk], if you ll never tell. It 
 would be mean to tell. 
 
 VALET. I should say. [Looking over her shoulder] 
 
 CHRISTINE. " Dear Dick: I really must break off 
 our engagement, once more. I wish to go in for a course 
 
A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 of golf with a professional coach, who will devote his 
 entire time to me - " 
 
 VALET. Good ! 
 
 CHRISTINE. "It is the chance of my life, so I can 
 not marry you. After you receive this, you may come in. 
 
 CHRIS." 
 
 VALET. [Folding it up.~\ Good ! Now, where* s 
 the ring ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, I never give back the ring, when I 
 break the engagement ! 
 
 VALET. Shocking ! Well, you must this time, don t 
 you know. [She takes it off regretfully and gives it 
 to him.~^ 
 
 CHRISTINE. I rather liked the ring. 
 
 VALET. Now don t worry, little girl, I shall not 
 allow you to regret this. [Rising.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, I never worry ! I always enjoy 
 throwing him over. [Clicks heels against trunk and 
 bums song."] 
 
 VALET. Where is the silver salver ? 
 CHRISTINE. The what ? 
 
 VALET. The thing that his card ought to have been 
 brought in on, don t you know ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, you are a smart servant ! I won 
 der where it can be ! I saw it somewhere in this room. 
 [ They look about and at last fnd it under the sofa where 
 MRS. WYNN has put it while tf cleaning #/"] Here 
 it is. 
 
 VALET. Thanks. [VALET places note, ring and 
 card on tray] I take pleasure in carrying him your 
 rejection. [He bows. Exit VALET.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Z^/> alone.] Poor Dick ! He ought 
 to get used to this sort of thing, but he never does, some 
 how. He is so good. I wish I were good. I wonder 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 what he will say ! [Goes to window and looks out.] 
 Dear me ! He does look awfully cold and lonesome. 
 Well, it serves him right. He ought to be more aftive 
 like Mr. Ashmead s golf instructor. There he comes 
 now. He hands the note to Dick. Dick is surprised. 
 
 He reads it. He Oh dear ! I m frightened 
 
 [Runs away from window.] What have I done ? 
 
 VOICE OF MRS. WYNN. [Outside.] Christine, how 
 long do ducks boil ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Calling out door to kitchen.] I ll be 
 there in a moment. Don t leave them. You must 
 watch them every minute, for ever so long. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. [Forlornly] All right, I will. 
 
 [CHRISTINE goes to piano, where sbj sits and 
 plays or sings.] VvX<^ L*sd*^~~*s^\^ 
 
 CHRISTINE. Well, I must "carry it off." Tra-la- 
 la-la ! [ Stops witb a bang when enter VALET witb a 
 ruth, dragging MORTON by coat collar.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Morton ! 
 
 VALET. Do you mean to say, Miss that this man 
 :s a theological student ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Yes, he is, was, isn t he? 
 MORTON. You bully, stop spoiling my collar ! 
 
 VALET. I don t believe it. He used language to me 
 now that no gentleman would use to another,. > 
 
 ORTON. Gentleman ! Are you a gentleman ? 
 Unhand me then villain ! [VALET lets him go, and 
 MORTON rearranges collar at mirror.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [To VALET.] You should have broken 
 news to him gently. I always tell him by degrees. 
 
 ALET. I did. I said, "Leave the place. The 
 maid is not at home, don t you know." 
 
 MORTON. He insulted me. Spoke as if I had come 
 to call upon the servant. Did you write this note, 
 Christine ? 
 
 [6] 
 
we 
 
 A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 CHRISTINE. Yes ; why ? 
 
 MORTON. It is spelled correftly, so I thought it was 
 possibly from some one else, what s that thing on 
 your head? 
 
 CHRISTINE. O Dick, how cruel of you ! It is a cap. 
 
 VALET. Cruel to you, is he ? The brute ! Here, 
 young fellow, get out of this 
 
 CHRISTINE. Stop ! Stop ! Oh, don t have a fight ! 
 [Running in between tbem.~\ 
 
 MORTON. I am not going to fight ; I never fight. 
 VALET. Good ! / do. 
 
 MORTON. Christine, I demand an explanation. On 
 such a solemn occasion as this I demand an explanation or 
 a retraction. 
 
 CHRISTINE. This isn t a solemn occasion. What is a 
 retraction ? 
 
 MORTON. Your ignorance appalls me! Who is that 
 man? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, don t ask me! [To VALET, pull 
 ing him aside. ] Don t tell him. No one must know 
 who you are. It is a secret. 
 
 VALET. I should say so. I wouldn t have it known 
 for worlds. 
 
 CHRISTINE. [To MORTON.] This man is is we 
 are going to play golf together. [CHRISTINE and VALET 
 are L. t MORTON .#.] 
 
 MORTON. Your frivolity does not anger me more 
 than it arouses my just indignation. I deserve an explan 
 ation. In fa& I insist upon one. Christine, you loved 
 me once. [Folds arms.~^ 
 
 CHRISTINE. Well, don t throw it up at me. I 
 couldn t help it then, Dick, really. 
 
 MORTON. Well, I could forgive you for that, if you 
 would only love me now. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, I couldn t think of it now ! I 
 haven t time. You know what I said in the note. 
 
 MORTON. But listen to me 
 
 VALET. My dear girl, I am now ready to carry your 
 trunk upstairs. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Well I am glad to hear that. I am 
 relieved to know that you at last consent to obey. You 
 seem now to know your place. 
 
 VALET. You have taught it to me. I will take care 
 of the trunk because it is yours. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, how nicely you do put things ! 
 
 MORTON. [Coming between them."] You shall not. 
 [Both men stand by trunk. ] 
 
 VALET. I will. 
 
 MORTON. / will carry her trunk myself. 
 
 CHRISTINE. You couldn t do it. 
 
 MORTON. [To VALET.] Out of the way, fellow. 
 [Takes off his coat.~\ I am now ready to carry the 
 trunk. 
 
 [While MORTON stands impotent ly by, VALET 
 takes trunk on shoulder and walks out with 
 
 *] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Won t you please go home, Dickie dear? 
 
 MORTON. No, not until I have had the inexpressi 
 ble sorrow of an explanation from you. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, please go, Dickie, or put on your 
 coat! 
 
 DICK. I decline. I have become desperate enough 
 for anything. I shall keep off my coat. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Well, there s good reading matter on 
 the table, or under the sofa. I know you will enjoy 
 reading. You may read the note through again, 
 too. [Laughs.] 
 
 [Exit CHRISTINE.] 
 
 [I*} 
 
A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 MORTON. Wretched frivolity. She has broken my 
 heart. Under the sofa reading matter under the sofa! 
 How inexpressibly frivolous! [Looks under sofa and 
 brings out book.~\ A novel! I am for the moment 
 consoled only for the moment. [Sits and reads. ~\ 
 [Enter MRS. WYNN.] 
 
 MRS. " WYNN. [Aside, ,] Oh, so Mr. Ashmead 
 has come! What an extremely sedate man he seems 
 to be reading < The Sorrows of Satan, " and making 
 himself so much at home with his coat off. [To MOR 
 TON.] I am Mrs. Wynn. 
 
 MORTON. Ah, Mrs. Wynn, how you startled me ! 
 How do you do ? I hope I find you well. [Rises and 
 bows with ceremony, .] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Quite, thank you. And the ducks 
 are getting along beautifully. 
 
 MORTON. The ducks ! How different from Marie 
 Corelli ! [Both j//.] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. How serious he is ! Welcome to our 
 
 little home ! Although at present we have only one 
 
 servant, she is a hard worker, and everything shall be done 
 
 for your comfort. I hope you will stay at least a week 
 
 with 
 
 MORTON.- Ah, Mrs. Wynn! How inexpressibly 
 kind of you ! Then I shall be able to finish this book, 
 while I watch her. That is certainly a most tempting 
 invitation. Although I have other duties far from here 
 alas ! I think for once I will indulge the strain of 
 frivolity in my nature and stay. I accept the invita 
 tion with avidity. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. \Jumping up in consternation. ~\ You 
 do ! Oh dear ! I mean, how nice! I thought you 
 were starting abroad tomorrow. 
 
 MORTON. I ? Oh, no ! Not at all. I shall be 
 delighted to stay. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh! Oh! The last straw ! Oh! Oh! 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay 
 
 MORTON. My dear Madam, what is the matter 
 with you ? Nothing serious, I hope. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Yes ; very serious. But I am delighted 
 to see you making yourself so much at home. [Sits again. ~\ 
 
 MC&TON. I thank you, dear Madam. You have 
 made me feel at home. A long visit would delight me 
 here. You seem indisposed. Can I do anything for 
 you ? Shall I ring for your maid ? 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh, no ! Oh, no ! Pray continue 
 to talk. You speak with such elegance. 
 
 r Ert5 .zA^w^J- 
 
 MORTON. I feel that I am in the presence of an 
 appreciative wom an. Unfortunately all women are not 
 appreciative. Unfortunately so many unmarried females 
 are so overcome by their own frivolity that they cannot 
 understand the higher nature of man. In faft, they tread 
 upon this higher nature and turn it into bitterness. I 
 have known of such cases. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Indeed ! 
 
 MORTON. Furthermore, a woman has it within her 
 power to make of a man a cynic or an angel she has 
 this awful responsibility in her power, I say. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Areri* t you cold without your coat on ? 
 
 MORTON. My coat ! Dear me ! [In embarrass 
 ment.^ I am -~|beg a thousand pardons. I am so 
 absent-minded. j^TJie* absent-mindedness of one who has 
 his mind on higner things yes thanks, that is it yes, I 
 will put it on -4- [does so~\ . The higher nature of man 
 demands - I [Has difficulty with one sleeve.~\ 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh, excuse me just one minute ! I 
 am so interested, but I must telephone to my husband on 
 a matter of great importance. [Goes to telephone near 
 front of stage, while MORTON takes book near rear. Busi 
 ness with phone may be made longer. ,] Hello ! Hello ! 
 [etc.] Nickel ! Oh, yes ! \_At last gets her husband 
 on phone. ~\ Jack, is this you? Well, this is me - 
 yes, M-E-E. Well, anyway, I wish you would give up 
 that tiresome business and come home. Mr. Ashmead is 
 
 CM] 
 
A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 here. He bores me to death. We have no servant, 
 you know, and he says he is going to stay a week. Please 
 come home. It is our living you say, our daily bread ? No 
 matter ! Come home ! Good-by ! Good-by ! Oh, 
 what is that burning in the kitchen ? Excuse me, some 
 thing s burning ! Oh dear! It s the dinner burning up ! 
 The ducks ! The ducks ! 
 
 [Exit MRS. WYNN in great flurry.] 
 
 [^MORTON /// // continues to ready now lying on 
 
 sofa.] 
 
 [Enter CHRISTINE and VALET.] 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, he is still here ! 
 VALET. How extremely impertinent of him ! 
 
 MORTON. Yes ; I am here, Miss Bruce, and here I 
 intend to remain. Mrs. Wynn has invited me to spend 
 the week with her as a guest. 
 
 CHRISTINE. You had better not stay I am going to 
 be so frivolous. You won t want to stay. 
 
 VALET. Do be frivolous. It will be rather enter 
 taining, I think. So few people are really frivolous, don t 
 you know. 
 
 CHRISTINE. [To VALET.] You must go into the 
 kitchen now. 
 
 VALET. I refuse to go into the kitchen. I will stay 
 and help you entertain Mr. Morton, if you are going to 
 do it here. Do you sing ? 
 
 [ They proceed to sing together and do other vaude 
 ville turns at the discretion of the actors. 
 MR. MORTON is very visibly shocked.] 
 
 MORTON. This is outrageous. I prefer Marie 
 relli. 
 
 [Enter MRS. WYNN. VALET and CHRISTINE at 
 piano.] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Christine, what docs this mean? 
 Wbat a valet ! 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 VALET. Am I not a proper one, Madam ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, Mrs. Wynn, we are just entertain 
 ing your guest here ! 
 
 MORTON. I am not entertained in the slightest. 
 [Rises.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [To VALET.] That is Mrs. Wynn, my 
 mistress. [To MORTON.] I am her maid, you know. 
 I have hired out as her servant. 
 
 MORTON. Her servant! You are in this house as a 
 servant! How frivolous! Now I understand all. That 
 thing on your head is the badge of servitude. 
 
 CHRISTINE. And Mrs. Wynn, Mum [courtesy ing] , 
 this is Mr. Ashmead s valet, only he is not a valet all 
 the year. He is a golf instructor, and I have wrung a 
 promise from him to coach me in golf. 
 
 VALET. We are about to enter the record-breaking 
 class together. 
 
 MORTON. Now I understand all. Two golf fiends 
 who play as one. I understand all! [Hands to head 
 dramatic ally. ~\ 
 
 MRS. WYNN, VALET, CHRISTINE. And you think 
 you must go ? 
 
 MORTON. No, I shall stay out my visit. I never 
 break a promise. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Oh dear! Christine, as long as you 
 are my maid, you must stop this playing on the piano and 
 flirting with the valet 
 
 CHRISTINE. Flirting ? 
 VALET. I hope not. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. And don t, you know, sweep this 
 room, and meanwhile my gus?\to MORTON] may come 
 into the kitchen with me. It is the only place where I 
 have time to entertain him. [To VALET.] And you, 
 as for you, you may go upstairs and make the beds. 
 
A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 VALET. Make the beds ! By Jove ! How odd ! I 
 don t know how to make beds, don t you know. [Drops 
 into chair in despair.] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. [To MORTON.] Come along with 
 me into the kitchen. If you must be entertained, it is the 
 only place Where / can entertain you. 
 
 MORTON. I have already been sufficiently enter 
 tained in fact, almost overentertained, I should say; I 
 prefer to stay here, and read. [Makes himself com 
 fortable on sofa again.] 
 
 MRS. WYNN, VALET, CHRISTINE. Indeed ! 
 MORTON. Exactly. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Very well, but 7 must go back into 
 that beastly kitchen. Now, Nora, you and the Valet 
 must wait on my guest while I am gone. Get him what 
 ever he wants. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh! 
 
 [Exit MRS. WYNN.] 
 
 VALET. A remarkable idea, that, asking me to make 
 beds! [To CHRISTINE.] Why don t you make them, 
 don t you know? 
 
 CHRISTINE. I ? 
 
 MORTON. I wish, my dear, that you would bring 
 me a cigar. It is in the pocket of my overcoat, in 
 the hall. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Get you a Well, I never ! 
 
 VALET. What do you exped, my dear? Don t 
 you intend to earn your wages ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Haughtily.] I suppose so! 
 [Exit CHRISTINE.] 
 
 MORTON. My good man, would you ah be so 
 kind as to proceed to your bed -making ? Make my bed, 
 too. I like the pillows well shaken up, and the sheets 
 particularly smooth. Proceed to your bed-making . 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 VALET. [Who has risen in a rage.] Say that again 
 and I ll wring your beastly neck, don t you know. 
 
 MORTON. Well, what can you expeft? Don t you 
 intend to earn your wages ? [Sarcastically mocking him.] 
 
 VALET. That s none of your business. [Taking off 
 coat and rolling up sleeves."] Come on and have a tussle 
 with me I should enjoy it, don t you know. 
 
 MORTON. [Languidly.] Thanks, I never fight. 
 [He does not rise.] 
 
 [Enter CHRISTINE.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. There is your cigar, Sir, and if you are 
 a brute you will smoke it. [He does so.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Approaching VALET.] Oh ! Were 
 you showing him your golf muscles ? See mine. [Rolls 
 up her sleeves with enthusiasm.] 
 
 VALET. [Pulling down sleeves."] I acknowledge, 
 you win. I could never hope to equal those. [Resumes 
 coat.] 
 
 MORTON. You may now throw that ah er 
 slumber robe over my feet. 
 
 CHRISTINE. To whom are you speaking ? 
 
 MORTON. Oh, I m not particular ; either of you 
 will do! 
 
 CHRISTINE. Such insolence ! 
 
 VALET. Oh, you American servants ! [To her.] 
 
 MORTON. It strikes me the English servants are very 
 little better. Perhaps you will kindly obey me, my good 
 man. Cover up my feet. 
 
 VALET. [To CHRISTINE.] You do it ! 
 CHRISTINE. [To VALET.] No ; you do it ! 
 VALET. I refuse. 
 
 CHRISTINE. You refuse to obey me ? [Stamping 
 her foot.] 
 
 tn] 
 

 A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 VALET. Oh, certainly ! [Both men smoke in silence.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [To VALET. Almost in tears.] I 
 I hate you! 
 
 MORTON. Good ! 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Fiercely.] You keep quiet. 
 
 VALET. [Approaching CHRISTINE.] Well, I am 
 very far, don t you know, little girl, from hating you. 
 [Throwing pipe out of window.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Are you ? 
 
 VALET. In faft [clears throat] in faft I 
 er I 
 
 MORTON. [Rising disgustedly] Oh, if you are 
 going to propose to her / will get out. I ve done all / 
 could. A proposal more or less won t disturb her any. 
 She is used to them. And by the way [reaches in 
 pocket and brings out ring] , she is rather attached to this 
 ring, and it is a perfeft fit. [Lays it on the piano] 
 Why not use it ? I will now leave you, the servants, in 
 the parlor, while I entertain your mistress, Mrs. Wynn, 
 in the kitchen, with Marie Corelli. 
 
 [Exit MORTON with book under arm] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Isn t he horrid ! So ungrateful! After 
 my being engaged to him about three years. [VALET takes 
 her hand. She allows him for a moment to hold it.] 
 Now, leave me, sir ! Your impudence surprises me ! 
 
 VALET. [Starting away from her] Impudence! 
 You amaze me. I will go, and if I do, I shall never 
 come here again, I cannot understand you Americans, 
 don t you know but 1 do not wish to understand you, 
 for, after all, you are charming as you are. However, 
 this last rudeness is too much. I am going to leave this 
 house at once, Mrs. Wynn must have been crazy to 
 expect me to make beds, 
 
 CHRISTINE, Oh, don t go! 
 
 VALET. [Now taking both her hands] Come 
 ith me. i love you, "3" 16 v e you. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 [Telephone bell rings and continues to ring. At 
 last VALET gives up what he is trying to say 
 and answers phone. Listens] 
 
 CHRISTINE. What is it ? 
 
 J 
 VALET, [At phone] Yes, yes, yes. 
 
 \ CHRISTINE. [Repeats] Oh, what is it ? 
 
 VALET. [At length in a rage] A man who says, 
 that he knows Mr. Ashmead is a bore, but that Mrs. 
 Wynn must be nice to him, because he wants to sell 
 him that team of horses that ran away last week, and 
 the man says also, that he will be here in half an hour, 
 He will be here with three servants. Who is he ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Why, that is Jack, of course, Mrs. 
 Wynn s husband. 
 
 VALET. Very well, then, I am going. 
 So I am a bore, am I ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Please don t. Please don t go. 
 
 VALET. I must. This is too much. [Aside] 
 The absurdity of Jack Wynn thinking me a bore, I have 
 always considered him one, don t you know. [He 
 rages about expressing anger] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Weeping.] Don t go. I can t bear 
 iit..feel 
 
 to have you go. Ekm-U feel so badly! Don t go! 
 
 VALET. [Coming over to her quickly] Do you 
 really care ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. I never met a man I liked so much. I 
 don t want you to go. 
 
 VALET. Listen to me, little girl. I am not a golf 
 instructor. [Lifting up her chin] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Weeps more] Not a golf instructor! 
 Then you are only a valet. Oh! Oh! 
 
 VALET. Do you like me now ? Don t you like 
 me anyway ? 
 
 CHRISTINE. Oh, I fee! just the same toward you! 
 Somehow I ought not to, but I do. And you are only 
 

 A Domestic Dilemma 
 
 a valet. What an awful misfortune! What an awful 
 thing to have happened to me! 
 
 VALET. A valet is quite proper for a maid, I think. 
 
 CHRISTINE. But I am not that sort of a maid. 
 [Drying eyes suddenly] Now, really, you must leave 
 me. We have had a lovely, jolly time together. I ll 
 remember you all my life, but because of your position, 
 I must never see you again. 
 
 VALET. You will marry Morton, I suppose. 
 [Gloomily. ] 
 
 CHRISTINE. I shall never marry. 
 
 VALET. I am sure you will. You are going to 
 marry me, [With an air of sudden determination.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Don t. You must go. How can you 
 dare to presume so! 
 
 VALET. I don t know. I don t know anything. 
 CHRISTINE. Go, I say. You are only a valet. 
 
 VALET. [Turning away.] How far less demo 
 cratic a woman always is than a man! A man loves a 
 woman, and he cares not whether she be a saint or sinner, 
 maid or heiress, he will marry her; but a woman even 
 a servant must always hope to better her social position. 
 I am sorry that you share the weakness of your sex I 
 must go. It is indeed time for me to go. 
 
 [Goes toward door with extreme slowness.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. Stop! Before you go wait just one 
 minute oh, don t go come back 
 
 VALET. [Returns quickly] My dear girl, what 
 is it? I do love you. [Telephone bell rings again 
 once, but he does not answer it] Confound that tele 
 phone. I do love you. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Then, if you do, before yoir-4a me 
 forever, you may kis me r- just once. 
 
 [They kiss just as MRS. WYNN and MORTON 
 appear. CHRISTINE S cap is on one side of her 
 bead. The two jump apart quickly] 
 
 ~ 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 me 
 
 MORTON. What frivolity! Oh, that cap! [Stands 
 Z,.] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. Christin^you horrify me. I didn t 
 
 kissing the valet ami "* 
 
 include kissing the valet among your duties, or I should 
 [Stands ?.] 
 
 CHRISTINE. (^Laughing through tears] have paid 
 extra. [Stands R] 
 
 VALET. [Coming C] Mrs. Wynn, I am not a 
 valet. This nonsense must cease. I have fallen in love 
 with your maid, but I am Herbert Ashmead. Here is 
 my card. [Presents it] 
 
 CHRISTINE. [Running to MRS. WYNN.] Oh, 
 don t tell him! Don t tell him who I am. 
 
 MRS. WYNN. I will. She is not my maid, Mr. 
 Ashmead; she is my friend, Miss Christine Bruce. 
 
 [CHRISTINE and ASHMEAD bow with exaggerated 
 formality to each other.] 
 
 CHRISTINE AND ASHMEAD. Glad to meet you. 
 MRS. WYNN [to MORTON] . And who are you ? 
 
 MORTON. Oh, nobody in particular ! Just a poor 
 wretch to whom Miss Bruce was once engaged. 
 [Door hell rings] 
 
 MRS. WYNN. There s Jack. [Goes to window.] 
 And without a servant! Let us fix the room before he 
 comes in. Get to work now everybody. 
 
 CHRISTINE. Now perhaps, Mr. Ashmead, we can 
 begin to get acquainted. [Passing him a duster.] 
 
 [All set busily to work improving room with dus 
 ters, brooms and great energy. MORTON uses 
 carpet-sweeper.] 
 
 [Curtain] 
 
 [zg] 
 
II. 
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 The greatest necessity of this play s presentation will 
 be that the stage-settings, costumes, music, the poses of 
 the figures at different times, and, above all, the ghost por 
 trait should be pretty or picturesque. If there are those 
 who think it would be too difficult to aft, they are apt to 
 be persons to whom farcical comicality comes easier, for, as 
 a matter of faft, there are always young women, in any 
 company of amateurs, who are capable at least of afting 
 a sentimental role with truth and taste. 
 
 For suggestions on costumes and stage furniture, I 
 should suggest simply this: Get, or look into, the volume 
 of "Little Women," brought out by Little, Brown & 
 Company, Boston, in 1902, and illustrated by Alice 
 Barber Stephens. In these pictures you will find all the 
 hints you need, except for the costume of the little 
 Revolutionary dame in the pifture frame powder and 
 patches are for her, and a gown of 1775, all in white. 
 No color must be about her, except the colors of the flag, 
 used as a background, and it is necessary that she should 
 have an expressive face, pleasing when she smiles. It 
 would be an excellent plan if the portrait, whenever 
 shown, were lighted in some spectacular way, and if 
 
 1*9} 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay 
 
 possible, during the scene when she walks, have the stage 
 darkened, and a strong light thrown only on her. 
 
 The arrangement of the pifture, for a simple home 
 production, would include first, the large frame. It may 
 be set on a draped box, and fastened securely, far enough 
 out from the wall to admit of the girl s figure standing 
 behind it, then a screen or two or other article of perhaps 
 older fashioned furniture would do to hide her goings and 
 comings from the audience. The curtains might be run 
 on cord, at top of frame. A better way, of course, would 
 be to indulge in a bit of stage carpentry and have the 
 frame built into a false wall. 
 
 Any light orchestra, as few or as many pieces as 
 desired, could furnish the music. Give, by all means, 
 the part of MARION to the best actress. 
 
H 
 
 C H AR ACTERS 
 
 MARION VAN ORSDALE A young girl of Vermont ; an heiress and 
 
 an orphan. 
 
 GRACE Her dearest friend, ivitb strong Yankee prejudices. 
 MARGARET AMBER A Southern girl ivho is a cousin of Marion s. 
 
 In the informal Southern fashion, she is known as Peggy to her 
 family and intimates. 
 SALLY SUE The darkey cook in Marion fan Orsdale 1 t bouse. Sally 
 
 is a "freed nigger who has been in the family for years. 
 THE GHOST of a fair young wife of Revolutionary times, ivho walks 
 
 from the portrait. 
 
 LIEUT. RICHARD FREMONT A young Federal officer. 
 PEMBROKE JONES An old darkey slave, who comes with Peggy 
 
 Amber from the South. 
 
 The scene, on the curtain rising, proves to be tbe sitting- 
 room of tbe old Van Orsdale mansion. There are two 
 inconspicuous entrances, one in tbe right wall, and one 
 in tbe left. In tbe back wall, L. of C., is a large 
 open window. To tbe R. of this stands, or apparently 
 bangs, a large pifture, tbe frame being of sufficient 
 size to admit a life-size portrait, but tbe piclure itself 
 is completely covered by long, heavy curtains of dark 
 red. 
 
 Tbe furnishings of tbe room are of the time just 
 at tbe close of tbe Civil War, as are tbe costumes of 
 the two young women, wbo with tbeir backs to tbe 
 audience, are eagerly looking out of tbe window. At 
 tbe rising of the curtain, and for a few minutes be 
 fore, tbe music of tbe drum and ffe is beard playing 
 a patriotic air. At the opening of tbe dialogue tbe 
 music (having been loudest at the moment the curtain 
 went up), grows gradually softer, as if it were passing 
 outside the window, at last becoming faint in tbe 
 distance, but stationary as if from a Square some 
 way off. 
 
 Grace frst turns from the window. She is a 
 slender, pale girl, daintily dressed in a simple summer 
 
 ~ 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 gown of dark green, a pink rose in her hair. She has 
 just waved out the window the handkerchief which 
 she holds in her hand. 
 
 GRACE. You can t see them yet, can you? For me, 
 at least, they have passed out of sight. [Last faint notes 
 are heard.] All the music and the flags and the excite 
 ment has gone by. 
 
 MARION. [She turns from window at last. A noble- 
 looking girl of great dignity of carriage. She wears a 
 lilac- colored gown.] I saw him when he turned the 
 corner. [She is smiling through tears.] At last, after 
 four long, long years, Dick is coming back to me. Did 
 you notice how thin and brown he looked ? 
 
 GRACE. Yes ; but when he looked up and smiled 
 and waved his hand to /ou [she smiles] , he became quite 
 a different person. 
 
 MARION. Oh, did you notice that, too ? 
 
 GRACE. Of course I noticed him. I have a right 
 > do that, haven t I, even if I am not engaged to 
 him ? 
 
 MARION. [Putting her hand playfully over the other 
 girFs mouth.] Hush ! I don t feel engaged to him, 
 though I know I am. I shall have to get used to the 
 idea again - after four years. 
 
 GRACE. Well, it won t take you long, I think. 
 Not with Dick hanging about you, the way I always 
 remember his doing, hoping something would drop of 
 yours, so that he could pick it up for you. How worn 
 and tired some of the other poor men looked ! 
 
 MARION. And then, his letters ! 
 
 GRACE. Yes ; his letters ! Haven t they been grand 
 ones ! Even during his hardest campaigns they have 
 always been so full of of 
 
 MARION. Yes ; of the truest devotion. I ought not 
 to have shown them to you. 
 

 H 
 
 GRACE. Then whom would you have had to weep 
 over them with ? When a girl hasn t a mother 
 
 MARION. Oh, one doesn t show love-letters to 
 mothers ! [She goes to window and looks out again, while 
 Grace speculatively watches her, toying with the beads at 
 her neck.] It will take [coming from window] it will 
 take just a few minutes for him to get to his own home, 
 when he leaves his regiment, then he will see his mother 
 
 GRACE. And then he will come running in at that 
 door to see you. 
 
 MARION. Yes ; he will come running in at that door. 
 [Covers her face with her hands, as if she were blushing.] 
 For the first few minutes, Grace 
 
 GRACE. After he comes ? 
 
 MARION. Yes; right at first, you know, don t leave us. 
 
 GRACE. [In surprise."] What ! Do you want me 
 to be present at your meeting with your lover ? 
 
 MARION. I don t know. My feelings, you know, 
 are almost more than I can bear. [Throws her hands 
 out toward Grace.] O Grace, was there ever so lucky a 
 girl as I ? He has come safe through this cruel war. Was 
 there ever so wonderful a lover as Dick ? 
 
 GRACE. I don t know. I have never had a lover. 
 [She turns away.] 
 
 MARION. Oh dear, forgive me ! I forgot. [Goes 
 to her and lays her arm about the other s shoulders.] And 
 you are far more worthy than I. 
 
 GRACE. I am colder, I suppose. [Throws off her 
 hand.] Yet, even though numbers of regiments of our 
 patriotic, self-sacrificing soldiers have arrived home before 
 this, and the first tearful moments of mad excitement and 
 thankfulness have passed, if I had been you, I could 
 not have waited here quietly for him as you are doing. 
 On a day like this 
 
 [33] 
 
Drawing- Room Play 
 
 MARION. Quietly ! Feel my heart, how it beats ! 
 I did not dare go into the Square. When my eyes met 
 his I knew I should oh, I didn t dare to go outside ! 
 I feel so much I am afraid of it. What a hero he 
 looks ! What a hero he is ! 
 
 GRACE. That extreme outer composure of yours is a 
 Van Orsdale quality, I have heard. [She goes to portrait 
 in the back wall R. and Jlings back curtain, disc losing in 
 frame a young girl all in white, with powdered hair, 
 dressed in elaborate costume of the Revolutionary period. 
 In the distance, from the Square, patriotic music is again 
 faintly heard. A large American fag constitutes the 
 background of the apparent portrait.] Here she is the 
 Van Orsdale of the Revolution ! 
 
 MARION. [Coming to look over her shoulder.] Yes ; 
 she was the first daughter born to the Van Orsdale family 
 on American soil. She looks a happy, placid little thing. 
 Have you heard her story ? 
 
 GRACE. No. 
 
 MARION. She was ardently attached to the Amer 
 ican cause, but her young husband joined the English 
 army. They never met again. She loved him, too, they 
 say. And her ghost walks. 
 
 GRACE. Oh! Does she haunt this house? Is she 
 a ghost ? I should not be afraid of a pretty little ghost 
 like that. 
 
 MARION. She will never appear to you. She 
 appears only to persons of the Van Orsdale blood. She 
 haunts this house, because it is here that she and her hus 
 band parted in anger, they say. She tried to induce 
 him to join the American side, and he refused bitterly. 
 [Music again heard faintly.] These woes of people 
 long dead seem sad, in the midst of our own gladness. She 
 has been buried almost a century. 
 
 GRACE. But she looks happy. I think she is happy 
 in the pifture. 
 
 MARION. I have always imagined more than a hint 
 of pathos in that brave little smile of hers. But she is 
 
 CM] 
 

 
 H e r o e 
 
 unlike most ghosts. Usually ghosts appear only to those 
 about to have a sorrow, but she shows herself to lovers 
 only, who are on the eve of a great happiness. I lay 
 awake all night last night, hoping to see her. 
 
 GRACE. And did you see her ? 
 
 MARION. No, I have never seen her. She did not 
 appear. 
 
 [Door R. opens.] 
 
 GRACE. Some one is coming! [She hurriedly draws 
 the curtain before the pifture] 
 
 MARION. Yes, yes. [Pulling at her dress to detain 
 her] Don t go not yet. [Places her hands on her 
 heart] Oh! Already! He couldn t keep away. He 
 is [They come down C] 
 
 GRACE. No, it is some one else. 
 
 [Enter PEGGY AMBER, door R., followed at a 
 respeftful distance by her aged darkey servant, 
 PEMBROKE JONES. PEGGY is arrayed all in 
 bright pink or blue, and is very young and 
 beautiful. PEMBROKE carries her bag, ana 
 sits down near the door, mopping his brow.] 
 
 PEGGY. Is this [to GRACE] ah you my cousin, 
 Marion? [Holds out her hand.] Please say you ah glad 
 to see me. Ah n t you? 
 
 GRACE. I am not Marion. 
 
 MARION. [Coming forward] I am glad to see 
 you. [Shakes her hand] I am Marion Van Orsdale. 
 
 PEGGY. [Laughing and giving sigh of relief .] Then 
 that s all right. [Unties her bonnet] 
 
 MARION. Please pardon my pre-occupation, when 
 you came in. This is a very important day for me. A 
 day of great gladness. 
 
 PEGGY. Ah, yes! I see it is. I heard the music. 
 I saw the Yankee soldiers pass [laughing] what was 
 
 [35] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 left of them. It is a great day for them. It is also a 
 great day for me a very great day. 
 
 MARION. Which cousin of mine are you ? I did 
 not know you were coming. 
 
 PEGGY. Oh, no, I nevah wrote you ! I was in such 
 a hurry. I am Mahgaret Amber. Pembroke! Pem 
 broke ! 
 
 PEMBROKE. Yes, Ma am Miss Peggy. 
 
 PEGGY. [Flying at him and boxing bis ears.~\ There! 
 you were asleep again! I saw you. 
 
 PEMBROKE. Forgib me, Miss Peggy; I se so old. 
 [Sits up with very apparent effort to be wide-awake and 
 attentive.] 
 
 PEGGY. I want my net-pins, Pembroke, and hurry 
 up about it. I reckon they re thar in that bag. 
 
 PEMBROKE. Yes, Ma am, Miss Peggy, I se a findin 
 em, I se a lookin* for dem. [Looks in bag.~\ Yare 
 they are, right yare. 
 
 PEGGY. [Going to mirror, L.~\ Well, bring them to 
 me. [PEMBROKE limps over to her, gives her the pins, 
 and resumes chair near door, R.~^ One s hair does get so 
 awfully shaken down, traveling in these abominable day- 
 coaches. Mothah is in New Yawk I hate New Yawk. 
 
 MARION. And you have come to visit me ? 
 GRACE. New York is a very nice place, I think. 
 
 PEGGY. But you should have seen Richmond befo 
 the wah yes, I left Mama in New Yawk; I told her I 
 was coming to visit you, and she told me she was suah 
 you wouldn t want to see me. But you do, don t you? 
 [She comes to MARION and throws her arms around her 
 neck, looking up into her face.~\ I ve always wanted to 
 see my Nawthern cousin, even long befo the wah. We 
 always wanted you to visit us, but you know when a girl 
 has beaux and balls and sweethearts and things to take 
 up her time, she fahgets how time flies! 
 
H 
 
 MARION. And I expeft you have many sweethearts. 
 \_Drawing away.~] 
 
 PEGGY. [Laughs. ] Oh, yes; I am engaged all the 
 time, moah or less, generally moah, but now I am in 
 love ! 
 
 GRACE. It must be nice [sighs], to have lots of 
 sweethearts. I suppose your temperament is not cold. 
 
 PEGGY. [Laughing."] Oh, no; I am not cold. I 
 am very ardent, Mama says, about everything. Pem 
 broke, wake up! Wake up, I say! [Pokes him with 
 parasol.~] 
 
 MARION. Why don t you free him? 
 
 PEGGY. Why, he is free. And I freed him yestah- 
 day, myself, but he won t leave me. He s been in 
 ouah family for yeahs and yeahs. He s an heirloom. 
 Please ask me to sit down, deah cousin Marion! [Seafs 
 herself on small sofa, and motions to others, who sit on 
 each side of her.] Won t you come and sit by me? I 
 want you to love me, oh, so much! [Holding MARION S 
 hand, who has seated herself, but keeps glancing to door 
 and window. ~] And when youah father died, and we knew 
 you were an orphan, we wanted you so much, we reck 
 oned we could find a handsome husband foh you, but 
 then you went to live with some one else and then 
 who do you live with now, Cousin ? 
 
 MARION. With just myself. This is my house, and 
 since coming of age, I live in it. 
 
 PEGGY. Oh! What a nice place to visit! I think 
 I shall stay"some time. [Gets up and fiits about. Sud 
 denly points to pifture, which is behind curtain] What 
 is that ? 
 
 MARION. Oh! Don t touch it. Some day I will 
 show it to you, not today. [Listens to footsteps out 
 side.] 
 
 V GRACE. It is the picture of the first American 
 an Orsdale. 
 
 IS7] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 PEGGY. I am a Van Orsdale. My mother is a 
 Van Orsdale. Mayn t I see it, Cousin Marion? It will 
 entertain me. 
 
 MARION. No, not now. Come here and talk with 
 me. You are not at all sad, are you ? 
 
 PEGGY. No; why should I be? Now I allow I m 
 in love with the dearest fellow, and he is in love 
 with me; oh, very much in love with me, and some 
 time, mighty soon, I may see him again. How glad he 
 will be to find me once moah ! 
 
 MARION. Then you haven t lost your family estate, 
 as so many other Southerners have done ? 
 
 PEGGY. Oh, yes, part of it, all of the niggahs ! But 
 then be was there and he wasn t killed, and the wah is 
 oveh. Just think, the wah is at last oveh ! And I reckon 
 he won t be in dangah any moah. 
 
 MARION. He ? Who ? 
 
 PEGGY. The man I told you about, who is engaged 
 to me. Well, I will go to my room now, and reckon I ll 
 put on anothah dress. Pembroke ! Wake up ! Wake 
 up ! [Shakes bim.~\ Why do you sleep all the time, 
 Pembroke Jones ? 
 
 PEMBROKE. Don know, lill Miss, spec!: it s case 
 I m so old. 
 
 GRACE. Poor old fellow 1 
 
 MARION. I will call old Sally to show him a pltce 
 to sleep. [Goes to door L.~\ And, Grace, I will walk 
 as far as the gate to see if any one is coming. 
 [ Exit MARION .] 
 
 PEMBROKE. A place to sleep ! Seems like dis ole 
 niggah dat all he wan about now jes* a place to sleep. 
 I se gettin on in yeahs, I reckon. Jes a place to sleep. 
 [Nods. ] 
 
 PEGGY. [To GRACE.] You ah my cousin s friend? 
 You don t seem very talkative. 
 
 [ft] 
 

 H 
 
 GRACE. Yes ; I am going to live with her. How 
 long are you expefting to stay ? 
 
 PEGGY. [Laughs.] What a funny question ! How 
 funny you Nothahn girls ah ! Why don t you fluff" 
 youah hair? 
 
 GRACE. Why should I ? I am sure you are not at 
 all like the sad daughter of a defeated army of a lost cause. 
 
 PEGGY. I am not being a captive in chains for you. 
 [Laughs. ,] But I ll allow thah was some nice men in the 
 
 Nothahn ahmy. I was not in the wah. I was in 
 
 [Enter MARION followed by SALLY, who is an old 
 darkey, with red handkerchief turbaned about 
 her bead. She wipes her hands on her apron.~\ 
 
 MARION. Now, Sally will show your servant a room, 
 Cousin Margaret. 
 
 SALLY. Oh ! Oh ! Lawd hab marsy ! Who is dat ! 
 [She screams and points at PEMBROKE, who has fallen 
 asleep again.] Who dat niggah? Who dat old man dar? 
 
 PEGGY. Hush, yo old niggah. That s my Pembroke 
 Jones. He s so tiahed. 
 
 SALLY. [Rushes on to old PEMBROKE.] Dat s Pem 
 broke Jones, suah nough! At last dese eyes see ole Pern 
 once moah! Dat s my ole man. [Shakes him while she 
 weeps from excitement] Wake up, wake up, ole man. 
 O Lawd! O Lawd! Dis my ole man. He s mah 
 ole man, alive and well again. Wake up! Wake up! 
 [Drops on knees beside him with arm about his neck.] 
 
 MARION. Girls! Keep still! Poor things! He is 
 her husband. 
 
 PEGGY. Let her lead him out, then. I m getting 
 tiahed. [Yawns.] Niggahs ah so noisy. 
 
 SALLY. Ole man, wake up. It s maunin ! It s 
 maunin , Pern. 
 
 PEMBROKE. [Without opening eyes.] Shuah, Sally! 
 I se awake, Sally! It s time to go to de cotten fields, I 
 reckon. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 SALLY. Yes, O Glory! O Lawd! [Jumping tip in 
 excitement and clapping hands. ~\ It s ^ Sally. Heah s 
 Sally, Pern; heah s old Sally. 
 
 PEMBROKE. [Opening eyes wide and sitting up. He 
 stare! at SALLY, who dances before him in uncontrollable 
 excitement. Laughs loud 1 and long.~\ Praise be de 
 
 Lawd, it s Sally. Praise be de Lawd! Praise be 
 
 [He slowly rises and they begin an ancient clog or cake 
 walk, in decrepit fashion, together^ Doan yo membah 
 de hoe cakes cross de ribber, Sal, and de dances at de ole 
 Amber plantation ? Yo mah pardner, Sal. 
 
 SALLY. Oh, I membah! An* de songs we used to 
 sing; dem days when we was young uns, Pern O 
 Pern! 
 
 PEGGY. Send them out, Cousin Marion. I reckon 
 the old thing must be his wife, who ran away to freedom 
 twenty yeahs ago. Send them out. 
 
 GRACE. Yes, lead them out, Marion. What chil 
 dren they are! 
 
 SALLY. An* de songs we use to sing, dem ole songs, 
 Pern ! [In wavering voices they sing an absurd old plan 
 tation melody, which makes GRACE wipe the tears from her 
 eyes, while she laughs. MARION listens to them while she 
 stands at the window watching down the road. PEGGY 
 drums idly with her fingers, and yawns ; at last, in a 
 corner of the sofa, makes herself comfortable with pillows 
 and closes her eyes. At close of song, MARION leaves win 
 dow. ,] 
 
 MARION. [With a glance at PEGGY.] He is very 
 long in coming. I wonder if anything could have hap 
 pened. [She takes each old darkey by the hand.~\ Come 
 with me. Old Pembroke is tired with his journey, 
 Sally. 
 
 SALLY AND PEMBROKE. Oh, thank you, Ma am, 
 thank you! [She leads them out door L. GRACE at 
 window looks out. Music from the Square is faintly beard 
 again, GRACE glances at PEGGY, sees she is apparently 
 
H 
 
 
 
 
 asleep, and tiptoes from room out door L. After a mo 
 ment enter hurriedly at door R. the young officer, DICK 
 FREMONT, in Federal uniform. He stops suddenly and looks 
 all about the apartment. Suddenly perceives PEGGY 
 asleep on the sofa, and an expression of joyful amazement 
 comes over his face as be smothers an exclamation. He 
 turns half away, as if to go out again, but stops in door, 
 then steals to the sofa, folds his arms and looks down on 
 her. Suddenly sinks on bis knees.] 
 
 FREMONT. Peggy ! 
 
 1 PEGGY. Oh! [She opens her eyes slowly, and 
 smiles. Sits up] My hero! [He seats himself beside 
 ber on sofa.] Why don t you kiss me, Dick? [She 
 pouts.] 
 
 FREMONT. Not here. What long months since I ve 
 seen you. Tell me, Peggy dear, how did you come here? 
 
 PEGGY. In a horrid cab from New Yawk. I came 
 to visit mah cousin, Marion Van Ohsdale, because 
 
 FREMONT. Is she your cousin ? Because 
 
 PEGGY. Because I thought I might see you heah. 
 Now you may kiss me. 
 
 FREMONT. No, no; not here! Where is Marion? 
 I just got back today. 
 
 PEGGY. She went out leadin two niggahs. Now, 
 Dick, I ve traveled all these miles to give you a sur 
 prise and you don t seem one bit glad. I m tiahed, 
 too. [Tawns] Do you love Marion bettah than you 
 dome? [Coquettisbly] 
 
 FREMONT. Hasn t she told you ? 
 
 PEGGY. What ? 
 
 FREMONT. That I was am engaged to her? 
 
 PEGGY. Engaged to her ! Engaged to her ! Why ! 
 [She leans against high back of sofa as if faint. } Oh! 
 [At last smiles, wanly. ] It can t be, Dick, you know, 
 for you re engaged to me. It can t be. 
 
 [41] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 FREMONT. Don t! For heaven s sake, don t look 
 like that! 
 
 PEGGY. [Wiping away a tear."] This makes the 
 wah and all the Southahn Ahmy s suffahings seem so much 
 moah dreadful. Ah yo speakin true ? [At this moment , 
 when DICK is bending toward her, MARION appears at door 
 behind them, and, with a sudden gesture and change of 
 expression, stands watching and listening.] 
 
 FREMONT. Peggy! Peggy darling! 
 
 PEGGY. And aftah travellin in those horrid cabs ajl 
 the way from New Yawk you don t love me, aftah 
 all! Yo ah breakin mah heart. 
 
 FREMONT. Not love you, Peggy ? I do love you 
 madly, as I have ever since I first saw your sweet face, as 
 you strolled along by our camp on the old Susquehanna 
 River! 
 
 PEGGY. [Giving him her hands] And the moon 
 light nights, do you remember them, Dick? And the 
 days you all were quartered at ouah old Southahn house 
 and the jasmine, Dick. You said you loved me you 
 said it on the poach one moonlight night. 
 
 FREMONT. I do love you, but I am telling it to you 
 now for the last time. I shall not tell you again. I am 
 going to marry Marion Van Orsdale. 
 
 PEGGY. Why ? 
 
 FREMONT. Because I am engaged to her. Where is 
 she? 
 
 PEGGY. [She rises and MARION disappears.] Is this 
 youah Nothahn honah ? Then I hate you, and I shall 
 die. [She falls back on sofa and buries her face on its 
 back, weeping.] 
 
 FREMONT. Don t cry, don t weep so, Peggy 
 darling. I have been a brute. I should never have told 
 you I loved you, but I was mad, Peggy, I could not 
 resist you. 
 
 PEGGY. [Drying eyes and smiling] My hero! 
 
 [4O 
 
H 
 
 FREMONT. [Groans ] Anything but hero! And 
 Marion may come in at any moment. 
 
 PEGGY. Then I will tell her. 
 FREMONT. What ? 
 
 PEGGY. That you ah going to marry her, but that 
 you love me. 
 
 FREMONT. No, no, Peggy, no! That would not 
 be right. 
 
 PEGGY. No, it would not be right. If you love 
 me, you must marry me. You must, Dick. 
 
 FREMONT. I am in honor bound. 
 
 PEGGY. To me ! 
 
 FREMONT. No ; to her ! [Rising.] 
 
 PEGGY. Are you glad of it? You don t seem so. 
 You look sort of peaked ovah it. 
 
 FREMONT. Glad! [Seats himself quickly beside her.~\ 
 PEGGY. Dick, dear, it is now time to kiss me. 
 FREMONT. I won t. [MARION appears again.] 
 
 PEGGY. Why not ? [As he bends his head close to 
 hers] Why don t you kiss me as you used to do? 
 
 FREMONT. Because if I once began, I could never stop. 
 [Sitting ere ft.] Marion might come in at any moment. 
 
 MARION. [She comes forward.] Marion is here. 
 [PEGGY draws away from FREMONT, and he rises quickly, 
 bringing himself face to face with MARION.] 
 
 FREMONT. Marion! [Holds out his hand] 
 
 MARION. And this is how we meet after four years. 
 [Disregards his hand] 
 
 PEGGY. Foah yeahs is such a long time, Cousin. 
 It is the past. 
 
 FREMONT. I am glad to be at home again, Marion. 
 There have been times when I didn t expeft to be. 
 But our cause is won. 
 
 [4J] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MARION. You are safe through that cruel war 
 and this is your home-coming today. 
 
 FREMONT. I have known Miss Amber before ; I 
 met her when we camped near her home on the Susque- 
 hanna 
 
 PEGGY. [Laughing.] Hush! Hush! Dick, don t 
 tell all that. I am going to leave you two for a while. 
 I think that is nothing moah th*an right. 
 
 FREMONT. Where are you going ? 
 
 PEGGY. [Laughing. ~] Don t worry, not back to 
 New Yawk, yet. And Pembroke didn t take my bag. 
 The lazy niggah! [FREMONT passes it to her.~\ I shall 
 be back in a short time, Cousin [smiling] , unless you 
 tell me not to. I reckon I can find my room, you- 
 all have a big house. Oh! [Tawns, stretching arms 
 slightly and gracefully. ] Youah Nohthan climate has 
 sleep in it, too. I m so tiahed aftah that dread-ful trip 
 in the cars. [She goes out door L. y FREMONT following 
 her with his eyes, and MARION wat(bing him.~] Don t 
 quarrel with him, Cousin. [Exit."] 
 
 FREMONT. Sit down here, Marion we have a 
 great deal to talk about. Our wedding day, for one 
 thing! [MARION seats herself on sofa, and he after 
 wards beside her."] 
 
 MARION. Our wedding day! What can there be to 
 say about our wedding day ? 
 
 FREMONT. The date, you remember, is yet to be 
 decided upon, dear Marion. 
 
 MARION. You still feel that I am dear to you ? 
 
 FREMONT. I do. My childhood s playmate and my 
 boyhood s idol you were, Marion. 
 
 MARION. And your manhood s 
 
 FREMONT. Ideal! 
 
 MARION. Am I your ideal, Dick? Men never 
 marry their ideals. 
 
 [44] 
 

 loi 
 
 He r 
 
 FREMONT. They do, if their ideals will have them. 
 I have just parted from Mother. She said at the last, 
 "And when are you going to bring Marion home to 
 me?" Today, tomorrow/ I said. My mother is 
 waiting for you. You have not changed. 
 
 MARION. And have you not? You are a different 
 man, Dick. I see it in your look, your every gesture. 
 If I married you, I should be marrying the Dick of yes 
 terday, the boy of four years ago, not the man of today. 
 
 FREMONT. If! Did you say if you marry me? 
 
 MARION. Yes. One doesn t marry a man out of 
 the past. Why, I should be marrying a ghost. 
 FREMONT. Rather a substantial ghost. 
 
 MARION. So you see, Dick 
 
 FREMONT. You do not love me, any more ? 
 
 MARION. No, I do not love you any more. \She 
 says this slowly and with difficulty. .] 
 
 FREMONT. Marion ! What are you saying ? Are you 
 refusing to marry me, after these four long years ? 
 
 MARION. Have they been so long to you ? Where 
 did you know Peggy ? Where did you leave her ? 
 
 FREMONT. At her own home, down South. Are 
 you jealous of Peggy careless, pretty Peggy ? [Look 
 ing out doorJ^ She will go back to New York to her 
 mother, soon. You and I will seldom see her very 
 very seldom. 
 
 MARION. [Rising."] And you are willing even now 
 to marry me ? 
 
 FREMONT. I am waiting. I came back for that. 
 
 MARION. It is brave of you, but sometimes a woman 
 is as brave as a man. \_Sbe goes to pitture back and 
 draws curtains apart. ~\ Do you remember it ? This is 
 the pifture of Margaret Van Orsdale, who gave up her 
 husband s love for love of her country. Proud, pretty, 
 brave Margaret Van Orsdale, she has been in her grave 
 for almost a century. Other women have been as brave. 
 
 [45] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 And what difference do her woes make now ? They are 
 the woes of a ghost. [Points out window. ~\ Out there 
 under the trees, poor Sally Sue and her old husband are 
 getting acquainted again after being dead to each other for 
 nearly the quarter of a century. But I marry no ghost ! 
 
 FREMONT. Marion! You do love me! [He has 
 followed her to pifture during last speech."] 
 
 MARION. How dare you think so 
 
 FREMONT. You must marry me I am no ghost. 
 MARION. You belong now to Peggy. [Turning to 
 
 picJure.] This sweet ghost never appeared to me. I 
 
 know why now. She nerer will. 
 
 FREMONT. Marion ! You are unhappy ! [He goes to 
 her side.] 
 
 MARION. How dare you think so! No, Dick, 
 don t mention marriage to me again. [She draws curtain 
 over pitture. Music from Square is again faintly beard.] 
 Don t pity me, and don t question me. Women, at 
 times, prefer above all things to be left alone. Leave me 
 now. When you walk out that door, my boy lover 
 Dick goes forever, and when you come in again, you 
 come in with Peggy. 
 
 FREMONT. No. Don t do this thing, Marion. Let 
 us talk over a hundred things. Wait! 
 
 MARION. I command you to go. [He looks at 
 her a moment, tben walks slowly toward door with head 
 bent.] Dick! Comeback! [He returns to her] You 
 may kiss me good-bye! [He kisses her on forehead.] 
 Good-bye, Dick! 
 
 FREMONT. Can t you reconsider? 
 MARION. No ; good-bye. 
 FREMONT. Good-bye ! 
 
 [Exit FREMONT, door L] 
 
 [Left alone, MARION puts her hands to "her bead, 
 as if she suffers. She walks to pifture, draws 
 back curtain, looks at face of pifture fixedly. 
 Closes the curtain again , Sits on sofa.] 
 
H 
 
 MARION. Even now, if he loves me, he will come 
 back. [Music ceases. Outside may be sung verse of 
 darkey song, while MARION seems to wait expectantly.] 
 He may yet come back to me. Even at this moment, he 
 may have decided that he loves me best. 
 
 [Enter at door L., at close of song, GRACE, wear 
 ing garden bat, carrying flowers.] 
 
 GRACE. Has he gone already ? I saw him come in, 
 so I stayed away. I suppose I must get used to being a 
 third party now. 
 
 MARION. A fourth, perhaps, for there is Peggy, 
 you know. 
 
 GRACE. See! These roses! Aren t they lovely? 
 Let me put one in your hair. A white one. Brides 
 always wear white roses. Peggy! Why, she is the 
 most stupid little thing! She doesn t count. 
 
 MARION. Stupid ! Do you think so ? 
 
 GRACE. Stupid! I should say, Why consider her 
 when she considers no one else ? 
 
 MARION. Don t! Remember she is my cousin and 
 my guest. 
 
 GRACE. Really! Your conscience overdoes its 
 work. What a terrible affair it must be to live with, in 
 everyday life. Now the excitement is over where is 
 the vase for these flowers ? 
 
 MARION. On the shelf, under the pifture. 
 
 PEGGY. [Speaking outside.] Let us go in to Cou 
 sin Marion now. It is only right to tell her. We 
 Southahn girls have ouah sense of honah as well as you 
 Nothahn men. 
 
 GRACE. Who is that ? [Startled.] 
 
 MARION. Peggy, I suppose. She is coming in 
 with Dick. I believe he is trying to decide some ques 
 tion. Perhaps she is helping him. 
 
 GRACE. What question ? 
 [47] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MARION. Oh, just one of those little questions which 
 will make no difference fifty years from now! 
 
 GRACE. And only make ghosts walk ? 
 
 MARION. Oh, to be a ghost like Margaret Van Ors- 
 dale wouldn t be bad to be able to appear like that, 
 only as a harbinger of joy, and only to that one to whom 
 the joy is coming. [Grace places the roses.] 
 
 GRACE. [Looking out Z,.] Peggy is still there ; does 
 he like her ? 
 
 MARION. Who ? 
 
 GRACE. Does Dick Fremont like that little goose? 
 [With a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders] 
 
 MARION. I suppose so. 
 
 GRACE. Then all I can say is, I m glad I m not 
 engaged to him. 
 
 [Enter PEGGY at door L., followed slowly by 
 DICK.] 
 
 MARION. Did you find my garden pleasant, Peggy ? 
 Come and sit here. [Motions her to sit beside her on 
 sofa. DICK stands near door, watching PEGGY, while 
 GRACE, near window, watches him in surprise.] 
 
 PEGGY. Youah gahden is sweet, with hawthon, 
 pinks and bright red hollyhocks. See, I gave Dick one 
 foh his button-hole, but [//&] I miss the scent of the 
 jasmine, and the honeysuckle oh, it is so sweet down 
 home, on summah evenings! You-all ah such queeah 
 people. Dick says befoah he went away to the wah, 
 you were engaged to him, and he to you, but now you 
 must have gotten anothah sweethaht, for you won t love 
 him, now, so he s going to marry me. Ahn t you, Dick ? 
 
 FREMONT. That is as Marion says. 
 
 GRACE. O Marion! [Crosses to her] Is this true? 
 
 MARION. [Rising and clasping her hands together.] 
 I thought I had decided. It is so hard to to do 
 it again. 
 
 C4*} 
 
H 
 
 FREMONT. If you regret your decision I am still 
 waiting for you. 
 
 PEGGY. [Rwining to bim.~\ O Dick! Why do 
 
 you say that ? In the gahden I reckon you said [he 
 
 pats her cheek] I didn t have to go back to New 
 Yawk. 
 
 DICK. It is Marion s garden we were wandering in, 
 and all those flowers we picked are hers. [He looks at 
 MARION, while PEGGY clings to bis arm. ] 
 
 GRACE. Flowers or no flowers [throwing her bunch 
 of roses in PEGGY S face~\, I am not glad, Dick Fremont, 
 that you are safe home from the war. 
 
 PEGGY. Oh ! Why you funny girl, why did you 
 do that? It s bettah to be talkative. 
 
 MARION. Grace ! 
 
 FREMONT. Are you bidding us go, Marion ? [Music 
 is faintly heard.] 
 
 MARION. I am [she hangs her bead] not say 
 ing any thing. I can t. [Music.] 
 
 [Slowly the curtains before the piflure open, and 
 from the frame into the room walks the fgure 
 of the portrait, the frst MARGARET VAN 
 ORSDALE. Though all in the room are look 
 ing in that direction, it must be made plain to 
 the audience, by the unchanged expression of 
 the others faces, that PEGGY is the only one 
 who sees the ghost. She draws away from 
 DICK, and stands with face full of fear and 
 amazement. The ghost smiles at her. PEGGY 
 slowly smiles back at her. The ghost walks 
 slowly from the pifture-frame to the door at 
 the R. down front. PEGGY raises her arm 
 and points at her. DICK and PEGGY stand 
 L. MARION and GRACE have turned toward 
 them.] 
 
 MARION. What is the matter with Peggy ? 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 FREMONT. What is it, dear? [To PEGGY, drawing 
 her to him.] 
 
 [In the door the ghost pauses again and smiles at 
 PEGGY, then disappears. As she disappears 
 the music ceases and PEGGY lea?is back in 
 DICK S arm.] 
 
 PEGGY. What was it? {Breathlessly.} Who is 
 she ? I saw heh go. Who is she ? I like heh. 
 
 GRACE. There is no one here but us. We saw no 
 one. 
 
 FREMONT. You are imagining 
 
 PEGGY. No, no. She smiled at me! What does it 
 mean? I am all of a tremble. O Dick, she was 
 
 MARION. Was she all in white, with powdered 
 hair? [In excitement.} Was she young? 
 
 PEGGY. Yes, yes. 
 MARION. Dead, long ago. 
 PEGGY. Oh! 
 
 MARION. Dressed in a Colonial ball gown, with a 
 white rose in her hand ? 
 
 PEGGY. Yes, yes. Who is she? Tell me! Where 
 can I find heh ? She smiled at me. I want to see heh 
 again. O Dick, go and find heh foh me! 
 
 MARION. No, no; don t send him. She is dead, I 
 tell you. {Runs to pifture and draws back curtains} 
 It was the first Margaret Van Orsdale. {Portrait is 
 found in pose the same as usual.] 
 
 PEGGY. [Holding out arms to picJure} Yes, yes; 
 that is she. I saw heh. She smiled on me. O Dick! 
 I don t know why, but I am suddenly so strangely happy. 
 
 MARION. {Supporting herself by curtains} The 
 question has been decided but it was fate who did it, 
 not I. [GRACE takes her hand and looks dejiantly at 
 DICK. Music] 
 
 [Curtain] 
 
III. 
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 For the stage setting of AN INNOCENT VILLAIN, an 
 ordinary dining-room, behind folding-doors, will do, 
 although the main situation, that of the owner of the 
 house, forced to seek an opportunity to eat in peace, under 
 his own table, would greatly gain by taking place on a 
 raised platform. The mirth-provoking quality of the farce 
 depends upon the cleverness with which the PROFESSOR 
 under the table is able, by pantomime and facial contor 
 tions, to suggest the effecl: upon him of the conversation 
 about himself which he overhears ; upon the masterful 
 manner and terrifying personality with which the acTress 
 is able to invest the character of the housekeeper, and the 
 broad farcical comicality brought out in the role of the 
 Swedish servant. 
 
 If this role is found too difficult, her nationality could 
 be changed, as she could be a darkey, or Irishwoman or 
 any other "old thing," just as well. But the part of the 
 housekeeper is in reality the most important, and should be 
 given to some one with a decided instindl for exaggerated 
 characterization. 
 
 As far as possible the costumes, although all of the 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 present time, should afford as much of a contrast as can be 
 effected. More than a touch of absurdity should be in 
 all, except that of ERNESTINE S. 
 
 Care should be taken that the aftion does not drag, as 
 in this farce the speeches arc long enough to admit of a 
 sharp, quick delivery. 
 
^ 
 
 Innocent Villain 
 
 ~-~~~~-~~---*----------r~--*-~----~~ 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 MRS. REED rc housekeeper at the home of Professor Knapp. 
 
 ERNESTINE FLOYD A visitor. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN A neighbor. 
 
 Miss MABEL BUTT-!N Her niece. 
 
 FREDA A Swedish servant girl. 
 
 WALTER KNAPP The young Professor. He is very near-sighted. 
 
 The scene represents the dining-room of the old family 
 residence of the Knapps. A large, round table, C. , 
 with chairs, a sideboard, a few pictures, are necessary 
 furniture. On the table {spread with a long, white 
 table-cloth, which reaches the floor on all sides) are only 
 a single knife and fork. The chairs are drawn up to 
 the table. The sideboard set against the back wall, 
 R. C., holds disorderly piles of plates, silver and glass. 
 There should be a door in the back wall, very much 
 L. of C., which leads into a hall. In the wall R., 
 well down toward the front, is another door leading 
 into the kitchen. Curtain rising shows the stage empty. 
 Knapp enters from door L. C. in an absent- 
 minded manner. He wears a loose morning coat, and 
 is generally careless in appearance. He uses pince-nez 
 glasses, which usually dangle from the end of a cord. 
 He draws out chair from table and seats himself. 
 He picks up the knife and fork. Finds table empty. 
 Puts on glasses and closely examines table. 
 ^ 
 
 KNAPP. Well, I declare ! [Looks atwatch."\ Seven 
 
 o clock, too, my usual dinner hour. How annoying ! 
 
 [Reaches to side table for bell, and rings it rather timidly. 
 
 A silence of some length ensues. He grows impatient. 
 
 Takes glass of water on sideboard.^ This, -is .distin&ly 
 
 perplexing. \_Ringsbellagain. Reseats himself at table. .] 
 
 Something may possibly have happened. [Pause. ~\ 
 
 [Enter FREDA, who wears a large checked apron, 
 and has hair done in tight, absurd manner. She 
 grins broadly. ~\ 
 
Drawing-Room* PI ay s 
 
 FREDA. Ay tank yo bin rang de bell, Profaysur 
 Knapp ? 
 
 KNAPP. Yes ; I rang. [Putting glasses on nose] 
 What a peculiar dress ! I don t remember having ever 
 seen one just like it before. [Drops glasses. ] Is not 
 dinner prepared, Freda ? 
 
 FREDA. Oh, no! [With embarrassment.] Ay tank 
 no, Profaysur Knapp. 
 
 KNAPP. Is there, possibly, is there no dinner ? 
 FREDA. Ay tank no, Profaysur Knapp. 
 
 KNAPP. Indeed ! Isn t there, possibly, going to be 
 any dinner at all ? 
 
 FREDA. Ay tank no, Profaysur Knapp. 
 
 KNAPP. How annoying ! [Sinks back in chair.] 
 Why not, may I ask, Freda ? [During the following 
 speech, he nods affirmatively and politely.] 
 
 FREDA. Ay bay Swede girl, no can talk Anglish well, 
 Profaysur. [She eagerly approaches him] When Mays 
 Knapp, yor sayster, she bay gone away, like yo know, dis 
 Jas* week, she bay say, " Freda, take good care mine 
 bruder, Profaysur Knapp." Ay say, " Ay bay only Swede 
 girl, Ay bay good Swede girl, Ay stay and do de cook for 
 heem." But Mays Knapp, before she bay gone away, 
 she know me, Ay bay poor Swede girl, she tank Ay not 
 all, she get new housekaypur, housekaypur, Profaysur, 
 Ay ketch de word [laughs] yo tank so ? De house 
 kaypur, she, Mays Reed, she say, Ay tank today, "No 
 dinner tonight, Freda, he bay give no order for dinner. 
 He bay gone out, Ay tank so," she say. " Freda," she 
 say, "Yo put on de old apron and for me black all my 
 old shoe," she say. "Freda, Ay tank yo better black 
 me " 
 
 KNAPP. What do you mean ? 
 
 FREDA. Ay tank Ay speak Anglish Ay black 
 me [She runs from room] 
 
 54] 
 
, 
 
 An Innocent Villain 
 
 KNAPP. This continued delay is distinctly depressing. 
 [ Again looks at watch] 
 
 [ Re-enter FREDA, carrying arms full of lady* s 
 shoes, many pairs of which she arranges with 
 great care on table. KNAPP still seated at 
 table, glasses now off, watches with interest] 
 
 KNAPP. At last I am to have my dinner. Hasten, 
 Freda. What is the first course tonight ? [ Takes up 
 knife and fork, as if to eat, then hurriedly raises pince- 
 nez] What are those ? 
 
 FREDA. Ay bay show yo Mays Reed s shoes. 
 [Triumphantly] Ay black them all myself, today ! 
 
 KNAPP. Mrs. Reed s shoes ! Take them away ! 
 Take them away ! Take them away, I say ! Get out 
 with them ! Get out ! 
 
 FREDA. Oh ! [Bursts into tears] Ay bay poor 
 Swede girl Ay tank Ay tank so Profaysur 
 Knapp 
 
 KNAPP. Remove those objects. [He turns his back] 
 
 FREDA. Ah bay good cook. [Gathers shoes in 
 apron] Ay bay good girl, Profaysur. 
 
 KNAPP. Leave the room send the housekeeper to 
 me instantly. Do you understand ? 
 
 FREDA. Ay [weeping] tank Ay tank so. 
 KNAPP. Send the housekeeper to me. 
 
 [FREDA goes out through door to kitchen sobbing 
 loudly] 
 
 KNAPP. I must have been unnecessarily severe, but 
 really this hunger is unfortunately affefting my temper. 
 " must be more patient with these poor helpless women. 
 [He seats himself and whistles mournfully] 
 
 [Enter MRS. REED. She is an extremely severe 
 woman, no longer young, wearing strift tailor- 
 made clothes, a very high collar. Her manner 
 is most masterful, and altogether alarming to 
 one of timid nature] 
 
 [55] 
 
Drawing- Room PI ay s 
 
 MRS. REED. Good evening, Professor Knapp. [Se- 
 verely] I believe you wished to see me ? 
 
 KNAPP. Yes, I believe I did. 
 
 MRS. REED. On a matter of business, perhaps ? I 
 am sure you could have sent for me only on a matter of 
 business. [Folding her arms.] Being your housekeeper, 
 I must come, of course, whenever the idea enters your 
 head to send for me I suppose. 
 
 KNAPP. Yes, yes, Mrs. Reed. [Soothingly.] I 
 suppose so. 
 
 MRS. REED. "W"hat is this matter of business for 
 which you sent for me, Professor Knapp, at this most 
 inconvenient hour? [She strikes attitude of challenge] 
 
 KNAPP. It was about dinner. 
 
 MRS. REED. Ah ! [Haughtily] About dinner ! 
 
 KNAPP. Yes ; is there any dinner ? 
 
 MRS. REED. Don t you be purse-proud and domi 
 neering with me, Professor Knapp, for I won t stand it. 
 Of course I am your housekeeper, and a menial position 
 of that sort is to be expefted to draw down upon me all 
 sorts of masculine brutality. 
 
 KNAPP. I don t mean to be brutal. 
 
 MRS. REED. All sorts of masculine brutality, I said. 
 But you may as well know it now as at any other time, 
 that I won t stand it. I have fought the world single- 
 handed [doubles fsts] , as girl and woman for thirty-five 
 years, and I am quite capable of taking care of myse r > 
 
 KNAPP. I don t doubt it, Mrs. Reed. [He rises] 
 
 MRS. REED. Doubt me ! Well, I should guess not. 
 If you want to see dishonesty rampant over the country, 
 just look at your own sex, look at the men ! Look at the 
 overbearing, obnoxious, spoiled men ! [Follows him] 
 Look at them { 
 
 KNAPP. I [looks involuntarily in mirror of sideboard] 
 will. 
 
 [56] 
 
An Innocent V i 1 1 a i 
 
 n 
 
 MRS. REED. Well, see that you do. [Walks to 
 sideboard, turning her back, and drinks glass of water, 
 leisurely, KNAPP meanwhile leaning with back against 
 chair, watching her closely. Surreptitiously rubs his 
 stomach, showing hunger. J 
 
 KNAPP. Mrs. Reed [timidly] , Mrs. Reed ! 
 
 MRS. REED. I hear you, sir [turning and facing him] , 
 and I suppose you are one of the very sort who keep us 
 women from voting. You believe in keeping all the rights 
 to yourself, and leaving us nothing but the privileges. 
 [She again takes attitude of challenge. ] 
 
 KNAPP. All I wished to say, Mrs. Reed, is that I 
 think it is time for dinner. I have been busily at work in 
 my study the entire afternoon, have had no time to dress 
 for dinner, as you perceive, but I am 
 
 MRS. REED. Professor Knapp [interrupting him so 
 suddenly that he jumps ], I perceive nothing of the sort. 
 I am a logical woman. You did not order dinner, there 
 fore it was not cooked. In faft, if dinner is cooked for 
 you now, I will have to charge extra. 
 
 KNAPP. What? [He sits down suddenly again in 
 chair at tableJ] 
 
 MRS. REED. When I told your sister [folding armi], 
 Miss Knapp, that in her absence I would make home 
 pleasant for you, I particularly specified that I should be 
 always told when you were at home. I consider that 
 not only my privilege, but my right. But you [pointing 
 at him the fnger of scorn~], I saw and heard nothing of 
 you the whole afternoon. Therefore, I presumed you 
 were not at home. Therefore, there is no dinner. 
 
 KNAPP. Oh^ [Wiping glasses helplessly. ] But 
 this is all really amazing. 
 
 MRS. REED. Perfectly logical, you see* I suppose 
 
 you have the audacity of your imitative sex 
 
 KNAPP. Oh ! 
 
 MRS. REED. And are surprised to find a logical 
 woman. Am I not logical ? 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 KNAPP. Perfectly logical ; yes. 
 
 MRS. REED. And if you had been as considerate, or 
 as kindly, or as decent [standing over him threateningly] 
 as some men I have read about, you would have called 
 me up, and told me what you wished for dinner. But I 
 expecl: no consideration from you men. 
 
 KNAPP. I wish a roast, and potatoes, and 
 
 MRS. REED. Too late. Too late now, Professor 
 Knapp. It is nearly half-past seven. My own supper is 
 to be set here in a few minutes. You may eat with me, 
 if you like [tossing her head]. It is nothing to me what 
 you do. 
 
 KNAPP. You are really very kind, but if you don t 
 mind, I had rather not. 
 
 MRS. REED. Mind? [Airily.] Mind? Of course 
 not. Why should I mind ? What are you to me ? It 
 was a great condescension for me to accept this opportu 
 nity to make home pleasant to you, and I am sure Miss 
 Knapp considered it so. But men are so inconsiderate. 
 Their selfishness is atrocious. Then you will not eat 
 with me ? 
 
 KNAPP. No, I will not. 
 
 MRS. REED. Oh, very well, then ! [ She stalks 
 from room, offended, going out door R.] 
 
 KNAPP. [Draws deep sigh of relief] Dear me, I 
 seem to have a most unfortunate manner very trying situ 
 ation, very where is the pantry, I wonder? but I 
 haven t the slightest idea where the pantry is, and I 
 wouldn t be caught there by either of those women for 
 anything I don t like them I suppose they are both 
 in the kitchen now. They seem improperly talkative 
 dear me ! A very trying situation, very and I brought 
 it all on myself. [He rises and walks toward sideboard] 
 [Door L. C. opens suddenly and enter MRS.BUTT-!N, 
 followed by MABEL BUTT-!N. They are very 
 much overdressed and women of gushing man 
 ner. They do not see KNAPP.] 
 
An Innocent Villain 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. This, you see, Mabel, is the dining- 
 room, a fine, large apartment with everything complete for 
 the comfort of the occupants. I always did wonder how 
 much these curtains cost. [Feels curtains ] Miss Knapp 
 said one dollar fifty a yard, but one can never tell. Like 
 mine, you see, these chairs ! [Examines chairs.] Oh, 
 why, Professor Knapp ! You here ? This is nice ! Such 
 a surprise ! This is Professor Knapp, Mabel ; my niece, 
 Miss Mabel Butt-In, of Omaha. [They bow to each 
 other.] Mabel wanted so much to see the inside of this 
 house ; she came this morning ; she is such an artistic 
 creature, so I brought her right over. Being neighbors, 
 of course, I didn t ring, and then you are so good- 
 natured, I knew you wouldn t mind in the least our run 
 ning in without knocking. You don t, do you ? I know 
 you don t ! [Gushingly.] 
 
 KNAPP. Oh, no ! [Sarcastically] 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. [Flatteringly] You don t mind 
 anything! This, you see, Mabel, is that wonderful old 
 portrait of which I told you, of Professor Knapp s great 
 grandfather, old Levi Knapp, such a dear Biblical old 
 name; and this china is so old, it is cracked and price 
 less. Wouldn t you like to have it, eh, Mabel ? [Nudg 
 ing her] 
 
 MABEL. Oh [to KNAPP], I just love old things, 
 don t you? [Clasping hands] 
 
 KNAPP. Yes, Miss Butt-In. [Patiently] 
 
 MABEL. Those dear little cracks in the beautiful 
 white china plates, how much they mean ! They call 
 up a wealth of old associations. 
 
 KNAPP. They do, indeed. [Sighs hungrily] 
 
 MABEL. And just to think, people in quaint old 
 costumes people have eaten off of them ! 
 
 KNAPP. Just to think of it ! [He pats his stomach 
 signijicantly] 
 
 [59] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MABEL. O Professor, can t you just imagine some 
 quaint little potatoes on this plate ? 
 
 KNAPP. I can, indeed. 
 
 MABEL. And to think, even in those days I suppose 
 people ate roast beef, and had their meals regularly, just 
 as we do ! 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Don t you see now, Professor, why 
 I brought her over ? The dear child loves quaint, old 
 things. I am sure she will grow very fond of you. She 
 is going to visit me for a month. She is my favorite niece, 
 you know, Professor, and when she marries, I shall give 
 her a row of tenement houses. 
 
 KNAPP. Indeed ! 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. I am sure no young couple need 
 starve on that. 
 
 MABEL. Oh ! Now, Auntie, aren t you too dread 
 ful, talking to the Professor about my getting married, 
 when we have just met him ! But sometimes one does 
 feel instinftively that one has met a friend, a true friend, 
 don t you think so, Professor? \Drawing coquettishly 
 close to him.] 
 
 KNAPP. I do. \With resigned politeness.] 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. You are so sympathetic, dear Pro 
 fessor ! Sit down, Mabel, and why don t you sit down, 
 Professor ? I declare you look almost uncomfortable. 
 
 KNAPP. I, uncomfortable ? The idea ! \Laughs 
 mirthlessly.] 
 
 \The three seat themselves in chairs near table] 
 
 KNAPP. Pray excuse my smoking-jacket, ladies, but 
 the faft is I have been very busily at work all the 
 afternoon in my study, until I was quite overwhelmed 
 with astonishment, when I suddenly found the dinner hour 
 had arrived. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. You dear, self- forgetful creature, 
 pondering upon some ancient ode of dear old Pindar, I 
 suppose ! \Looking languishingly at him.] 
 

 An Innocent Villain 
 
 MABEL. Until time and your environment faded, 
 faded away, and dinner was a thing of the past ! [Clasp 
 ing bands. ] 
 
 KNAPP. Exaftly ! 
 
 MABEL. How marvelous, how beautiful it must be 
 to be a professor of literature and ponder ever upon those 
 fadeless things of the soul, which raise one far, far above 
 the ordinary material things of every-day life ! Don t you 
 enjoy the rarified atmosphere in which you live, dear 
 Professor 
 
 KNAPP. Ecstatically ! 
 
 [Mas. REED S voice is at this point heard in the 
 kitchen outside, and FREDA S reply, ] 
 
 -/" MRS. REED. Freda, put those onions on to boil ! 
 [Her voice is raised and strident.] 
 
 FREDA. Ay bay only Swede girl, Ay tank Ay no cook 
 onions. Ay go out tonight. [ With voice raised and 
 drawling] Ay [Clatter of pans falling] 
 
 MRS. REED. Boil those onions. Boil those onions. . 
 
 MRS. BUTT- IN. Well ! [ Still looking toward 
 kitchen door. Your servants are quarrelsome ? 
 
 KNAPP. I really don t know. I see very little of 
 my servants. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. You poor, dear man! How lonely 
 you seem! Won t you come to our Tuesday evenings at 
 home ? 
 
 MABEL. Do, dear Professor, come in to our Tuesday 
 evenings at home. [Yearningly.] 
 
 KNAPP. Thanks. Isn t this your Tuesday evening 
 at home? 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Of course it is, Professor. [Offend 
 ed] Hew rude of you! It is our Tuesday at home, 
 but no one came, and every one we telephoned to had 
 another engagement, so we thought we would come over 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 here after you. I thought you were ever a kind and con 
 siderate gentleman, Professor Knapp. 
 
 KNAPP. I thought so too once. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. But I see you are getting spoiled, 
 spoiled ! [She moves away to sideboard.] 
 
 &&**&* J*l lL J Sfl* a * V ^J^^A^ ^.x ^A ^J^ 1 - , ."T^i^^i*^^ 
 
 MABEL. O Professor, haven t you ever longed for 
 the close companionship of some poetic soul who quite, 
 quite understood you ? [Drawing her chair closer.] 
 
 KNAPP. I have [with polite smile] at times. 
 
 MABEL. So hard to find, and yet often so unexpect 
 edly near. Often and often, when reading some sublime 
 passage in Shakespeare, I have longed, actually longed with 
 tears in my eyes, for some near soul, whose hand would 
 press mine at those great times, whose eyes, with mine, 
 would peruse the printed page, and whose heart but 
 why, oh why, speak of these things! 
 
 KNAPP. Why, indeed ! 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. [She returns to chair] Have 
 you never wished, my dear young Professor, for some 
 cultured wife to ascend with you the hill of learning ? 
 
 KNAPP. No ; I shall marry a good cook. [Sav 
 agely] 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN, (" Jumps. ] Oh ! Dear me ! 
 Really, Professor, you are dreadful! Once you told me 
 you sighed for a Cinderella of learning. 
 
 KNAPP, Cinderella of learning ! Instead of trying 
 shoes on their feet, I hate shoes, I shall have all the 
 girls I know fry a fish, and I shall marry the one who 
 tastes the best. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. [Screams] Who tastes the best ! 
 You are nothing short of a cannibal. 
 
 MABEL. Remember, dear Aunt, to take into account 
 the eccentricities of genius. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Eccentricities of genius ! I guess I 
 
An Innocent Villain 
 
 know plain ordinary bad temper, when I find it. Those 
 are pretty curtains. 
 
 MABEL. [To Aunt.} Hush ! Think, think Pro 
 fessor, how sweetly some little thing in pink would adorn 
 your table ! 
 
 KNAPP. You mean a shrimp ? [With enthusiasm.} 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. The idea ! You are a brute ! 
 KNAPP. Perhaps I am. [Defiantly.} 
 
 MABEL. Softly, softly ! This cannot be true of one 
 so exalted in intellect as yourself. You will, won t you? 
 
 KNAPP. I will, what ? [Restlessly.} 
 
 MABEL. Come to our Tuesday evenings at home. 
 
 KNAPP. If there are any Tuesdays upon which you 
 are at home. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Brute ! 
 
 MABEL. I know that to leave all this [waving 
 hand} must be a trial to leave this orderly, serious, mas 
 culine, cultured household of yours. . Such a tranquil at 
 mosphere there is here ! I could dwell here on higher 
 things forever ! 
 
 [Enter at door from kitchen, MRS. REED, in an 
 ostentatiously disapproving manner. Without 
 appearing to notice the three seated at the table, 
 she sets it with dishes, etc., from sideboard, 
 her movements giving every sign of acute 
 disfavor.} 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. What does this mean? Are we to 
 have a supper ? 
 
 MRS. REED. / am to have supper. It is my supper 
 hour, madam, the only one I have such as it is. It is 
 not only my privilege, but my right to eat my supper, 
 even though pnly a downtrodden woman. [Other women 
 exchange stares of haughty astonishment. KNAPP acts 
 frightened.} 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MABEL. As we were saying, my dear Professor, of 
 course you could feel congenial only with a lover of poetry 
 and philosophy. 
 
 MRS. REED. Freda! [Catling loudly. } Freda! 
 Bring on those onions. 
 
 FREDA. Yes. ^Answering outside.] Yes, Mays 
 Reed, Ay bay acomin*. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Well, I never ! What aftions ! 
 
 KNAPP. You see, Mrs. Butt-In, they possibly do not 
 understand about these Tuesday evenings at home. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Brute ! 
 
 MRS. REED. Well [to KNAPP], why don t you 
 introduce me to your lady friends ? 
 
 KNAPP. What ? [Hand to ear.] What ? 
 
 MRS. REED. Introduce me ! [ Commanding^. 
 Loudly in bis ear.] Introduce me ! 
 
 KNAPP. Oh ! Mrs. Reed, this is my friend and 
 neighbor, Mrs. Samuel Butt-In. [She bows distantly.] 
 
 MRS. REED. Happy to make your acquaintance. 
 [Primly.] 
 
 KNAPP. And her niece, Miss Mabel Butt-In, of 
 Omaha. [He thrusts bands in pockets in almost a reckless 
 manner, as if ready for anything.] Perhaps they would 
 like to eat they may be hungry. 
 
 MRS. REED. Happy to make your acquaintance. 
 You re women, at least. [Seats herself.] Don t you 
 think women should vote ? 
 
 MABEL. Oh, my thoughts are on higher things ! 
 . MRS. REED. Bosh ! 
 
 [Enter FREDA bearing plates of onions , meat and 
 
 bread on a tray.] 
 
 KNAPP. Dear me J [ Takes hands from pockets and 
 straigbtens up. ] I think I smell something to eat. It 
 must be something to eat. 
 
An Innocent Villain 
 
 MRS. REED. This is my supper. [She rises and 
 glares at him] This is my supper, which, sir, you refused 
 to eat with me. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Come, come, Professor, let us leave 
 the disgusting creature to her feed. [She rises, laying 
 a hand on KNAPP S arm and glaring at MRS. REED.] 
 
 MRS. REED. Disgusting ! [They face each other.] 
 
 FREDA. Ay bay a good cook. 
 
 KNAPP. Meanwhile, ladies, the food is getting cold. 
 
 MABEL. Come with us, dear Professor [rising] , into 
 the library, where we can look at your delicious books. 
 
 KNAPP. Certainly ! [He sighs but rises] Cer 
 tainly ! 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Let us go into the parlor and forget 
 this coarse scene, and those onions. 
 
 MRS. REED. They will be eaten up in just about 
 two minutes everything will be eaten up. [KNAPP 
 winces] 
 
 KNAPP. Oh ! 
 
 MABEL. No wonder your sensitive nerves are irri 
 tated, dear Professor. Come with us. [MRS. BUTT-!N 
 and MABEL take each one of bis arms, and escort him 
 toward door, L. C] 
 
 KNAPP. Freda makes [looks longingly at food] very 
 good meat pies. 
 
 MABEL. Meat pies ! I want to discuss Emerson 
 with you, dear Professor. 
 
 MRS. REED. The Professor [seats herself at table 
 facing audience] is too purse-proud to eat with me. He 
 prefers Emerson. Let him have his Emerson. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Well, I should say so! [They lead 
 him remorselessly on to the door. 
 
 [Exeunt KNAPP, MRS. BUTT-!N and MABEL.] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay 
 
 MRS. REED. I am glad those smarties have gone. 
 Now, Freda, you may set down those dishes. 
 
 FREDA. Oh, Ay bay tired ! [She takes them from 
 tray and puts on table] 
 
 MRS. REED. Now say, "Dinner is served. * 
 
 FREDA. "The dener bay served, * Ay tank so. 
 [Rubs arms in apron.] 
 
 MRS. REED. Pass me the salt. 
 FREDA. Here it bay. 
 
 MRS. REED. Silence ! Now stand behind my chair. 
 [She eats with a very apparent good appetite.] Freda! 
 ^FREDA standing behind her chair does not answer.] Freda ! 
 Freda, answer me this minute! [Without turning] 
 
 FREDA. [Coming from behind MRS. REED S chair.] 
 Ay no can talk bayhind yo, Mays Reed, Ay tank Ay 
 no can talk when Ay bay back of a person, because Ay 
 sure not it is to me they bay speakin . Now Ay see, 
 Mays Reed, yo bin speakin . 
 
 MRS. REED. Go and get me those preserves I told 
 you not to give Mr. Knapp for luncheon. 
 
 FREDA. Ay tank no. [With visible embarrassment.] 
 MRS. REED. Why don t you go? 
 FREDA. Ay tank there bay no more those leetle pre 
 serves. Ay tank not. 
 
 MRS. REED. Where are they? What have you 
 done with those preserves? Answer me this minute. 
 [Rapping table.] 
 
 FREDA. My man Ole, Ay tank so, he ate em. 
 
 MRS. REED. Ole ! Ole ate them ! I told you to 
 save them for me. If he does this again, I will reduce 
 your wages. I ll treated as I am, I must have preserves. 
 I will reduce your wages. 
 
 FREDA. Oh, no ! [Gets on knees.] Oh, no ! Ay 
 bay good cook. Ay clean shoes. Ay wash hankcheafs, 
 Ay 
 
An Innocent Villain 
 
 MRS. REED. Stop! Go and open some fruit for me. 
 
 FREDA. Ay will. [.fltoj.] Mays Reed, wait. 
 Ay will bay back. [She runs out door to kitchen.] 
 
 [MRS. REED left alone pretends to eat. Leans 
 back in chair, and drums haughtily on table 
 with fingers. FREDA re-enter s y laughing hila 
 riously.^ 
 
 FREDA. [Giggles.] Here bay the fruit. [Giggles.] 
 MRS. REED. What are you laughing about ? 
 
 FREDA. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Ho ! Ho ! Ho ! It 
 
 bay so funny. 
 
 MRS. REED. Tell me instantly! What are you 
 laughing about ? Tell me, I say. 
 
 FREDA. [Between giggles] It bay so funny. It 
 happen las night when Ole and me we go ball, Ay tank, 
 Swede people s big ball, yo know ; Ay go with Ole, and 
 Ole he go with me. Ay put on my bes dress, all red, 
 yust like Mays Knapp s dress- it is Mays Knapp s dress 
 my best dress is Mays Knapp s red dress. Ay look 
 ver grand, all the Swede mens dey tank so. Dey say as 
 Ay bay walkin in with Ole ancl Ole with me- who 
 bay dat Swede girl in red? Ay tank when Ay hear dem 
 say dat Ay bay goin have pardnet-s e-nough for poor 
 Swede girl one night. Qle_Jie_tank_go, too. _ Yo know 
 he no like it yo know ? Yo been married ? 
 
 MRS. REED. Not at present. Don t mention men 
 to me. 
 
 FREDA. [Rapidly] Ole be one _yjer__nk:e 
 man, Ay tank so, but he get mad. l~OIe see all de Swede 
 mens look at me, Ay bin see it, too, and he get mad. 
 Slow he get mad, but it s pretty mad, when he do bin 
 get mad. Ay bin dance with Swede mens and Ole 
 sometimes. Yon Yonsen he ask me to dance. Ay tank 
 Ay will. Ole say no, Ay can no dance with dat Yon 
 Yonsen. Ay tank so, and Yon Yonsen tank so, but Ole 
 he tank not. Come on, yump up, say Yon to me, and 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay 
 
 Ole he yump up. Oh, it bay so funny ! [Laughs 
 hilariously] It bay such a good yoke. He bay hit 
 Yon in de nose, 1fpn he hit him on de ear. Ole hit Yon 
 on de head, Yon hit Ole in de teeth. Oh, it bay so 
 funny ! I yust stand there und laugh und laugh. Yon 
 take Ole by his coat, his new coat, and he bin throw 
 heem out of door. He roll heem out of door. Such a 
 yoke on Ole. [Laughs. ] Yon say, "Yo stay out here, 
 yo big bully, yo cow-ard- yo yealous hoosband, yo 
 idiot yo," and he kicked him in de face. [Laughs.] 
 Sich a yoke, " yo big Norwegian wharf- rat, yo Norwe 
 gian,* and all de time, all de time, he bay yoost Swede 
 man, and punch his face. [Laughs. ] Sich a yoke. 
 Yon call Ole all that and Ole bay yoost Swede man all 
 de time, and that sich a good yoke on Yon. [Laughs] 
 
 MRS. REED. [Severely.] 1 don t see anything 
 funny about that. In facl:, it is not a joke at all. Pass 
 the pepper. pr- ^ 
 
 FREDA. Ain t dat a yoke ? It vas a yoke las night. 
 Pick up my napkin. 
 
 FREDA. Ay vill. 
 
 MRS. REED. The impudence of you servants! I 
 flatter myself I ll teach you your place. Remove the 
 onions. 
 
 FREDA. Ay vill. Ole likes onions. [Exit FREDA,] 
 
 MRS. REED. Freda! Freda! How weary the lower 
 classes make one ! Freda ! [FREDA comes running in] 
 
 MRS. REED. Refill the pitcher [with an excess of 
 haughtiness]. [FREDA goes out.] There! I forgot to 
 tell her to bring in the pudding. How tiresome servants 
 are [with grand air] \ She may give it to Ole. [Lis 
 tens at door.] I believe he is out there. What impu 
 dence ! [She walks out through door to kitchen, with 
 aetermined air.] 
 
 [KNAPP, as soon as she has disappeared out one 
 door, enters the other. He has changed his 
 coat. He frst puts head in , warily, thenfnd- 
 

 An Innocent Villain 
 
 ing room empty, steals in. He suddenly sees 
 bread on table. He runs to it, reaches for 
 it, then listens. He runs about, listening at 
 doors. At last dares to come to tabie ana take 
 pieces of bread. An expression of great joy 
 comes over his face, as he eats, which suddenly 
 changes to one of fear as voice is heard with 
 out.] 
 
 MRS. REED. [Her voice raised outside.] 6eml Ole 
 home/ 
 
 FREDA. Ole, he will not go, Ay tank not. He -my 
 **bay hoongry. ^ 
 
 MRS. REED. [Without.] I will tell &B to go. 1 
 fear no man. Ba**yfrw*J am going back to finish my 
 dinner. 
 
 [Showing every sign of fear, KNAPP, with bread 
 in hands, suddenly darts under the table, just 
 as MRS. REED enters. He leaves up the cover 
 of the table-cloth, which is toward audience ; 
 other long ends of table-cloth falling to floor 
 hide him from those on the stage. He is, how 
 ever, plainly visible to audience, seated on floor 
 under table, munching bread. MRS. REED 
 comes in and resumes seat.] 
 
 MRS. REED. [Rapping on table.] Bring that fig 
 pudding ! 
 
 [Enter FREDA with pudding and weeping loudly.] 
 
 FREDA. Ole, he say he will not go home. Ay tank 
 he mean what he bin say. He slow man, but when he 
 get mad, he pretty mad. 
 
 MRS. REED. Where is the Professor ? Tell him to 
 put Ole out of the house. I wjQJL l,iia.ve,any more of my 
 preserver-eaten up. Go get Professor Knapp.. [Stamp 
 ing foot] 
 
 FREDA. No, oh, no ! Ay tank not. Ole ver big 
 man, und he pretty mad man, he will keel de Profaysur. 
 If Ole keel de Profaysur Ay bin afraid look Mays Knapp 
 
 [69] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 in de face again, when she come home, and bin say, 
 "Yo, Freda, where de Profaysur gone?" Ay afraid 
 look Mays Knapp in face if Ole keel de Profaysur. 
 
 MRS. REED. Go ! Find the man of the house, and 
 tell him I insist upon his throwing Ole out of my kitchen. 
 
 FREDA. [Apron over head.} Oh, oh ! Ole will 
 keel de Profaysur. [She goes out door L. C.} 
 
 [MRS. REED rises and looks in kitchen, door R. 
 KNAPP puts out arm and steals another piece 
 of bread from table, remaining hidden.} 
 
 MRS. REED. [To OLE out door R.} Get out, you 
 horrid thing, you ! 
 
 [In consternation KNAPP subsides. She sits again 
 at table and eats pudding. Suddenly loud crash 
 in kitchen is heard.} 
 
 MRS. REED. [Rising."} What is that ? That big 
 
 Swede must be in a perfect rage. Oh ! Why doesn t 
 
 the Professor come? [Another crash. She wrings hands. ,} 
 
 [Enter FREDA, door L. C. , hurriedly. She crosses 
 
 stage.} 
 
 FREDA. De Profaysur is gone, he bay not in de 
 house. De house bay all dark, und de Profaysur bay 
 gone away. He bay gone away. Ole bin not keel 
 him dis time, Ay tank not. [She goes out door R.} 
 
 MRS. REED. How tiresome [with air of languid 
 elegance} I find the lower classes ! 
 
 FREDA. [Without^} Don t yo bin want more pre 
 serves, Ole ? [Her voice is one of cajolement.} 
 
 MRS. REED. There ! She is feeding him up again. 
 Such are wives ! [She rises from table, giving KNAPP 
 another opportunity to get cake from table. As she turns 
 back, she speaks.} I must have been as hungry as a man, 
 tonight. All that cake gone at one meal, and I don t feel 
 at all as if I had eaten it. My dyspepsia must be better. 
 She stands C. and yawns, facing audience. Suddenly 
 r L. C. behind her is opened, and ERNESTINE FLOYD, 
 

 
 An Innocent Villain 
 
 who is a pretty young girl in blue, rushes in, goes to her 
 and puts hands over MRS. REED S eyes. ] 
 
 MRS. REED. [Screams."] Unhand me, Ole, or I 
 shall call for the police. 
 
 ERNESTINE. Guess! [Laughing. ] Guess who it is! 
 MRS. REED. That is not (Die s voice. 
 ERNESTINE. I should say not. 
 MRS. REED. Let me go ; are you a book agent ? 
 
 ERNESTINE. Yes. [Laughing."] Yes. Tremble 
 at your fate. [She drops hands. The two stand facing 
 each other in great surprise. ] 
 
 MRS. REED AND ERNESTINE. Who are you ? 
 ERNESTINE. Oh! I thought you were Miss Knapp. 
 
 MRS. REED. I am not. She is out of town. / am 
 the woman who is making home pleasant for Professor 
 Knapp. 
 
 ERNESTINE. Oh! Are you I didn t know I 
 hadn t heard. [Seats herself in great agitation. ] Are 
 you are you why didn t some one tell me so you 
 are his wife! 
 
 MRS. REED. His wife ! What an insult ! Why, I 
 wouldn t marry Professor Knapp if he should ask me on 
 his knees forty times over, and no one else would, if they 
 knew all I know about his terrible temper. 
 
 ERNESTINE. Oh! I didn t know. He didn t used 
 to have a temper. I am Ernestine Floyd. [Under the 
 table KNAPP, who has been listening in great excitement, 
 tries to get a peep at her.] He used to be so nice. I 
 have been away, traveling abroad for four years, and I 
 got back home again just yesterday. They told me the 
 Professor was away, but I thought I would come and sur 
 prise his sister and spend the night with her. My box is 
 in the hall. 
 
 MRS. REED. Well, if the Professor were here, I 
 should order him to carry it upstairs for you. You may 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 visit me. Professor Knapp has left the house, in his 
 usual inconsiderate manner, and is nowhere to be found. 
 
 ERNESTINE. Then I will stay. He need never know 
 I have been here. How is he ? I suppose just as happy 
 with his books as ever. They seem to satisfy him so. 
 [She walks about the room in dreamy fashion. ~\ Just 
 the same dear old chairs. Just the same dear old room, 
 where we have had so many cosy little dinners. What 
 delightful little dinners we used to have ! [ Under the 
 table KNAPP wipes away a lonesome tear.^ And now I 
 am four years older. I wonder if he will find me changed. 
 [Looks in mirror ~\ I am prettier than I used to be. 
 How is he ? 
 
 MRS. REED. How is he? How should I know ! 
 He is a most purse-proud and overbearing individual / 
 think. I have none of his company, nor do I want it. 
 
 ERNESTINE. He used to be a man of great dignity. 
 That was what I liked about him I never in my life 
 saw him in an undignified position. I could not bear him 
 if I thought he ever came off his pedestal. [Standing 
 near table.~] 
 
 MRS. REED. Oh, well, he does ! All men do ! 
 
 ERNESTINE. He seemed so different from other men. 
 He never did anything silly. 
 
 MRS. REED. Humph ! Well, he does now. 
 ERNESTINE. How do you know ? 
 
 MRS. REED. Only judging him by other men. I 
 hate them. All men are silly. 
 
 ERNESTINE. I am sure he isn t. I can imagine him 
 at this minute somewhere on a ledlure platform, lefturing 
 to the students, upon " The Dignity of the Ascetic 
 Life, * or something of that sort. He is certainly a man 
 one can respe<5l, who is never frivolous and never impulsive. 
 
 MRS. REED. Bosh ! 
 
 ERNESTINE. It must be so nice for him to have you 
 here, in his sister s absence, to make home pleasant for him. 
 
An Innocent Villain 
 
 MRS. REED. Yes ; he seems to enjoy it very much. 
 
 ERNESTINE. [$/&.] He is quite contented with 
 his books. [Walking about, ,] Everything in the room 
 is just as I left it. How many times in the grand canal in 
 Venice, or nn tnp i?f NrHn* Pnm* in Paris, have I thought 
 of this dear, quiet old room ! [K.NAPP, under table, shows 
 renewed signs of hunger. ~\ [Loud noise, startling all, is 
 again beard out door R.~\ Oh ! What is that ? 
 
 MRS. REED. [Goes to door.~\ It is our cook s 
 husband, Ole Oleson. [Comes back to table. ] When 
 the Professor returns I shall order him to put Ole out. 
 [Noise again."] 
 
 ERNESTINE. Oh ! [Clasps hands. ] I hope I shall 
 never see Professor Knapp doing anything so rough. I 
 could never like him again. [FREDA enters, running in at 
 door R.~] 
 
 FREDA. Oh, Mays Reed, Ole bin breakin* tings, 
 Ay tank so! He say yo bin give him de de pig 
 puddin some, or he come get it. Ay tank he will. 
 He slow mans, but when he bay mad, he pretty mad mans. 
 He bay mad man now. 
 
 [Loud banging on door R. All three women 
 scream and huddle together. ] 
 
 MRS. REED. ^ [In trembling voice.] The pudding 
 is all gone ; unfortunately, I ate it. Freda, go lock that 
 door. 
 
 FREDA. Ay bay afraid. [Gets behind ERNESTINE.] 
 
 MRS. REED. Go! Lock that door! We won t go 
 out there again. If only the man of the house were here ! 
 [FREDA crosses stage stealthily, locks door R., then calls 
 through keyhole.] 
 
 FREDA. Go way, Ole! Go way, yo Swede man, 
 yo. Go home, Ay bay come home tomorrow, cook yo 
 ni-i-ce pancake for breakfast. Go home, Ole ! 
 
 MRS. REED. Stop! Who will cook my breakfast? 
 
 [73] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 ERNESTINE. I will. [KNAPP shows excitement and 
 peeps out at her.] 
 
 MRS. REED. Can you cook? I- thought rroerrial 
 labor was confined to the lower classes. I never cook. 
 [Haughtily.] 
 
 ERNESTINE. You miss lots of fun. I went to cook 
 ing school. I can cook nut cake and lemon pies. 
 
 [KNAPP shakes bands with himself. } 
 
 MRS. REED. I don t want nut cake or lemon pie for 
 breakfast. 
 
 FREDA. He bay gone to sleep now. [Comes from 
 keyhole, down front.] Ay tank so. He bay dat kind 
 man. Mostly very slow man, except if he get mad, Ay 
 bin tell yo. Oh ! [Screams] Oh ! [Screams loudly] 
 
 MRS. REED AND ERNESTINE. Oh ! Oh ! What is 
 the matter ? 
 
 FREDA. [Points] There bay a burgle-mans under 
 de table. Ay tank so. Oh ! 
 
 ERNESTINE. I am interested. Perhaps she sees a 
 burglar. 
 
 [ Under the table KNAPP / / seen by audience taking 
 suggestion, and fixing napkin over his face for 
 mask, making holes in it for his eyes, with 
 pocket-knife.] 
 
 MRS. REED. [To FREDA.] Stop ! Idiot ! There 
 is no one there. 
 
 FREDA. Ay bay poor Swede girl not id-i-ot. 
 [She suddenly darts at KNAPP and drags him out from under 
 table. He is tying mask over his face, and stands C.] 
 
 ERNESTINE. ^0fii^*ee * real burglar ! Oh, joy ! 
 
 MRS. REED. Sir ! What are you doing in my house r 
 Leave it. Call Ole, Freda. [To KNAPP, triumphantly] 
 You see, we have a man in the house. 
 
 FREDA. Ole! Ole! Ole! 
 [74] 
 
An Innocent Villain 
 
 KNAPP. Ladies [raises hand~\, be quiet. I am a 
 gentleman burglar. [Speaking in disguised voice.] 
 
 MRS. REED. What is that? 
 
 KNAPP. A burglar who harms no one and never 
 steals anything. 
 
 ERNESTINE. Do you read, too ? 
 KNAPP. Oh, often ! I enjoy Dickens. 
 ERNESTINE. Oh, do you ? So do I. 
 KNAPP. I also read Ibsen. 
 
 ERNESTINE. Oh ! Then you must be very much of 
 a gentleman. 
 
 [Door L. C. suddenly opens and enter hastily, in 
 much excitement, MRS. BUTT-!N, /0//<mW by 
 MABEL BUTT-!N. As they come in, KNAPP 
 turns his back.~] 
 
 MRS. BUTTON. What has happened ? In the midst 
 of our Tuesday evening at home we heard the most 
 dreadful screams from this house. Who has been mur 
 dered ? 
 
 MRS. REED. No one yet. It is only a man. 
 Mrs. Butt-in, let me make y acquainted with my friend, 
 Miss Ernestine Floyd, and also Miss Mabel Butt-In. 
 
 ERNESTINE. How do you do ? [Staring at KNAPP s 
 back. ] 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN AND MABEL. Glad to meet you. 
 [All shake hands, staring at KNAPP.] 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. And who is that? [Points at 
 KNAPP.] [To MABEL,] Perhaps he will do for our 
 Tuesday evenings at home. 
 
 MABEL. Perhaps he will. We need men. 
 
 MRS. REED. Mrs. Butt-In and Miss Mabel Butt-In, 
 allow me to introduce you to the burglar! [KNAPP 
 turns, facing them and audience, the women being down 
 front. ] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN AND MABEL. A burglar! [They 
 ding together.] Oh! Oh! A masked man ! 
 
 KNAPP. Ladies [be bows], I am glad to meet you. 
 [Solemnly.] 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Oh! A man, of course, but a burglar! 
 
 [She gets behind MABEL. All the women try to 
 
 get behind each other , pushing for the place 
 
 last in line ; all at length behind ERNESTINE.! 
 
 ERNESTINE. But he is a gentleman burglar. 
 
 MABEL. Perhaps he is. [Approaches him] Such 
 things often happen in the newspapers. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. But where is filial Professor Knapp? 
 [Snores are heard from kitchen] This gentleman bur 
 glar may have murdered him in his tracks, before he came 
 into this room. [Snores again heard] He may be 
 murdered. 
 
 FREDA. [On knees at keyhole to kitchen door] Ole ! 
 Ole ! That Swede mans bay asleep. 
 
 MABEL. And even at this minute [standing C], 
 murder may have been done ! 
 
 ERNESTINE, MABEL AND MRS. BUTT-!N. [To bur 
 glar, approaching him hand-in-hand] Where is Pro 
 fessor Knapp ? 
 
 KNAPP. Ladies, pray be calm. There is no reason 
 for this fright. All that is necessary is for you to get out 
 of my way and allow me to pass through the door. I 
 am only too anxious to escape. [Takes step toward door] 
 
 MRS. REED. Stop ! What have you in your 
 pockets ? [She stands threateningly before the door] 
 
 KNAPP. Madam, nothing at all. [He turns pockets 
 inside out, disclosing nothing but a few crusts] 
 
 ERNESTINE. Perhaps the poor man is hungry. 
 
 MABEL. He must not leave, dear Aunt, he must not, 
 until he has informed us what he has done with the body 
 of poor, dear Professor Knapp. 
 
An Innocent Villain 
 
 ERNESTINE. Oh ! Do you think he has murdered 
 him? 
 
 MABEL. [To burglar. ] Have you murdered poor, 
 dear Professor Knapp ? 
 
 KNAPP. Professor Knapp, I beg to inform you, 
 ladies, is quite safe. 
 
 ERNESTINE. Of course. This man is a gentleman, 
 he is not a murderer. Pray have a chair, Sir, if you are 
 tired. Why do [to MABEL] you always refer to Walter 
 Knapp as a poor dear ? What is he to you ? 
 
 MABEL. He is a very dear and sympathetic friend 
 I can say no more, at present. 
 
 ERNESTINE. I understand, perfectly. [Wipes away 
 tears.] Oh, I have come home too late ! After all, 
 what does it matter ? 
 
 KNAPP. Ladies, will you now allow me to pass ? 
 
 MRS. REED. First, Sir, perhaps you would like to 
 have a little supper before you go. [He stops with 
 comical eagerness , striking attitude of expeftancyJ] I am 
 sure you are innocent. You seem to have stolen only 
 crusts. I will get you some of my cold meat, and fruit, 
 and a little 
 
 KNAPP. [Eager ly.~\ Fig pudding ? 
 
 MRS. REED. If there is any left. [She goes to 
 sideboard."] 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Poor man ! He seems very hungry! 
 Such a fine, strong-looking figure, too ! 
 
 KNAPP. I haven t had anything but bread to eat 
 since - 
 
 MABEL. For two days, I suppose. 
 KNAPP. It seems that long. 
 
 MABEL. I suppose the business of burglary is a very 
 arduous one ? 
 
 KNAPP. Very ! 
 
 ETT! 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 [MRS. REED and FREDA bustle about, getting 
 eatables from sideboard, which they put on 
 table} 
 
 MRS. REED. Sit here, please. [He sits at table] 
 Here is a napkin Professor Knapp s, but he won t mind 
 your using it. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Yes; he is such a good-natured man. 
 
 [KNAPP seats himself at table, facing audience; 
 ladies occupy chairs about him, FREDA S at 
 tention being divided between him and the 
 keyhole. } 
 
 MRS. REED. I- -see you are embarrassed, Sir.- Won t 
 you remove your mask ? You could eat better. You are 
 among friends. 
 
 [KNAPP takes, with great relish, a mouthful under 
 his mask.] 
 
 ERNESTINE. But I suppose you don t want us to 
 know who you are ! 
 
 KNAPP. Indeed, I don t. [He eagerly samples food. ] 
 
 MABEL. Oh, don t have him remove his mask ! It 
 is so much more romantic this way. How he enjoys 
 eating ! It does one s heart good. 
 
 FREDA. \At keyhole.} Ole ! Ole ! 
 
 KNAPP. The Swede man is undoubtedly asleep. 
 
 MRS. REED. Yes, quite, or we wouldn t dare give 
 you the pudding. What a queer voice you have ! It is 
 almost attractive. 
 
 MABEL. I suppose you don t want us to see your 
 face, or we might know you again. We might meet you 
 again in society, perhaps. Why, you might even 
 come to our Tuesday evenings at home. 
 
 KNAPP. Possibly ! I may have been there already 
 tonight. It is Tuesday. 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. Oh! What did you take? 
 
An Innocent Villain 
 
 KNAPP. Nothing ! There was nothing I wanted. 
 Ladies, have pity upon me ! If you really feel kindly dis 
 posed to me, and this er very excelljwft \upper attests the 
 warmth" of your feeling*, j^ease go out of the room and 
 leave me for a few minutes alone with this young lady. 
 [Pointing to ERNESTINE.] 
 
 ERNESTINE. Oh, no ! Oh, don t ! 
 
 MRS. REED. We ll stay within call. We wouldn t 
 miss any more of this than we have to. Now you do it, 
 Ernestine. My curiosity must be satisfied. 
 
 FREDA. Don t bay scared. [To ERNESTINE, with 
 broad grin. ,] Ole he*b^ in kitchen. 
 
 ERNESTINE. ft 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. We will^nowf my dear [rises\, 
 leave you for a few minutes alone with the burglar. -It is- 
 ati-rrra>l Imi fCSliugr Come, Mabel. 
 
 MABEL. I think he might have chosen me. [They 
 all rise but ERNESTINE.] 
 
 ERNESTINE. Wait! [Taking off rings. ~\ These are 
 all of value I have about me [passing them to burglar^ . 
 1 know you are a gentleman burglar, but I prefer you 
 should take these things now. Then you will have no 
 temptation to murder me. 
 
 KNAPP. [Pushing them back toward her.~\ Thanks! 
 No ! 
 
 MRS. REED. What nobility he shows ! We will 
 stay in the next room. 
 
 [MRS. BUTT-IN, MABEL, FREDA and MRS. REED 
 go out of door L. C. They each in turn re 
 turn, and peep in at door t then at last dis 
 appear.^ 
 
 KNAPP. Are we entirely alone ? Have they gone ? 
 
 ERNESTINE. They have, but only in the next room, 
 remember. I can t imagine why you had the imperti 
 nence to make this request, unless I am to be the one to 
 receive your dying confession. 
 
 79] 
 
Drawing- Room PI ay s 
 
 KNAPP. [Pulling off napkin. ] Do I look like a 
 dying man ? 
 
 ERNESTINE. Walter ! [Buries face in bands.~\ 
 
 KNAPP. Yes, I am JXXJE, dear Professor Knapp. 
 [Pause, .] After four years, look at me~ A7e you angry 
 with me ? 
 
 ERNESTINE. Why are you in this masquerade ? 
 
 KNAPP. It is too long a story to tell now. Mrs. Reed 
 might come in. 
 
 ERNESTINE. Tell me, are you, 
 
 with that girl out there? i-mean that Miss Mabel 
 Butt-In. She seems to know you so well. 
 
 KNAPP. I met her for the first time only half an 
 hour ago, upon my word. What is the matter, Ernes 
 tine ? I am so glad you are back. 
 
 ERNESTINE. Really, you look almost silly. 
 
 KNAPP. All men do, when they propose ; 4<M4- -4- 
 s.corn me .on that account. I need you so much. Will 
 you be my wife ? 
 
 ERNESTINE. I don t know. 
 
 KNAPP. Do you doubt my love? I am so glad 
 you are back again at last. I hope now to eat more reg 
 ularly. Will you marry me ? 
 
 ERNESTINE. I don t know. 
 
 KNAPP. Please try to know, Ernestine, dear. 
 Please try to know quickly. They will all be back here 
 presently. If you will now allow me, I will put the 
 mask in my pocket. Answer me, dear one, will you be 
 my wife? [Loud banging is heard at door R.] 
 
 ERNESTINE. Oh! What is that? [Looks fearfully 
 at door. ] It is that awful Swede man. [Puts arms 
 around KNAPP s neck.~\ lie- maj iuillg"1n. I -ana so 
 frightened: Yes, I will be your wife. [At this point, 
 the door L. C. opens and all the other women rush in. 
 ERNESTINE draws away from KNAPP. J 
 
 [*] 
 
An Innocent Villain 
 
 MRS. REED. [Sternly ana disapprovingly. ] Profes 
 sor Knapp! You here! Where is the burglar? 
 
 ALL. Yes, where is the burglar, Pfofe9SQF"-fengpp ? 
 
 KNAPP. He went. [Loud bang on door R.] I 
 think I saw some one go into the kitchen possibly. 
 
 FREDA. Ole! Ole! [She unlocks door and goes into 
 kitchen. ] [KNAPP rises.] 
 
 KNAPP. Meanwhile, pardon me, but I have some 
 what lost my interest in burglars. This, ladies [taking 
 ERNESTINE by the hand ], is my future wife. She has 
 promised to make home pleasant for me. 
 
 ERNESTINE. I am going to try. [Stands by KNAPP. J 
 
 MRS. BUTT-IN. I guessed as much, when I saw 
 what I saw when I came in. Well, I ll warrant she 
 won t get a row of tenement houses on her wedding day. 
 
 KNAPP. No. [Proudly.] But she can cook! 
 rah for lemon pies ! 
 
 MABEL. Indeed. [Scornfully. ] Cook! 
 Indelicate! 
 
 MRS. REED. Then I suppose [s tan ding LJ] that soon, 
 for the twenty-fifth time this year, I shall be out of a place. 
 Such are men! 
 
 [KNAPP and ERNESTINE stand by table C. y MRS. 
 BUTT-IN and MABEL R. t MRS. REED Z,.] 
 
 [Curtain.] 
 
 [81] 
 
IV. 
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 It seems scarcely possible that any difficulties what 
 soever could be met with in the presentation of so simple 
 a farce as the following. Its humor depends decidedly 
 more upon the situations than upon the lines, so that 
 care must be taken in developing them. Women parts 
 again predominate in this, because it has almost invariably 
 been found that whereas the amateur actress grows in abund 
 ance and in clusters, the amateur male star ( with time to 
 spare "from business") is a somewhat rare quantity. 
 
 Costumes in ART FOR ART S SAKE should be modern 
 and in the prevailing fashion for all the characters but that 
 of KING, who should have some absurd pose of costume. 
 In afting the farce care should be taken not to hurry 
 the lines. 
 
 [83] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 MINA ARCHER A severe-minded young woman ivbo is studying art 
 
 in a strange city. 
 VIOLA BLANCH ARD Her friend. A pretty girl whose life is devoted 
 
 to her music, and i wbo eschews the frivolity of masculine society, 
 MRS. MACARTHUR Their chaperone <who has accompanied them from 
 
 their * * home town. Something in her appearance should be absurd. 
 NEWTON KING A young literary man. 
 J. MORTON PHILLIPS A wealthy young clubman. He should be 
 
 much the larger of the two. He must be able, while hidden in 
 
 recess, to show much facial expression. 
 
 The scene is set in the living-room of the apartment occu 
 pied by the three women. It is furnished comfort 
 ably, but is in somewhat careless disorder. In the back 
 wall is a door near the center, which is the only open 
 ing or place of exit in the room. In the left-hand 
 back corner of the stage must be arranged a closet of 
 curtains, or a tall wardrobe, which can be used as a 
 hiding-place. To give the audience a full view of 
 this no furniture must be in that side of the room, 
 except an artist* s easel, to the L. very much down the 
 front, and a chair near it. In the R. set out from 
 the wall is a piano with stool; this piano, placed side 
 ways a few feet from front of stage, affords another 
 hiding-place, the recess behind it being screened off 
 from the rest of stage, but open toward the audience 
 and containing two seats. The remaining furniture 
 consists of a table, back to the R. of the door, a large 
 easy rocking-chair down front, R. of C., and a small 
 sofa for two down front L. of C. 
 
 Curtain rising discovers Mina painting at easel L. , 
 Viola practicing five-finger exercises, or scales, R. at 
 piano. They are engrossed in their work for a minute 
 or more. Clock strikes two. 
 
 MINA. Viola, darling, the clock just struck two. 
 VIOLA. I heard it, my dear. [Stops prafticing.~\ 
 

 Art For A r t" s S a k 
 
 MINA. I thought perhaps you didn t know how 
 late it was. That chrome yellow is too ight for grain- 
 fields. I think I ll tone it down a bit. [VIOLA resumes 
 practicing.] 
 
 MINA. Are you not going to your music lesson, 
 Viola? 
 
 VIOLA. [Over shoulder. ] Can t. The Professor 
 is ill. 
 
 MINA. Oh, how dreadful for you! Then you will 
 have to be indoors in this close room all the afternoon. 
 Such is life devoted to art. 
 
 VIOLA. [Turning on stool."] Don t you love art? 
 
 MINA. I just adore it. Art for art s sake. It is my 
 whole life! I could paint on and on forever. But just 
 because we do so love our art, we should take the very 
 best care of our health, don t you think so, Viola ? 
 
 VIOLA. Oh, yes! Our very best physical strength 
 should go into our art. [Begins to pound piano noisily. ] 
 
 MINA. Does indoor life agree with you ? 
 VIOLA. No, it makes me dumpy. [Yawns. ~\ 
 
 MINA. Then you owe it to yourself and your art 
 to go for a walk this afternoon, a long walk. [Gazing 
 at her work from a distance. ] 
 
 VIOLA. Go, all alone ? 
 
 MINA. Certainly. I can t possibly go ; I am under 
 the influence of an inspiration. [Busily painting again J] 
 
 VIOLA. Oh! 
 
 MINA. And Mrs. Mac is out for the day with that 
 dowdy old friend of hers. And we know no one here. 
 You will have to go alone, Viola dear. 
 
 VIOLA. Well, then, I will go. I am sick of the 
 smell of your old paints. 
 
 MINA. Are you really going, sweetheart ? 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 VIOLA. Yes; I really am, darling. [Rises and 
 yawns.] I almost wish I had sent that 
 
 MINA. [Almost screams.] Letter of introduction ? 
 Oh, don t say that! Would you have your working 
 hours broken in upon by the frivolity of a man s conver 
 sation ? 
 
 VIOLA. No ; that would be dreadfully disquieting. 
 
 MINA. Yes ; disquieting is the word, and so few 
 men are intelligent. You know we promised our mothers, 
 if we were allowed to study here in town, we would 
 have no society at all ; and a man would be society. 
 
 VIOLA. I should say so. I feel that even one would 
 be society. [Putting on her hat, gloves and wrap.] But 
 that letter of introduction, you know, was to Newton 
 King, who is the cleverest man in town. A real live 
 author! I should like to meet him. 
 
 MINA. Oh, no; you wouldn t. He would just 
 spoil everything for us. If you send that letter to him, 
 I ll send the one /have to Mr. J. Morton Phillips, and 
 you know how frivolous they say he is. 
 
 VIOLA. Oh! don t try to know him. Yes, I have 
 heard he is frivolous, though he might not seem so. 
 
 MINA. I won t stand here another minute discussing 
 those paltry masculine creatures. I must work while the 
 light is good. My art is of the utmost importance. 
 Good-bye, sweetheart ; you are such a dear. [Kisses 
 her.] Keep up good courage, my love, and when we 
 are both famous, then we can afford to waste our time 
 with men. Good-by, dear. 
 
 VIOLA. Good-by. 
 [Exit VIOLA.] 
 
 [MINA listens until sound of door* s loud closing 
 is heard outside. In pantomime MINA then 
 glances at clock, goes to mirror and rearranges 
 hair. Picks up paint-brush and drops it.] 
 
 [MJ 
 
Art For A r / s S a k 
 
 MINA. Oh! I can t paint. I feel too conscience- 
 stricken. \She puts on ornamental Chinese blouse, remov 
 ing her working blouse.] Viola is too fatally attractive. If a 
 man once met her, he would never let her alone afterward. 
 [Looks in mirror.] She is ever so much prettier than I 
 am! [Sighs.] Lucky for me, very lucky for me. 
 [Nervously rearranges room.~\ And Mr. Newton King 
 is so fond of music. She must not meet him. [Closes 
 piano with bang. Whistles speculatively.] What a sit 
 uation this is ! [Sound of door-bell is heard outside, and 
 she stands listening until knock is heard at door, when she 
 hurriedly resumes painting at easel. After taking posi 
 tion.] Come in ! 
 
 [Enter MORTON PHILLIPS, whom MINA supposes 
 to be NEWTON KING. He is in correct after 
 noon dress. Flowers in button-hole. When 
 ever she calls him MR. KING, he winces. ~\ 
 
 MINA. [In simulated surprise.] Why, is that 
 you, Mr. King ? Where did you drop from ? 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Smiling.] People don t drop into 
 heaven, do they ? Well, at any rate, I am here. May 
 I stay ? [Puts hat and stick on table and draws off 
 gloves.] 
 
 MINA. [Studying pi fture] I suppose you will have 
 to stay, now that you are here. 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Taking comfortable rocking-chair, R.] 
 Thanks, and may I smoke? 
 
 MINA. Oh, yes ; make yourself perfectly comfort 
 able, Mr. King. I am under the influence of an inspira 
 tion which I must 
 
 PHILLIPS. Catch on the fly ? 
 MINA. How frivolous! 
 
 PHILLIPS. Work away. How I wish / were an 
 artist, then I could paint you as you look now, in that 
 lobster-colored thing ! 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MINA. Lobster ? 
 
 PHILLIPS. Before they re boiled, you know; and 
 with that funny little pucker over the left eye, 
 
 MINA. The lobster s? 
 
 PHILLIPS. Oh, pshaw, no! Your eye, of course. 
 Tormentor! [Walks over to her and takes brush out of 
 her hand] What makes you so cold and distant this 
 afternoon, Viola ? 
 
 MINA. Conscience! 
 PHILLIPS. Cut it out! 
 
 MINA. For an author, you are the most frivolous 
 man ! I never imagined an author like you, Mr. King. 
 
 PHILLIPS. But you like me, nevertheless. You con 
 fessed it the last time I was here. What is your con 
 science pricking you about, my little artist ? [ They sit 
 on sofa, C.] Because you have allowed me to come 
 here often to see you, when your Chaperone and your 
 friend are away so much ? 
 
 MiNA nods her bead] 
 
 PHILLIPS. Well, that is not your fault. I am aware 
 you would keep them at home, if you could. If they 
 have to go out so much, that is their lookout, not yours. 
 
 MINA. Do you really think so, Mr. King? 
 
 PHILLIPS. I am sure of it, Viola! 
 \_At name she starts.] 
 
 PHILLIPS. What makes you jump like that? Are 
 you nervous? You see now, how you overwork, Viola! 
 
 MINA. Yes, I think I am overworked. 
 
 PHILLIPS. I suppose that first afternoon I called with 
 the letter of introduction you are not listening. 
 
 MINA. I am, too, listening, and if you don t go on 
 I will paint you [drawing paint brush down bis nose] a 
 nice chrome yellow 
 
 [MJ 
 
Art For A r t" s S a k 
 
 PHILLIPS. Stop that, you little mischief. It is dan 
 gerous to do that to me. When I presented that letter 
 of introduction which your mother s friend had sent me, 
 that first afternoon I called here, you were cool enough. 
 You even tried to send me away. I noticed that. 
 
 MINA. Oh, yes ; I tried and tried awfully hard ! 
 
 PHILLIPS. I appreciate that! But I have come, and 
 I ve continued coming, and do you know why, Viola ? 
 
 MINA. [Covering ears."] Oh, no ; no, no ; don t 
 tell me! I won t guess. 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Taking down her bands. ] It is because 
 I love you. 
 
 MINA. [In horror. ] You don t! You can t! 
 Oh, no ; say you don t mean it. It is not so. 
 
 PHILLIPS. I mean it, every word. I love you. 
 
 [Door outside closes with loud slam. ~] 
 MINA. [Jumping up.] Oh! Did you hear that? 
 PHILLIPS. Yes ; it was only a door. 
 
 MINA. Only a door, Mr. King. It means that my 
 friend is coming back. I hear her. She must not find 
 you here. I told her I told her 
 
 PHILLIPS. A lie ? 
 
 MINA. Of course. Go, go. She is coming in 
 here, I tell you. There is only one door. [Walking 
 about in great anxiety] 
 
 PHILLIPS. Well, what if she is? I don t mind. 
 
 MINA. Oh, quick, go hide! I hear her in the 
 hall. 
 
 PHILLIPS. What of it, I am not going. [Folds 
 arms.] 
 
 MINA. Yes, you are. [Shakes him.] You are 
 going to hide. Quick, quick, in here. I can t face 
 her now with you. There is not a minute to lose. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Rising.] Utter nonsense. Girls are 
 queer cattle. 
 
 [MiNA pushes him behind curtain, back L. 
 Hands after him his hat, forgetting his stick 
 on table.] 
 
 MINA. [Breathing sigh of re lief ,] Now, we are 
 safe. I never knew her to be so long getting from the 
 front door, in here. Sh-h-h-h! 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Putting out head] I say, this is all 
 nonsense, don t you know, Viola 
 
 MINA. [Stamping foot.] Sh-h-h-h! Do as I say! 
 [She resumes painting] 
 
 [Enter MRS. MACARTHUR, carrying an absurd 
 number of very large parcels] 
 
 MRS. MAC. What, my dear, all alone? And 
 working as hard as ever. Where is 
 
 MINA. Sh-h-h-h! She s gone out. Why did you 
 get home so early ? 
 
 MRS. MAC. What do you mean by hushing me up 
 like that ? You strong-minded girls are always so impolite. 
 
 MINA. [With dignity] We have to be impolite, 
 or we would never get our work done. All artists have 
 strong characters. 
 
 MRS. MAC. I know it. I know it, my dear, and 
 I admire you for it. Art for art s sake, as you say. 
 [She puts parcels on table and, taking off wrap, slowly 
 walks with it toward curtain L., where the supposed KING 
 is. Just as she puts out hand, MINA turns and sees her] 
 
 MINA. [Rushing to her and grasping hand] Stop! 
 Stop! Oh, my dear Mrs. Mac., I ll hang it up for 
 you. [Goes in behind curtain with it. Speaks from 
 there] What a pretty wrap it is, Mrs. Mac. ! Oh, 1 
 must [reappears] get back to my work ! 
 
 MRS. MAC. [Who has walked down front to easel] 
 If you don t treat me well, I shall not stay, then you 
 will have to go home. 
 
 [90] 
 
Art For A r t* s S a k 
 
 MINA. Oh ! I know it, I know it, Mrs. Mac. You 
 haven t any fault to find with me so far, have you? 
 
 MRS. MAC. [Putting on glasses.] It doesn t seem 
 to me you have done much since I left. I don t like the 
 looks of that green sky. That cow has the same un 
 derfed look as when I left. 
 
 MINA. Underfed? You don t want any impres 
 sionist cow to look coarse, do you ? 
 
 [PHILLIPS, in hiding, coughs, .] 
 MRS. MAC. What s that? 
 
 MINA. I 11 see. The piano! It may be the piano. 
 It often wheezes. [Looks in / /.] 
 
 MRS. MAC. [Admiringly.] You artist people think 
 of everything. [Seats herself in rocking-chair and rocks 
 back and forth, down front.] I had a letter from your 
 mother today. 
 
 [PHILLIPS comes out back of her, but is frantically 
 scared back by MINA. He will not go, how 
 ever.] 
 
 MINA. What did Mother say ? 
 
 MRS. MAC. She said as long as I had good reports 
 to give of you, and you studied hard, you could stay here 
 in the city, but as soon as any men appeared those were 
 her very words as soon as a man begun to hang around 
 and take up your time with his nonsense, you would 
 have to come home. 
 
 [PHILLIPS goes hastily back behind curtain.] 
 
 MRS. MAC. But I shall write her that such a thing 
 is very unlikely to happen, you are such a sensible, indus 
 trious girl. Not at all the sort to attraft men. 
 
 MINA. Thank you Mrs. Mac. [Takes up 
 brushes.] [MRS. MAC. yawns.] You seem sleepy, 
 perhaps you had better go and take a nap. I should love 
 to have your company, but a nap is so beneficial. 
 
 MRS. MAC. So it is, very sensible, indeed. Why 
 don t you take one? [Rises.] 
 
 [97] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MINA. I? Oh, I can t, really. I am under 
 the influence of an inspiration this afternoon. 
 [PHILLIPS sneezes.] 
 
 MRS. MAC. What a queer noise! We must get a 
 cat. Rats always make me nervous. Well [yawns 
 again] , I ll go and take a nap. [Walks back to bundles 
 on table, looks them over and suddenly finds PHILLIPS s 
 sticky looks suspiciously at MINA ; then walks down front , 
 carrying stick.] 
 
 MRS. MAC. [C.] Young lady, what is this? 
 
 MINA. That? What? [Takes it and looks it over 
 curiously.] Why, that is an old cane of my father s I 
 brought along to measure distances with. [Hands it back, 
 after so using it, and resumes painting.] 
 
 MRS. MAC. [Looking at her closely.] Very well. 
 That is all right, then; but let me tell you one thing, 
 young lady, if I find out that you are receiving gentlemen 
 callers unknown to me 
 
 MINA. Oh, you won t find that out! 
 
 MRS. MAC. I should hope not. If I find you are 
 deceiving me, or making acquaintances unknown to me, I 
 will [rapping with cane] 
 
 MINA. O Mrs. Mac., what would you do? I 
 really want to know. 
 
 MRS. MAC. Write your mother the details of your 
 reprehensibility, and take you home instantly. 
 MINA. Horrible ! 
 MRS. MAC. Here is your father s cane. 
 
 [MiNA takes it and pretends to measure distances 
 with it, while MRS. MAC. gathers up bundles.] 
 [Exit MRS. MAC.] 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Rusbingfrom hiding-place.] There are 
 moths in there and moth balls ! Awful ! They will josh 
 me at the club. 
 
 MINA. Go back! 
 
Art For A r t" s S a k 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Pleadingly.] Now, Viola, it is all rank 
 nonsense, anyway, putting me in there. Please let me 
 stay out, though I am your reprehensibility. Let me tell 
 her all about us. [Goes toward door] I 11 say 
 
 MINA. [Grasping him] No, you won t. She 
 mustn t know you have been here in this way. She 
 would never forgive us 
 
 PHILLIPS. I ll say I am Mr. King. I ll show her 
 the letter of introdu&ion. 
 
 MINA. [Hands to head."] No! No! Not that! 
 Oh! What have I done ! [Wildly.] And if you see 
 her, I know you will love her best. No man could help 
 it. I can t give you up. I can t give you up. 
 
 PHILLIPS. Of course not. Dorf t give me up. Don t 
 worry. I never admire fat women. 
 
 MINA. Fat ? 
 
 PHILLIPS. Isn t that Mrs. Mac., or other, a fat old 
 thing ? 
 
 MINA. Oh! You are so frivolous for a literary 
 man, Mr. King! 
 
 PHILLIPS. I am glad of it. I am proud of it. I 
 glory in my frivolity. 
 
 MINA. So do I. [In half whisper. } I didn t 
 mean Mrs. Mac. I meant 
 
 PHILLIPS. Who ? 
 
 MINA. [Pause.] My friend! 
 
 PHILLIPS. Oh, you mean Miss Archer ! No danger 
 of my preferring her. From what I have heard, I am 
 sure I could never possibly stand that girl s family. 
 
 MINA. Oh! [Throws herself on sofa in despair] 
 
 PHILLIPS. Now what have I done ? What a loyal 
 girl to your friend you are! I love loyalty. 
 
 MINA. Oh, go away! 
 
 [91] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 PHILLIPS. Go away ? Now ? 
 
 MINA. Yes, now! now! Wait! Don t you hear 
 those voices? [Both listen.~\ Now, my friend really 
 has come back. I hear her somewhere in the house. 
 
 PHILLIPS. Well, I don t care; what of it, Viola ? 
 
 MINA. Oh! Everything of it. There is only one 
 door you will meet her! Hide! Hide! 
 
 PHILLIPS. I won t! I won t! I despise that place. 
 Don t send me in there again. Those moth balls! Ugh! 
 
 MINA. For my sake you must for my sake! 
 [Pushes him back into curtained corner, L. Re 
 sumes painting. Enter VIOLA, with hat yet 
 on. She frst puts head in, looks about, then 
 comes in.~\ 
 
 VIOLA. [/;/ secret manner, half -whisper.^ Are 
 you alone? 
 
 MINA. Oh, yes, I m alone. Of coarse I am alone. 
 Who could possibly be here ? 
 
 VIOLA. Don t be cross, dear. [Takes off her hatJ\ 
 Where is Mrs. Mac. ? 
 
 MINA. Asleep. 
 
 VIOLA. Don t you feel sleepy? 
 
 MINA. Not a bit. 
 
 VIOLA. It is beautiful weather out. 
 
 MINA. Indeed! 
 
 VIOLA. [Does an exercise on the piano, during which 
 PHILLIPS peeps outJ\ Don t you feel rather bored, in 
 the house all the afternoon ? 
 
 MINA. Not a bit. I am never bored. 
 
 VIOLA. You are so strong-minded. I wish I were 
 your equal in devotion to art. 
 
 MINA. Thank you. 
 
 [94] 
 
Art For A r / s S a k 
 
 VIOLA. Why have you got on your best blouse ? 
 
 MINA. It is not my best blouse. [Angrily, and 
 looking toward PHILLIPS* s corner.] 
 
 VIOLA. It is, too. 
 
 MINA. It is not, I have two better ones. 
 
 VIOLA. Well, I ve never seen them, and I have 
 been your best friend for years, and I know perfectly 
 well that you put on that blouse only when you want to 
 make an impression on somebody. 
 
 MINA. [Again looking toward curtain, where PHIL 
 LIPS bides,] You are saying what is not true. I could rf t 
 fib the way you do. Nor should I wish to. 
 
 VIOLA. You like to wear that green thing and pose 
 before the easel. You remember well enough last Sun 
 day, when the minister called, you just ran into the other 
 room to put it on, and he didn t 
 
 MINA. Keep still. [Looks again toward curtain] 
 Keep still, I say. What is the minister to me ? 
 
 VIOLA. Why are you staring in that corner ? 
 MINA. I am not staring. [Painting hastily.] 
 
 VIOLA. Well, you are cross. Do go take a nap, 
 dear a nice, long nap. [In a tone of cajolement.] It 
 will do you so much good. 
 
 MINA. I won t. 
 
 VIOLA. Take a walk, then. It will make your 
 temper better, and 
 
 MINA. I will not. My art is the first consideration. 
 
 VIOLA. [Restlessly] You ought to have a studio, 
 then, and not spoil our best parlor with the smell of your 
 old paints. They smell like moth wax. 
 
 MINA. Then leave the room, if you don t like it. 
 Why stay ? 
 
 VIOLA. Because I ve got to practice. [Praftices.] 
 [95] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 VIOLA. [Wearily. ] Oh, dear! [Suddenly loses 
 temper, bangs piano and rises.] I should think you would 
 die t sticking to this room so. And for my part, I hope 
 you will, I hope you will. 
 
 [Exit VIOLA, slammi?ig door."] 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Coming instantly from biding -place."] 
 Now, what do you want me to do next, Viola? 
 
 MINA. [Starts.] Don t call me that! Don t say 
 Viola again ! 
 
 PHILLIPS. Great Scott! You never objected before. 
 What shall I call you ? 
 
 MINA. Call me darling, sweetheart, anything 
 but 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Joyfully."] Oh, thanks! How awfully 
 good of you! [Starts to embrace her."] 
 
 MINA. [Plays with a button on bis coat.] Listen 
 to me, now. That silly girl wants to get me out of this 
 room for some reason, did n t you notice that f Perhaps 
 she suspefts you are here. She shall not have you. 
 
 PHILLIPS. Why, she has never even heard of me, 
 you said darling. 
 
 MINA. Did I say that ? What things I say ! Why, 
 every one has heard of Newton King, the great author. 
 
 PHILLIPS. Darling! Viola, would you marry me, 
 even if I were not a great author ? 
 
 MINA. No, I would not. I bate frivolous men, 
 unless they are authors. If I do marry you [archly] , it 
 will be only because you are a celebrated writer. 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Ruefully.] Really! That s not at all 
 jolly. I should think a fellow himself could count for 
 something. 
 
 MINA. Not at all, with an artistic soul like mine. 
 PHILLIPS. At the club, all the fellows say I 
 
Art For Art s Sake 
 
 MINA. Hush! She may hear you. I am sure she 
 is coming back. When she does 
 
 PHILLIPS. I won t go in there, where those moths 
 are, again. 
 
 MINA. Not if I go with you ? 
 
 PHILLIPS. Oh, well, that wouldn t be half bad ! 
 Let us hide, by all means. [Taking her band.~\ 
 
 MINA. I will, if I hear her coming. We will both 
 hide, and then I will find out why she wanted to get me 
 out of this room. She never objected to my paints before 
 the provoking little bore ! 
 
 PHILLIPS. I think I hear her coming now. Come 
 on ! [Taking her band again. ~\ Let us hide. 
 
 MINA. Wait a minute. I think 
 
 PHILLIPS. Come on ! Let us hide. I want to. 
 MINA. Sh-h-h-h ! 
 
 PHILLIPS. I hear her ! Let s get in here. [He pulls 
 her into recess down front R., a low screen or curtain 
 between them and rest of stage, but leaving them in full 
 view of audience, ,] 
 
 [ VIOLA puts bead in at door ; fnding stage empty, 
 she withdraws, closely watched by couple in 
 recess. VIOLA then returns, leading in by 
 hand a grave young man. Amusement is 
 seen of couple in recess. KING, whom VIOLA 
 calls PHILLIPS, is dressed in a somewhat 
 as the tic way.^ 
 
 VIOLA. Sh-h-h-h ! Mr. Phillips ! We must be 
 very quiet, you know. 
 
 KING. [Loudly.^ I am perfectly willing to be very 
 quiet, but I should like to know why. [Seats himself 
 on sofa.~^ 
 
 VIOLA. [Removing hat, and seating herself beside 
 him.] It is so odd, Mr. Phillips, how unlike your letters 
 your conversation is. I love your letters. 
 
 97] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 KING. I am glad to hear you say that, as it is through 
 our letters that we have come to our present delightful 
 understanding, //# / it delightful ? 
 
 VIOLA. Very and the very first time I ever saw 
 you, when you were standing in the music studio down 
 town 
 
 KING. Talking to the Professor 
 
 VIOLA. Yes ; talking so seriously to the Professor, 
 when I came in, I knew right away, I felt what lovely 
 letters you could write. 
 
 KING. Just by my looks, somehow ? I looked letter- 
 like? 
 
 VIOLA. Oh, yes ; and when I was told you were 
 Mr. J. Morton Phillips, the well-known, frivolous young 
 clubman when I heard that name, you could have 
 knocked me down with a feather. 
 [PHILLIPS in recess laughs.] 
 
 KING. I wouldn t have tried such a thing for worlds. 
 I didn t look at all frivolous, then ? 
 
 VIOLA. Oh, no ! 
 
 KING. I don t aft frivolous? 
 
 VIOLA. No. 
 
 KING. And yet, how I ve tried ! 
 
 VIOLA. You ve tried to aft frivolous ? 
 
 KING. Of course ; I had to keep up my reputation 
 with you, you know. For instance [solemnly jumps over 
 table] . Isn t that frivolous ? 
 
 [PHILLIPS peeps over screen, MINA pulls him back.] 
 
 VIOLA. Not at all, as you do it. 
 
 KING. Alas ! Alas ! I can t be frivolous. I ve 
 tried and failed. 
 
 VIOLA. But do be quiet ! 
 
 KING. I will do anything you tell me, but why ? 
 
 [9*] 
 
Art For Art s Sake 
 
 VIOLA. You must know I have a very strict chape- 
 rone 
 
 KING. [Takes her band.] Who, I m thankful to 
 say, is taking her day off. 
 
 VIOLA. But she is asleep, in her room, and my best 
 friend who lives with me, she is a very severe artist, very 
 strong minded, and intellectual, and if sbe knew we were 
 sitting holding hands like this, she would be so disgusted, 
 I wouldn t dare to face her. 
 
 [ Couple in recess R. are holding hands when this 
 is said. They are now seated.] 
 
 KING. I m exceedingly glad she isn t here. She 
 must be a very disagreeable character. 
 
 VIOLA. And if sbe knew I had been meeting you in 
 the street, and receiving letters from you long letters 
 from you, Mr. Phillips 
 
 KING. It isn t your fault, little girl, I wrote them. 
 Pm to blame for their length. 
 
 VIOLA. She would never forgive me, and they would 
 write to my mother and take me straight home. 
 
 KING. Great Scott ! I will be quiet. 
 
 VIOLA. But you must go soon go home soon and 
 write me one of those lovely, lovely letters. 
 
 KING, I will but first tell me what it is you like 
 most about those letters, their gaiety ? 
 
 VIOLA. I think that is it. 
 
 KING. I see ! They are more in the character of 
 Mr. J. Morton Phillips. More like a frivolous, good-for- 
 nothing young clubman. 
 
 VIOLA. Speak quickly, my friend might come in now 
 at any minute. 
 
 KING. 7 am not afraid of her. I am afraid of you. 
 My conscience gives me no rest. Tell me, my dear little 
 girl, if I turned out to be a serious character after all, quite 
 
 [993 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 other from what those letters show, would you love me 
 just as well ? 
 
 VIOLA. The idea ! Of course not. How could 
 that be, anyway. I like you as you are in the letters. 
 
 on KING. \Groans.~\ Great Scott ! It is a judgment 
 me. 
 
 [ /;/ recess couple laugh. Couple outside drop 
 bands quickly and sit on different ends of 
 sofa. ] 
 
 VIOLA AND KING. What was that ? [Turning toward 
 each other. ,] I don t know. 
 
 VIOLA. My friend may come in. I can t tell her 
 yet about you. Won t you please hide, until she goes 
 out again ? 
 
 KING. Why, if you wish me to. I am always will 
 ing to oblige. How does one go about it to hide ? 
 
 VIOLA. I will show you. It will be lots of fun. 
 [Leads him to cur tarn L. where PHILLIPS first hid. ~\ Here 
 is the very place. Such a cute place ! [Claps hands. ] 
 
 KING. In there ! I don t see anything so very cute 
 about it. I am sure those sheets will come tumbling down 
 on my head. 
 
 VIOLA. What a lark that would be ! You know 
 you love larks in your letters. 
 
 KING. Oh, I suppose I must be larky! I will be 
 larky. Do you want me to go in there ? Why ? 
 
 VIOLA. Oh, I shall feel ever so much more comfort 
 able when you re safely hidden. It will be such a relief. 
 
 KING. Thanks ! I suppose in there you would 
 consider me very larky. 
 
 VIOLA. Oh, yes, please go in. 
 
 KING. Ye gods, what sacrifices love requires of us ! 
 [ He goes behind curtain. ] 
 
 VIOLA. Now I will go and prepare Mrs. Mac. for my 
 knowing you, and your being here. If she should come 
 
 [i oo] 
 
Art For Art s Sake 
 
 upon you suddenly, no knowing what would happen, and 
 my friend, the artist, she might do anything. 
 
 KING. [From behind curtain."^ I think I shall stay 
 here, but one of those sheets is coming down on my head. 
 It is a great lark, I suppose? 
 
 VIOLA. Oh, yes ! Now I am going to find where 
 my friend is. 
 
 KING. It is actually abominable in here, but I sup 
 pose that is to be expedled in a lark. How long will you 
 be gone ? 
 
 VIOLA. Just a few minutes, Mr. Phillips. 
 [Exit VIOLA.] 
 
 KING. [From behind cur tain. ~\ Heigh-ho ! The 
 thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts ! 
 
 FMiNA comes silently from recess R., crosses stage 
 
 to door. Exit MINA.] 
 
 ["PHILLIPS strides from recess R., rushes across 
 stage t drags KING out of corner L. by coat 
 collar. ] 
 
 KING. Help ! Stop that ! What is the meaning of 
 this ? 
 
 PHILLIPS. It is only I, old man. I recognized your 
 voice. We ve got just a minute. What are you doing 
 here ? 
 
 KING. Who put you in ? 
 
 PHILLIPS. In here ? 
 
 KING. Who hid you ? 
 
 PHILLIPS. Miss Viola, Viola Blanchard told me 
 to 
 
 KING. Viola hid you, too ? Why did she bring both 
 of us ? Why, why ? 
 
 PHILLIPS. Quiet, man, it wasn t the same girl at all. 
 Viola is engaged to me. 
 
 KING. Viola is engaged to me. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 PHILLIPS. Heavens, what do you mean ? 
 
 KING. You, too, then she is false. Alas ! But how 
 I have deceived her! What right have I to find fault 
 with her ! I am a deceitful criminal. 
 
 PHILLIPS. Quick, how did you come here ? 
 
 KING. It is all your fault. In order not to give you 
 away, in your masquerade under my name, / have been 
 masquerading under your name. But I had given you the 
 letter of introduction. I had to meet her secretly while 
 you, you have evidently become a member of the house 
 hold. 
 
 PHILLIPS. Viola has been meeting you secretly ! O 
 heavens ! [ Striding about. ] 
 
 KING. Oh, that letter of introduction I wish I had 
 never given it to you ! I wish I had never seen it ! 
 [ Striding about. ] 
 
 PHILLIPS. It was your idea, giving it to me. You 
 said you had no time to follow up the new acquaintance 
 of a silly girl ; so I took it to save you the trouble. 
 
 KING. On the contrary, it was all your idea. 
 PHILLIPS. I say, the joke is yours. [Shaking Jut."] 
 
 KING. You are to blame for the joke, such a larky 
 little joke, and she is perfidious, for she has become en 
 gaged to both of us. Ah, woman, woman, in our hours 
 of ease ! 
 
 PHILLIPS. I won t believe it of Viola; it is the 
 other one. 
 
 KING. [Takes letter from pocket. ] Here is the 
 proof. Here is the letter in which Viola promises to be 
 my wife. [PHILLIPS reads it."] 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Looking at letter.] It is signed Viola 
 Blanchard. O heavens ! What you have said is only too 
 true. She evidently wanted to marry the famous author, 
 Newton King, and to make sure, she took both of us. 
 [He returns letter.] What chance have I ? 
 
Art For A r t" s S a k 
 
 KING. None at all. She likes my letters. 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Threateningly.] So you think me a 
 good-for-nothing clubman, do you ? 
 
 KING. On the contrary, I admire you. I admire 
 frivolity. It is such hard work. [Voices are heard, 
 talking outside.] 
 
 PHILLIPS. There she comes now. Go back to your 
 hiding-place. Get back, I say. [Pushes him.] 
 
 KING. No, no ! [He struggle*.] 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Releasing him, whereupon KING runs to 
 recess down front R.] I am going to see this thing out. 
 I am going to see the finish, whether it is mine or yours. 
 [Voices, ,] [PHILLIPS runs back behind curtain L. where 
 KING was hidden. Enter MRS. MAC., followed by VIOLA 
 and MINA.] 
 
 MRS. MAC. You girls are certainly too devoted to 
 your arts. I never saw you in such bad humor as you are 
 today. You certainly are overworked. [Seats herself in 
 rocking-chair.] 
 
 MINA. I certainly am. 
 
 VIOLA. So am I. Suppose we both go for a walk 
 now. Remember, art for art s sake. 
 
 MINA. Very well, I will. 
 VIOLA. You will? 
 
 MINA. Yes; I will get my coat now. [Walks 
 toward place where PHILLIPS is concealed, L. As she nears 
 it VIOLA darts at her and drags her back.] 
 
 VIOLA. Not not in there. 
 
 MINA. Why not, Viola ? Is there a burglar in there ? 
 
 VIOLA. Oh, there might be, one can never tell ! 
 One can never be too careful. I will get your wrap. 
 
 [ VIOLA walks toward recess R. where KING is 
 concealed. MINA rushes at her and holds 
 her back.] 
 
Drawing- Room PI ay s 
 
 MINA. Not now. Don t go in there now. I say, 
 don t go in there. 
 
 VIOLA. Ah ! Perhaps there is a burglar in that 
 closet, too ! 
 
 MINA. How silly ! Please go walking without me. 
 If you ever loved me, dearest, please go walking with 
 out me, 
 
 VIOLA. I won t. I have been. You must go. 
 MRS. MAC. Are you girls crazy ? 
 
 MINA. I think I am going crazy. [Sinking on sofa 
 and wringing her hands. ] 
 
 VIOLA. Don t do it here. 
 
 MINA. What shall I do? Mrs. Mac., do you dis 
 approve of men ? 
 
 MRS. MAC. I never thought of such a thing until I 
 listened to you, and learned how frivolous, deceitful and 
 selfish men are. No wonder you have vowed never to 
 marry. [Men both cough.] What s that? 
 
 VIOLA. Yes; what was that? I can t imagine. 
 Well, you never heard me say anything against men in 
 general, did you ? 
 
 MINA. You said they were liars 
 
 VIOLA. Well, you said they were all alike, and 
 deserved all the bad treatment they got. 
 
 MINA. [Weeping.] I never, never said that. I 
 never meant it. I don t like all men, but I want one. 
 
 MRS. MAC. What? Viola! [To VIOLA.] What 
 does this mean ? 
 
 MINA. I like one. I am in love with a man and I 
 am going to marry him. 
 
 [From both hiding-places men come out. PHILLIPS 
 // covered with sheets, and a skirt around his 
 neck.] 
 
Art For Art s Sake 
 
 PHILLIPS AND KING. [To room in general.] Which 
 one of us is it ? 
 
 MRS. MAC. [Screams] Burglars! Ghosts! Bur 
 glars ! Help ! Help ! Leave me alone, you criminals, 
 you! [She jumps on chair as if they were rats] Help, 
 we are being burglarized ! Stop it ! Stop it ! Oh ! Oh ! 
 
 VIOLA. Well, one of them // a burglar ! [She darts 
 at PHILLIPS, and removes the sheets from him, while MINA 
 runs to KING, and stops in surprise, ,] Oh ! [MINA 
 crosses to PHILLIPS, VIOLA to KING.] 
 
 VIOLA AND MINA. Oh ! [MINA throws herself on 
 sofa down front. ] Oh ! Oh ! 
 
 PHILLIPS. [Leaning over MINA.] This is all non 
 sense, don t you know ! Which one of us is it you 
 want, Viola ? Whom do you love ? 
 
 MRS. MAC. There ! He knows you, Viola. Dis 
 graceful ! 
 
 VIOLA. I never saw that man [pointing to PHILLIPS] 
 before in my life. 
 
 KING. I am glad to hear it. I wish I had not. 
 
 PHILLIPS. [To MINA.] Choose, Viola ! [MINA 
 only weeps.] 
 
 VIOLA. Why do you call her Viola ? I knew she 
 didn t put on that best blouse for nothing. 
 
 KING. [To VIOLA.] Are you false to me, Viola? 
 Have you not promised to marry me ? 
 
 MRS. MAC. Viola, both of the burglars want to 
 marry you. For heaven s sake, take one of them and let 
 me get down. 
 
 VIOLA/ [To KING.] I take this one, then. 
 
 KING. Quite right, my dear. I ll write you letters 
 every day. 
 
 PHILLIPS. [To MINA.] What is the meaning of 
 Viola ? Tell me. 
 
 Osl 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MINA. [C.] Oh, I am not Viola, that is what it 
 means I am Mina Archer. She is Viola. And you 
 can t bear the Archer family ! Oh, will you ever forgive 
 me ? Will you ever forgive me ? I am so artistic ! 
 It is all because of my artistic temperament. 
 
 PHILLIPS. You are Mina Archer ! Great Scott, 
 how jolly ! Forgive you ! Well, I guess yes. But 
 say, Mina, will you forgive me? I adore the Archer 
 family. Will you ever forgive me ? 
 
 MRS. MAC. Forgive him, Mina, for goodness* sake, 
 and send him away. I want to get down. 
 
 PHILLIPS. Allow me to assist you. 
 KING. Allow me. 
 
 [Both assist her down with great devotion, ,] 
 
 MRS. MAC. Now, young people, what is the mean 
 ing of all this ? It certainly does not look like art. 
 
 VIOLA. [Throwing herself into MINA S arms.~\ Oh, 
 it isn t ! It isn t art. 
 
 PHILLIPS. It simply means, Mrs. MacArthur, that 
 King here and myself changed names, and in this mas 
 querade of names made the acquaintance of these young 
 ladies. 
 
 MRS. MAC. Who are you, sir? 
 MINA. Yes ; who are you ? 
 VIOLA. Yes ; who are you ? 
 
 PHILLIPS. I am only J. Morton Phillips, a good-for- 
 nothing young clubman in love with Mina Archer. 
 
 MINA. Thank goodness ! That fat clears my con 
 science. 
 
 PHILLIPS. Then you are really at last Min-a 
 [They speak together L. by easel.~\ 
 
 VIOLA AND MRS. MAC. \To KING.] And who, 
 then, are you ? 
 
 10*1 
 
Art For Art s Sak 
 
 e 
 
 KING. I am Newton King, the author, and I can* t 
 be frivolous, but I wrote those letters to you, Viola ! 
 
 VIOLA. Then, again, I am yours ! 
 KING. That clears my conscience. 
 \They speak together R. by piano.] 
 
 MRS. MAC. [Stands C.] Well ! Well ! Well ! 
 And this, I imagine, explains Mina s father s cane. Well, 
 I am glad you are not burglars. Perhaps under the cir 
 cumstances I had better resume my nap. My conscience 
 is perfedly clear. 
 
 VIOLA. No, no ! Don t go ! [She runs to piano.] 
 We are all so much happier than just art for art s sake 
 could make us. [Begins popular air on piano, which 
 
 [Curtain.] 
 
V. 
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 An attention to detail and stage-setting, in the presenta 
 tion of the following play, should result in a realistic effeft. 
 The costuming should be in the latest fashion, and the 
 personalities of the aftors sufficiently graceful to help form 
 attractive stage pictures. MAUD S manner should be that 
 of a well-bred girl, by turns bored, irritated or troubled 
 almost beyond control, while that of LAURA is vivacious 
 in the extreme ; she interlards her conversation with 
 exclamation and gesture, and CLARIBEL is supposed to ex 
 press the feline personality, soft, emotional and deceitful. 
 
 I> 9 J 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 MAUD BOWEN A popular and fashionable young " society ivoman. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN Her mother. 
 
 BLANCHE Her maid. 
 
 CLARIBEL Her dearest friend. 
 
 LAURA BURTON An intimate acquaintance. 
 
 Scene I takes place in Miss Bow en* s hotel sitting-room, 
 at one o* clock at night. The lights are burning low. 
 Blanche is asleep in an easy chair, C., near center 
 table. The clock strikes one. 
 
 Miss BOWEN. [Outside door R. C. back.~\ Good 
 night all! Yes, wasn y t\\. a nice dance! Good night, 
 Mr. Wellborn ! Oh, you flatterer ! I made it myself, 
 fifty cents a yard. [She laughs.] No ; I won t forget. 
 Good night ! [During these remarks BLANCHE has awak 
 ened. She turns up lights and goes to door R. C., just 
 as Miss BOWEN knocks. BLANCHE opens door. Enter 
 MAUD BOWEN in full evening dress ; she wears a hand 
 some cloak, and holds bouquet of roses."] [Eagerly.~\ 
 Oh ! Oh ! What a beautiful time I have had ! I never 
 had such a perfectly lovely time in my life. 
 
 BLANCHE. You always say that after every dance, 
 Miss Maud. 
 
 MAUD. But it is true. I do have the best times ! 
 Why, there is n t a girl in this hotel tonight but envies me. 
 They all kissed me good night, and they all hate me. 
 
 BLANCHE. You must, indeed, have had a good time. 
 But does Miss Claribel hate you ? 
 
 MAUD. Oh, Claribel ! Oh, no ! [She has thrown 
 aside her cloak and sits in easy chair, C.] Claribel is my 
 one true friend, the one I can trust. She was not at the 
 dance tonight. I wonder why ! 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 BLANCHE. Here are your other slippers. [ She 
 drops on knees with back to audience, while she removes 
 MAUD S dancing slippers and puts on others."] 
 
 MAUD. I didn t know how tired my feet were. 
 [Happily] I danced so much. Yes ; I was the belle. 
 The men quarreled over my dances. I must be looking 
 unusually well tonight. Pass me the hand-mirror. [Looks 
 at herself in mirror. ] Yes, I am. This blue is par 
 ticularly becoming to my ingenue eyes. 
 
 BLANCHE. You will be going to bed now ? 
 
 MAUD. In a few minutes. I have something to 
 think about. [Exit BLANCHE through small door L] 
 I should think I had. Something rather pleasant, too ! 
 [Looks in mirror again and hums tune.] My seventh 
 season and I am still good looking. I declare I could be 
 taken for a debutante. The perennial debutante ! That 
 is because I neither stop to think nor to fall in love. But 
 don t I? That is the question. [Sighs and lays down 
 mirror. ] Men are fair game. [She stands and yawns] 
 I think they can protect themselves. [Sits back of table, 
 chin in hands, elbows on table.] To let them fall in love 
 with me is my privilege no, my right. [Picks up her 
 bouquet of roses.] I really like each one of them for 
 a time, at least. Even that is very kind of me. [Looks 
 at roses. Knock is beard at door R. C] Now, who 
 may that be at this unconventional hour ? Blanche ! 
 [Enter BLANCHE from door L., crosses stage and 
 opens door R. C. LAURA BURTON stands 
 there, also in evening dress. She rushes in.] 
 
 LAURA. Oh, do let me come in ! 
 
 MAUD. Why, you are already in, Miss Burton. 
 
 LAURA. [Seats herself in rocking-chair] Oh, yes ; 
 but do let me stay awhile ! Do ask me to sit down ! 
 
 MAUD. Close the door, Blanche. [BLANCHE obeys, 
 and exit door L] 
 
 LAURA. Thank you ever so much for being so good- 
 natured and urging me to stay, though I know you are 
 
Drawing-Room Play 
 
 sleepy. You look it. Oh ! Why, you have wrinkles 
 under your eyes at this time of night ! I was talking 
 about your wrinkles at dinner this very evening. [She 
 talks rapidly , at times a little breathlessly.] Some of the 
 men, you know what brutes they are, insisted you had 
 wrinkles, if you had been up late, and I just told them 
 that you hadn t. Was n t that kind of me? You ought 
 to have heard the way I " stood up" for you. Yes ; I 
 am always your friend, Miss Bowen or Maud may 
 I call you Maud ? 
 
 MAUD. You do, don t you? 
 
 LAURA. Oh, thank you ! I always think of you as 
 Maud, Maud dear ! I always think of you in that way. 
 [Rocking violently.] I knew you were still up I heard 
 you talking to your maid, and I just had to come in and 
 talk over the dance with you. Weren t you just hoping 
 some girl would come in for a little gossip? Don t deny 
 it ; I know you were. You don t know really how/oW 
 of you I am. When I first saw you that night you 
 arrived, and saw you come into the hotel office, and stand 
 there looking so lonesome and peaked and embarrassed, 
 I said to myself, "That poor little thing! There s a 
 girl I am going to stand by through thick and thin." 
 And I do. 
 
 MAUD. [Dejeftedly.] Do you ? 
 
 LAURA. But tonight you had a really nice time, 
 didn t you ? Why, you were almost popular, you were, 
 really. [MAUD sits up y startled.] It must be so nice to 
 think it is worth while. 
 
 MAUD. To think what is worth while ? [She smells 
 of her roses] 
 
 LAURA. Why, the effort to make oneself agreeable, 
 and all that. Now, / am independent. It never seems 
 worth while to me to make the vulgar effort to please. 
 
 MAUD. Oh, it is no effort to me to be agreeable ! 
 
 LAURA. Oh! Isn t it? I ve often thought it 
 was, watching you. 
 
 [771] 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 MAUD. [Angrily. J You watch me, do you ? 
 
 LAURA. How can I help it, when I m so fond of 
 you and when you always stand in such conspicuous places ? 
 [MAUD openly and somewhat ostentatiously yawns. ] I 
 noticed you, tonight, dear, standing under that chandelier 
 in the big hall. All the other girls were sitting down, 
 I suppose the men had given them seats but you didn t 
 care. How nice it must be not to mind what people say ! 
 What is that in your hair ? I noticed how it sparkles. 
 [She rises and bends over MAUD, examining ornament in 
 her hair.~\ Oh! Isn t it pretty ! It looks quite real 
 until one is close to it. [Pats her on shoulder. ~^ You are 
 so clever about your clothes. I suppose they cost you 
 scarcely anything. [She walks to mantelpiece and exam 
 ines at length all the photographs. Picks up one and 
 shows it to MAUD.] Who is this man ? 
 
 MAUD. [Showing startled agitation.^ He? A 
 friend of mine. Some one I used to know. 
 
 LAURA. I imagined as much. How clever you are! 
 Now, dear, tell me his name. I ve seen his photograph 
 in so many girls rooms. 
 
 MAUD. [ Trying to appear indifferent. ] Have 
 you ? Who has his pifture beside myself? 
 
 LAURA. Now, dear, don t get excited. I can t re 
 member exaftly. I can t remember all the places where 
 I ve seen that man s pifture, but I saw one first in Clari- 
 bel s room. 
 
 MAUD. Claribel ! Oh, yes, I gave it to her! 
 
 LAURA. All of them ? Did you give her all of 
 them ? 
 
 MAUD. [ Rises nervously. ] How many has she ? 
 LAURA. Well, she received the last one yesterday. 
 
 MAUD. [ Tawjnng with effected indifference. ] 
 Did she? His name is Herbert Travers. I wonder 
 why Claribel was not at the dance. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 LAURA. Oh! I remember hearing all about that 
 Mr. Travers, though that was before my time; they say 
 he broke ever so many hearts. He broke the hearts of all 
 the girls who knew him. [Seats herself again. ~[ So 
 you knew that man. It must have been ever so long ago. 
 
 MAUD. Only five years. Clanbel knew him, too. 
 
 LAURA. [ With little scream. ] Oh, Claribel ! 
 Is Claribel old enough for that? But she is no rival. 
 
 MAUD. [ Glaring. ] What do you mean ? 
 
 LAURA. Plain English and they call you clever! 
 [ Leaning toward her confidentially. ] I mean, in spite of 
 Claribel, you could have had that Mr. Travers. 
 
 MAUD. [Haughtily. ] I didn t want him. 
 
 LAURA. And Claribel didn t, either. Strange, very 
 strange! But there is no accounting for tastes. Claribel 
 is far deeper than she looks. Do sit down and be com 
 fortable. It is so nice and warm in here. [Lolls back in 
 chair .] Isn t it nice sitting here and having this nice lit 
 tle gossip together ! [Rocks back a nd forth. ] 
 
 MAUD. [Seats herself reluttantly.~\ Are we gossip 
 ing ? You merely mentioned Herbert Travers. 
 
 LAURA. [Cries out. ] Oh ! / mention him ! I 
 never even knew that old beau. So awfully interesting 
 your telling me all about him. / think you re entertain 
 ing, though some of the men do say you chatter. How 
 do you like Mr. Livingston Smith ? 
 
 [Enter BLANCHE, at door L. y and stands, looking 
 at MAUD.] 
 
 MAUD. [Hopefully.] Blanche evidently thinks it 
 time for me to retire. 
 
 LAURA. [ Laughs. ] The idea ! [ Turning to 
 BLANCHE.] Your mistress is not yet ready to go to bed. 
 We have all tomorrow morning for sleep. No one who 
 knows good form here appears downstairs before eleven 
 o clock. We have ever so many confidences to exchange 
 yet. [Exit BLANCHE.] MAUD drops back in cbair, very 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 evidently discouraged.] Livingston Smith is not half bad. 
 [Rocks back and forth.] I noticed you danced with him 
 three times. Don t worry, nobody noticed you but me. 
 Some people do objeft to that queer side-step of his ; it 
 makes it much harder for him to get partners than it used 
 to be. I ve heard girls say they didn t want him to ask 
 them to dance; now, it looks as if he could n t get any one 
 else. It is a pity he is married ! 
 
 MAUD. [Languidly.] Is he married? 
 
 LAURA. The idea! [Staring at her.] Didn t you 
 know he was a married man ? What a pity ! Yes, he is 
 separated from his wife, but he can t marry any one else. 
 Many girls have been disappointed when they heard that. 
 
 MAUD. [Snappily] I am not disappointed to 
 hear it. 
 
 LAURA. [Soothingly.] Of course you are not, though 
 he comes of a very good family. You probably suspe&ed 
 something was wrong all along, and were quite prepared 
 for anything. Of course you must have wondered why 
 he didn t propose to you. Now Maud, dear, don t get 
 angry with me for being the one to break the news to 
 you. 
 
 MAUD. I am not angry. 
 
 LAURA. You look so, but I suppose that is not your 
 fault. Do you know poor little Mrs. Bell? She has 
 such a disagreeable expression, but they say inside she s 
 quite, quite good-natured. Her sister married Ed James, 
 whose first wife ran away with the coachman, though 
 they say he was a very decent fellow, only he would drop 
 plates. 
 
 MAUD. Drop plates ? Who ? 
 
 LAURA. Why, the coachman, of course; he was the 
 butler, too. The James s always had to economize in 
 some way. I m sure if / were Etta James, I 
 
 MAUD. [ Exasperatedly. ] I don t know Etta 
 James ! 
 
 [s3 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 LAURA. [With a little scream.] Oh! You don t! 
 How very odd ! I will introduce you to her tomorrow. 
 Everybody who is anybody knows Etta James. Now I 
 will tell you what I came in here for, tonight. 
 
 MAUD. [Eagerly. } You will ? Do. 
 
 LAURA. At least, part of what I came in here for, 
 you dear! [Flies at MAUD and kisses her against her 
 will. } 
 
 MAUD. Oh! 
 
 LAURA. First, of course, because I m so fond of you, 
 I just couldn t go to sleep until I had talked over the partv 
 with you, and will you and Jim Wellborn go yachting 
 with me tomorrow morning at eight o clock ? 
 
 MAUD. Why did n t you ask Mr. Wellborn him 
 self? 
 
 LAURA. Simply because I know him too well. 
 
 MAUD. [Picks up flower s.~\ Ah! You know him 
 too well ! 
 
 LAURA. [Curiously."} Those are the flowers he 
 gave you. I know it. Yes, I know Jim well he pro 
 posed to me first at dancing-school. Poor Jim ! I sel 
 dom have time for him any more. But I need not worry. 
 [trebly.} We all know who has taken ?ny place with 
 him. 
 
 MAUD. Who ? 
 
 LAURA. [Playfully caressing her again.} Who? 
 Who is it ? Why you, of course, you modest thing ! 
 He was too old for me. Didn t you know you were 
 Jim Wellborn s latest? 
 
 MAUD. Am I ? [Helplessly.} 
 
 LAURA. Oh, I heard your sweet nothings when you 
 said good night to him at the door! Oh, you re a sly 
 one! [Shaking finger playfully.} 
 
 MAUD. There were no sweet nothings. [O// the 
 point of tears.} 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 LAURA. Hush ! Don t get angry or I shall think you 
 are jealous of me his first love, you know. They say 
 only first love is real nowadays. Well, at any rate, I know 
 him too well to do anything but encourage his numerous 
 love affairs. I wouldn t go alone with him tomorrow for 
 anything. I wouldn t go anywhere with him alone. 
 Won t you come with us? 
 
 MAUD. No, I won t. 
 
 LAURA. Oh! Very well! I suppose you would 
 rather keep him quite to yourself, dear, while you ve got 
 him. After all I suppose it is the only safe way. [Ris- 
 wg "] Well, I must be going. 
 
 MAUD. [Politely.] Pray, don t hurry. 
 
 LAURA. [Drops back in chair ,] I don t think I 
 am. Now, dear, as one of your few friends in this hotel, 
 I want to warn you, just because I am so fond of you. 
 I I don t know exaftly how to say it. 
 
 MAUD. Go on. 
 
 LAURA. [Leaning forward confidentially.] Now 
 don t put too much faith in Jim Wellborn. For every 
 body knows what a fickle flirt he is. He always seems 
 in earnest, but he as he said to me last night "I 
 never can tell whom I m going to feel drawn to next." 
 It is n t his fault, poor fellow. He inherited it. It takes a 
 strong hand to manage him. Now, I really must go. 
 No, don t urge me to stay. I really can t another 
 minute, and now, good night, dear. [Kisses her.~\ 
 And don t dream of that flirt all night, for really he 
 doesn t deserve it. And anything I hear of his saying 
 I ll come and tell you. Good night, dear. See you 
 tomorrow. Good night. 
 [Exit LAURA.} 
 
 MAUD. Oh ! Thank goodness ! At last she has gone ! 
 
 LAURA. [ Unexpectedly puts head in at door.] Don t 
 go to bed for a few minutes, my dear. I am coming back 
 to show you my pictures of Jim. I see you haven t any. 
 [Exit LAURA.] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MAUD. This is awful ! \_Left alone, she drops back 
 in chair as if overcome by sleep and boredom.] O 
 heavens ! And she is coming back ! 
 
 [Enter hurriedly from door L. MRS. BOWEN in 
 wrapper, hair in curl papers^ 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Maud ! Maud ! Go to bed ! What 
 are you doing up at this hour ? 
 
 MAUD. How odd you look ! I never saw your 
 curl papers before. Miss Burton came in after the dance. 
 She talks too much. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. A very well-behaved girl /think. 
 How did the dance go ? 
 
 MAUD. When I first came up from the ballroom I 
 thought it had been a nice dance, and that I had had a 
 splendid time, but now, after all she has said \rhing\ , I 
 feel like an old frump. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Well, you will look like one if you 
 don t go to bed. [Seats herself. ] Was that Mr. 
 Wellborn as attentive to you as usual ? 
 
 MAUD. Yes. More so than usual, I think ; and by 
 the way, he proposed to me. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. What! He did? I don t believe 
 /half like it, either. I don t like his looks. Were his 
 words unmistakable ? 
 
 MAUD. Quite. He proposed to me three times, 
 distinctly, during the evening. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. In plain terms ? 
 MAUD. Very decidedly. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. You refused him, of course ? I don t 
 know the slightest thing about him. [Tawns] Let us 
 go to bed. 
 
 MAUD. But, mother, I haven t yet refused him. 1 
 am to write him his answer tomorrow morning. 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Very proper of you, I m sure. 
 [Sigbs .] It is too bad he won t do. I suppose you 
 know how you are going to refuse him politely ? 
 
 MAUD. No, I don t. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Why, you can t marry a man who 
 looks like that ! And why Herbert Travers may 
 come back. [Sighs. ~\ He was a man of family. 
 
 MAUD. Was ! Is you mean. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Since that absurd affair of yours with 
 him, I have often wondered if you would ever marry. 
 It was silly of you to send Mr. Travers away, but if you 
 wait awhile longer he may come back. I never give up 
 hope, myself. It is time you married. 
 
 MAUD. [Proudly. ~\ O mother ! I may marry this 
 other man. I have not decided yet. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Nonsense ! [Coming close to her."^ 
 You don t mean to tell me you have given up all hope of 
 getting Travers ? 
 
 MAUD. O mother ! Don t ! 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Why, it was only five years ago. 
 To be sure you have not seen him since. Come, go 
 to bed. 
 
 [Enter LAURA hastily with arm full of photo 
 graphs. She stops on seeing MRS. BOWEN 
 and gives both a keen glance. ~\ 
 
 LAURA. Were you discussing Jim Wellborn ? Well, 
 here are the many photographs of him, with which he 
 has presented me during his long courtship. I have known 
 him ever since he was a little boy, calling me pet names, 
 swinging on my own back gate, and one doesn t get over 
 love like that. He would make any one but Maud a 
 most disagreeable husband, but she could manage him. 
 She is just masculine enough. I am so feminine. She 
 would have to hold a tight rein on him, of course. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. My daughter is not going to marry 
 this obscure Mr. Wellborn. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 LAURA. Obscure ! Why, my dear Mrs. Bowen, 
 he was one of my lovers ! And he is the wealthiest man 
 at home in my home town. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. What you would call a rich man, 
 perhaps. 
 
 LAURA. A rich man ! Why, he is a millionaire ! 
 MRS. BOWEN. Oh ! That s different. 
 
 LAURA. [Shotting piftures.~\ Here is his home, and 
 here is his boot and shoe manufactory is n t it pretty, 
 though so plebeian, and here are his oil wells ! I wouldn t 
 marry a man who got his money out of things like those. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. [Looking intently at photographs. ~\ 
 I noticed when I met Mr. Wellborn that he had good 
 manners. You said yourself, Maud, that he wore good 
 ties. I remember I admired his coat. 
 
 LAURA. [To MAUD.] I ll give you one of my 
 photographs of Jim. You re just dying for one, I can 
 see. And I ll give you this one of his oil wells ! And 
 now I must go. I wouldn t come between mother and 
 daughter in a discussion of this sort for worlds ! Good 
 night, darling ! [Kisses MAUD.] 
 
 MAUD. Oh ! 
 
 LAURA. I can get plenty more. 
 [Exif LAURA.] 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. [Looking up from pictures. ] Well, 
 I hope you have composed the words of your acceptance. 
 
 MAUD. Acceptance ! 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Of course, or did she fib? 
 
 MAUD. No ; he is very wealthy. I knew it all the 
 time [j/&], even before I met him. [Smells roses. ] 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Then you have nothing more in the 
 world to be worried about. I shall show these piftures 
 to your father now. 
 
 [Exit MRS. BOWEN, with piftures, out door /,.] 
 
 [itoj 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 [MAUD, left alone, puts down roses, yawns and 
 clasps bands behind bead. Looks straight 
 before her.] 
 
 MAUD. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! It isn t money I 
 want to care about it is the man. I must trust him to 
 love him. I wonder if what she said of Mr. Wellborn 
 is true ! [She rises, walks to mantel, takes pitture of 
 Tr avers, and looks at it some time. She presses it to her 
 lips.] Herbert Travers ! There was no doubt about 
 your being true. You loved me devotedly. [She drops 
 pitture slowly on the floor.] 
 
 [Enter BLANCHE at door L.] 
 
 BLANCHE. [Sleepily.] Are you coming now, Miss 
 Maud ? 
 
 MAUD. Yes ; now I am coming. [Exit BLANCHE.] 
 [MAUD goes to table, takes up roses and buries her face in 
 them.] Oh, it isn t the money I want to care about, it 
 is the man ! [She may either go off or wait until the 
 curtain falls.] 
 
 [Curtain] 
 
 Scene 2 takes place the next morning at 10 a. m., in the 
 same room. The stage is empty. Enter Blanche 
 door L. She picks up bouquet of roses, admires them, 
 puts them in vase. Takes photograph from floor, 
 examines it, says, "That s a handsome man," and 
 replaces it on mantel. Looks at herself in mirror and 
 becomes interested. Rearranges chair and returns to 
 mirror and prinks cap. Knock at door R. C. She 
 goes to door, takes in tray of chocolate and toast; she 
 places it on table C. 
 
 MAUD. [In door L] Who was that, Blanche? 
 I am not at home. 
 
 BLANCHE. [Goes to door L.] It is only your choco 
 late, Miss Maud. 
 
 [ml 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MAUD. Very well. I will have it in there. 
 [BLANCHE arranges cups] [Enter MAUD wearing elabo 
 rate morning gown] I feel half dressed with no powder 
 on my face. [Seats herself at table and sugars chocolate.] 
 
 BLANCHE. Is there anything you want ? 
 MAUD. Anything I want ? I should say so. 
 BLANCHE. I mean, is there anything I can get you ? 
 
 MAUD. Not unless you can get me a completely 
 made-up mind, untroubled by doubts. 
 
 BLANCHE. Oh, Miss Maud ! 
 
 MAUD. I am trying to decide whether or not to 
 marry a man. 
 
 BLANCHE. Oh, Miss Maud ! 
 
 MAUD. I can t make up my mind, and I must 
 I ve got to within the hour. He is waiting downstairs 
 now, for his answer. And he is a very good sort of 
 fellow. 
 
 BLANCHE. Oh, Miss Maud ! 
 
 MAUD. Yes ; I must write him his answer and I 
 don t know what to say. Put the flowers in water 
 you have, already ? This chocolate is too weak. Take 
 it away. Heavens ! What immense pieces of toast ! 
 I have no appetite. Take it ail away. [BLANCHE carries 
 out tray and re-enters.] Now bring me pen, ink and 
 paper. I know now what I am going to write to Mr. 
 Jim Wellborn. [She writes, but tears up sheet, then sits 
 nibbling end of pen."] 
 
 [Knock is heard at door R. C. BLANCHE answers 
 it, goes out, and returns, closing door carefully.] 
 
 BLANCHE. [In half whisper, coming close] Miss 
 Burton wants to know if you will see her. 
 
 MAUD. Tell her I am asleep. 
 
 BLANCHE. 1 did. She told me to wake you. She 
 said she knew you would see her. [Smiles] 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 MAUD. Tell her I have gone for a walk. 
 
 BLANCHE. [Opening door a tiny bit.] Miss Bo wen 
 is very sorry but she has gone for a walk. 
 
 LAURA. [Outside. ] Oh! Has she ? I m so dis 
 appointed. When she returns tell her I will call again 
 about luncheon time. I hope she slept well. 
 
 BLANCHE. She slept very well. [She closes door.] 
 
 MAUD. Little prevaricator! But then you are paid 
 to lie. I slept wretchedly. Girls should never sleep af 
 ter a proposal. Now I will write my letter. I will say 
 just what I decided to say. What was it? [She writes 
 busily] 
 
 [Knock is heard again at door R. C. BLANCHE 
 goes to door. CLARIBEL calls over her head in 
 a meek voice] 
 
 CLARIBEL. May I, please, come in for a minute, 
 Maud ? 
 
 MAUD. Claribel! Of course you may. I am al 
 ways glad to see you. 
 
 [CLARIBEL enters slowly and with very grave 
 face. MAUD meets and embraces her. Exit 
 BLANCHE. CLARIBEL / / dressed with exagger 
 ated sombreness, entirely in black. A black 
 dress and small, quiet black hat] 
 
 CLARIBEL. [Solemnly] I met Laura Burton in the 
 hall, she said you were here. 
 
 MAUD. She did, did she ! 
 
 CLARIBEL. How bright and happy you look ! [S//fo.] 
 Some people are always that way. [Takes out handker 
 chief.] It seems almost heartless at times. 
 
 MAUD. What has happened ? I never saw you like 
 this before. Why were you not dancing last night ? We 
 had a lovely time! 
 
 CLARIBEL. I suppose you did, while I was going 
 through the most painful experience of my life. \_With 
 marked emotion.] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MAUD. Tell me all about it. Was it exciting ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. [Wiping away tears. ~\ Very! But I 
 will tell you all, all, later. When I met Laura Burton she 
 also told me that you were going to marry Mr. Wellborn. 
 She assured me that the engagement would be announced 
 tomorrow. [Sadly."] Let me offer you my congratula 
 tions, 
 
 MAUD. Oh, dear! I have not yet decided to 
 marry him. I may not. 
 
 CLARIBEL. Yes, maybe you will refuse him. How 
 cruel of you ! [Wipes azvay tears again, J] 
 
 MAUD. I am never cruel to you. What is the mat 
 ter? [Patting her cheek.] 
 
 CLARIBEL. Let me alone. Let me weep! 
 
 MAUD. Of course I will let you weep, if you wish 
 to, but I don t see how you can enjoy it so much. 
 
 CLARIBEL. Enjoy it? How can you say such a 
 thing ! Wait until you know all. I have thought and 
 thought, and thought and thought, until my brain buzzes. 
 
 MAUD. Oh, then, pray don t think any more! 
 
 CLARIBEL. I must. Why, this is the very last time 
 that we may ever be sitting thus, dear friends together, face 
 to face. 
 
 MAUD. Dear me ! I m beginning to feel gloomy too. 
 [Wipes away tears. The two weep in concert.] What 
 is it all about, anyway ? What are we weeping for ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. You don t know, but I do. 
 
 [Enter MRS. BOWEN, door L., dressed for going 
 out, drawing on her gloves. She does not look 
 up or see CLARIBEL.] 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. I suppose you want all your things 
 marked with a W, and one must begin to think of table 
 cloths. 
 
 MAUD. [Rising. ] Mother ! 
 
A?^ Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Oh, Claribel, you here ? Why, Clari- 
 bel is almost like one of the family. We don t mind her. 
 I don t like you in that dismal gown, Claribel. 
 
 CLARIUEL. I hate myself in it. That is why I put 
 it on. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. How queer girls are nowadays ! 
 Now, hurry and get that letter written, Maud. You 
 must send the acceptance, for the trousseau will begin 
 to come up this afternoon. 
 
 MAUD. Mother ! Don t begin to buy my trous 
 seau. I may never need one. I may refuse to marry 
 Mr. Wellborn. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Nonsense ! I won t listen to such 
 nonsense. Do you prefer hemstitch or lace ? Here, 
 where s that tape measure? I have really forgotten your 
 waist measure, and I am going to the tailor s. [She 
 measures MAUD^r a gown.^ Now, stand still. 
 
 MAUD. Mother ! Mother ! If you aft in such a 
 hurry I never will be married. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Yes you will, this time. No more 
 of that Travers nonsense this time. 
 
 CLARIBEL. O heavens ! I have come to tell her 
 something which may interfere with this wedding. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Then you may go. I must say you 
 are a most lugubrious looking bridesmaid. How would a 
 pale pink evening gown do, Maud, with spangles and tulle 
 ruffling ? 
 
 MAUD. I would like a new pink gown. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. And then there are the cards to con 
 sider. Well, I will select you a new silk skirt this morning, 
 and the wedding veil 
 
 MAUD. Mother ! 
 
 MRS. BOWEN, Now, be a good child. While you 
 are writing that letter of acceptance or regrets or whatever 
 
 [**] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 it is, I will be around the corner buying the wedding veil. 
 Don t you interrupt her, Claribel. 
 
 CLARIBEL. [Rising hi agitation] But I must I 
 must interrupt her befoie she gets it written. It is my 
 duty. I must do it. 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Oh, you girls ! You queer modern 
 girls ! I will leave you to talk it over, and plan the 
 wedding. I know you will be all excitement. Good-by ! 
 [Starting toward door.] Don t stay long, Claribel. 
 
 CLARIBEL. Perhaps she will not let me stay after she 
 hears 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Well, you are to be a bridesmaid, 
 are you not ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. Yes, if 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. That is all I want to know. Now, 
 Maud, remember, while you are writing that note I am 
 around the corner buying the wedding veil. 
 [Exit MRS. BOWEN, energetically.] 
 
 MAUD. If I were on ] y as impulsive as mother, I 
 
 should know what to write. [She takes up pen again.] 
 
 [CLARIBEL goes to mantel, takes up pitture of 
 
 Tr avers, and suddenly holds it before MAUD S 
 
 eyes] 
 
 MAUD. [Crying out and rising quickly] What, 
 what are you doing ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. [Gloomily] Then you remember him. 
 
 MAUD. Remember Herbert Travers ! How could 
 I forget him ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. Of course you could never forget him. 
 [Gloomily] Why don t you go on with your letter? 
 
 MAUD. Because because I don t know why. 
 What is the matter with you, Claribel ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. [Bursting into tears] Nothing is the 
 matter with me. 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 MAUD. Why do you bring up the subject of Mr. 
 Travers ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. Because he came back last night. [She 
 covers her face with her hands. ,] 
 
 {As MAUD stands staring at her, a low tap is 
 heard at entrance door R. C., which neither of 
 the two seem to bear. Enter LAURA BURTON 
 dressed prettily in bright colors. She wears 
 large leghorn hat covered with jlowers. Car 
 ries flowers in her band.~\ 
 
 LAURA. Oh, you dear girls ! I have been looking 
 everywhere for you. What a queer dress to go walking 
 in, Maud dear, but then I know tastes differ, and I sup 
 pose you will always find some people to overlook eccen 
 tricities ! I met your dear mother in a shop, just now, 
 around the corner. She was pricing bridal veils. 
 
 MAUD. [Sitting down.~\ Was she ? I wonder for 
 whom ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. Don t, Maud, don t! Don t take it 
 that way! [Dries her eyes suddenly. ~\ 
 
 LAURA. [Looking from one to the other. ~^ Is Clari- 
 bel another one of Jim s sweethearts ? I warned you, 
 you know, Maudie, I warned you. But don t quarrel 
 over him now, or I shall whistle him back, myself. How 
 do you like my new yellow dress ? [She pirouettes before 
 them.^ Don t the flowers in it, as they buzz by, nearly 
 make you cross-eyed ? You don t either of you seem a bit 
 cheerful, and I suppose it wouldn t be polite of me to ask 
 you why, though you are both such good-natured creatures 
 one always drops formalities when with you. Perhaps 
 you were discussing why ClaribeJ was not at the ball 
 last night ? [She speaks all this rapidly. ] Of course, 
 usually, when a girl does not go to a ball it is because she 
 has no partner, but, of course, in a hotel that does n t 
 matter. Because one needn t mind, really, Claribel, 
 coming downstairs alone, although I never do. And my 
 partner always meets me on the landing. But then, of 
 course, I am particularly lucky. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 CLARIBEL. Are you ? I am not. I am the most 
 unlucky girl that ever lived. And when my engagement is 
 announced some of my best friends will never speak to me 
 again. 
 
 LAURA. You are in the dumps. I wouldn t take 
 him then. Girls often think their last chance has come, 
 when he hasn t at all. Don t get scared, and take a man 
 nobody else wants. 
 
 CLARIBEL. I am frightened, but it is of a woman. 
 [Looks at MAUD.] 
 
 LAURA. Though perhaps in your circumstances I 
 should feel the same way. Suppose you telephone to 
 three men to take us three for a sail. Do. 
 
 MAUD. Oh, no, no indeed. Claribel is trying to tell 
 me something. 
 
 LAURA. {Seating her self. ~\ Well, don t mind me. 
 What I hear goes in one ear and out the other. And I 
 am such a good listener. Even very poor talkers can rely 
 on me. Go on, Claribel. I am a woman s woman. I 
 mean a girl s girl, and even when girls are at their dullest 
 they interest me 
 
 CLARIBEL. Thank you. 
 LAURA. That is, if 
 
 {Knock at door, to which all listen. BLANCHE 
 crosses stage to door, and holds short parley. 
 
 BLANCHE. A bell-boy, Miss Maud, who say.> Mr. 
 Wellborn sent him. 
 
 MAUD. With a message ? 
 
 BLANCHE. No. He says he thinks there is one here 
 for Mr. Wellborn. {All laugh.] 
 
 MAUD. Oh! Not yet. Tell him I will send it 
 soon. 
 
 [BLANCHE returns to door.] 
 BLANCHE. Here are some flowers. 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 MAUD. Give them to me. [Exit BLANCHE.] 
 They are very sweet, anyway, just for their own sakes. 
 [Repeats.] They are very sweet. 
 
 LAURA. Well, isn t this a good joke on Jim Well 
 born, that I should be here when those flowers come up ! 
 
 CLARIBEL. Why ? 
 
 LAURA. Why, don t you see? None are so dull as 
 those who wish to be. I will run down now and tell Jim 
 all about it myself. He ll like it best from my own lips. 
 
 MAUD. Good-by! 
 
 LAURA. Oh, I will be back again ! Now don t gos 
 sip any more till I get back. 
 [Exit LAURA.] 
 
 CLARIBEL. [Hurriedly.] We have always been 
 chums, Maud, dearest chums 
 
 MAUD. Yes, since we were little things in short 
 dresses with "pigtails" down our backs. We went to 
 school together. 
 
 CLARIBEL. And to our first dancing class, and we 
 "came out" the same season 
 
 MAUD. And as debutantes we used to sleep together 
 and talk over our partners 
 
 CLARIBEL. And say what sillies the boys were 
 
 MAUD. [Nodding smilingly.] Yes. 
 
 CLARIBEL. Then Herbert Travers appeared. [Sighs] 
 We met him the same night. 
 
 MAUD. Tell me, did he come back dead? You 
 aft as if he might be dead. 
 
 CLARIBEL. No. He is very much alive. I feel our 
 friendship dying, that is all. Yours and mine. 
 
 MAUD. Why should our friendship die because he 
 has come back ? You love to be dramatic. 
 
 CLARIBEL. Cruel ! Then Herbert loved you and 
 told you so, and he did not care for me 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MAUD. Of course not. [Proudly. ] 
 CLARIBEL. But I was his confidante. 
 
 MAUD. And you were mine. I always have told 
 you everything 
 
 CLARIBEL. Yes, after you rejected him and he went 
 away, I used to tell you how cruel you were to him, and 
 how much too good for you he was, did I not ? 
 
 MAUD. Yes ; you always spoke well of him. 
 
 CLARIBEL. Promise me you will always remember 
 that of me, even when I am far, far away. 
 
 MAUD. [Happily.] Yes. Isn t it splendid that he 
 has come back again just now at last ! 
 
 CLARIBEL. Wait. After he had been gone some 
 time you changed your mind. 
 
 MAUD. Yes, I did. 
 
 CLARIBEL. And at last one night you confessed to 
 me that you wished to see him. You had found out, after 
 all, that you cared for him. 
 
 MAUD. [Taking Travers spifture and gazing hap 
 pily at / /.] Yes, I told you so. I remember the 
 night very well. You said then that you would write 
 to him and let him know that I wanted him to come 
 back. [Sits. ] 
 
 CLARIBEL. Listen. I never wrote that to him ! I 
 never wrote that to him ! [Pause. ] 
 
 MAUD. [At length.~\ What ? But you told me 
 the letter was never answered. 
 
 CLARIBEL. It was. I wrote to him, but I did not 
 tell him about your change of heart. [Paused] I have 
 been writing to him all these five years. 
 
 MAUD. [Rising."] You have been writing to him 
 all these five years ! And 
 
 CLARIBEL. He has also been writing to me. 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 [Silence ensues while CLARIBEL covers her face 
 with her hands. MAUD walks slowly to fire 
 place. At length turns again to CLARIBEL.] 
 
 MAUD. Of course we can never be friends again. 
 [Hoarsely, .] I feel quite quite differently toward you. 
 
 CLARIBEL. I know it ; you can never trust me again. 
 Our friendship is dead. 
 
 MAUD. [Stiffly*"] Yes, I loathe deceit. But before 
 you go, answer me one question, please. 
 
 CLARIBEL. [Rising.] I will do anything you say. 
 My conscience requires that of me. Do you care for 
 
 him yet? 
 
 MAUD. Tell me one thing why did you keep up 
 this deceit for five long years, then come today, unasked, 
 and confess it to me ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. Oh! [Drawing in her breath, sharply.] 
 Because he came back last night, and he he has 
 asked me to marry him. 
 
 MAUD. Oh ! [Nods her head affirmatively y ana 
 turns away.] 
 
 CLARIBEL. I am telling you the truth now. My 
 conscience 
 
 MAUD. Is he here in this hotel ? 
 CLARIBEL. Yes. 
 MAUD. Now ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. Yes. Maud, do you want to see him ? 
 [Pause.] Are you going to send for him ? [Clasping 
 her hands, appealingly.] 
 
 MAUD. I am not going to send for him. 
 
 CLARIBEL. When you meet him perhaps in the 
 halls, anywhere, are you going to teil him what 1 
 did about the letter ? 
 
 MAUD. I don t know. 
 
 [*$*] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay .< 
 
 CLARIBEL. You see how I felt as if I must tell 
 you, before, before 
 
 MAUD. Before what ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. Before I said "yes " to him. {Drooping 
 her head coyly.~\ 
 
 MAUD. He is waiting downstairs now for his an 
 swer ? 
 
 CLARIBEL. Yes. 
 
 MAUD. Just as Mr. Wellborn is [laughs] , how fun 
 ny! Perhaps they are together. [Laughs. ,] 
 
 CLARIBEL. \_Anx iouslyJ\ You want to see Mr. 
 Travers ? Shall we send for him ? 
 
 MAUD. No. 
 
 CLARIBEL. What are you going to do ? 
 
 MAUD. I really do not know. You don t propose, 
 then, to tell him yourself? 
 
 CLARIBEL. Oh ! Do you require that of me ? 
 MAUD. No one but yourself can require that of you. 
 
 CLARIBEL. [ Wringing her hands. ] Oh! Oh, 
 dear! {Sits. } 
 
 MAUD. Before you go I should like to say one thing 
 more. 
 
 CLARIBEL. {Rising."] Are you going to send for 
 him ? Now ? 
 
 MAUD. Before you go I must tell you 
 
 CLARIBEL. Don t be so hard {wiping away tears] 
 on me. 
 
 MAUD. That your services as bridesmaid will not be 
 required. 
 
 CLARIBEL. Oh ! [ Sbe moves toward door."] Oh, 
 dear ! 
 
 [CLARIBEL hesitates near door and looks at MAUD, 
 who turns back and looks into f re. CLARIBEL 
 
An Intimate Acquaintance 
 
 at door turns again, but MAUD remains obdu 
 rate. Exit CLARIBEL slowly, with bent head. 
 MAUD sees that she has gone, takes Travers* s 
 pitture, tears it into bits and burns them. 
 Goes to table, takes up roses."] 
 
 MAUD. Women s friendships are sometimes rather 
 discouraging. [She sits at table and writes letter.~\ 
 [Enter LAURA.] 
 
 LAURA. Oh ! Oh ! What have you said against 
 me to Jim ? He will scarcely speak to me. He says I 
 take up all your time. Girls are such jealous creatures ! 
 I suppose you thought it wisest to turn him against me. 
 Perhaps it is safer. 
 
 [MAUD tears up note and writes another. Rings 
 bell, gives note at door to boy.~\ 
 
 MAUD. Give this note to Mr. Wellborn he is 
 waiting downstairs. 
 
 LAURA. You good-natured thing, not to keep him 
 waiting another minute. Of course in our family we were 
 taught that the longer one keeps a man waiting, the better 
 it is for him. But I have often thought that queer little 
 obliging way you have with men gives them much more 
 hope. Do you always wear that sort of a gown all the 
 morning ? It really hangs very well if you were n t a lit 
 tle stoop-shouldered. [MAUD Involuntarily straightens 
 herself J\ I don t blame you one bit for tearing up that 
 Mr. Travers s pifture. [Looking at bits on the floor. ~\ 
 I am sure the way to serve men of that sort is to ignore 
 them. Where do you think you and Jim Wellborn will 
 make your home ? I hope it won t be too far away for 
 me to visit you. I know you will keep house beautifully 
 after you are married. I love to visit in a well-kept house. 
 I am not a bit of trouble just always on hand, you know. 
 And I do attract the men so. It will be so nice for you. 
 Dear me, you don t seem to realize at all that I am here. 
 But I feel quite at home. 
 
 MAUD. I do know that you are here. I was just about 
 to ask you if you will be one of my bridesmaids next month ? 
 
 U33] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 LAURA. Which bridesmaid ? How sweet of you to 
 choose me! Most brides choose some one who will aft as 
 a foil. But I suppose you have passed the age of vanity. 
 [Enter MRS. BOWEN.] 
 
 MRS. BOWEN. Well, my dear, I have the wedding veil. 
 
 MAUD. [ Eagerly. ] Oh, how good of you ! 
 [Opens box.] See! Isn t is pretty? [She takes veil 
 and throws it over her own bead as she stands down front. .] 
 The King is dead, long live the King! 
 
 [Curtain.] 
 
VI. 
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 As may easily be seen, a presentation of this Chinese 
 farce can be as elaborate as desired, or entirely without 
 elaboration, depending upon the difficulty with which 
 Chinese accessories may be secured. Attendants and 
 music, for simplicity, may be eliminated in a drawing- 
 room production, leaving little but the dialogue and cos 
 tumes. However, all the details add greatly to the 
 interest, and carried out would enhance the performance. 
 To be amusing, an exaggerated burlesque manner should be 
 used by all the a&ors. 
 
 The aftresses should try to imitate the quelled, almost 
 slavish, manner and mincing gait of the Chinese women, 
 while the men should be much more aftive and forceful. 
 In costumes, the brighter and handsomer ones should be 
 selefted for all but the slaves, and any Chinese costumes 
 of gay colors will do. The stage should be arranged as a 
 room in the house of WANG LIANG on his wedding day. 
 It is a plain, almost bare, room, with a few chairs, tables 
 and Chinese ornaments. Bright red paper scrolls hang on 
 the wall, decorated with Chinese characters. There is a 
 large entrance in the back wall, L. C., and a smaller door 
 
 E 3J] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay 
 
 to the R., down front. To the right of the entrance, 
 L. C., is arranged a shrine, which contains mock idols, 
 offerings and burning punk. The "Spirit Tablets * are 
 on the wall above the shrine. A row of chairs are all 
 about the room against the wall, the row on the L. being 
 arranged so that the audience can get a glimpse of all who 
 sit in them. On the right side of the room is the long 
 table set with Chinese dishes as for a feast. Chairs are 
 along its left side almost in the center of the room. A high, 
 decorated window, with a row of chrysanthemums or 
 lilies growing in bowls on its sill, always gives a good 
 Chinese effeft, as do black chairs with red seats. An 
 attention to the coloring of the costumes is necessary to 
 a good stage pidlure, and it is well to avoid, as much as 
 possible, any which are dark or unbecoming. Bright blue, 
 green, pale yellow, pink or violet are, of course, the best 
 shades. 
 
 The wedding feast of WANG and LOUIE SING, before 
 it is interrupted, should be lengthy enough to give a 
 realistic effedl, and it is quite necessary that there should 
 be Chinese songs sung and any other vaudeville numbers 
 possible, introduced. One song repeated at the close 
 would appropriately end the farce. 
 
 [ 36] 
 
The Wedding of Mah Foy 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 CHUNG How- A wealthy old Chinese of fierce temper. 
 
 WANG LIANG A young Chinese merchant to whom Chung Hoiv has 
 
 betrothed bit daughter. 
 KUANG YIN CHOW Chinese name of young Christianized Chinaman, 
 
 known at the Mission at " Arthur." 
 CHUNG MAH FOY A Christianized Chinese girl, knoivn at the Mission 
 
 at ft Gertrude." She is the daughter of Chung Hoiv and bat been 
 
 betrothed by him to Wang Liang. 
 LOUIE SING A friend of Gertrude s. 
 
 CHUEY LING Low Chinese girl in household of Wang Liang. 
 Male guests or servants who have no lines. 
 Other maids to any number {in Chinese costume} , not talking English. 
 
 Curtain rising discovers stage empty. Male servant 
 crosses stage from door R. to larger door L. C. Exit 
 servant. Enter at entrance L. C. female slave who 
 goes to table and arranges tea set in trays which she 
 has carried in. She bows before shrine, back, and 
 with forehead to the floor, mumbles prayers in Chinese, 
 then exit door R. Sound of Chinese music is heard in 
 the distance, growing louder. 
 
 At entrance back L. C. Mah Foy is borne across the 
 threshold by two female slaves who carry her upon 
 their crossed hands. She is preceded by Chung How, 
 who fans himself haughtily with small fan. She is 
 followed by Louie Sing and a number of Chinese girls 
 in festive costume. Chung closes fan with snap and 
 gives vent to a string of imitation Chinese words. 
 Slaves deposit Mah Foy in chair near table, C. She 
 is closely veiled. Chung beats hand with fan and 
 issues another order at which the slaves and guests, 
 after bowing at the shrine, take seats against the wall, 
 L. , where they whisper together. Chung How pros 
 trates himself before the shrine, then joins Mah Foy, 
 C. Music ceases. 
 
 CHUNG How. My daughter, you now happily find 
 yourself with your honorable father in the noble house of 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 your future honorable husband, Wang Liang. This room 
 you shall not leave, except as the happy wife of the noble 
 and wealthy Wang Liang. I have said it. In a short 
 time the great Wang Liang will enter this room and you 
 will then become his humble wife. I have said it. 
 
 MAH For. My honorable father, I 
 
 CHUNG. [Fiercely.] Be silent! Would you speak 
 to your honorable father before he has commanded you to 
 speak ? 
 
 MAH FOY. I will not be the wife of Wang Liang. 
 
 CHUNG. Your noble father does not hear you. 
 [Raps her angrily with fan and strides up and down stage 
 mumbling Chinese in anger. ~\ Dreadful creature, you 
 have become as the wicked Christian maidens in this 
 wicked land. You now insult your honorable father by 
 disagreeing with him peace be to our ancestors ! [Bows 
 before shrine many times.] 
 
 MAH FOY. I shall tell the honorable Wang Liang 
 that, though I bow my humble head to the dew of the 
 dust at his feet, I will never be his wife. 
 
 CHUNG. [After excited gutturals.] You are here. 
 You will be his wife. What will save you, little toad at 
 my elbow ? 
 
 MAH FOY. I am not a little toad at your elbow I 
 am Gertrude, an American, and I will save myself. 
 
 CHUNG. [Beside himself with r age. ~\ How? How? 
 Save yourself ! How ? Yes, you are American-hearted 
 and Chinese-headed. Why did my divine ancestors per 
 mit me to do this thing and allow me to send you to the 
 great American Mission where they teach children to bring 
 down the honorable gray hairs of their fathers to their 
 honorable graves? [Bows low before shrine and wails] 
 [To guests and slaves] I am in sorrow do you not 
 see, turtles who do not weep ? 
 
 [All wall in chorus, LOUIE SING leading. L] 
 
 MAH FOY. You all aft foolishly. I am grown up. 
 I shall marry whom I will. 
 

 The IF ed ding of Mab Foy 
 
 CHUNG. American ! Then you will to marry Wang 
 Liang, in this house in fifteen American minutes. [He 
 loeks outside entrance, L. C., and tries window, .] 
 [Music begins outside.] 
 
 CHUNG. The hour has come. 
 
 MAH FOY. [Rising from seat.~\ O father, save 
 me! I do not love this man you wish me to marry. It 
 is not he that I love. O save me ! I will marry nobody. 
 I will but stay with my honorable father. [On knees to 
 him] 
 
 CHUNG. [Rapping her on head with fan.] Your 
 honorable father does not wish you. Louie Sing [to 
 Chinese girl, L., near front] ! Louie Sing! Come here, 
 little dove with wings. 
 
 [LouiE SING, in Chinese fashion, with head meekly 
 bowed, shuffles near to him, making wide 
 detour. She keeps her hands in her wide 
 sleeves.] 
 
 CHUNG. Now, wretched Mah Foy, look upon the 
 Chinese maiden as she should be. 
 
 MAH FOY. [Rising."] Louie Sing has no reason to 
 feel bad. Nobody wants to marry her. 
 
 CHUNG. Is that true, Louie Sing? Speak! 
 
 LOUIE SING. It is indeed so, great mandarin. I have 
 no dowry. 
 
 CHUNG. Your father, Hop Yow, was rich man. 
 What became of your dowry ? Speak ! 
 
 LOUIE SING. My honorable brother bought himself 
 an honorable store with it. 
 
 CHUNG How. Your honorable brother can be found. 
 I will honorably take the store away from him and give it 
 to you. Your dowry shall belong to your future husband. 
 
 LOUIE SING. O most honorable benefaftor, I humbly 
 thank you ! May your fragrant pagoda be thick with 
 prayers forever. May your humble friend thank you. 
 
 C 39] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay 
 
 CHUNG How. Now, Louie Sing, tell Mah Foy that 
 she should do as her marvelous father wishes. Speak, 
 Louie Sing! 
 
 LOUIE SING. To her gracious father the Chinese girl 
 should be ever obedient. Our ancestors have said it. 
 You must obey, Mah Foy. 
 
 MAH FOY. My name is Gertrude. You are a 
 coward, Louie Sing. 
 
 LOUIE SING. We must obey, Mah Foy. We must 
 not do as American girls do, or we will suffer for it. 
 
 CHUNG How. You will be honorably killed. Ex- 
 ally. Great is the wisdom of Louie Sing. 
 
 MAH FOY. Louie Sing has no reason to feel bad. 
 Nobody wants to marry her. 
 
 CHUNG. Stop, turtle under my foot. You speak 
 honorably a lie. 
 
 MAH FOY. So she told me, wise father. 
 
 CHUNG. Do you think that in truth nobody wants 
 you, little dove with wings ? 
 
 LOUIE SING. Nobody wants to marry me, I am too 
 poor. 
 
 CHUNG. Did I not tell you I would take your dowry 
 honorably from your brother and give it to your honor 
 able husband ? Somebody will marry you, Louie Sing. 
 
 MAH FOY AND LOUIE SING. Who ? Oh, tell us ! 
 CHUNG. I even I will be your honorable husband. 
 
 [Siltnct.] 
 
 CHUNG. Speak, Louie Sing! 
 LOUIE SING. I humbly thank your honorableness. 
 CHUNG. Speak, Mah Foy ! 
 
 MAH FOY. She will make a good wife to you. I will 
 not make a good wife to Wang Liang. I will pull his hair. 
 
 CHUNG How. Will you, Louie Sing, pull my hair? 
 
The Wedding of Mah Foy 
 
 LOUIE. [Bowing hw.~\ Oh, no! 
 
 CHUNG How. You will make a good wife. Now, 
 little dove with wings, we will go, and Mah Foy will 
 marry the great Wang Liang. The hour has come. 
 
 MAH FOY. [On knees to htm again. ~\ Oh, do not 
 leave me here ! Let me go home with Louie Sing, father. 
 
 CHUNG. I don t want you. 
 
 MAH FOY. I am but the humble flower of your own 
 you trample upon. Oh, help your humble daughter, 
 honorable father ! I will do all else you say. 
 
 CHUNG. You will marry Wang Liang, or die. You 
 will be no longer American after today. 
 
 MAH FOY. Oh, I am dying of fear ! 
 
 [CHUNG claps hands and all guests and slaves stand 
 in a row. He claps bis bands again and they 
 go to small door, R. t talking Chinese jargon 
 together. MAH FOY / / still on her knees to 
 CHUNG. At door a countersign in Chinese is 
 given in loud voice and answered by voice from 
 without. The door opens and guests and slaves 
 exit. ] 
 
 CHUNG. Go, Louie Sing. [Exit LOUIE SING, ..] 
 
 [CHUNG turns to MAH FOY.] And now will you see 
 
 how your honorable father speaks the truth. You will be 
 
 the wife of Wang Liang. [Sarcastically.] American! 
 
 [Exit CHUNG door R.~\ 
 
 [MAH FOY, left alone, tries other door, L. C. , and 
 window. She stops and listens to music which 
 is heard outside. She listens at small door out 
 of which her father went, then rushes back to 
 seat with gesture of dispair.~\ 
 [Enter KUANG YIN CHOW disguised as WANG 
 LIANG, from small door R. He is dressed *n 
 handsome Chinese robes. She does not look up 
 and her veil is dropped so as to conceal her 
 eyes. KUANG bows before shrine and walks all 
 around ber.~\ 
 
 [4iJ 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 KUANG. [Clearing throat, ,] H-m-m-m-m ! [Re 
 peats the sound.] The crystal-eyed Mah Foy does not 
 wish to marry the great and honorable Wang Liang ? 
 
 MAH FOY. No. I hate him. I will not marry 
 Wang Liang. 
 
 KUANG. But the honorable Mah Foy has forgotten 
 the riches of the honorable Wang Liang. He owns tea 
 plantations in China. He is a rich man. 
 
 MAH FOY. I am the dust under his feet. I care 
 not for riches ; I will tear his hair. 
 
 KUANG. Wang Liang can buy for you a house such 
 as Americans live in, you may have slaves to bring you tea, 
 you may have purple and yellow robes like the sun. You 
 may honorably become so rich that even Ho Yow s wives 
 will hate you. 
 
 MAH FOY. That would be a pleasure too great for 
 such as I. [2?0zp.r.] 
 
 KUANG. [Bowing low.~\ As Wang Liang s wife the 
 dust of Chinatown need never soil your silk shoes. You 
 may watch the world from a high window. You will 
 honorably have all the money you want. 
 
 MAH FOY. I want no money. I don t want Wang 
 Liang. 
 
 KUANG. Why not, O crystal-eyed Mah Foy ? 
 MAH FOY. Because I already love another. 
 
 KUANG. You are a Chinese girl, and yet you dare to 
 love. O shades of my ancestors ! Who is he that you 
 love ? I will find him and 
 
 MAH FOY. Kill him ? You cannot. He is a Chris 
 tian. He lives at the Mission you cannot get him there. 
 His name is Kuang Yin Chow. 
 
 KUANG. Known to the Christians as " Arthur"? 
 That low coolie, son of an adlor he is unworthy. I 
 scorn his humble name. 
 
 MAH FOY. I care not. He is the man I prefer to 
 Wang Liang. We have met at the Mission. I would 
 
The Wedding of Mab Foy 
 
 rather be his lowly wife than the first of the slave wives of 
 Wang Liang, who look on the world from their high 
 windows. 
 
 KUANG. Stop, girl, be still ! 
 
 MAH FOY. I would have run away and married him 
 had my father not brought me to this noble house. I 
 hate you, Wang Liang. 
 
 KUANG. Stop, girl, be still ! 
 
 MAH FOY. [Repeats. ,] I hate you, Wang Liang. 
 
 [He takes her by the wrist and leads her forcibly 
 down stage to L., front. ~\ 
 
 KUANG. Keep still. We have a witness. [Points 
 to door, R.~\ Your honorable father is there on his 
 honorable knees watching us through the honorable key 
 hole. 
 
 MAH FOY. He hopes to see me marry you. Oh, 
 help me ! I will not go near the shrine ! 
 
 KUANG. The shrine means nothing to you, for you 
 are Christian. Come, go through the ceremony with me 
 there. After it is finished thy honorable father will leave 
 the honorable keyhole and go away, then I will let you 
 go to the Mission. 
 
 MAH FOY. Ah ! Most honorable Wang Liang ! 
 
 KUANG. Come ! Come to the shrine with me, go 
 through the ceremony, then you may go. I swear it. 
 
 [They approach the shrine and bow low before it 
 many times offering prayers, etc., before the 
 "spirit tablets." They both then face audi 
 ence and he pours for her a cup of wine which 
 they drink together out of the same cup. Both 
 rise.~^ 
 
 KUANG. [In a loud voice. ,]] Now honorably we 
 have become man and wife. \A moment s silence.~\ I 
 think I heard your honorable father get up from his honor 
 able knees and go away. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MAH FOY. I heard him. He has gone for my 
 dowry. Let me go now. 
 
 KUANG. The beautiful Mah Foy forgets that one 
 courtesy is due the honor of her humble host. She has 
 not raised her veil yet. Raise it before you go. 
 
 [She raises her veil so that she sees his face for 
 the first time. ] 
 
 MAH FOY. [Crying out.~\ Kuang! It is you, 
 Kuang! 
 
 KUANG. Yes, I am Kuang Yin Chow. I have 
 come to save you. [They embrace, .] 
 
 [Enter CHUEY LING Low at door R., bearing gifts 
 of small boxes and vases in her hands. She 
 approaches KUANG and bows low before him.] 
 
 MAH FOY. Who is this girl ? I have never seen her 
 before. 
 
 KUANG. To me also she is a stranger. Who are 
 you, strange woman ? Speak ! 
 
 CHUEY. You are the great and noble Kuang Yin 
 Chow ? 
 
 KUANG. That is my name. But if you betray my 
 humble presence here you do great wrong. How did you 
 know who I was, strange girl ? Speak and tell us. Do 
 not fear us. How knew you I was Kuang ? 
 
 CHUEY. [Timidly. ,] As you honorably stole in 
 through the guests dressed as the bridegroom I saw your 
 face and I knew it was not the face of Wang Liang. 
 I knew it to be the magnificent face of Kuang Yin Chow. 
 
 MAH FOY. Is this girl, then, your friend, Arthur ? 
 
 KUANG. I never saw her before. [To CHUEY.] 
 How knew you my face ? Who are you ? 
 
 CHUEY. I am your wife. 
 
 MAH FOY. [To KUANG.] Your wife! Then already 
 you have a wife ? Is she your wife ? Oh, I am tired of 
 husbands ! I will leave you. 
 
 {1443 
 
The Wedding of Mah Foy 
 
 KUANG. Stop! Mah Foy, my wife, obey me! Stay 
 here by me or all is lost. Will you obey me ? 
 
 MAH FOY. [After looking him in face a moment. ,] 
 I will obey you. 
 
 KUANG. [To CHUEY.] Girl, who you are I do 
 not know, but this other girl here, Mah Foy, this is my 
 wife, I have no other. 
 
 CHUEY. Oh, yes ! [Bows.~\ I am your wife. Here 
 are gifts I bring you, my husband. 
 
 KUANG. [Turning abruptly away.~\ I do not want 
 them. Take them away. [ CHUEY weeps loudly. ] 
 What a dreadful time is this for a weeping woman to come ! 
 I am disgusted. 
 
 MAH FOY. So am I. 
 
 CHUEY. O cruel and great Kuang, do you not re 
 member many months ago when you were a noble friend 
 to the honorable and wealthy Wang Liang ? 
 
 KUANG. Yes, I remember that time. I am no longer 
 his friend. 
 
 CHUEY. [Weeping again. ~\ Oh! Oh! 
 
 KUANG. [To MAH FOY.] Stop her, can t you? 
 
 MAH FOY. How did you know my husband ? 
 
 CHUEY. [Bowing to MAH FOY.] I, the humble 
 Chuey Ling Low, never knew the great Kuang Yin Chow 
 but from my window in his passing. I was given to him 
 by the great Wang Liang to be his humble wife. He 
 never came for me. He will not take these, my humble 
 gifts. [Weeps again. ~\ 
 
 MAH FOY. You had forgotten this present of a wife 
 from Wang Liang, Arthur ? 
 
 KUANG. Yes, Gertrude, I had forgotten. I never 
 saw her. [To CHUEY.] We are Americans. I do not 
 want you for a wife. 
 
 CHUEY. [Weeping.~\ Oh! Oh! 
 [ 4*1 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 KUANG. Shades of my ancestors ! Stop her! 
 
 MAH FOY. Be at peace, Chuey Ling Low. We 
 must go. The time is short and my husband and I must 
 go to the Mission before the noble Wang comes. 
 
 CHUEY. [Weeping.] Oh! Oh! I have no hus 
 band ! I have no husband ! [She drops gifts on the 
 floor and sits by them.] 
 
 KUANG. What shall we do with her ? 
 
 MAH FOY. [To CHUEY.] Do not tell that you 
 have seen Kuang. We must go now. 
 
 CHUEY. [Sets up louder wailing.] Kuang ! Do 
 not go ! Do not go ! O Kuang ! 
 
 MAH FOY and KUANG. Hush! Stop that noise! 
 
 CHUEY. If you go I will follow weeping loudly. 
 It is the custom, I am scorned by my husband. 
 
 MAH FOY. He is not your husband. 
 CHUEY. He // my husband. 
 MAH FOY. What must we do ? 
 
 CHUEY. All day since Wang say I am to be wife to 
 Kuang I sit at high window waiting, waiting for Kuang, 
 my husband to come. He does not come. He does not 
 see me. He does not know my unworthy face. I watch 
 him humbly in the street. He walk up and down. He 
 nobly talk with other Chinese. He speak flower talk to 
 children. He does not know my face. I humbly wait. 
 He does not honorably come. Today I see him enter 
 this great house. I come downstairs. I see him walk 
 proud through wedding guests and secretly enter this room, 
 dressed to be my bridegroom. I walk upstairs. I get my 
 humble presents for him. I enter here and find Kuang Yin 
 Chow, but he knows not my humble face. [Weeps again.] 
 
 KUANG. [Seating himself in despair] Oh, stop her! 
 
 MAH FOY. Listen, Chuey Ling Low. You may 
 come with me. I will take you with us to the Mission. 
 Will you go ? 
 
The bedding of Mab Foy 
 
 CHUEY. Go for a walk ? 
 
 MAH For. Yes, go for a walk with me. I will take 
 you to a place where many will be kind to you. Will 
 you go? 
 
 CHUEY. Yes, I will go. [Dropping gifts in disre 
 gard.^ I will go for a walk. It will be good. 
 
 MAH FOY. Then be quite still and do as I say. 
 You may sit down at the table now and eat. 
 
 CHUEY. I humbly thank you, great lady. 
 
 [MAH FOY leads her to table, R., where she sits 
 eating. ] 
 
 MAH FOY. Now, Kuang, I think we may escape 
 and take your friend with us. 
 
 KUANG. She is not my friend, cruel one. I do not 
 know her. 
 
 MAH FOY. But she knows you. 
 
 KUANG. We have not time to quarrel now. The 
 guests will be coming soon to congratulate us and feast. 
 Wang, himself, may be here at any moment. 
 [Knock at door .] 
 
 MAH FOY. Ah, what shall we do ? 
 
 KUANG. Fear not. Enter, slave. [Enter three 
 slave girls bearing four large Chinese boxes which they set 
 down at the feet of KUANG.] These magnificent boxes 
 hold the humble dowry of the honorable Mah Foy ? 
 [Slaves bow low.] They have been graciously sent by 
 her honorable father, the great and good Chung How, to 
 Wang Liang? [Slaves bow low] You are graciously 
 permitted to depart. Tell the great Chung How I place 
 my brow under the dew of his robes in the dust. 
 [Slaves bow and exit.] 
 
 CHUEY. [At table, ,] Kuang Yin Chow takes all 
 gifts but mine. He scorns my humble presents. [Begins 
 to weep] 
 
 KUANG. Oh ! Oh ! 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 MAH FOY. [To CHUEY.] Stop! Don t make 
 such a noise ! 
 
 [CHUEY gets down off of seat, gathers up her 
 presents, gives them to KUANG. KUANG accepts 
 them] 
 
 CHUEY. Now he will marry me. All is well. [She 
 returns to table to eat] 
 
 MAH FOY. [Laughing] Poor water chrysanthe 
 mum ! Poor flower of the Chinese household ! She 
 does not know I am your humble wife. 
 
 KUANG. But soon, when we leave her at the Mission, 
 she will know. [He takes MAY FOY S band.] 
 
 MAH FOY. Let us go now. Let us hurry away 
 before Chung How comes back. 
 
 KUANG. That is not so easy. The house is full of 
 Wang s friend s and your father s. We must plot our 
 way out. 
 
 MAH FOY. I will do as you say. 
 
 KUANG. Greatest of Chinese virtues you show. Let 
 us first look in your boxes. 
 
 MAH FOY. [Clapping bands. ~\ Let us look at my 
 dowry. I am dying of curiosity. [They open boxes, dis 
 playing silks, jewels, money, etc.] Oh ! Oh ! They 
 are beautiful ! 
 
 CHUEY. [Stealing to her and taking her hand.] 
 What your name ? 
 
 MAH FOY. My name is Mah Foy. 
 
 KUANG. Listen. We will take as much as we can 
 away with us. Do as I do. We will take them to the 
 Mission. 
 
 MAH FOY. Chuey, you may have some of these, too. 
 CHUEY. Oh! Oh! 
 
 [Tbe tbree take silk handkerchiefs and, filing 
 
 them with jewels, money, etc., put them in 
 
 their long sleeves.] 
 
The Wedding of Mah Foy 
 
 CHUEY. See ! See ! This beautiful pair of small silk 
 shoes ! 
 
 MAH FOY. You may have them. They are too 
 small for me. 
 
 CHUEY. [Joyfully.] Oh ! Oh ! [Puts them in 
 her sleeves.] 
 
 KUANG. These jewels are priceless. Ought we to 
 take them ? 
 
 MAH FOY. Are they not my own, my husband ? 
 We will be rich forever. Great is my father, Chung 
 How. 
 
 CHUEY. Look ! Look ! The little box of paper 
 flowers ! Oh, the little box of paper flowers ! 
 
 KUANG. Give them to her to keep her still. 
 
 MAH FOY. You may have them, little Chuey Ling 
 Low. 
 
 CHUEY. And the little gold hair ornament ? 
 MAH FOY. Yes. 
 
 KUANG. We do not want all these silks. They 
 come from China. The scent of the sandal wood is 
 strong. 
 
 MAH FOY. [Holding silks in band] They mind 
 me of my dead mother s boxes which came in the great 
 ship with her from the Flowery Kingdom. 
 
 KUANG. Do not stop to dream, Mah Foy. 
 
 CHUEY. Oh! Oh! [Decks herself with tiny 
 ornaments] 
 
 KUANG. [Opening last box.] This is all we can 
 carry. We must plan now to get away. [He closes 
 boxes. At this moment door R. opens silently and 
 LOUIE SING appears] 
 
 MAH FOY. It is Louie Sing. She is the first to con 
 gratulate me, for she is to marry my father. Do not speak, 
 Chuey Ling Low. 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 [CHUEY stands in absolute silence back of MAH 
 FOY.] 
 
 LOUIE. The faithful Louie Sing comes first to con 
 gratulate her beloved friend, Mah Foy, upon her happy 
 marriage. Who is that girl ? 
 
 MAH FOY. That girl is Chuey Ling Low. She is 
 my new servant. 
 
 CHUEY. In my sleeves are money and jewels. See ! 
 [She shows them.] I have money and jewels. I am the 
 wife of Kuang Yin Chow. 
 
 KUANG. Silence, Chuey Ling Low ! Do not spea* 
 again. [She relapses into intense silence again. ~^ 
 
 LOUIE SING. It is well to have many servants and 
 one so gaily dressed, too. I congratulate Mah Foy upon 
 her happy marriage. [Bows low.~\ 
 
 MAH FOY. The happiness of Mah Foy is indeed 
 unexpectedly great. 
 
 LOUIE SING. And great may the happiness be of 
 Wang Liang. [Bows low to bim.~\ Then there will be 
 no hair-pulling at this wedding, Mah Foy ? 
 
 MAH FOY. Where is your honorable future husband, 
 my noble father ? 
 
 LOUIE SING. My honorable future husband went to 
 his honorable home to send your dowry to the noble Wang 
 Liang. He has not returned. Many may be the days 
 of Mah Foy and the honorable Wang Liang. 
 
 KUANG. Say not Wang Liang, but rather Kuang 
 Yin Chow. Louie Sing, if you are a friend to Mah Foy, 
 help us to escape from here. I am not Wang Liang. 
 
 MAH FOY. He is Arthur. He is my husband, 
 Kuang Yin Chow. 
 
 LOUIE. Oh, then he will be killed ! Chung How 
 will kill him with a carving-knife. 
 
 KUANG. I do not intend to be killed by Chung 
 How with a carving-knife. We want to escape to the 
 
 [4*3 
 

 The Wedding of Mah Foy 
 
 Mission with Mah Foy s dowry. You can help us, 
 Louie Sing. 
 
 [He takes the veil from MAH FOY S head and 
 throws it over LOUIE SING S.] 
 
 KUANG. Be the bride for Mah Foy s sake, Louie 
 Sing, and marry Wang Liang in her stead. 
 
 LOUIE. Is Wang Liang a young man ? 
 
 KUANG. He is. 
 
 LOUIE. Is he a rich man ? 
 
 KUANG. He is a very rich man. 
 
 LOUIE. Is he younger than Chung How ? 
 
 MAH FOY. He is younger than Chung How. 
 
 LOUIE. I have long wanted a husband. I will 
 marry Wang Liang for Mah Foy s sake. 
 
 MAH FOY. [Embracing her] I thank you for 
 your great self-sacrifice for my sake, Louie Sing. 
 
 [Music is heard without. ,] 
 MAH FOY. The wedding guests are coming. 
 
 KUANG. Do not fear, but do as I say. Now, 
 Louie Sing, play your part. 
 
 [LouiE SING takes MAH FOY S place, C., as bride, 
 
 with veil over her head. MAH FOY, followed 
 
 by CHUEY, goes to corner near door R. behind 
 
 table. She keeps fan over her face, or turns back 
 
 as she pretends to eat. KUANG bow s before shrine 
 
 back. Enter wedding guests door R. talking 
 
 Chinese jargon. They take seats, as before, 
 
 along wall L. Music. KUANG now joins 
 
 MAH FOY. Door L. C. opens and enter the 
 
 true WANG LIANG magnificently dressed.] 
 
 WANG LIANG. Welcome, noble guests. You do 
 
 honor to my humble hut. The radiance of your exalted 
 
 countenances is as sunshine to the darkness of my poverty. 
 
 I am the bone your dog refuses. [Bows low.~\ The 
 
 time for the worshipful marriage ceremony has now ar- 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 rived. I see sitting here the honorable Chung Mah Foy, 
 but where is the great Chung How ? [ To LOUIE.] Mah 
 Foy, your worshipful father tells me that you are not eager 
 for this honorable marriage. 
 
 LOUIE. As my worshipful father bids me do, I do. 
 
 WANG. Greatest of Chinese virtues is obedience to 
 the master of the household. You will make a good wife. 
 We will wait no longer for Chung How. 
 
 [He takes hand of LOUIE and leads her slowly 
 back to shrine where they bow many times be 
 fore tablets, saying over innumerable prayers. 
 They then turn to audience and drink from 
 same cup, as did KUANG and MAH FOY, but 
 all at greater length. At moment when WANG 
 and LOUIE SING drink, KUANG and MAH FOY, 
 followed by CHUEY with money in sleeves, go to 
 small door R. CHUEY loudly gives countersign 
 in Chinese, an answer is returned, small door 
 R. opens. Exit KUANG, followed by MAH 
 FOY. 
 CHUEY. Oh ! Oh ! Do not leave me behind. 
 
 [Exit CHUEY.] 
 WANG. Who went out ? 
 
 LOUIE. My friends, Wun Lung, his wife and her 
 servant. 
 
 WANG. I command you, Mah Foy, to lift your veil. 
 [LouiE lifts her veil.~\ 
 
 WANG. [Looking at LOUIE.] Ah, a nice little 
 number I have drawn in the lottery ! She is somewhat 
 younger than I was led to expeft stouter, too, and 
 much more meek. Are you meek, little peacock with 
 eyes ? 
 
 LOUIE. I desire to do the will of my husband. 
 
 WANG. You please me. The wedding guests may 
 now approach and congratulate us. My honorable guests, 
 I command you to congratulate us. 
 
The bedding of Mah Foy 
 
 [The wedding guests now come forward one by one. 
 Each in turn bows before couple , talks Chinese 
 jargon, bows before, sbrine and goes to table 
 where all find places. Men seated first, wom 
 en waiting on them. Last, WANG and LOUIE 
 join them seated, head of table facing audience. 
 A song should be given here and other appro 
 priate entertainment. All pour tea and eat. 
 At length WANG speaks words of Chinese ana 
 all raise small cups of wine to drink bride* s 
 health. At this moment entrance L. C. opens 
 and enter CHUNG How.] 
 
 WANG. Here comes my honorable father-in-law ; 
 the honorable mandarin is always in time for the honor 
 able feast. 
 
 CHUNG. [Bows first before shrine, then speaks.] 
 How? Who? What is this? Where is Mah Foy? 
 Where is my daughter ? 
 
 WANG. I have just married your worshipful daugh 
 ter, honorableness. Has the ceremony so changed her 
 face ? 
 
 CHUNG. Where ? That is not my daughter. That 
 is my future bride, Louie Sing. Where is my daughter ? 
 I will find her. I will kill her. What do you there 
 [to LOUIE] , little dove with wings ? 
 
 LOUIE SING. I do as my husband says. I am the 
 humble wife of the noble Wang Liang. Mah Foy is not 
 here. I am the bride. 
 
 CHUNG. Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! Mah Foy shall not 
 escape me. I will find her. I will take the dowry 
 home with me. This dowry belongs to me. [Goes to 
 boxe* C. and tugs at them.] 
 
 WANG. [Rising from table.] Not so, honorable 
 Chung How. [2?0wj.] This dowry belongs to me. 
 
 CHUNG. You have lost me my daughter, you have 
 married my wife, my little dove with wings, would you 
 take also my money and jewels ? 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 WANG. You promised to give me one wife with 
 dowry, here is the wife and there is the money. I care 
 not for your daughter. I thank you, honorable Chung 
 How, for this dowry. 
 
 CHUNG. The little dove with wings has no dowry. 
 Her honorable brother honorably stole it. In these boxes, 
 because I am a great man, is money to the amount of 
 many thousands, jewels from China of priceless value. 
 
 WANG. Then I will keep them, dust as I am under 
 your great feet. Slaves ! [Two slaves join him at boxes 
 C.] Bear these boxes away. 
 
 CHUNG. Stop ! They belong to me. Slaves ! 
 [Two of bis own slaves approach.] Bear these boxes to 
 my home. 
 
 WANG. Stop ! First I will take out the dowry. 
 
 CHUNG. No, no ! 
 
 [WANG and CHUNG have prolonged struggle over 
 boxes, to the terror of the guests present. 
 WANG is viftor. He takes one box and empties 
 it on the floor. Nothing comes out but one silk 
 garment and an American alarm clock.~\ 
 
 WANG. Hah ! So this is the great Mah Foy s 
 dowry ! [Curiously examines clock which goes of] 
 
 [CHUNG talks Chinese excitedly, turning all boxes 
 over on the floor. Nothing is left in them but 
 silks and a few large articles, including an 
 American cbromo which WANG holds up in 
 derision.] 
 
 WANG. This is a fine dowry. 
 
 CHUNG. \Witb forehead to floor.] Oh ! Oh \ 
 The honorable dowry is gone. The money is all gone. 
 My money ! My money ! 
 
 WANG. The magnificent boxes hold nothing that I 
 want but this honorable clock. I will keep the boxes, 
 [7<? LOUIE SING.] Grieve not, little peacock with eyes, 
 I will keep you, anyway. 
 
The IF ed ding of Mah Foy 
 
 CHUNG. [With Chinese jargon.] Gone, gone! 
 Mah Foy s dowry has been stolen. [Begins to wail.] 
 [To slaves.] You little toads in the pond ! Don t you 
 see I am in sorrow? [Slaves also wail] [Fiercely 
 walking about] I have been dishonorably robbed. 
 Where is my knife ? 
 
 LOUIE SING. [Coming from table and bowing before 
 him] I beg of your worshipful honorableness to forgive 
 us, my husband, and me who am the dust under your 
 feet. Your daughter has taken her money and gone away 
 to the Mission with Kuang Yin Chow. 
 
 CHUNG. Oh ! Oh ! The dowry is gone. I will 
 kill Kuang Yin Chow. I will kill him tonight at eight 
 o clock. Louie Sing, come with me. [Grasps her by 
 her wrist] Come with me, Louie Sing ! I will give 
 you the money when I get it. 
 
 WANG. Stop! [Holding her by other wrist.] This 
 is my little peacock with eyes. 
 
 CHUNG. Hist ! You get no gracious dowry with 
 her. I will help you out of a bad scrape. I will take 
 her back to the home of her honorable father. 
 
 WANG. No, Chung How. Do not take her back 
 to her home. Out of the goodness of my heart I will 
 keep her. Leave her here in my house. As a wife she 
 is not bad. As a wife I think she will do very well. 
 
 CHUNG. [Dropping her wrist.] Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! 
 I have lost a wife ! I have lost a little dove with wings ! 
 My daughter is to blame for this. I will find her. I 
 will find Mah Foy. 
 
 WANG. Chung How ! By the way, if you find 
 Mah Foy, do not bring her again to my house. I do not 
 like her she has too little dowry. 
 
 CHUNG. Oh ! Oh ! Mah Foy ! I will not keep 
 you, either. I will kill you. I will kill Kuang and I 
 will get the money back. Where is my knife ? Mah Foy ! 
 Mah Foy ! 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 [Exit CHUNG waiting; two slaves follow him 
 also wailing."] 
 
 WANG. Well, I have the clock. Chung How is 
 growing older every day. [He resumes seat at table. ] 
 I think I prefer this wife, anyway. [To LOUIE.] Little 
 peacock with eyes, we will now have our wedding feast. 
 
 [Music is heard> feast begins again, .] 
 [Curtain."] 
 
VII. 
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 Especially designed as a setting for songs, the aftors in 
 this skit should be excellent singers. The first selections 
 should be light or lively, and one song, or duo, being a 
 love-song with dramatic possibilities ; the last should be 
 sad, the girl expressing in these quite as much feeling as 
 the man. 
 
 C 57] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 SOMERVILLE BURTON An aElor out of a job. 
 A FAIR UNKNOWN Who must sing. 
 
 The scene is a poor room in a players boarding-house. The 
 furniture consists of a couch, R., down front , screen 
 in back corner, R., table C., piano down front, L., 
 two chairs. An oil-stove is cofispicuous, about which 
 are socks drying. A faded old coat bangs on piano. 
 There are other signs of disorder, theatrical costumes 
 on chairs. On table is a cbafng-disb. Also on table 
 are a pair of trousers with fiat-iron on them. Sound 
 of splashing in water is heard coming from behind 
 screen. 
 
 VOICE. Jim-in-y Christmas ! Cold as the Klon- 
 dyke ! Brr-rr rr-r ! [Whistles popular air " In the Good 
 Old Summer Time!" Stops suddenly to chatter with 
 cold.] 
 
 [Enter from behind screen, BURTON, wearing big 
 patched bath-robe. His hair is tousled.] 
 
 BURTON. Courage, Somerville, old boy! Summer s 
 coming, even if it is a long way off. [Whistles to it.] 
 Ugh ! What a cold night ! Another blizzard ! Might 
 as well be on the Dakota plains as in New York. Another 
 bliz great Scott! [Pounces on fat-iron.] Another 
 hole in my trousers, and it is the only pair I own. Som 
 erville, old boy, henceforth be your name Winter for 
 this is the Winter-r-r of your discontent ! What is life to 
 an after without an engagement and with only one pair 
 of trousers presentable ! [Presses them with iron ener 
 getically.] At last I strike the lowest round on the ladder 
 of my theatrical misfortunes. I have reached the chafing- 
 dish stage. What have we for dinner tonight, slaves? 
 [Raises lid of chafng-dish.] Bacon ! Bacon ! Ugh ! 
 I can t look a pig in the face nowadays ! I will save 
 

 Music Hath Charms 
 
 those two pieces of bacon for breakfast. To bed ! To 
 
 bed ! Perchance to dream ! [He sits huddled up on the 
 
 couch.] Now feed your imagination, Somerville, old 
 
 boy, it is gaudier than bacon. Imagine yourself, now, at 
 
 this minute, seated at dinner with that radiant creature you 
 
 saw in her box last week. A wealth of dark hair she has, 
 
 and the sort of laughter in her face which means she 
 
 would help a fellow out of a scrape. And that blue 
 
 gown, ah ! oh ! How hungry I am what a blue she 
 
 wore ! Imagine yourself tonight beside her eating 
 
 chops ! O chops ! Chops ! Chops ! [With voice of 
 
 longing. ] [Knock is beard at door. BURTON whistles 
 
 until knock is repeated.] Who is that? Come in, why 
 
 don t you ? [He throws shoes angrily at door] Come in ! 
 
 [Door opens suddenly and the girl in blue appears, 
 
 beautifully dressed, wearing jewels, with opera 
 
 cloak and carrying satchel. She stands smiling 
 
 on the threshold] 
 
 BURTON. Tis she ! Tis she ! In a vision, but 
 without the chops. 
 
 SHE. Chops ? May I come in, please ? It is cold 
 out in the hall. [She enters and carefully closes the door 
 behind her] 
 
 BURTON. Halt ! [She stops, half smiling] Are 
 you a vision or are you real ? 
 
 SHE. I am very real. I am also cold. 
 HE. Then you may stay. 
 
 SHE. [Pushing aside wrap and coming down front] 
 
 Please forgive this [laughs] intrusion into your your 
 
 study. 
 
 He. Study ! [Tries to hide drying socks] 
 SHE. Young man, where is your wife ? 
 
 HE. Wife ? Wife did you say ? [To the room] 
 Now wouldn t that effecT: you! I deny the scandal. 
 What have I done that you should thrust a wife upon me? 
 [Fiercely] I don t deserve one. 
 
 [SfJ 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 SHE. Probably not ! Few men do, but they get 
 them all the same. I don t like that stove. You should 
 have one of those new registers, you know, the orna 
 mental sort with 
 
 HE. A cash register ! Wouldn t be a bad Christmas 
 present for me. 
 
 SHE. Why don t you have a carpet for your floor? 
 [Sets dozen satchel.] Men are so careless. 
 
 HE. Yes, I lost mine. 
 
 SHE. Don t be cross it is not my fault. Your 
 chairs need dusting. I suppose you have n t time why, 
 I ll dust them for you. [Does so with her handkerchief] 
 
 HE. Say ! Sssh ! What is in that satchel ? Some 
 thing to eat ? 
 
 SHE. [Star ing] Something to eat ! The idea ! 
 How odd! [ She sits at piano and warbles, "In the 
 Good Old Summer Time. He, in pantomime, expresses 
 bis amazement at her presence, ] 
 
 HE. \_At conclusion of song.~\ Don t mind me, 
 make yourself quite at home. 
 
 SHE. [With shyness for the frst time.] Thank 
 you! You are very kind. I dear me, your piano, 
 too, what a bad housekeeper you are ! 
 
 HE. Young woman, whoever you are, blown in on 
 the wings of the blizzard, I don t know. 
 
 SHE. Nor care ! 
 
 HE. Or how you got here in such a storm ; but 
 there is one thing I should like to explain 
 
 SHE. [Archly] You, of course, owe me an ex 
 planation. 
 
 HE. If I had a decent suit of clothes, I should go 
 over behind that screen and put them on in your honor. 
 
 SHE. [ Pointing gingerly to trousers on table. ] 
 What s that ? 
 
Music Hath Charms 
 
 HE. I burned a hole in them, trying to trying 
 to 
 
 SHE. Oh, you poor fellow ! Don t mind me. I 
 like your bath-robe. 
 
 HE. What a relief ! O dream, continue ! 
 
 SHE. What did you say ? 
 
 HE. Chops! Chops! Chops! 
 
 SHE. What ? 
 
 HE* [Fiercely.] None of your business. 
 
 SHE Oh, dear ! Anyway I shall wait in here until 
 my carriage comes. If you objeft to my company you 
 may get behind the screen. 
 
 HE. Your carriage ! ! May I smoke ? 
 
 SHE. No. Of course I came in my carriage. 
 Whose did you suppose I should come in ? 
 
 HE. Not mine. 
 
 SHE. Why, I couldn t walk a foot of the way out 
 side in such a blizzard as this. My coachman set me 
 down at the wrong address he is such a boundah. 
 
 HE. A what ? 
 
 SHE. A boundah ! 
 
 HE. You must be anglicized. 
 
 SHE. No, I am a debutante of three seasons. 
 Listen to me young man, I have telephoned home, and 
 as soon as the carriage gets there, it will be sent back for 
 me. Meanwhile I am hungry. 
 
 HE. What? Pm a little deaf. 
 
 SHE. H-u-n-g-r-y. 
 
 HE. I am not a telephone. Do you live far ? 
 
 SHE. Rathah ! 
 
 HE. What s that ? 
 
 [16,] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 SHE. Rathah ! I m so hungry. 
 HE. Oh ! Oh ! 
 
 SHE. What s the matter? I see you have a chafing- 
 dish V/j7# , and - 
 
 HE. Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! 
 
 SHE. How queerly you aft ! I will have supper 
 with you. 
 
 HE. Oh ! 
 
 SHE. You may cook it for me on that chafing-dish. 
 HE. Oh ! 
 
 SHE. Stop that ! I am being just as polite as I can 
 be in this trying situation, and you - 
 
 HE. So am I. 
 
 SHE. No, you are a regular brute. [She weeps. ,] 
 
 HE. Great Scott ! [ Rises and yawns, then dis 
 appears be hind sere en. ~\ 
 
 SHE. Oh, dear ! Why, he has gone. Perhaps it is 
 just as well, but then I can t have any supper. [Opens 
 chafing-dish and eats pieces of bacon.~\ What a dreadful 
 situation I am in ! [With cheeks resting in hands.~\ In 
 this strange place with a man I have never met ! But I 
 have seen him somewhere before. I remember those 
 kind eyes, and that sympathetic smile. Where was it? 
 I shall never let mama know about this. What s that 
 noise? Oh ! He may be coming back. Well, I hope 
 he will, for I am scared to death. But I must not let him 
 know I am afraid. I will carry it off with a high hand. 
 But I will never, never try to drive out in a blizzard again 
 with a new coachman. And if I ever do get to my 
 home alive, 1 will never, never leave it again. 
 
 [BURTON comes from behind screen, wearing theat 
 rical costume of some sort, possibly that of 
 Romeo. J 
 
 SHE. [Screams."] Oh! Oh! Here are my jewels ! 
 [Hurriedly drags them off . ] Where is your weapon? 
 
 (ife) 
 
Music Hath Charms 
 
 HE. I don t want those why should you fear 
 these kind eyes, and this sympathetic smile ? 
 
 SHE. Oh ! It is you. I am so glad. 
 
 HE. Those are the sweetest words I ever heard. 
 
 SHE. And now we shall have supper. Here are the 
 salt and pepper, and the vinegar-bottle and the alcohol- 
 bottle, and but where is something to cook ? [Looks in 
 chafing-dish.] Bacon! I never eat bacon. 
 
 HE. Then don t. It is my only contribution to our 
 supper. Save it. [ He sits at piano, and sings rollicking 
 song, while in pantomime she looks about room and gives 
 a nod of comprehension of his poverty, ,] Young woman 
 [shaking finger at ber~\, listen to me. 
 
 SHE. I won t. 
 
 HE. You must. If your carriage gets back at all in 
 this storm, it will be a wonder. Didn t you wander 
 about in cold halls, and by dark rooms, before you saw a 
 light here 
 
 SHE. Yes. 
 
 HE. And, terrified, decided at last, whoever was in 
 here, to throw yourself on his mercy rather than freeze to 
 death ? 
 
 SHE. Yes. [Holding out both hands."] Thank you 
 for the warmth of your fire. 
 
 HE. But I can do no more for you. I am starving. 
 I haven t even a penny to buy bread. 
 
 SHE. Oh! I am so sorry. 
 HE. Are you really ? 
 
 SHE. Oh, yes ! I remember now where I saw you 
 before. It was in the theater. 
 
 HE. Don t remember. After tonight we shall never 
 meet again. You will go back to your idle luxury, and I 
 to my starving. Meanwhile let us sing ! 
 
 SHE. Yes. We shall sing. [They sing together.] 
 
Drawing-Room PI ay s 
 
 HE. You make me forget that I am hungry. 
 
 SHE. Oh, do I ? I am glad. I was going to a 
 fancy dress ball tonight, but I shall not get there in time. 
 I will do my part for you, now, if you like. [With 
 assistance of satchel, turns herself into another character. 
 She sings song. Chance here for vaudeville.] 
 
 HE. [At close] I like you best in that dress 
 you do not seem so far above me. 
 
 SHE. What do you mean ? 
 
 HE. Nothing! Sing again! Why should I mean 
 anything? Sing for me. 
 
 SHE. You are giving me my orders, sir? 
 HE. You must do as I say. 
 
 SHE. Well ! [Laughs.] For tonight, why not ? 
 [They sing sentimental song together. At close, be speaks.] 
 
 HE. I wish you had not come. 
 SHE. Thank you. 
 
 HE. I know now how a fallen angel must feel look 
 ing over the wall into Paradise, where the blessed spirits 
 walk about within, quietly, not thinking of the poor 
 wretch outside. I am the poor wretch outside. But, 
 after all, we are only two human beings, you and I. 
 [Walks close to her.] I want to tell you I love you. 
 [She exclaims and draws proudly away from him.] I 
 love you. 
 
 SHE. Oh, no, you don t ! [Stamps her foot] 
 
 HE. I do. I 
 
 SHE. Stop ! How cruel of you to say that to me, 
 
 here 
 
 HE. I cannot help it. 
 
 SHE. I am frightened. You must help it. 
 
 HE. We are equals, just for an evening, you and I. 
 Just for an evening out of all our lives. If if 
 I know that I could make you love me were we 
 
 [164] 
 
Music Hath Charms 
 
 SHE. No! No! No! 
 
 HE. Look at me. Speak to me. There is nothing 
 to fear of me but my poverty. Look at me. 
 
 SHE. No ! No ! 
 
 [She hastily puts back into satchel apron , cap, etc., 
 which had transformed her, and resumes her 
 usual appearance.] 
 
 HE. [Going toward her.] It makes no difference. 
 I love you. 
 
 SHE. [Holding up hand.~\ This must not be. [She 
 goes to piano and sings a song of farewell. The lights grow 
 more and more dim, and the voice lower. At length lights 
 go out, in darkness. Silence ensues. The lights come up 
 again showing same scene as at frst BURTON, in his old 
 bath-robe, huddled up on the couch] 
 
 BURTON. Strange dreams come to a fellow, when he 
 is hungry. [Rises and yawns, stretching. Goes to chaf 
 ing-dish and raises lid] All that vision of loveliness on 
 two pieces of bacon. I don t even remember having 
 eaten them. It is a tormenting dream. I can t forget it. 
 I should like to forget it. One must n t indulge in dreams 
 like that, on an empty pocket; it is [suddenly picks 
 up satchel, which she has left] she was here. It was she. 
 She came she was here, and I drove her away. 
 [Starts toward door with it.] Out in the storm ! 
 
 [Curtain] 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBK VRY 
 
 / THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 \s 
 
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 OCT 18 1915 
 DEC 
 
 DEC 2 1922 
 
 AUU .ft 1924 
 
 APR 
 
 OCT 17 
 
 MOV 8. 1921 
 
 FEB 11 1931 
 PAR 11 
 
 
 
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