Price 25 Cents OUT IN THE STREETS A Temperance Play in Three Acts III. CHARLES n SERGEL PRE5. NO PLAYS EXCHANGED. NO PLAYS SENT ON APPROVAL. OUT IN THE STREETS in BY S. N. COOK l*thor ff/ u The Wanderer's Return," "Broken Promise*? M Unclt Jack" etc., etc. CHICAGO THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY OUT IN THE STREETS, DRAMATIS PERSONJE. COLONEL WAYNE. SOLOMON DAVIS. MATT DAVIS, his son. DR. MEDFIELD. PETE. POLICEMAN. MRS. WAYNE. NINA WAYNE. MRS. BRADFORD. MINNIE, her daughter, six years old. Time of presentation one hour. Costumes modem. PROPERTIES. ACT I. SCENE I. Table and cover, c. Old-fashioned arm-chair, L. Sofa, R. Chairs. SCENE II. Cigar. SCENE III. Poor furniture. Table. Two or three chairs. Old couch. ACT II. SCENE I. Basket. Tin money. Revolver. Door stepa to house. Walking stick for Colonel Wayne. Snow. SCENE II. Table. Chairs. Lounge. Easy chair. ACT III. SCENE I. Same as Scene II., Act II. Pistol with cap on only. A horse .pistol. SCENE II. Horse pistol. SCENE III. Furniture same as Scene I., Act III. OUT IN THE STREETS. ACT I. SCENE I. Room neatly furnished at the residence of Col. Wayne ; the Colonel discovered asleep on sofa R. Enter Pete L. Pete. Golly, de ole man's asleep as usual, and I've got dem boots to black. An' a nice job it is too mos' a side o' leather in each one. I wish sometimes de old man would sleep all de hours 'round I wouldn't have so much to do, an' I wouldn't hear him storm around so. Sometimes he makes me git home- sick to git back to ole Norf Car'lina, 'specially when he git mad an' raises Cain to tan my black hide with, as he calls it. I guess I won't wake him up if I sing something. SONG. Gone are de days when my heart should know no pain, Gone are my friends from the cotton fields again, Gone from this earth to a better land, I know, 1 hear their gentle voices calling, " Old Black Joe." CHORUS. I'm coming ! I'm coming ! My head is bending low, I hear their gentle voices calling, " Old Black Joe." [Commences to repeat chorus, when Colonel speaks.] Col. Wayne. [Rises, and comes forward R. loudly.^ Yes, and I'm coming ! Eh ! What's that ? [Sees Pete.] Oh, it's you, you cuss, is it ? What do you mean, you black scoundrel, to come into my presence with such a noise as that ? Don't you know this is my hour for taking a nap ? Pete. No, sah, I takes my naps at night. Col. W. None of your impudence, sir. What do I care when you sleep, so that it's not at a time when you should beat 3 2055225 4 OUT IN THE STREETS. work. Now, don't address me impudently again, sir, if you do, I'll cane you till your own mother wouldn't know you. Pete. [Aside.] Maybe he wouldn't be able. Enter Mrs. Wayne, R. Mrs. W. [L. B.] I wish you would lower your voice, Colonel Wayne, I do think you can be heard three squares away ; a man of your position, quarrelling with a negro servant in that manner, ridiculous ! Pete. Yes. mum, it's ridiculous ! [Aside. \ He'd better quarrel with his wife ! Mrs. W. Pete, leave the room. Pete. Yes, missus. CoL W. Or I'll break your head with my cane. Pete. [Aside.] Golly, he might break his cane. [Laughs and exits L.] Mrs. W. Jasper, you must control your temper ; you are getting worse every year. You roar around here sometimes like a hurricane ; even Pete, when your back is turned, calls you "Old Massa Hurricane." Col. W. [R. C.] I'll hurricane him, the walnut colored, cop- per faced, grinning jackanapes. Mrs. W. There you go again. You fume and storm around, and get so excited that not a person about the house has a chance to say a word. Col. W. [Laughing.] So you never get a chance to say a word whenever you feel like it, Mrs. Wayne. Mrs. W. Oh ! I understand that fling the old stereotype sarcasm that men always use when they want to say something particularly smart about women talking incessantly. I am not one of that class of women. But I can assure you of one thing, Colonel Wayne, and that is, I should be much happier, and you would render yourself more genteel, if you were less boisterous. If you were only like Mr. Davis ; he's a perfect gentleman. Col. W. Davis ! DAVIS ! Do you mean Sol Davis ? Mrs. W. [Imitates.] "Sol Davis." How does that sound ? I am ashamed of you, Mr. Wayne. How does he speak of you ? Always as Colonel Jasper Wayne. Col. W. Ha, ha, ha ! No doubt of it ! Yes, he has excellent qualifications ; one thing in particular ; the art of imitating my handwriting. Mrs. W. [Going uf to him and speaking in a marked man- ner^ I want you to tell me what you mean. OUT IN THE STREETS. 5 Col. W. \_Imitates same tone and manner.] I don't propose to do it. Mrs. W. Let me tell you what /think about the matter. I am surprised that you, my husband, should stoop to slander a gentleman a gentleman above reproach and one who is always courteous in the presence of ladies ; of ladies, Colonel Wayne. How do your actions at times compare with his, I would like to know ? Col. W. Thunder and Mars, madamj Will you insult your own husband by taking the part ot that infamous scoundrel and perfumed villain, a wolf in sheep's clothing, a black-hearted hypocrite, that Mrs. V7. Go on, go on ; heap up your abuse. You win my esteem by such conduct. [Laughs satirically.] Enter Nina L. Col- W. Marriage! Fiddlededee ! Thunder and lightning ! Nitro glycerine, or dynamite, where's the difference, I'd like to know ? [ Walks up and down, enraged.} Nin. [R-] Papa, what, excited again ! Col. W. [C.] Again ! I suppose you mean by that, that I am in the habit of getting excited. Do you hear, Mrs. Wayne ? I'm looked upon in this house as an excitable old curmudgeon, that no one can live in peace with ? \Laughs discordantly. J Nin. Oh, no, dear papa, not at all, but you will get excited sometimes, you know, and say things you don't mean. [Mrs. Wayne sits L.] Col. W. Perhaps I do ! But I never say more than 1 mean when I speak of Solomon Davis. [They sit R. B.] Nin. Solomon Davis ! Do you mean that solemn looking old sinner who calls here sometimes. Mrs. W. [L.J My daughter, are you not ashamed to speak so disrepectfully of a gentleman of whom you know nothing ? Nin. Know nothing ? I guess I know something, and that something not tending to his good. How does he treat the poor who live in his old tumble-down shells of houses ? I hate such a man ugh ! Mrs. W. Nina, you will soon rival your father in trying to keep this house in an uproar. Do try to govern your temper. Nin. I do, mamma I think I am a perfect specimen of humility and meekness. Mrs. W. Yes, about as meek as your father. Col. W. Ah, there's another dig she can't let me rest. 6 OUT IN THE STREETS. Nina, you spoke of Davis mistreating some of the poor who lodge in his old coops explain the facts. Nin. Well, you know, papa, that I believe in people being charitable in building colleges and asylums, and in trying to convert the Fejee Islanders, the Hottentots, and all that, and at the same time I believe in looking after the needy in our own midst. So following out the idea, I have called frequently at one of Mr. Davis' dilapidated palaces, and have there witnessed sights that ought to melt a heart of stone ; but it doesn't affect Mr. Davis any more than it would a plaster cast of Napoleon Bonaparte. There is one family which I am particularly inter- ested in, a widow lady and her little girl. And now, by the way, I have come to what I wish to say about Mr. Davis. One day when I called, Mrs. Bradford was Col. W. Who ? Nin. Please don't interrupt me, papa. Ask your questions when I finish my story. I said Mrs. Bradford was out. I had a few oranges and buns with me, which I gave the child. The poor little sick thing cried for joy, while she told me her mother could not buy her anything like them any more, as all the money she got had to go to that man Davis, and if she did not have the money for him when he called he would scold her and swear at her, and say he would turn her into the streets. I wish he had called while I was there. I had a few words to say to him that he would have remembered for awhile. Enter Pete L. Fete. [L.] Mr. Davis is downstairs and sends his imple- ments, and 'quests a interview wid Massa Col. Wayne, Esquire. Nin. Compliments you mean, Pete. Pete. Yes, missee. Col. W. Show him up. [Pete tows and exit L.] Nin. Talk about the old gentleman and he soon appears. Mrs. W. Nina, we had better retire. Nin. Yes, I don't wish to meet the gentleman. \Exeuut Urs. Wayne and Nina R.J Enter Pete L., showing in Mr. Davis. Pete. [Bowing.} Mr. Davis, sah. [ExifL.} Dav. [L.] Colonel Wayne, I am happy to see you looking so well to-day. I often think that I see but few men of the present day who look so well. I have remarked to my son frequently, that you remind me of one of Napoleon's marshals. Col. W. [R.] Shut up such tomfoolery. What do you OUT IN THE STREETS. 7 mean by talking in that manner to me ? If you have called here on business, make it known immediately. Dav. I beg your pardon, Colonel Wayne, I humbly beg your pardon. I would not for the world offend a man that I respect as I do you. A man the world looks up to, a man whose life has been one unceasing effort to elevate his fellow man, a man who Col. W. There you go again ! You contemptible hypocrite, what do you mean what favor do you expect to gain by this fawning ? Dav. I assure you, Colonel Wayne, that I meant no flattery, but to your peculiarly sensitive nature, I see my remarks are obnoxious. I stand corrected. Col. W. You will go down corrected, too, and very quickly, I can tell you, [shakes his fist] if you repeat your offence. Proceed with your business. Dav. I am sorry to say, Colonel Wayne, that I am unpre- pared, lo-day, to pay you the usual amount. Many of my tenants have failed me, and it is impossible for me to give when I have not got it. Col. W. I am not worried so much about the money, sir, as I am about the course I have pursued in this matter. I feel guilty that I have consented to let your contemptible fawning pass unpunished. Dav. Oh, Colonel, I beg of you do not expose me. I know how kind you are what a noble man you are. Col. W. Let me hear another word ot your fulsome flattery, and rilsummon the first policeman that passes. Dav. But, Colonel, I promised to refund Col. W. Refund nothing. Don't let me hear that word again. I feel, sir, that I am a criminal, when I fail to bring a man to justice who so richly deserves it. I will not take your money ; keep it, and never enter my house again unless I send tor you. And I warn you now, that if ever you wrong me or mine, your crime will be exposed. Now leave me. [Col. Wayne points to door L., exit Davis L., exit Col. Wayne, R.] SCENE II. Apartment at the residence of Solomon Davis ; a front scene. Enter Solomon Davis, R. Dav. [Laughing.] How nicely I fooled the old Colonel. He believes that I haven't got the money ! I have, though- but I don't intend to part with it. The good-natured always get 8 OUT IN THE STREETS. imposed upon, and the Colonel is a happy, open-hearted, old gentleman. Why don't that boy come ? I was a fool for send- ing him out to collect rents ; if he gets money he may keep it, or spend it rather, for he is not to be trusted. Oh, 1 fear he is going to ruin ; and I have tried to set him an example of sobriety and uprightness, but the companions he has chosen are leading him astray. Enter Matthew Davis, quietly L., smoking a cigar. Mat. [L. C.] What are you groaning about, governor ? Dav. f R. C. | "Governor!" How does that sound ? I fear, my son, that your evil companions are last learning you to for- get the counsels of your father. They are leading you to destruc- tion. Mat. Give us a rest, old man. Day. Matthew, if ever I hear you address me again in such an unfeeling manner, I will chastise you. Mat. Well, my beloved parent, then will that suit you ? [Laughs.} I assure you that if you ever undertake that, you will want to let the job out before you get through with it. 1 never permit any such familiarity, even from a parent ; and I will just inform you now, that your moral game won't work with me I am up to some of your tricks. Day. Matthew, my boy, I can't allow this. It is terrible for a son to use such language to his father. Mat. Don't preach tome then save your sermons for your tenants, and they'll give you rent for them. Day. Heartless boy ! When I am dead and gone, you will perhaps think of your conduct to your poor old father. Mat. Just as like as not I'll never think of it again. Day. I suppose you will be glad when you see the hearse at my door. [Pretends to weep.} Mat. My dear parent, don't try to get up any dampness, it is hard work for you, and it don't have any effect on me what- ever. Day. [Angrily.} Did you see Mrs. Bradford to-day ? Mat. I did. Day. Did she give you any money ? Mat. Not a red. Day. What did she say ? Mat. She said she was unprepared, and hoped she would soon find work, and that the angels wouldn't let her little dr- ling starve, etc. Day, What did you tell her ? OUT, IN THE STREETS. 9 Mat. I told her that the story wouldn't go down with you. that there was no wash in it. Dav. You did right, my boy. Mat. Thank you. It is very gratifying to know that rny estimable parent approves of tiie course I have taken. But what do you intend to do with the woman ? Dav. Move her. Mat. Out ? Dav. Yes. Mat. In the street ? Dav. If she has nowhere else to go, yes. Mat. But she is a poor widow. Dav. I am not responsible for that. Mat. Her little girl is sick. Dav. That is no fault of mine. Mat. All right, my friend " paddle your own canoe," People think I am a hard customer, but I am not mean enough to turn a woman and her sick child out into the street to die. Dav. Matthew, I must have my money. It is for your sake I am working ; you will get it all some day. Mat. You are saving it all for me, are you ? Dav. Yes, saving it all for you, Matthew. Mat. All right, then. Let the woman have the room for six months, and charge the same to Matthew Paul Davis, Esq. Good day, governor. \Exit L.j Dav. Oh, ingratitude, ingratitude ! What a terrible thing it is to have an ungrateful child. But the woman will have to get get get ! [Exit L.J SCENE III. A room in a tenement house ; Minnie on couch asleep ; Mrs. B.adford bending over her, L. Mrs. B She sleeps, my poor weak child, the first sound sleep she has had for many weeks. Oh, how my heart ached for her last night, she moaned so piteously, as the cold chills crept over her wasted form. She smiles ; surely the angels are whispering to her of a fairer land than this for no dream of this cold, pitiless world could bring a smile to those wan lips. Poor sufferer ! Your childhood's skies have been so dark yet through it all you have never uttered one complaint. \Weeps.\ That restful slumber will soon be broken by the harsh commands of the owner of these wretched rooms, bidding us to go ! Go where ? Oh, my father, mother, would you have cast off and disowned your child, though she married one unworthy of your IO OUT IN THE STREETS. respect, could you have seen the fearful trials through which she must pass ? [Listening at door.] I hear his footsteps on the stairs ; the man without a heart is coming. [Calls.] Minnie ! Minnie ! No, I'll let her sleep such moments are the only ones in which she enjoys pure happiness. Enter Solomon Davis, door in flat. Dav. Mrs. Bradford I ahem I presume I presume you know my errand here to-day ? Mrs. B. I do. Dav. Rent, madam. You are behind, and as it is a rule oi mine to have my rent in advance, I thought I would call to-day, and have a settlement with you. Mrs. B. Mr. Davis, I cannot pay you to-day I have no money. Dav. No money ? Do you think I can afford to rent my rooms to paupers who cannot pay the rent ? Mrs. B, I have paid you all but a trifle, and to pay that at the present time is out of my power. Dav. Then you must move out. Mrs. B. Have pity, Mr. Davis. Do you see that sick child ? Dav. See her ? Yes, I see her. Mrs. B. Would you have me take that child out to die ? Dav. You are very unreasonable, Mrs. Bradford. I must have my room occupied by parties who are able to pay me your trying to throw the responsibility of your child's dying upon me, is ungenerous. Mrs. B. Ungenerous! You talk of generosity ! Dav. Madam, we need not prolong this interview. To make everything plain to you, I will just say that you can pack up what few traps you have in a few hours, but I'll give you until nine o'clock to-morrow morning to vacate this room, and if you are not out by that time, I'll get an officer to assist you. Mrs. B. 1 have no doubt of it you are cruel enough to do such an act you will be the murderer of my child. Do you think you can answer for this act to the Judge of all the earth ? Dav. Ha, ha, ha ! You are trying to frighten me. If I can't make out a clear case in the next world, you'll have the satisfac- tion oi knowing that I will have to suffer the consequences. Remember, nine o'clock to-morrow. \Exit door in flat.] Mrs. B. [Sinks sobbing beside the couch.] It is hard to suffer so. 1 do not wish to be wicked or rebellious, but my cry now is for the death angel to come, and to come qi'ickly. OUT IN THE STREETS. II Minnie. [Waking.] Oh, mamma, I dreamed such a sweet dream. I thought we went to live in the nicest house ! Mrs. B. We will soon go, darling, to a house not made with hands. [Aside.] " Out in the streets." [Embraces Minnie as the act drop descends.] ACT II. SCENE I. Street ; a snow scene ; house -with a doorstep in front. Enter Pete, R., carrying basket. Pete. Golly, 'spect I'll forget somethin.' I was gwine to write it down, and de ole man said it was no use, I couldn't read it when I did have it writ he's allus throwing up somethin' about my eddycation. Lemme see what I was to get dars bread and meat, and cheese and crackers, and nutmegs and and cheese yes I mind all ob dem. I wonder it my money's all right. [Looks at money. ~\ Yes, it's all right by golly, I've got slathers of it. "Spec dar's more'n tree thousand dollars in dat pile. Enter Matt. Davis, L. Mat. Look here, my Ethiophian friend, I'll take that money. Pete. I guess not. Mat. Come, sir, I want that money. You stole it. Pete. I didn't stole it neither. 1 guess ole Massa Wayne gib me dis money to buy some perwisions with. Mat. Look, here, are you going to give me that money ? Pete. Ob course not. I'm going to git some cheese and things, I tole you. Mat. I guess not. Now, I don't want to kill you, but if you don't give me that money immediately, there will be a dark- colored corpse found here. Pete. And you want me to be de corpse ? Mat. Yes, in a mighty short time that will happen, I can assure you. Pete. Tain't fair, so it ain't. Mat. [Produces revolver.] I see you wish to die. Pete. No, sir, I don't it's 'gin my principles. Mat. [Places revolver in Pete's face.] Now, sir, give me that money, or die. 12 OUT IN THE STREETS. Pete. Don't shoot ! Don't shoot! Here it is ; it's all yours. Mat. [Takes money. \ All right. Remember, I'm a private detective, and it won't do to trifle with me, so don't open your mouth until I am out of sight. [Exits L., keeping pointing pistol at Pete.] Pete. N'o honest man would a done dat. How am I to git dat cheese ? I guess, considerin' de circumstances, dat I won't buy no cheese, but go home. Enter Colonel Wayne, R. Col. W. Pete, you rascal, what are you loitering here ior i And where are the provisions I sent you to purchase ? Didn\ you get them ? Pete. No, massa, I didn't git 'em, and I'm just going to tell you all about it. Look dar, sah ; sah, ain't dat a nice lot ob perwisions to get with dat money ? Col. W. Why, you great dunce, there is nothing in that basket. Pete. No, and there is nothin* in my pocket, neithei. Col. W. What do you mean ? Pete. Everything was clar gone dar was a panic. Col. W. I'll make a panic about your head, sir, if you don't give a satisfactory explanation. [Shaking stick at him.] Pete. Yes, satisfaction and explanation ! I guess it is no satisfaction to me to have knives and pistols stuck in my face till I couldn't see anything else. I could a'most see de bullets startin' our ob de pistols. Col. W. Who was trying to shoot you ? Pete. I didn't ax his name ; 'spect he wouldn't tole me it I had. [Chuckles^ Col. W. What kind of a lie are you trying to tell ? Pere. Jest as true a one as you ever heard. Col. W. Yes, I suppose so. Do you pretend to say that any one robbed you to-day ? Pete Yes, sah, he did that, suah. Col. W. H^\v did any one know that you had money with you ? Pet?. Dat s what I don't know 'spect he must have been a witch or someihin.' Col. W Now, sir, I think that is about as weak a story as i ever heard. Pete. Yes, sir, I know. I felt mighty weak 'fore I got away. CoL W. You have made up that whole story you have been OUT IN THE STREETS. 13 fooling about, and lost your money. The idea of any one rob- bing you on the street in daylight is absurd. Pete. I guess I went down a street whar dar was not many walkin' around I went down dat way to see some ob de boys and when I was walkin' along sayin' nothin' to nobody, all at once a teller come up to me wid a pistol in each hand, and a knife, and he says, says he, " You have got some money that I want." and I told him that I hadn't, and he says, says he, " You have," and I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't do it, and then he remarked that there would be a dark cullud corpse to be found dar in a few minutes if I didn't give him all the money I had. If I'd had a pistol, den I'd a shot him, but I hadn't any, so he said he wouldn't wait any longer, and he com- menced to open up dem pistols to shoot me, and he stick 'em right square in my face, and when I seed the bullets a startin'to come, I guv up de money I had. 'Spect if I'd come home all shot full of holes, you'd said I was just foolin 1 round. [Snow begins to fall.} Col. W. Well, Pete, you look as if you might be telling the truth. Come along with me, and attend to your other duties. The amount was not large at any rate. You're a careless, blundering rascal for all that. [Exeunt L. Music.] Enter Mrs. Bradford and Minnie, R. Min. Can't we go to some place and warm ourselves ? Mrs. B. We could go to the station house, dear, but to take you among those wretched people, I cannot ! We must remain here, Minnie, stay here and die. Min. Oh ! I am so cold. [Sinks on doorstep. Mr3. Brad- ford wraps shawl around her.] Enter Col. Wayne and Pete, R. Pete. By golly, Massa Wayne, dar is somebody livin* hyar on the street. Col. W. What is the matter now, idiot ; some one going to rob you again ? Pete. Say, look dar, will you ? Don't dat git ye ? Col. W. What is all this ? Some one turned out ? Can it be possible a woman and child perishing in the cold in this so-called Christian city ? Pete. It 'pears so. Jist wait and let me ax dem what's de matter. [70 Mrs. B.] I say, mum, what fur ye settin' out here in the cold ? Eh ? I 'spect she's dead ; she don't say nuffin'. 14 OUT IN THE STREETS. Col. W. Stand back and let me speak to the woman. Pete. He allus wants to do ail de talkin'. Col. W. Madam, why are you here on the street ? Mrs. B. Because I have no other place to go. I can at least sit here and die. C.I. W. No, you don't ; not a bit of it. A pretty story ! A woman and child perish here from exposure ; it's preposterous ! Pete. Yes, it's 'posterous. Col. W. What are the police about ? Pete. Dat's what I say. Dem fellers am nebber around when dey's wanted. Mrs. B. On my way hither a policeman offered to take me to the station house, but I do not wish to take my child to so dreadful a place. I'll remain on this doorstep a little while longer, for this cold wind is more merciful than man. I begged of the man who turned us out to let us remain a little longer, but he refused, and now that we are out, myself and sick child, and have no place to go, I wish to be left alone, -it won't last long ; a few hours, and Minnie and I can tell our story to One who'll pity us. Col. W. Have you no relatives to whom you can apply for shelter ? Mrs. B. I have relatives, but they would not care for me, and 1 would rather die than to ask aid of them. Col. W. Madam, what is your name ? Mrs. B. Bradford, sir. Col. W. [Aside.} Bradford ; that's my sister name. [Aloud.] Bradford ? May I ask your given name ? Mrs. B. My name is Myrtle Bradford. Col. W. Myrtle Bradford ! That was my sister's name. Mrs. B. Yes, and I am that sister you once loved. I rec- ognized you the moment I saw you. You are Colonel Wayne and I am Colonel Wayne's sister. Col. W. I can't believe it. And yet the features I thought my sister Myrtle was dead. Mrs. B. Do you see that ring ? It was our mother's. I have parted with everything but that, and that I shall lose only with death. CoL W. Can it be that I find my only sister homeless, and with her child, shelterless, " out in the streets," with the piti- less snow falling on their sparsely covered limbs ? Pete. [L.] Golly, it's his sister. I jist thought the minit I seen her dat she was some relation of his, they look so mighty different. OUT i:\ TilE STREETS. 15 Col, W. Did you not know that I lived in this city ? Mrs. B. Yes, I knew it. Col. W. Then why did you not come to me ? Mrs. B. When I married Orlan Bradford my father cast me off, my brother, too, disowned me ; and a Wayne, you know, can die, but never beg. Col. W. [Holds out his hand to her, which she cheerfully takes.] My wronged sister, forgive me ! Had you known how bitter were the tears I shed when I read of your death, as I then supposed, in that far-off Southern city, you would have come to me without hesitation. Mrs. B. Do you forgive me, brother ? Col. W. There is nothing to forgive ; you are the injured one. What is your daughter's name ? Mrs. B. Minnie. Col. W. Poor little sufferer ! How hot her forehead is, even here in the cold. We must not stay here longer. Pete, what are you standing here idle for ? Take this child and let us be gone but no ; go to the corner and hail a cab, and bring it here at once. [Exit Pete, L.] Who was the cause of your being turned into the streets ? Mrs. B. His name is Solomon Davis. Col. W. Davis ! Davis ! Solomon Davis ! Mrs. B. Do you know him ? Col. W. Do I know him ? You shall know soon how well I know him. Mrs. B. Do not worry yourself about him ; let him go. Col. W. Yes, I shall when an officer of the law has him in charge ; when he cringingly kneels and begs for mercy ; then, and not till then, shall he escape me. Enter Pete, L. Pete. De carriage am ready, massa ; dis way. Col. W. Come along, Myrtle, " out of the streets," out of the snow, to a blazing fire in a cheerful home. [Music. Exeunt Col. Wayne, Mrs. Bradford and Minnie, L.] Pete. Oh, golly, ain't I happy ! For dat peppery old Colonel is a good old fellow, dat he is. [Exit L.] [SCENE II. Room at Colonel Wayne's ; centre doors ; Mrs. Wayne and Nina seated on lounge R. ; chairs L., table c.] Nin. [R.] Mamma, the servants tell me that Pete had some money stolen from him on the streets to-day. l6 OUT IN THE STREETS. Mrs. W. [R- C.j Yes, he tells a wonderful story of his troubles. How he was robbed and came near jenig shot. Your father went with him this lime to protect him. Pete. [Without L.] None ob your business whose chiid it is. Fix dat {enter Pete L-. with Minnie in his ar\- t \s\ lounge, Miss Nina ; dis chile weighs powerful for a sick chile. Mrs. W. Whose child are you bringing here ? Pete. I guess it's some relation ob ours, \futs Miimi - on lounge R., tken goes to L. and waits.\ Enter Col. Wayne and Mrs. Bradford, L. Col. W. Mrs. Wayne, Nina, I have to-day found ore who tor years we have thought to have been dead my si-ter Myrtle. Mrs. W. [L. C.] Myrtle Bradford! [They embrace,^Afi.\ kisses Minnie.] Nin. [R-J Aunt Myrtle, this is a delightful surprise. Min. [On sofa, R.] Mamma, that is Nina who was so ^ood to us. Nin. Yes, Lam the one who called to see you, but F little thought you were my cousin, Minnie. Mrs. B. [L.] Dear friends, this kind welcome ov< r\vhi-lrns me. One hour ago I gave up all hope, but now I am so happy that I cannot thank you enough. And the thought that brings me greatest happiness is that Minnie can now be en red for. Mrs. W. Colonel W r ayne, what are you thinking of? No physician called ! Send for one immediately. Col. W. [R. C.J Pete, go for Dr. Brown, and be lively. Pete. Yes, sir ; I'll do that. Nin. Pete, if Dr. Brown is not at home, bring Dr. Medfield. Pete. You'd rather Dr. Brown wouldn't be at home, eh ? Nin. Dr. Medfield is the best physician for Pete. For young folks ? Nin. Go along, you black rascal. Pete. I understand her ; she's kind o' gone after dat young feller. I guess I'll try to manage. I can fix dese things up sharp. \ExifL.] Col. W. You tell me, Myrtle, that Nina has often been to see you. Did you not know that she was my daughter ? Mrs. B. I did not. I knew her only as Miss Nina ; and now, dear Nina, I can thank you for your kindness to us. Nina. You must not thank me for only doing my duty. It was but little, but that little was a pleasure. OUT IN THE STREETS. 17 Mrs. W. Sister, the story of your life since you left this city would he of interest to us. I would not have you relate it il it would give you paii\ to bring up recollections of days tha.t you would gladly forget. Mrs. B. My life, since the hour I left my father's house, has been as a long, dreary night, how long, how dreary, none but He can know. I married Orlan Bradford, believing him to be all that was good and noble. Father, irolher, brother, all warned me, and to!d me that he was a drunkard and a gambler, but I would not listen to them. 1 soon found that he married me for my money. We went to Charleston. South Carolina. I was in a strange city among strangers. \Vhtn he learned that my father had disowned me, the demon within him auoke. It is terrible to think of the lite which 1 then led. 1 would see nothing of him tor weeks at a time, and \\hen he did come, it was only to abuse me. One night it was late, nearly morning I was \\iiitmg for him, thinking of the happy tile \\hich lied at home of the fearful one I was then enduring \\hen I heard approaching footsteps tramp, tramp, heavy and slow. They stopped ; my heart stood still. The door was thrown open, and there was Orlan, my husband dead shot through the heart in a gambling hell while drunk. They laid him upon the bed, and there, beside my dead husband, I sat the livelong n'ght. That terrible night can I ever forget it ? Morning came at last ; but with it delirium. When reason n'turned the body was gone. They had buried him out of sight, and to this day I know not where the body rests. I sold tlie tew things we had and came to this city. While I could obtain work I had money ; but Minnie became sick, I could not get work you know the rest ; how you found me " out in the streets" waiting to die. Col. W. I read in a Charleston paper of the death of a Mrs. M. Bradford ; we supposed it was you. Nin. Aunt Myrtle, your life so far has been a sad one, but we will try to make the future brighter. Minnie will sron be well, and there will be no happier home in the city than ours. Col. W. There will be no more wandering, now. Myrtle ; no more wanting for bread. And now, Mrs. Wayne, do you remember a conversation we had yesterday about Davis, that excellent gentleman ? It was no other than Solomon Davis who had my sister and her sick child turned into the street. M". W. Gin it be possible? N n. It doesn't surprise me any, mamma. I think he is nr.ean enough to do anything. 2 18 OUT IN THE STREETS. Col. W. When Pete returns I shall send for the gentleman, and have a settlement with him in full. Mrs. W. Not so loud. Remember, there is a sick child in the room. Col. W. I forgot ; and she sleeps, too. I will not disturb her ; but I shall have an interview with him that will long be remembered. I never told you why he came here so often. I have thought I would arrange a surprise for the gentleman. I want no one in the room with me when he comes, but at a signal, Myrtle, you must come in. I want to see the villain cower at my feet. Retire, all of you, for the present. Mrs. W. Why, Colonel, what do you mean ? Col. W. You will soon know. At last he will receive justice. [Exeunt Mr-. Wayne, Mrs. Bradford and Nina, c.J Col. W. Thank heaven. I have at last found my long-lost sister. Now for Solomon Davis. This time I will give him a settlement in full principal and interest. \Qxit C.J ACT III. SCENE I. Same as Scene II., Act II.; Colonel Wayne's ; Colonel Wayne seated at table, c. Col. W. I wonder if that black scoundrel will make any blunder? He should have been here before this time. Some may think it is ignoble in me to take the step I propose to ; that if I once consented to overlook a man's crime, I should be in duty bound to consider him forgiven, and not attempt to have him punished from feelings of revenge I should not have let him pass unpunished then, but he begged so piteously for mercy that I did not expose him, but suffered the loss but now, I feel that to be merciful to one who knows no mercy would be an act of injustice. Enter Pete, L. Pete. Mr. Wayne, are you at home ? Col. W. Certainly, you dumb-head can't you see ? Pete. Yes, I see, but Davis is out dar, and dat's what he wants to know. Col. W. Well, didn't you tell him I was ? I sent for him, you black blunderer. OUT IN THE STREETS. 10 Pete. Colonel Wayne, you know jist as well as I do dat people are at home sometimes when they say they ain't, and I wanted to be sartin about it in dis case. Col. W. Go and admit him. What are you standing there arguing with me for ? Pete. {Aside.'] He allus starts an argyment, and den tries to shut me up in dat way. I neber git a chance to reason wid him. Here he is come up ! Enter Davis, L. Pet3. Mr. Davis, sah ! [Exit L.] Dav. Colonel Wayne, I have failed to get here at the time you appointed, but hope I have not kept you waiting ? Col. W. [R.] Not at all, sir. Dav. [R. c.] I am sorry to disappoint any one, and Col. W. Of course ! Dav. I use every effort now to redeem myselt in your esti- mation. That one act of mine, done in a moment of desperation, has caused me many a sleepless night. Col. W. Very likely. Enter Pete, unnoticed, L., beckoning on Mrs. Bradford. Dav. It has indeed ! Oh, Colonel Wayne, I am now striving to lead a different life. I once was reckless, and I acknowledge that I sometimes did things which were wrong, that I might become rich ; until at last came that fatal hour when ruin seemed inevitable, and I committed that crime which has made my life a burden. Col. W. Yes, I have not forgotten. Dav. But I hope you will forget. I know I am unworthy but I am talking about my own affairs and have given you no time to tell me why I am summoned. Col. W. [R.] You had the reputation at one time, Mr. Davis, of being a very hard landlord one who showed but few favors to those who might be unable to pay their rent. 1 hope that your experience has taught you a lesson. Dav. [C.] It has indeed ! I trust that I am one who can feel for the unfortunate, and be charitable to all. Col. W- I suppose you are anxious to know why I sent for you to-day, and I will explain that presently. We were speak- ing about being charitable and caring for the unfortunate ; I would like to ask you what you would do if one ot your tenants, say a woman, could not pay her rent, owing to a failure to get work, or something of the kind. 2O OUT IN THE STREETS. Day. [Aside,] Has he heard ? \Aloud.} Colonel, I hope you know me well enough to know that I would say to a lady under such circumstances, " Stay right here and p;iy me when you can." Col. W. And you say that you would shelter such an unfor- tunate ! Day. I would, I assure you. CoL W. Then you are a different man from what you once were. DaY. I trust that I am a different man, and that I have broader and better views in regard to humanity. Col. W. Do you know a lady by the name of Bradford ? Day. Bradford Bradford let me see ! I think I have heard the name. Why do you ask ? Col. W. I have been informed that she was forced to leave the room she occupied, and her goods, what few she had, were tumbled into the street. Day. Can it be true ? Who could be cruel enough to com- mit such an act ? Col. W. \Sternly.'] Solomon Davis ! Day. What do you mean, Colonel ? Col. W. I mean that Solomon Davis was that man. Day. Colonel Wayne, I deny it. Col. W. You deny it, do you ? Now I will ask you if you recognize that lady behind you ? [Davis turns round and sees Mrs Bradford, standing L. c.] Day. What does this mean ? It is a plot ! Col. W. Don't lie ! It will not help your case. Do you know this lady ? Answer at once. Day. I do. Col. W. Is not her name Bradford ? Day. I believe so. Col. W. She occupied a room in one of your houses ? Day. She did. Col. W. You turned her out ? Pete. [Aside.'] Do ole man's gittin' Davis' evidence a little mixed on de cross-examination. Day. I did ! But why is she here to confront me ? What is this woman to you ? CoL W. You will soon learn. Did not this woman have a sick child ? Day. She did. Col. W. And did she not beg of you to let her stay, stating that the exposure on the streets would kill that child ? OUT IN THE STREETS. 21 Dav. She did. Col. W. And yet you turned them out? [Davis does not answer.] Pete. [Aside.} He objects. Dat's a leadin' question. Col. W. Now, I will inform you why this lady interests me she is my sister. Dav. No ! Col. W. Yes ! Do you dispute my word ? Dav. No, no -only I cannot understand. Col. W. It is enough for you to know that she is my sister and as you have dealt with her, so am I about to deal with you. Dav. Oh, Colonel Wayne, forgive me you will forgive me, Mrs. Bradford ? Ikl s. B. [L. c.] I can forgive you all the injury you have done me, but when I remember that you were willing to sacrifice my child's life for a little money, I cannot so easily forgive, Dav. But I am sorry, Mrs. Bradford ; I will do all 1 can to Col. W. Silence ! You know, Solomon Davis, that you forged my name for five thousand dollars. You begged so piteously and claimed you were nearly crazy, and I let you off, losing the money. Now when my sister begged of you to give her shelter a little longer, you refused, you turned her out. Now I shall deal with you in a like manner your crime shall be exposed. An officer awaits my call. Dav. He does, eh ? I'll not be taken. [Attempts to escape.} Enter Policeman, L. Pol. [Puts hand on Davis' shoulder.] Solomon Davis, 1 arrest you for the crime of forgery. Dav. I'll make you rue this, Colonel Wayne. Pol. No remarks, sir. You are my prisoner ! Enter Matt Davis, L. Mat. [L.] Hello, gov, what's this rumpus about ? Dav. It's a plot. Mat. A put up job, eh ? Well, I'll see about it. Pete. Say, Massa Wayne, dat is de fellah dat took de money from me. Col. W. Are you sure of it ? Pete. Yes, I'll swear it on all de Bibles in de city. 22 OUT IN THE STREETS. Col. W. Policeman, arrest that man. Mat. [Draws revolver.] No you don't, old blubber. [Pis- tol misses fire.} Pete. [Presents horse pistol.} Ah, ha ! Didn't go off, did it ? Now look out ! {Closed in.] SCENE II. A front street. Enter Pete. L. Pete. I guess I got de spider's webs all cleaned off ob de old place, and if Missus Bradford an' dat chile don't have snug quarters, it won't be my fault. I 'most worked myself to death too, and I wouldn't a done it for nobody else, either ; but dat family jist seems like my own. De old Kernel and me found 'em, and ob course Ise willin' to help "em. De old Kernel understands how I feel on de subjict, for de udder day he says to me, " Pete, you can go an" live wid Myrtle, an' see to t'ings, an' lay in perwisions, "an" I'm a gwine to do it. [Takes out horse pistol.} Dar is dat pistol, and if anybody tries to take my money away from me now, he's a dead man, suah ! De ole Kernel feels bad about my leavin" him ; says it seems like partin' wid one ob de family, but it is my duty to go where dey need me de wust. Poor ole Davis he went to de tenipentiary yes- terday dat ends his chapter. He kind o' hated to go, but dey persuaded him. I wonder whar dat child is it's about time dem folks was comin' roun' dis way. Dar comes dat young one, now, as lively as a grasshopper. [Exit R.] SCENE III. The old Wayne homestead as before; six months later. Enter Minnie, R., followed by Pete. Min. Pete, do you know we're going to live here, mamma and I? Pete. Golly ! I know dat dis long time. Min. In this very house ? Pete. [R-] Of course I know'd dat. I know'd your mamma lived here when she was no bigger'n you be. Min. [L.] You did ? Pete. Yes, I know'd most all de folks around here. Min. Why, I thought you used to live in North Carolina. Pete. Yes, I used to live in de old Norf State. Min. And uncle Wayne said you had been with him three years. OUT IN THE STREETS. 23 Pet. Yes. Min. Then how did you know my mother when she was no larger than I am ? Pete [Confused.] Hey ? Why, say did you know that I am going to live with you ? Min. No. Pete. Yes. I'm gwine to stay here. But say, little one, where is your mammy, and your uncle, and de rest ? Min. Oh, they are coming ; they have been around almost everywhere, and mamma says everything looks as it did long ago. Pete. I jist bet it does, "cause I fixed 'em up. Hello, here dey come ? [Goes up a little.} Enter Col. Wayne, Mrs. Bradford and Mrs. Wayne, R. Col. W. [L. C. to Minnie.] Ah, so you are here, are you, little one ? Min. [L.j Yes, sir, Pete and I were waiting here for you. Pete. \Up stage.] Yes, we's waitin' till de " Conquerin' Nero comes." Col. W. Pete. I think you are getting to be a greater fool every day. Pete. I confess, Kernel, dat the company a man keeps makes an impression on him. Col. W. If it were possible, I would m;ike an impression on your head. Does the old place look familiar, Myrtle ? Mrs. B. [R. C.] It does, indeed ! Dear old home ! Every- thing looks so good, so like the old home of my chilclhoorl. And there is mother's old arm-chair, the chair she sat in the night I left home ; little did either of us think that it was the last time we should see each other. Enter IJina and Dr. Medfield, R. Col. W. You were always in her mind, Myrtle, for every day .she talked about you, and her last words were, " I am go- ing to meet my darling Myrtle," for she thought you dead. [Mrs. Bradford weeps.} Pete. \Solemnly to Minnie, coming down L. corner.'] I bet your grandmudder was disappointed when she got to de prom- ised land. Mia.. Why, Pete, what do you mean ? Pete 'Cause your mudder wasn't there. Col. W. I have told you, Myrtle, how father relented and forgave you before he died how much happier he would have 24 OUT IN THE STREETS. been could you have come back to him. But they are both gone. Here is the old homestead ; it is yours, the papers conveying it to you are in the hands of my attorney the sum of money left to your credit, will suffice to keep the wolt from the door while you may need it, and leave a snug little sum there for Sunbeam. Mrs. B. How thankful I am that at last Minnie and I have a home. Dr. M. Colonel Wayne, I find that two who have been inmates of your home for the last six months, have this day found a home of their own; now I ask you to permit one who has thus iar spent her life beneath your roof, to share a home with me ; I ^ave her consent, we await yours. Col. W. Dr. Medfield I why I declare, sir Pete. May de good Lord shower blessin's onto ye. Col. W. Pete, you rascal, what do you mean ? Pets. Everybody says somefin' on "casions ob dis kind. Col. W. Well, sir, I'll speak (or myself. Dr. Medfield, I re- spect you, but when it comes to letting that girl leave, why Nin. Papa, what is the use of refusing, you know I will do as I please. Col. W. We'll see. Do you all want to leave me at once ? Myrtle and Minnie leave, and now Nina. Pete. Yes, I'm goin', too. Col. W. I suppose my wife will go next. Mrs. W. That would be useless you would be sure to fol- low me. Dr. M. Colonel, I am aware that you have known me but a short time, yet I trust Col. W. Do not commence an eloquent speech here. I know you well enough wait four or five years, and I'll not object. Nin. My dear papa, remember I have a word to say about waiting four or five years. Pete. I know I wouldn't wait dat long if I was her ; if he didn't say "yes," I'd jist evacuate. Mrs. B. Brother, you have made two hearts happy ; continue in the good work. Mrs. W. Dr. Medfield, you do not know Colonel Wayne as well as I do he means " yes" whether he says so or not. Pete. Dat ends de chapter it jist takes Mrs. Wayne to settle things in a hurry. Col. W. It beats all ! A man is no more head of the family nowadays ! Woman take sole control. If a man must sub- mit, he had better do so gracefully so take her, doctor, but be patient with her faults she is very dear to us, and we feel in OUT IN THE STREETS. 2$ giving her to you, that we are parting from our greatest earthly treasure. I am getting to be an old man, and to see those whom I love leave my hearth makes me sad. My sister, who has been away from me so long, and that little one who has won a place in my heart, and then my daughter, all going Pete. Kernel, if you is lonesome when dey is all gone, den I'll go and stay wid ye. Col. W. Such unparalleled kindness overpowers me. Mrs. B. Brother, we are not leaving you we will all be near you, but each of us will have a home of our own, and who can be more thankful for that than they who have been homeless upon the streets. Pete. I jist want to say one word more about dis t'ing ob home. I hab felt about as happy as a man can feel widout hurtin" him, 'cause dese folks was gittin' a home ; but de ole Kernel dar, stirred up some feelin's dat I thought was gone. Dar was an ole home in Norf Car'lina dat is now gone. My ole mammy's sleepin' byde Tar ribber some ob her boys are dead, and some ob "em are like me, kind o* scattered and when you talk about breakin' up ole homes, it hits me. Col. W. I must say, Pete, you have more feeling than I gave you credit for remember kindly an old mother, and love your home, however humble. We must separate, and leave Myrtle in the old home, where we hope the future may be all sunshine. The dark clouds have all passed away, and With love and with honor may ever we meet. The dear ones we found there, OUT IN THE STREET. Nina. Dr. M. Mrs.W. Col. W. Mrs. B. Minnie. Pete. F. R. c. c. L. c. L. CURTAIN. Who Wouldn't Be Crazy By KATHARINE KAVANAUGH Comedy in three acts. Eight men, eight women. Time, two and one-half hours. Scene: One simple exterior. This extraordinarily gay farce is as new and smart and frivolous as the latest Paris hat, and as old in its appeal as love and laughter; and is admirably suited to high schools and church societies. Speedy Marshall, who has high-powered cars and air- planes to play with, while evading traffic cops, gets him- self interned in an asylum for mild mental cases. His father decides to let him stay there to cure him of his speed mania. Then Lois Meredith trips across the scene, followed by her bevy of society girls who are planning an entertainment for the inmates. Events thereupon* take an unexpected turn it's Speedy who turns them and exciting action follows, fast and furious. We mention only a jewel robbery and a kidnaping. The interest is tense, each act works up to a splendid climax, and there are clever lines galore. The parts are excellent in their distribution and ap- peal. Speedy himself, the lovely Lois, the appealing Evelyn, the three mischievous debs, Inmates I and II apparently eccentric, hugely funny, and not a little mys- terious when no one is around. And Pluribus, the col- ored boy, is in love with Pendie, his chocolate-colored angel, though he doesn't get much peace when McCaf- ferty, the hard-boiled traffic cop, is looking for Speedy. Some of the attractive parts are excellently adapted to those who are interested in dramatics, but who can give only a small amount of time to study and rehearsal. A success as soon as published, this play has broken all records in winning instant popularity. Everyone's crazy about it and who wouldn't be! Professional rights re- served. Royalty for each amateur performance, $10.00. Price, 50 cents. The Dramatic Publishing Company CHICAGO, ILLINOIS Ill Explain Everything By CLARK WILLARD Comedy in three acts. Five men, five women. Time, two and one-quarter hours. Scene: One simple interior. Henry, the very likable cashier of a bank in a small town, tries to crawl out of an awkward-looking situa- tion by telling a tactful fib; and in a moment of mad- ness calls on a trusted friend, Scott, to help him out. Scott takes it upon himself to explain everything and oh ! the riot that follows ! Domestic bombs begin to burst in the air, and as explanation follows explanation, mirthquakes shake the house with laughter! For each explanation involves poor Henry just a little deeper. The parts are all good, including Henry's pretty wife who has plenty to say and says it; a girl cousin who has even more to say, for the various explanations have almost wrecked her romance; a girl of mystery; a lisp- ing sister; an amusing woman doctor who twists Henry's spine and at the same time almost twists his life out of joint; a rising young advertising man, who certainly "rises" to the attempts to explain everything; a dignified trust official ; and an Englishman who isn't too bright, perhaps, but is assuredly funny! And woven into the play are various romances, absurd complications, and the best contrived stage business we have seen in many a long day. Professional rights reserved. Royalty for each amateur performance, $10.00. Price, 50 cents. The Dramatic Publishing Company CHICAGO, ILLINOIS Amusin' Susan A RURAL COMEDY By CAROL MCMILLAN REID Comedy in three acts. Six men, eight 'women. Scene: One interior. Here's a rural play that deals with the modern farm, with its automobiles, radios, pure-bred stock, and young people who feel the lure of the big city. Sue, a farm- house flapper, has felt the influence of the city, and dreams that a gay, exciting life awaits her there. And so she scorns her country lover, Perry Martin, and turns to a society man from the city. But a series of events that shows her the spirit of Perry Martin also reveals to her what is happening in her own heart, and she learns the difference between the shoddy lure of the city and the enduring appeal of country life, the differ- ence between the false thing and the real thing. Such is the story that is set against a background of rollicking good fun that goes with a barn-raising and a barn dance, with Hy Jinks, the carpenter; Venus, the fat girl, in love with love; Pa Banks and Ma Banks; a couple of country kids up to all sorts of pranks; a city debutante, a country fiddler, and others. All the parts are good, exceptionally well drawn and true to life, and the whole play is rare good fun combined with a sound message that goes home to every heart. Profes- sional rights reserved. Royalty for each amateur per- formance, $10.00. Price, 50 cents. The Dramatic Publishing Company CHICAGO, ILLINOIS Successful One Act Plays A COURT COMEDY By MARJORIE BENTON COOKE That royal scamp, King Charles II, haughty Lady Stuart, and lovable, irresponsible Nell Gwynne form the cast of one of the brightest, most delightful comedies Miss Cooke has ever writ- ten. Stunning when played in costume, it has also scored bril- liant successes when played in modern clothes, as is often done now with this type of play. Originally this was one of the plays in Dramatic Episodes, but in response to requests from all parts of the country, it has been issued in separate form. One man, two women. No royalty required. Price, 35 cents HOUSEHOLD HINTS By WEARE HOLBROOK A farcical sketch about the efforts of a girl to capture a hus- band by proving to him how profitably she can follow the Household Hints column. She shows with great pride her rustic chair on which the young man tears his trousers. And that gives her a chance to mend the trousers with her new glue. Which she does and _with such dire results that the young man is in a bad way indeed, until he at last most wit- tily extricates himself from the household. Every line sparkles. Twenty minutes of excellent fun 1 For two men and two women. No royalty required. Price, 35 cents WHEN LOVE IS YOUNG By MARJORIE BENTON COOKE Two mothers scheme to bring about the engagement of their respective son and daughter by seeming to oppose the match ; and a provocative scene results, alive with clever lines. An unexpected turn at the end adds just the right touch to the romantic conclusion. Originally printed only in Dramatic Episodes, this is now available in separate binding. Three women, one man. No royalty required. Price, 35 cents THE DUCHESS BOUNCES IN By LUCY KENNEDY BROWN The funniest of pantomimes, for from six to nine charac- ters, but with a cast flexible enough to allow almost any pro- portion of men and women. The pantomime is arranged as a talking movie, with the Announcer doing the loud-speaking while Lady Vera and Reginald and the Duke AND the Duchess ! act out the words of the Announcer in the funniest fashion known to stunt-makers. Easily put on, this is excel- lent for an impromptu evening, for stunt-night, or for a hilari- ous half-hour on a program. No royalty required. Price, 35 cents TWO TABLES OF BRIDGE By LUCY KENNEDY BROWN A clever comedy offering which gives a pleasant satire on some of the foibles of bridge-players, and which will be en- joyed as much by those who play as by those who don't The comedy and satire are woven about the attempt of a young bride to entertain the bridge club for the first time, with a very new and very difficult maid to help her. The local social dictator, Mrs. Pruitt, tries to high-hat the bride and make things miserable for her; but at the last the tables are turned upon Mrs. Pruitt most effectively. The play is alive with witty lines and shrewd observations. For nine women. No royalty required. Price, 35 cents MANNERS AND MODES By MARJORIE BENTON COOKE Women in a hatshop, trying on hats. All sorts of women, and all sorts of hats ! Some of the hats are all right, and so are some of the women. Some of the hats are not all right, and some of the women are funny, to say the least. This is one of Miss Cooke's most actable plays. Easy to put on, yet far more effective than many elaborate efforts. For nine women. No royalty required. Price, 35 cents THE GHOST IN THE BOARDING SCHOOL By OLGA STEINER Three boarding school girls learn that a new girl is about to arrive. Irritated by hearing the newcomer overpraised, they decide to give her a good scare. But the new girl, overhearing their plans, makes a few of her own and when they all get to working on each other a fine panic follows. This play, ex- ceptionally easy to memorize, can be prepared with little effort, yet gives the maximum in good fun. For five women. No royalty required. Price, 25 cents IN THE SPRING A YOUNG MAN'S FANCY By WILL RANSOM SMITH Five girls are seeing Paris with their chaperon. Dicky, one of their old set at home, arrives in Paris and comes to call on them. Without being particularly aware of it, he proposes to each one in turn. When the girls discover what has hap- pened, they plan a revenge in which the punishment fits the crime. Any girl would love to have one of the seven delight- ful and well-balanced parts in this play ; and the part of Dicky is often played by a woman. For seven women and one man. Royalty, $5.00. Price, 25 cents Successful Non-Royalty Plays PA'S PICNIC Rural play in 2 acts, by Adelaide H. Wyeth ; 6 men, 8 women (many more as desired). Time, 2 hours. Scene: Two exteriors. Pa tries to show his daughter's college friends some fun and suc- ceeds in a way he didn't plan. Price. 35c. THE SILENT DETECTIVE Drama in 3 acts, by Effie W. Merriman; 6 men, 7 women. Time, 3*/2 hours. All the parts are strong in their dramatic tangle of hearts and purposes. Price, 35c. Six SHARPS, ONE FLAT Drama in 4 acts, by Gaylord and Sanders ; 9 women, 6 men. Scene : One interior. Six girls face the world together. A bright play, universally approved. Price, 3Sc. TREASURE ISLAND Dramatization in 5 acts of Stevenson's novel, by Beulah Cham- berlain ; 14 men, 1 woman (which may be taken by a man). Time, an entire evening. This play keeps all the thrills of the story. Price,' 35c . UNCLE BEN DRAKE Comedy-drama in 4 acts, by Mrs. J. C. Fiffield; 7 men, 4 women. Time, 2 l /2 hours. Scene: Two easy interiors. Uncle Ben captures every community where he appears. Price, 3Sc. WATCH MY SMOKE Comedy-drama in 3 acts, by Katharine Kavanaugh ; 7 men, 4 women. Time, 2}4 hours. A comedy of love gets involved with mystery and an exciting time is had by all 1 Price, 35c. WHAT BECAME OF PARKER Farce-comedy in 4 acts, by Maurice Hageman ; 8 men, 4 women. Time, 2 l /t hours. A sober business man tries to outwit his wite but she outwits him, until he disappears. Then ? A satisfying play. Price, 3Sc. FOUR-LEAVED SHAMROCK Irish comedy in 3 acts, by C. J. Hamilton ; 3 men, 4 women. Time, \ l /2 hours. This heart-stirring comedy is a sweet play of old Ireland. Price, 2Sc. THE GAYRUSANS' LEGACY Drama in 3 acts ; 13 women, 8 men, 3 children. Time, 2 hours. A philosophizing washwoman inherits a thousand dollars. Romantic and intensely human. Price, 35c. HICK'RY FARM Comedy drama in 2 acts. 6 men, 2 women, Time, lyi hours. A charming play of rural life, on the order of "The Old Homestead." Price, 35c. KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN, OR ST. PATRICK'S EVE Irish play in 4 acts. 12 men, 4 women. Time, 2% hours. One of the most popular Irish plays ever written, with strong and con- trasting parts. Price, 25c. Successful Non-Royalty Plays HURLEY'S RANCH Drama in 3 acts, by Anthony E. Wills; 10 men, 4 women. Scene : One interior. Cowboys, soldiers, Indians good fun and high romance. Price, 35c. CHEERFUL LIAR Farcical comedy in 3 acts, by John A. Fraser. Characters, 5 men, 3 women. Plays 2 hours. A Cheerful Liar makes cheer for all. A standard comedy that always succeeds. Price, 35c. CORINNE OF THE ClRCUS Romantic comedy-drama in 3 acts, by Katharine Kavanaugh ; 5 men, 2 women and extras. Time, 2 hours. -The rings of the circus roll through country lanes to the Ring of Romance. Price, 35c. COUSIN GENE Comedy in 3 acts, by Grace Delaney Goldenburg; 11 men. Time, 2 hours. College boys, disguised as women, raise a rumpus of fun and comic love-making. Price, 35c. A CRAZY IDEA Comedy in 4 acts, by Maurice Hageman; 10 men, 8 women. Time, 2 l /i hours. Scene: One interior. A rooming house is visited by a cyclone of roomers and complications. Price, 3Sc. DIAMOND CHIP Ranch play in 4 acts, by Katharine Kavanaugh; 11 men, 4 women. Time, 2 hours. An excellent blend of tense situations, pathetic scenes, rollicking comedy. Price, 35c. LONESOME MILE Western comedy-drama in 2 acts, by George M. Rosener ; 7 men, 2 women. Time, 1J4 hours. Scene: One simple interior. A pow- erful romantic drama with crooks, comedy and Clorinda ! Price, 3Sc. MERRY COBBLER Comedy-drama in 4 acts, by J. A. Fraser; 6 men, 5 women and children. Time, 1J4 hours. An easy play for amateurs, dramatic and human. Price, 35c. THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN Comedy in 2 acts, by Maurice Hageman ; 4 men, 3 women. Time, 2 hours. Scene : One interior. Three pairs of newly- weds and a cranky Uncle. Nuf sed ! Price, 3Sc. A MODERN ANANIAS Farcical comedy in 3 acts, by J. A. Fraser ; 4 men, 4 women. Time, 3 hours. Scene: One interior; one exterior. Behold Ly- sander Prince of Liars ! making trouble for others and more for himself. Price, 3Sc. A NOBLE OUTCAST Drama in 4 acts, by J. A. Fraser; 4 men, 3 women. Time, 3 hours. Scene : One exterior ; 2 interiors (often merely indicated by rearrangements of furniture). Often called the best play for ama- teurs. Intensely interesting. Price, 35c. NUGGET Western play in 4 acts, by C. Ulrich ; 7 men, 3 women. Time, 2 l /t hours. Full of unexpected ups and downs, tears and laughter. Price, 3Sc. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A 000033108 2 PLAYS and Entertainments E keep constantly in stock not only the hundreds of plays on our own list, but also a comprehensive and up-to-the- minute collection of the plays and entertainments of all publishers. This includes plays of every variety from ten- minute sketches up to full-length plays, both with and icithoitt royalty, with a cast to fit your need, whether that be for a play for all women or all men or for a mixed cast. Our stock is espe- cially strong in its list of monologues for women, as well as for men, and includes an excellent selection of readings. It is our steadfast policy to keep the prices on all of these at the lowest point possible, and to give you quick and willing service. Send for our catalogue, which lists hundreds of plays, giving details of cast, sets, etc., together with a helpful synopsis of each play that will be of great aid in selecting the material best suited to your needs. Remember that we can supply you with any play or book in print. The Dramatic Publishing Company CHICAGO