French's International Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and th? United States) Edition of the Works of the Best Authors.
No. 59.
May Blossom
H Cometh in jfour Bets

BY
DAVID BELASCO

Copyright, 1883, by David Belasco
CAUTION :—Professionals and Amateurs are hereby notified that this play is fully copyrighted under the existing laws of the United States Government, and nobody is allowed to do this play without first having obtained permission of Samuel French.

„ c . 30 C vuV 1
PRICE, 25 CENTS.
New York SAMUEL FRENCH
publisher
London SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 26 Southampton Street,MAY BLOSSOiM
a Cornet^ in jfour Hcts
FT
DAVID BELASCO
Copyright, 1883, by David Belasco
Caution :—Professionals and Amateurs are hereby notified that this play i = fully copvrighted under the existing laws of the Unit.-d States Government, and nobody is allowed to do this play without first having obtained permission of Samuel French.
New York	London
SAMUEL FRENCH	SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd.
publisher .	26 Southampton Street,
28-30 WEST 38th STREET	STRANDOAST OF CHARACTERS.
First Produced at the Madison Square Theatre, April 12th, 1885.
Original Cast1
May Blossom................... Georgia Cayvan.
Tom Blossom.................... Benj. Maginley.
Steve Harland................. Jos. Wlieelock.
Richard Ashcropt............. Walden Ramsay.
"Uncle" Bartlett............ "VV.J. Le Moyne.
Owen Hathaway............... Thos. Whiffen.
Captain Drummond............. Henry Talbot.
Yank........................... Master Tommy Russell.
Lulu........................... Little Belle.
Deborah....................... Mrs. Thos. Whiffen.
Hank Bluster.................. King Hedley.
Hiram Sloane.................. Jos. Fiankau.
Eph............................. I. N. Long.
Millie.......................... Etta Hawkins,
Little May..................... Carrie Elbert.
The 100th performance took place July 21st, and the 150th performance Sept. 9th, 1885.ACT I.
Hcizon drop.
Set waters.
C Pail ol water.
i. Wood wings: ?. Stump; 7. Sand; 4 Cottage; 5. Door: 6. Steps; 7. Bench
ACTS II. AND III.
Window.	Bay window.
6. Fireplace; 7. Dresser; S. Tables.
ACT IV.
Woods drop.
Cut woods.
Wood wingf-
O Set tree. Loft.	O Stomp.
Wood wings.MAY BLOSSOM.
ACT I.
Scene.—Coast of Chesapeake Bay, Hampton Roads, Va. Water and rocks at back. Tom Blossom's house with porch and steps, l. 2 e. Two fishermen discovered looking off to sea. Chorus of fishermen without, Tom enters on porch.
Hiram. Ah, Tom. Tom. How d'ye?
Hiram. Looks as though we're going to have a quiet night for fishin' arter all.
Tom. (on porch, l. 2 e.) Maybe, can't tell for sure. Old marm weather is like a spirited girl o' sixteen. Dunno when she's likely to kick up a squall and upset things generally. (puts coat and hat up at back of cottage)
Owen. (without) Hallo! Hallo! Hallo! (enter Owen, l. u. e. hurriedly, out of breath) Say, boys, where are ye? Hiram!
Hiram, (half rises) What is it, Owen? Owen, (down c., wiping the perspiration from his face. Catching his breath) Nes! A battle at Big Bethel! Tom. No!
Owen. Here. I got all the particulars. (N. B. Every person on the stage must be busily engaged doing something; some mending nets; others smoking, talking, etc. "When Owen speaks the line " A battle at Big Bethel," they instantly stop and look toward him, as if eagerly waiting to hear the particulars.)
Hiram, (rising and putting lighted pipe in his pocket —bus. of burning him, etc.) Ye have? Owen. Latest, too. (all surround him) Hiram. No.
Owen, (same voice) Yes, got it here, (takes newspaper from his pocket and carefully unfolds it) Tom. A newspaper?
Owen. Jes' so. Look at it. (holds paper up with great pride. All near Owen) 56
MAY BLOSSOM.
Tom. (hand on chin) Well—quite a curiosity in these ere times.
Hiram. So it is. (all press fonvard)
Owen. (keeping them, back with l. hand) Don't come near it. Ye might rumple it. See. That's the place where all the news is. (all look anxiously to where he points)
Owen. (offering paper) Read it out loud, Tom. Let's hear about the fight.
Omnes. Yes, read it out, Tom.
Tom. (looks at him for a second, feels in pockets, then scratches his head) Can't just now. Lef my specs inside. If I go in for 'em, Sis Deb'll raise Cain. She thinks I went down to the fishery 'bout an hour ago. Read it yourself, Owen.
Omnes. Yes, read it, Owen.
Owen. (same bus. as Tom.) Can't. (winks at Hiram) Hum, baby smashed my specs agin the stove this mornin' an' knocked both glasses clean out.
Tom. Sho! Don't say! (after a glance at others) I 'spec none of ye have got your specs long with ye,, have ye? (Hank, r. Tom, l.)
Omnes. (shaking their heads) Nary spec.
Tom. What we're going to do about it, eh? (all look wistfully at newspaper) Would like to know the p'ticulars. There's gun-boats and iron-clads all around us, yet here everything's going on as if nothin' was wrong, '(studies newspaper)
Hiram. I tell ye what.
Tom. What?
Hiram. Let's get Unc' Bartlett to read it. He alius carries his specs along 'er him. Come—a all start to go. Hiram puts stool back of hut)
Deb. (in house) May! May! (all go up shore)
Tom. Sis Deb's a comin'. (hides behind pump) Don't say nothin'. She'll be hoppin' if she knows I'm still here, (with a warning gesture) Sh! keep quiet! (goes to back of hut—sits on stool)
Deb. (appears on porch, l. 2 e.) Where is May? Where is May? Good afternoon, folks. (Owen crosses to r.)
Omnes. Good afternoon.
Deb. Nigh onto five o'clock and May's been gone since morning, (sigh) Just like 'er bro' Tom. (smothered laugh) Always gossipin' and chatterin' away the time. I'll give her a piece o' my mind when she comes home, an' Bro' Tom, too, for spilin' her. (cat noise, l. 2 e. TomMAY BLOSSOM.
1
moves uneasily; noise in house. Deb. knocks basket off porch onto Tom's head) Well, if that cat ain't up on the table mong the pi s! That all come o' that girl being away. Sck! Sck! (noise inside) Scatt! !! (seizes broc.n and runs inside. Others have exchanged places with Tom. Smothered laugh at exit of Deb. Loud laugh.)
Hiram, (r. c., laughingly) Tom! Ye owe a heap to that ere cat.
Tom. (l., coming fonoard) I reckon I do. I reckon I do.
Owen, (r., impatiently) Tom, ef yer comin'—come!
Tom. (glancing off r.) Say, Owen. (Owe?* crosses to him) 'Spose when you're finished ye leave the paper with Sis Deb. May can read the news to me when I come back, and May can read, ye know. (r. and r. c.)
Hiram, (c.) 'Deed she can. She writes all my letters to my boy Norman up at Richmond.
Owen. An' she can read a letter, too. Bless her little heart. Read! She can read like an angel.
Hiram. Here comes th' boss. (enter Richard Ash-croft, r. 4 e.)
Rich. Boys, you're wanted at the fishery, right away, lively now, all of you.
Omnes. Ay, ay, boss. (exeunt, r. 4 e.)
Rich, (to Hiram) Hiram, seen Eph anywhere?
Hiram. No, sir.
Rich. Strange, I haven't seen him since last night. (aloud) If you do see him, tell him to be on hand at six o'clock.
Hiram. Ay, ay, sir. (exit, r.)
Rich. I must reach Gen. McGruder to-night, or my information will be too late. (Tom across r.) Ah, Tom. (pause for bus.) Where are you going?
Tom. Down to mend the nets. Seen my girl about anywhere?
Rich. (l. c., hesitating) Yes—I saw her on the beach about an hour ago.
Tom. Ye did? Thank ye. (aside) Steve Harland got back this morning, and I reckon she went without letting any o' us know, jes' to get the first look at him. (delighted) It's a comin'. I know it.
Rich, (up l., aside) A good opportunity for me to speak to him about May. (with much firmness) I'll tell him everything, (aloud} Tom, May is getting to be quite a woman now.
Tom. So Sis Deh says. You noticed it, too? Yes,8
MAY BLOSSOM.
May's getting along right smart—quite a woman e'en a most.
Rich. And a very handsome woman, too.
Tom. (laughingly) You've noticed that, too, have ye? You're not the only one. She's a mighty good looking girl now, ain't she?
Rich. You must be very proud of her, Tom.
Tom. Proud! It makes my life worth living to look at her pretty face an' listen to the ripples of her voice. Proud? She's the sunshine of my old heart, sonny.
Deb. (insicle) Scat! (cat noise, l. 2 e., in house) Scat!
Rich, (aside) And my promised wife. (r. h.) I —I—want to—to-
Deb. (inside) Scat! Scat!
Tom. I'd better be off. That cat has kinder upset Sis Deb. (laughs) She thinks I'm on the beach, and the nets nigh onto finished. (more noise in the house) Good day, boss, good day. (exits, b. 3 e.)
Rich. I will see May to-night and tell her all and get it off my mind.
(Enter Unca Bartlett, l. 3 e. The preacher of Hampton village. He is about fifty years of age.)
Hiram. Here's Unca Bartlett now. (down r.) Good arternoon, Unca Baitlett.
Unca -B. (down to c.) Arternoon, Hiram, glad to see you. Glad to see you. Say, have you seen Miss Deborah Blossom this afternoon?
Hibam. (quite innocently) I seed her fo' dinner, talkin' to Owen Hathaway.
Unca B. W-h-a-t! He—He's not the sort of man for Miss Deborah Blossom to waste her time with. He— I'm sorry to say it—but he's a drinkin' man, he is. I— I—I—don't object when it's taken as a medicine, or— or—when your feet are wet or cold—or when you're going to be out in the raw air a long time.
Hibam. (coming down—without any effort) Have you been out long in the raw air to-day, Unca Bartlett?
Unca B. (c.—awkward pause) W-e-e-1, I've been over a great deal of ground this morning, that's a fact. (Hiram hands black bottle) What is this?
Hibam. Medicine for ole Dad Haliburton.
Unca B. Ah! (hands bottle back) I'm feeling very well to-day,
Hiram. 'Fraid of it?MAY BLOSSOM.
9
Unca B. It's floored many a stronger man than me.
Hiram. They all say it's first-class.
Unca B. Well, I'll take it—(Hiram offers bottle quickly—Unca B. puts it aside gently with his hand) on hearsay. (laughs) No, Hiram, you don't catch me tying my tongue up with that stuff. I want to keep my tongue loose so as to scold you fellers for drinking it.
Hiram. Well, you've just laid us out a good many times, Unca Bartlett.
Unca B. I haven't laid you out as many times as that has. Look here, when I was only knee-high to a grasshopper, my good old father used to sing—
'Tis drinking wears your soul away— And damps the best of leather;
And bores your pockets full of holes— And makes your head a feather.
Then I will drink no whiskey neat. Nor brandy from the cellar—
I want to trust to both my feet, I walk on good strong leather.
Hiram. (after song) That's a good song, Unca Bartlett.
Unca B. There's a heap of philosophy in those words; but, to sing it well, a man ought to be in good voice.
Hiram. Or in good liquor. (Bartlett with a good-natured chuckle—both laugh)
Owen. (calls outside, r. 2 e.) Boys—hey—boys!
Hiram, (picking up net and crossing to r. 2 e. ) Owen's a singing out for me. I must take this h'yar net and go down to the sho' as fast as I can.
Unca B. Going fishing?
Hiram. Well, yes, try 'em a little. Signs o' big haul to-night, Unca Bartlett.
Unca B. What luck are ye havin'? Macerel running pretty well now, ain't they?
Hiram. Well, yes, purty lively. Good arternoon, Unca Bartlett. (picks up oars. Exits, r. 3 e.)
Unca B. Good arternoon, boys, good luck to ye. (looking after them) It does my old heart good to be amongst them. (turns and looks at cottage, l.) I wonder if Miss Deborah's at home. (peers through door) Yes. There she is. (admiringly) There's something about Miss Deborah that I like. (laughs) Every time I leave the meeting-house, I find myself right in Iront10
MAY BLOSSOM.
of Tom Blossom's door. (seriously) If I go out into the field to look after my old mule, I'm bound to come face to face with Miss Deborah. Wonder what causes that feeling? It's been troubling me a long time, and ■—I reckon I'll speak to her about it. I will. (arranges himself and exits into house, l. 2 e.)
(Chorus of fishermen outside, r. 2 e. Captain Hammond enters in civilian's dress, l. u. e.—crosses to k. 2 e.)
Ham. So the fishermen are just starting out. That's fortunate. We can secure this man Ashcroft without making a disturbance. He'll find that entering our lines and carrying information to the enemy's camp is not so safe an occupation as he imagines. For a month I've been trying to find out who he was. Everything points to Ashcroft. My men are close at hand. The gunboat lies just behind the bend—if he attempts to cross to-night-
(Music, pp.)
Ah! That darkey again. What's he after? (goes off, r. 2 e., as if hiding to watch Eph. Eph enters, l. u. e., and crosses, r. 2 e.)
Eph. Dat's him. Dat's him. Can't fool me. I seed dat man pas' night in dat boat. I tole Massa Richard dat boat was rowing after us up de bay. Dey goin' to ketch Massa Richard sartin. (turns l.) I mus' go and tell him fer to lay low. (turns and crosses to l. 1. Capt. Hammond enters, r. 2 e.) Capt. H. Hello, boy. Eph. Golly! (stops suddenly) Capt. H. Do you belong here? Eph Nin-nin-n-no. Y-y-yes.
Capt. H. (crosses to Eph.) What do you mean by nin-nin-n-n-no. Yes?
Eph. I doan mean nothing, Massa. (Capt. Hammond eyes him sharply for a moment—turns, looks at him and exits slowly, l. u. e.) Phew! Golly! I feel des as do' I had a shark hook inside o' me pulling away at my gizzard. Warn't dat a look he gi' me? (looks around without moving his body) I'll scoot. (exits quickly, l. 1 e. Capt. Hammond enters quickly, l. u. e. —down to l.)
Capt. H. I was sure of it. He's the darkey thatMAY BLOSSOM.
11
pulled Ashcroft up the bay. (looking oft, l. 1 e.) He's been watching me for some time—there he runs; I'll follow him. Perhaps this game of hide and seek may give me the proof I need to arrest them both. (exits, l. 1 e. Deb. and Bartlett come from house, l. 2 e. )
Deb. (crosses to r.) 'Scuse me, Unca Bartlett, for fetchin' you out here, but I'm getting nervous about May. (goes r. u. e. and looks off) Every time Unca Bartlett comes to see me, somethin' sure to happen to exasperate me. (looks off, r. u. e.)
Unca B. (l. 1e.—aside) Haven't said a word! It's no use. When I get along side of her my tongue gets twisted across my throat, somehow or other, and I can't utter a syllable. I'll call again to-morrow and make another trial. (going up c.—aloud) Well, Miss Deborah, I'm going. Good day.
Deb. (r. 1) Don't be in a hurry, Unca Bartlett. (aside—crosses, l. 1) Somehow, I do enjoy Unca Bart-lett's society.
Unca B. (u. c., aside) I don't want ter go—that's a fact. (down a little—aloud) What did I understand you to say, Miss Deborah?
Deb. (sits on bench, l. 1 e.) Won't you sit down, Unca Bartlett?
Unca B. (sits r. of her on same bench) Well, I don't care if I do—thanks, (sit slowly and together)
Deb. (sighs) Unca Bartlett, how long have we been acquainted?
Unca B. About forty years, Miss Deborah.
Deb. (looks shocked) Unca Bartlett!
Unca B. N—n-oh, that is I've known you about that long.
Deb. (satisfied—moves her seat near him) Oh! (smiles) Do you know, I always thought a heap o' you?
(Enter Tom, r. 2 e.—laughs—hat and coat bus.)
Unca B. Did ye? Miss Deborah?
Deb. Yes—always did.
Unca B. Yes, did ye. (repeat. Draws nearer to her. Tom enters, r. 2 e., carrying large net. Sees him— Tom coughs loudly—they both rise confused. Bartlett crosses to r.)
Tom. Oh, Deb! oh, Deb! oh, Deb!
Deb. (l. c.) Sakes alive! Oh! (jumps up and goes to l. corner) It's you, is it, Bro'r Tom? You're always taking folks unawares like that.12
MAY BLOSSOM.
Tom. (crosses to l. 1) No offense, Sis Deb—no offense. (hanging up coat and hat, l. 1—crosses to Bartlett)
Unca B. (r.) Glad to see you, Tom, my boy, glad to see you.
Tom. Always glad to see you, Unca Bartlett. (winks at Deb, who turns indignant) What was you and Sis Deb talking 'bout when I interrupter?
Deb. None of your business.
Tom. Thank you.
Deb. Have you seen May?
Tom. No.
Deb. Have you seen her at all to-day?
Tom. (c.) No. (Deb goes to porch and hangs out clothes) But I seed her pretty face at the window yesterday. "Ah, father," says she (to Bartlett) and she do say " father " so pretty—" father," says she—" I'm a comin' down to help you bail the boat." And sure 'nough down she come with her pretty dress tucked up an' all the while chattering away as natural as she used to 'fore I sent her to be eddicated. Ah, he'll be a happy man she marries, my little girl! (crosses to l.—sits)
Deb. (l., on porch) And I don't know a better man for her than Steve Harland—Unca Bartlett. Bro'r Tom would give his right hand to have May marry Steve.
Tom. So I would.
Deb. An' the sooner he lets her know it, the sooner his mind'll be at ease.
Unca B. (crosses to l. c.) Tom, I reckon Miss Deborah's right. A fisherman's life is one of danger, and it would be a heap o' comfort to feel that May wouldn't be left alone in the world, if some day your boat shouldn't come back. And Steve is a man that can be depended on.
Deb. (hangs shirt last) 'Fore Steve went away last time, he asked me if he couldn't speak to May when he came back. So, when she comes home, you speak to her.
Tom. But, Sis Deb, I depend on you to talk to her 'pon such—
Deb. (coming down steps) Nothing of the kind. You must do that yourself. (crosses to r., back and r. of Bartlett)
Tom. (rises, l. 1, and crosses to c.) Now, Unca Bartlett, I leave it to you. Oughtn't Sis Deb-
Deb. (r.) Now, Unca Bartlett, you know—(repeat ad lib.)MAY BLOSSOM.
13
Tom. (quick) Now, I'll leave it to Unca Bartlett if—(Deb keeps up the talk)
Unca B. (c.) Yes, yes, Tom, I'm obliged to confess I must agree with Miss Deborah.
Deb. (exultant) Ah!
Unca B. It's your duty, Tom, to speak to May about Steve.
Tom. W-e-e-1, I s'pose if I must, I must.
Deb. That's sensible. (crosses up l. to cottage) Unca Bartlett, won't you stay and take supper with us? (crosses c.—Tom sits smoking)
Unca B. Well, I don't know but what I will. And Tom, when you get it all fixed with May, I'll kinder advise her an' get her to name the wedding-day, and—er make up your mind I won't let her put it off too long either.
Tom and Deb. (chuckling—delighted) No, no, that's right. Don't let her put it off too long, etc., etc.
Deb. (up stage—looking l.) Lor! Here she comes now.
Tom. (up c. and l. u. e.) Unca Bartlett, Sis Deb! Just look at that girl. Who could help loving her? She just got 'round this ere old heart o' mine-
Deb. (r. c.) Yes, you're always spoilin' her. Everlastingly givin' in to her.
Tom. Give her room. Give her room.
(Enter May, l. tj. e.)
May. Oh, auntie. (runs and kisses her)
Deb. Oh, you run away, you.
May Ah, father! (runs to him and pushes him into seat l. 1.—leans over back of him and kisses him—arms round his neck) I'm going to tell you something. Good afternoon, Unca Bartlett. I paid you a visit early this morning while you were asleep.
Tom. Did ye?
May. Well, I saw the curtains drawn, and the sun pouring in on you without the least regard for the sleep of the best and kindest father in the world (playfully) I shut out the sun—crept to the side of the bed—kissed you, stole out of the room, and you didn't even dream that I had been there—now, did ye, father? (kneeling at his feet)
Tom. (tenderly patting her on the head) No, honey, I didn't.
Deb. (b. l. of Unca Bartlett—has put flower in hisu
MAY BLOSSOM.
coat) Suppose she'd awoke you? You ought to scold her.
Tom. I will. Now, miss, come here. I am going to scold you. (kisses her) There!
May. Scold me again, father.
Tom. (kisses her) There!
Deb. There he is! Spilin' her again—May, where have you been all this blessed day?
May. Oh! don't be angry, auntie, I couldn't help it, really. It has come at last.
Deb. What's come?
May. Guess.
Deb. Can't. Let your father guess. He has more patience. I must go and tend to supper.
May. Why, you are not angry with me, are you?
Deb. Angry? Who said I was?
May. Dad.
Tom. No, I didn't.
May. Didn't you?
Deb. (melting—patting her on the heacl) No. I'm never angry with you, child, (l. c.—kissing her)
Tom. (coughs—to Bartlett) Who's spoilin' her now? Ain't she everlastin'ly givin' in to her? (laughs)
Deb. Now, you be quiet. (to Bartlett) What can I do?
Tom. Scold her, Sis Deb, scold her. (laughs)
Deb. (sternly) I will. (May while her arms are around Deb's waist unties her apron strings and slips off Deb's apron) Now, then, Miss, I want to— There! (laughs and kisses her. Picks up hood—all laugh)
Unca B. She had you there, Tom, she had you there.
Tom. She did—she did.
Deb. Now, where's that apron of mine? (bus. looking for apron—seeing May with it) I might have known she was up to some mischief. Give me that apron; you shan't get any supper. (takes apron and crosses down to Tom—aside) Now's your time. Speak to her about Steve.
Tom. But, Sis Deb, so sudden.
Deb. Pshaw! Duty's duty, (coming to porch, l.) Bro'r Tom; and, as Unca Bartlett says, you must do yours. (pats his cheek and kisses him) Come, Unca Bartlett. (they exit into house, l. 2 e.)
Unca B. (on porch) Don't forget Steve. He's a man to be depended upon, (exits, l. 2 e.)
Tom. I don't know how to begin, (glances at May,MAY BLOSSOM.
15
who is on beach with hands above eyes, looking off) How pretty she does look a standin' there. (smokes) Wish I knowed what to—Tarnation! How one does get bothered at times.
May. (hand bus.—r. u. e.—aside)' What will father say when I tell him Richard has asked me to be his wife? Oh, dear] How am I to tell him? Gracious, how my cheeks burn! I wonder if Unca Bartlett— (with comic effort, summoning up courage) Well, I may as well begin—(comes down c. to Tom)
Tom. (going c., takes pipe out of his mouth) May-
May. (stops) Y—Yes, father!
Tom. Where have you been? (putting one arm around her)
May. I—I have—(hesitating—plays with flowers) Gathering flowers in Wintergreen Lane.
Tom. Wintergreen Lane? It 'pears to me you go there very often lately. Was you all by yourself?
May. (blushing) Yes. N—No— I was with—• with-
Tom. Who, honey?
May. Well, that's what I'm going to tell you. I was —with—with—(crosses r.) Oh! I can't. (laughing bashfully, r. u. e.)
Tom. (going l.—laughs slyly—aside) She was there with Steve, (aloud) Oh, it's all right. I've no objections. I know the feeling. I've been there. Now, honey, come here, come here. (crosses to her) May, Steve Harland is a good boy, and he thinks a mighty heap o' you.
May. (carelessly) Yes, I think a great deal of Steve, father.
Tom. (delighted) I know you do. (sitting, l.) Now, honey, come here. Sit right along side o' me. (May sits at his feet) You're sure you think a heap o' Steve?
May. Yes, father, why shouldn't I? We are almost like brother and sister.
Tom. But there's no reason why, in time, you shouldn't be kind o' related to one another—the sort o' relation your mother was to your father—(tenderly) — his wife.
May. (starting) His wife?
Tom. Why, yes—Steve's wife.
May. Steve's wife?
Tom. (laughing and chucking her under the chin) That brings the roses to your cheeks, doesn't it? May16
MAY BLOSSOM.
Harland. Do you like the sound? Music to you, ain't it? An' so it is to me, little girl. You couldn't do better if you were the belle of Virginny. His father and yours were partners 'fore poor Bill got drowned. So I say it upright and downright with no sham—for a fisher should be above all them things, seeing how uncertain life is—there's not a man livin' I would sooner give you to than Steve Harland. (May rises, greatly agitated, her manner changed to pain and sorrow— crosses up r. c.) Now, honey, tell me what yer got to say.
May. (crossing, r.—aside) Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?
Tom. Steve'll be along directly. He's spoken for you. Shall I tell him it's all fixed?
May. (quickly) Oh, no, no.
Tom. (sprprised, rising) No?
May. (endeavoring to be calm—half laughing, u.) It is so sudden. Oh, father, give me a little time to think—I can't answer yet—indeed, indeed, I can't. (crosses to l. 1 e.—sinks at foot of porch, as if hardly able to realize truth)
(Warn cannon.)
Tom. (aside—greatly pleased) How she loves him. I can always tell. (aloud) May-
May. (concealing her agitation) Yes, father.
Tom. Look up. There, you're just like the rest of them. Your mother was the same way. Don't ye 'member? Don't get scared. (cannon fired in distance. Steve sings)
Tom. Ah, there's the gun for sunset. Most time for Steve.
(Steve heard singing in the distance—crosses to r. 2 e.)
Ah, there he is now. Always singing! For real lightheadedness, give me Steve. Honey, your auntie told him he might come round, and get your answer. He's here. You needn't tell it to me. Tell it to him, and both bring it. (looks off after Steve)
May. (wringing her hands in despair—aside) Steve. (turning) Father, father! I— (goes to c., takes his hand as if trying to stop him)
Tom. (crossing, l. 2—laughing) Yes, yes, I know. Two's company and— May, I'm going to tell auntieMAY BLOSSOM.
IT
to put another plate on. Ha! ha! ha! (chucks her under the chin) May, give your old father a hug an' kiss. Bless you! (wipes his eyes) Honey, I'm so cheery, I feel like a June bug on a strawberry. (exits. l. 2 e.—quickly)
(Begin sunset effects—Steve singing, r. u. e.)
May. (c.—half dazed) Loves me? Steve Harland! He has loved me all his life, but I never dreamed of this. Every word—every look I've misunderstood. Oh, how blind I have been. Father wants me to be—his—his—• wife—his wife—and Richard's loving words still filling my heart.
(Steve nearer—looking off frightened)
Steve's coming. How can I tell (crosses, l.) him the truth? Yes, I must tell him everything. Poor Steve! A moment ago, I was so happy and now—(with a smile —wiping her eyes) Oh, everything will come out all right. Steve's so good, so true, and when I tell him that I love—(l. 1 e.) Richard.
(Steve sings last line of song and enters, r. u. e.—Mat
stands, l.—her head bowed down. A slight pause.)
Steve. (hat in hand) May!
May. (very low) Steve!
Steve. (drawing near to her) I haven't met you since last Saturday, and here it is Friday. Almost a week. You don't come down to the fishery as often as you did. What scares you away? Not me, I hope.
May. You? No, Stevei (she advances toward him a little)
Steve. What then? One time you came every day. We fellows couldn't eat our dinner, if we didn't see your laughing eyes peeping out beneath your little blue sun-bonnet.
May. You don't come as often as you once did to see —father and Aunt Deborah. What (with a faint smile) scares you away? Not me, I hope.
Steve. You? Oh, no. (plays with his hat)
May. What then?
Steve, (aside) I wish I could tell her, but somehow my throat chokes up.
May. Why, what's the matter, Steve? You are not18
MAY BLOSSOM.
angry with me because I don't go to the fishery as often as I used to?
Steve. Oh, no, no! Only I feel so lonely, that is— we all feel so lonely, that I often come here and stand gazing at the old house Until I—see-
May. Well, what, Steve? (l. c.)
Steve. The smoke coming from the chimney and the flicker of the fire-light in the window-panes.
May. (l.) But why don't you come in, Steve? (affects to go in house)
Steve. Because I am content to stay out here and listen-
May. To what, Steve? (l. c.)
Steve. To'you, singing yourself to sleep. Many's the night when you've all gone to rest, I've stood out here, looking up (pointing) at that little window where the ivy clings the closest. I have stood here and listened to your voice—and how sweetly it sounded, too. I have heard sailors tell of mermaids who sit on coral rocks and sing their magic songs, and I've heard how those who listen leap into the waves, and are dragged down to death—to death—May.
May. (to c.) Why, Steve, what are you saying? Do you think my songs would lure people to a watery grave ?
Steve. No, no. I didn't mean that, May—although I shouldn't want to die a sweeter death.
(Music.)
May. (alarmed) Don't, don't talk that way, Steve. (goes to him, c.—he takes her hand—she retreats to l. 2)
Steve. I—I—can't help it, May. Night after night, I come here determined to tell you all that's passing in my mind—and—(tries to take her hand) May—I-
May. (drawing away from him—crosses front of him to l.) Don't, oh don't, please, (crosses, u. r., and sits on stone)
Steve. May, don't go away—I must speak to you now, if I never speak to you again. (c. He picks up a small piece of wood, chews it and spits out the pieces) I—I—May—I—I—it would put heart into me to know— to—to know that you—you (almost chokes) cared foi me a little.
May. I do Steve—(picks up stick and writes on the sand) very, very much.MAY BLOSSOM.
19
Steve. I've been waiting those three years-
May. "Waiting?
Steve. To tell you how dear you are to me. But I wouldn't speak until I knew that I could offer you a home, May. And now it's ready and waiting—I've money in the bank, my sloop's the luckiest that ever fished the Chesapeake—I've health and strength and a heart full of love to give you. May. (rises, greatly agitated) Steve! Steve. (seizing her in his arms, then releasing her) May, May, I have loved you ever since you were a child. You know that, don't you? May. (low) Yes.
Steve. That was a long time ago, wasn't it? May. A long, long time ago.
Steve. And now, May, you're a woman, a grown woman, and I'm a rough man; yet, rough as I am, I tremble if your little hand touches me. If you knew, if you only knew, what a great wild love is in me now!
May. (hiding her face—aside) How can I ever tell him?
Steve. Give me your answer, May. It will be life
or death to me. Will you be my—my-
May. (rising—turning) Don't speak it, Steve. Don't speak it.
Steve. Don't speak it? Why not? May. Because I cannot marry you.
Steve, (dropping her hand) Cannot marry—me-
May. No, Steve!
(Steve staggers to steps, l. 2 e., and leans against wall for support. May goes to him.)
Forgive me, but you wouldn't have me marry you, when another man fills my heart—I—always loved you—as a brother—I never thought of you in any other way, and when he came and told me he loved me, then for the first time in my life I looked into my heart and saw him there.
(Steve sinks down, his head "between his hands. May approaching him tenderly, sinks at his feet, and looks up into his face.)
My heart aches for you, Steve. Tell me you are not angry with me.
Steve. Angry? Oh, no! It was only kind o' sud-20
MAY BLOSSOM.
den and staggered me for a second, {with effort) Do you like this—this—somebody else very much?
May. (pauses) Steve, turn away—so (getting on her knees before him) I will tell you my secret. I will tell you what I have concealed from father, what I should have told Aunt Deborah long ago, I will tell you, because you love me and because I trust you. Steve, do you remember what you told me when I touch you? It is just the same with me when I hear this name. {pointing to name she has ivritten on sand)
Steve. (looks—starts) Richard—Richard Ashcroft —and you love him?
May. (seated on stone, n. u. e.—low) Yes. When I hear his step, I feel all the blood rushing to my face. If he touches me, my pulse beats, and tears come into my eyes for very happiness. Steve, last winter every day, Richard used to meet me down at the old creek— in the snowy, frosty days of January, and I was so happy. Steve (rising—Steve looks sadly into her face) Steve, I can give you my hand without trembling. I can see you coming without my heart beating faster— I can tell you my whole heart—so you see—(laying her hand on his shoulder) I really love you, but it is as a brother, and that is the love you must have for me.
Steve. (crossing to name—r. u. e.—very low tone) No, no (trying to be cheerful) I never suspected it. He —Richard—loves you—and you—you are both happy. (wiping the tears tohich will floiv) Why, May, I should laugh for very—and I do—for very—very—joy—Ah, May, May, my heart is breaking. (hysterically laughs— r. 1 e.)
May. (greatly alarmed) Steve!
Steve. Oh, May, my heart is breaking, breaking!
(They fall into each other's arms and sob aloud, r. 1 e.
Enter Tom, Deb, and Bart, l. 2 e., in that order.)
Tom. (appearing cn porch with Deb and Bart—in stage whisper) It's all fixed and that's the settling of it. Say, don't you*think I'd better step right down and give them my blessing? (on steps)
Deb. (holding him back—stage whisper) An' spile their love makin'? Let them alone.
Unca B. Yes, let 'em alone. When it's time for blessing, that's my business.
Tom. (at a gesture from Deb.) Oh, I will be keer-ful.MAY BLOSSOM.
21
(They with difficulty get him away—exit, l. 2e.)
Steve. (stroking her hand) There, there! Don't cry, May. Don't cry! Hush! It's all over now, and I feel better that it is. You can never be—my wife. I heard you and I bear it—don't I? Bear it like a man. Good bye, May. Good bye. I'll see the folks (crosses to R.) in the morning and tell them I've changed my mind. (she goes to him, r. c.) Oh, I'll think of something to tell them, something—something, {going, r. v) May. Steve, where are you going? Steve. Down to the old creek you spoke of a while ago, and think it all over—all over, (exits, r. 1 e.— May crosses to b. 1 e.)
(Stop music. Change red calcium to blue, then to white. Enter Tom, Deb, and Bart—Tom very pleased.
Tom. No use, Sis Deb, no use. I'm goin' to speak to 'em.
May. (with a cry, going to him) Oh, father, Auntie, Steve is going away. I have broken his heart. (falls in Deborah's arms) Deb. Why, what's the matter, dear? Oh, I see. Another of those lover's quarrels. I know the symptoms.
Tom. Always alike, you women. First you quarrel with a man, an' drive him away, scared for his life, an' then you feel sorry an' give your life to fetch him back again. Thought things was kind o' fixed up just now— didn't you? Wonder what nail caused this tear? Deb. Why, Bro'r Tom, she's tremblin' like a leaf. Tom. (pauses, looks eagerly at Deb) Take her to the house, and don't let supper spoil. I'll bring Steve back. (exit, r. 1 e.)
Unca B. (leading her into house—very seriously) You young folks are apt to regard a* quarrel as a harmless incident, necessary to every courtship. It is no such thing. Every quarrel is sure to leave a scar. (patting her head) Let this be your last. They're not healthy. (they exeunt.)
(Richard enters, r. u. e.—whistling " My Polly Ann is true to me." He stands and gazes at house—Bus. with flowers.)
Rich. I feel as nervous as a school-boy. It must be22
MAY BLOSSOM.
done. I promised May I would speak to-night. So— (buttoning up his coat) here goes. (starts toward house.
(Eph enters, l. u. e., hurriedly—out of "breath—speaks.)
Epii. Massa Dick! Massa Dick! I'se so glad I've found yer. i'se been looking for ye everywhar.
Rich. What's the matter?
Eph. Dey is arter ye. I'se been a-watchin' eber since las' night. I saw him standin' here, right whar ye are standin' this blessed minute. He's somewhar 'bout now. An' de sogers ain't fur off. I tell ye, massa, der's troubled, comin', cho's yo' bo'n.
Rich. How d'ye know? (Eph looks to see that no one is within hearing—draws him aside, and speaks low and hurriedly.
Eph. Las' night, after the nets was all up, an' de lights was out, I was standin' lookin' across de ribber. Seemed to me de water was blacker dan pitch—not a star out—any odder night I wouldn't ha' noticed it.
Rich. Noticed what?
Eph. (intensely) A light no bigger dan a firefly. Trust de eyes o' Eph. Dat light steal froo de porthole of a gun-boat.
Rich. (goes up l. and back—alarmed) Gun-boat! (bus.) Are you sure?
Eph. Sartin' as I stan' yar.
Rich. Go, on! Go, on. (l.)
Eph. I ran 'round the landin' ter de big cypruss whar my skiff was tied—jumped in—an' paddled soft as a blacksnake down to Willow Point-
Rich. (anxiously) As near as that?
Eph. I lay low under de bushes, an' out 'bout a hundred yards was a gun-boat, as black an' still as a crow on a fence rail. She lay dar for half an hour. All of a sudden, I seed a boat row up, till she come in front o' de fishery. She stayed dar a few minutes, den turned back and crept down de bay. I tell ye, Massa Richard, dey is arter ye, fo' sho.
(Flash and thunder in distance.)
Rich. (crosses r., and turns) Some one has betrayed me! Who could it have been?
(Warn thunder and lightning.)
Eph. Yourself, Massa Richard. Dose Yanks gotMAY BLOSSOM.
23
eyes sharper dan de p'int ob a fish-hook. Ye've crossed de bay so often dat yer 'spected. (turning, he sees Captain Hammond) Sh! (motioning with his eyes) I told ye so; dat's him back o' de shed—dat's de man I seed in de boat las' night. Don't stir. Don't move. He's playin' possum, but he can't fool dis coon. Lay low in de high grass, (aloud) All right, Massa, I'll go down to de fishery, an' tell de men dat you'll be dar.
Rich. (seeing Captain Hammond has withdrawn) I'll meet you at the landing in five minutes.
(Flash and thunder in distance.)
Eph. (crosses to back, looks with a warning gesture) Dar's another one. He's talkin' to him. (listening) Nigger! Dat's me. (straining to hear) Golly! Dat settles it. He wants me too. (quickly) He's comin'. Quick! quick! for de Lord's sake, Massa, dar isn't a minute to lose.
(Warn thunder and cannon.)
Rich. Very well, I won't lose a moment. Come what may, I must see Tom and get his consent. (goes into house, l. 2 e.)
Eph. I'll run down to de landin' an' get de boat ready. We is got to get ober de ribber, or de soger's drill us full of holes.
(Warn signals for Captain Hammond. Hurries off, l. 2 e.—flash and thunder in distance. Gun of boat heard in distance. Captain Hammond enters, looking off, l. 2 e.)
Capt. H. (looking after Eph.) That darkey has put him on his guard. (r. u. e.) I must give the signal at once. (flashes blue light) What's the matter? I told them to be on the watch, (pause—signal answered) Ah! Everything's ready. I must get him away instantly. (exit, l. u. e.)
(Tom enters with Steve, r. 1 e.)
Tom. Come, Steve. Lor' bless you, her mother an' me had many a spat before we spliced. It's only natural. When she hears you've come back she'll be in your arms before you can say Jack Robinson. See if she won't.24
MAY BLOSSOM.
(Warn flash and thunder.)
(turning to door with a wink and kick) You young shark! If I had my way, I'd make you drink nothin' but salt water for a month, for putting a girl like my May into hyster-icks. It's downright burglary. It's downright burglary. (exit into house, l. 1 e.)
(Flash and thunder.)
Steve, (l. u. e.) Why did't I tell him? Oh! (catching his throat and tearing open his shirt) When I think of her being the wife of another man, I feel as though I were going mad. (sinks on tench and bathes his face)
(Flash and thunder.)
(Rich, entering. During the scene between Steve and well down. Storm sets in—thunder in distance— the lights go up inside of cottage, lights outside flashes of lightning.)
Rich. I made short work of that. And now the sooner I'm away from here to-night, the safer I'll be to-morrow. (comes face to face with Steve, who rises and comes forward at that moment) Good evening. Steve. (starting) Good evening. Rich. What's the matter? Anything gone wrong? Has your sweetheart transferred her affections to some one else? eh? (Steve turns away) Forgive, me. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Steve, I've a secret to tell you. Perhaps you have guessed it already. May has promised to be my wife. I've asked for her and-
(Eph—-whistle outside.)
Ah! there's Eph. I must be off. Steve, I won't be down to the fishery to-morrow, so keep a sharp look-out after things during my absence. {bus., etc.) Good night. (starts to go, l. u. e.)
(Enter Captain Hammond and four soldiers, with mus' kets and bayonets. Captain has a dark lantern—■ when he sees Rich moving away, he says:
Capt. H. Richard Ashcroft, you are under arrest.
(Flash and thunder.)
Steve. Ah!MAY BLOSSOM.
25
Rich. Upon what charge?
Capt. H. That of secretly conveying information to the enemies of the United States. You visited the rebel, Gen. Magruder, by night. We have positive evi* dence against you. I arrest you as a spy.
Steve, (aside) A spy! It means death!
Rich. I am in your power, sir. Do your duty.
(Flash and thunder.) Allow me to inform my friends.
(Voices from cottage heard singing hymn.)
Capt. H. It is against orders.
Rich. But-
Capt. H. Silence!
(Flash and thunder—keep it up.)
Rich. Man! Man! Listen! I cannot go without speaking one word to my promised wife. It may be months before I get a word or letter to her. She will not know what has become of me. It will kill her. Let me speak to her—here—in your presence—Great Heavens—she will believe me false—no—no—for God's sake, man, let me speak to her!
(Warn flash and thunder.)
Capt. H. Impossible, the whole country would be aroused.
Rich, (calls out) May! May!
Capt. H. Silence.
(Rich struggles with soldiers. Flash and thunder.)
Eph. (rushes on from h. 1 e.) Massa Richard! Massa Richard!
Capt. H. Arrest him!
Eph. Golly! I'se tooken! (as soldiers seize him)
Capt. H. Quick! Put the prisoners aboard.
(Two soldiers take Eph. off.)
Rich, (as soldiers start to drag him away) Steve? Steve! Help!26
MAY BLOSSOM.
Steve, (who has crouched on a seat in the shadow) Richard!
Rich. (breaks from soldiers—flash and thunder) Tell May of my arrest. Tell her that I will return—■ soon—very soon—nothing can be proved against me. I'll have a fair trial—Steve,-
Tell her that I will return. Tell her she is as much my wife as if Unca Bartlett had married us. Tell her to wait for me, even till death—don't turn from me, man ■—promise me that you will deliver my message.
(Warn flash and thunder.)
(forces him onto his Jcnees) Promise!! Steve. I promise! Rich. Before Heaven! (flash) Steve. Before Heaven.
Rich. Thanks! Thanks! (soldiers hurry him off, r. u. e.) Don't forget, Steve. Don't forget! (kept up till off)
Steve, (up c., as in a trance) A spy—'tis death—he will never return—and May-
(Deb, Uxca B., May and Tom on porch.)
Deb. What is the matter?
Unca B. Steve! Look at him!
Steve. (wildly) Richard—he will never return.
May. Richard?
(Warn flash and thunder.)
Steve.	He's gone.
May.	Gone! Where?
Steve.	(seizes her hand and points to sea) Look there!
(Flash and thunder.) May. To sea—in this storm!
Steve. He will never return—never! never! (breaks into hysterical laughter—falls — May screams and throws herself across his body) Unca B. Poor boj! She has broken his heart!
picture.
CURTAIN.MAY BLOSSOM.
27
ACT II.
Time.—Two years later.
Scene.—Steve Harland's home.
Plot.—Steve and May have been married a year, and _a little one has come to them. Steve is tortured constantly ~by the remembrance of his perfidy to Richard, who has not been heard of since the arrest, and is thought by all to be dead. Richard returns to claim his promised wife, and finding her married to Steve, tells her the story of the arrest, and Steve's oath. She calls Steve, who mutely confronts the man he wronged, till May is about to be torn from him, then, like an angered lion, he protects his own.
ACT II.
Time.—Two years later.
Scene.—The home of Steve Harland. A neatly furnished cottage. Fire-place and mantel, r. 2 e. Doors r. 3 e., r. c., and at top of stairs. A window, c., showing the sea in the distance. Plants and curtain at window. Stairs, l. 2 e, leading up to door. At rise, Deborah enters, l. 2 e., with vegetables; places pan on table and calls.
Deb. Bro'r Tom, oh, Bro'r Tom! (crosses to dresser, L. 1, gets apron, puts doion pan)
Tom. (at door, up stairs, speaks off, as though putting baby to sleep) Sh! Sh! (turning) What is it? Sis Deb—what is it?
Deb. Go and bring some wood. (washes vegetables, putting on colored apron, l. c.)
Tom. Well, I can't now—baby ain't 'sleep yet. Deb. Oh, drat the baby! (goes c.) Tom. Sis Deb!
Deb. What? (raises on toes to see) ■ Tom. Ha! ha! ha! why, she's laughing at me—just look. He, he, he.' Now, she's a-winking at me. Yes, she is—she is! (bus. of playing) Deb. (sitting c., and cutting vegetables) I never28
MAY BLOSSOM.
did see such a man. When he gets by baby there's no pulling him away, (crosses to dresser and calls) Are ye comin'? (at table and sits, l.)
Tom. (with a warning gesture) Sh—h—sh—Sis Dob. I think I got her now.
Deb. Bro'r Tom, if you 'spec' to have fritters for iinner, don't you think you'd better tote in some wood?
Tom. (r. u. e.—appears in door—in hushed tones) That's right, take advantage of her 'cause she's too little to talk back. (gently closes door—comes down stairs) You're mad acause she takes to me more'n she does to you.
Deb. (laughs—resumes her work) I say, Bro'r Tom, what's been the matter with Steve all the morning?
Tom. (crosses down r.) Dunrio. 'Spose he's thinkin'.
Deb. Thinkin'o'what?
Tom. (leaning on back of arm-chair, r. 1) It's just one year ago to-day since Steve and May were married. Well, this mornin' as he stood at the window, watchin' May cross the field, I passed him to get my pipe from the mantel here, and I heard him say, " It was Providence." Sis Deb, I reckon the 'membrance o' Richard's sudden end and his own happiness has sort o' upset him (goes to mantel—fills his pipe)
Deb. (sitting back—half-frightened) Bro'r/ Tom, what oji earth are you saying? We 'greed never to speak o' that. (rises, glancing round up l.) If Steve and May should be 'bout-
Tom. Well, you began it.
Deb. You know you've been wanting to talk about it since last night. (takes pan to dresser, l.)
Tom. You're right, Sis, I have. (crosses to right of table, c.—in a hushed voice) I've been bringing it all before me. It come so near taking our little girl from us.
Deb. (shakes head—no notice)
Tom. Deb-
Deb. (repeats)
Tom. Sis Deb.
Deb. (smiles)
Tom. Sis Deb, (sitting, r. c.) you won't mind, will you, if we talk about it just a little? It's hangin' a dead weight on me.
Deb. (sitting l. of table) 'Spose you've got one o' your spells on you again.MAY BLOSSOM.
29.
Tom. No, I haven't. But, now and again the dead will come back to us, an' most always when you least expect it. Ah! Sis Deb, there's no tellin' what's goin' to happen out yonder. That very afternoon, I heard him say to tell Eph to have the boat ready. Hiram would have it that he was mixed up in war affairs, and was took away and hanged like poor Seth Dillon. We all kinder thought so, too. But the mornin' when Owen found his boat capsized on the beach, we stood and looked at one another, and when a whole week passed and he did not come, we knew that he and poor Eph had been drowned. You see, Sis Deb, if May'd took it in real downright earnest, we wouldn't ha' been so frightened. She wouldn't believe it. {in a hushed voice) no how you could fix it. Every mornin' she'd go down to the beach, an' stan' an' watch for him. Deb, if she hadn't found his hat lyin' on the shore, there's no tellin' what might ha' happened.
Deb. It broke the spell, Tom. It broke the spell.
Tom. 'Member she came back, carryin' it in her hand. Inside was his name, which she worked on a piece of blue ribbon. Without sayin' a word, she hung it on the peg he hung it on that -night when he asked her if she would be his wife, an' she stood and looked at it till the big tears shut it out from her sight. Then she turned to me—Oh, the look that was in her face—an' she said solemn like—" Father, Richard is dead. I shall never see him again." Then she laid her little head on my breast an' sobbed as if her little heart would break. Ah! Sis Deb, it did her good. It did her good!
Deb. Unca Bartlett said those tears saved her life.
Owen. (outside) Hello! Tom. Oh, Tom!
(Tom crosses to b.)
Deb. Sh! Here's Owen. (rises and crosses, l.)
(Owen enters, c., carrying two big turkeys, pauses inside door.)
Why, Owen, what ye got there?
Owen. Pa'r gobblers. We was all a sittin' down at Hiram's, talkin' over our las' haul, when Hiram got up and says: "Boys, do you know what day dis is? It's the anni-var-sa-ry of little May's marriage, and it mustn't pass 'thout a celebration. Le's give 'em 3 s'prise party."30
MAY BLOSSOM.
Deb. S'prise party?
Owen. " That's the ticket," says everyone, an* quicker'n mackerel bite we was all skirmishin' for things. (crosses to Tom) An' that's what I fetched. {with pride) Feel them gobblers. Regular gian's, ain't they? crosses r. and gives them to Deb) Them's my s'prise. Oh, I tell you it's going to be a bang up affair. A regular hunkee doree time, fo' sho'.
Deb. (l. c.—takes gobblers) Well, I declare, you've flurried me so, I dunno whether I'm on my head or my heels. Good thing the pies are baked and sage and bread ready for the stuffin'. Where's Unca Bartlett?
Owex. Unca Bartlett, (puts hat side of face—loinks at Tom) Unca Bartlett. Oh, yes, he's comin' 'cross field—loaded like Noah's ark. (goes up, l.—sits on sofa—leaves hat there)
Deb. (excitedly) Lor', Bro'r Tom. (runs up to him and back) There ain't a blessed minute to spare. (aside, Hurriedly) If Unca Bartlett should see me now, I'd get right down mad, I'm so mussed up. (arranging hair, goes to foot of stairs and calls) Milly!
Milly. (l. u. e.. off) Yes'um.
Deb. Come here, d'rec'ly.
Milly. (louder) Yes'um.
Deb. (out of patience) She's at that 'lasses again. I know it.
Tom! It's all out.
Deb. No, 'tain't, Milly, Milly!
(Enter Milly, l. u. e.—her hand and mouth covered with molasses.)
Milly. Yes'um, here I be—comin' jest .f«.st as 1 can. (running clumsily down stairs)
Deb. (to others) There, what did I tell you? Just look at that gal's face.
Milly. (r. c.) Yes'um.
Deb. Hold your tongue.
Milly. Yes'um.
Deb. Ain't you a pretty looking creature?
Milly. (nods) Yes'um.
Deb. (imitating) Yes'um.
Tom. Sis Deb.
Deb. What?
Tom. She's got my red socks on!
Deb. Here, stop your fooling. (gives her tJip. turkey) Tak these turkeys an' fix 'em. Be quick about it, too, d'ye hear!MAY BLOSSOM.
31
Milly. Yes'um. (hesitates)
Deb. Well, why don't you go on?
Milly. Yes'um. (goes off quickly, swinging turlceys)
Owen, (k., crossing to c.) Here, be careful o' them birds. (sits on sofa, l. )
• Deb. (sits, l. of c.) Bro'r Tom, I can't for the life of me tell why Steve wants to keep" help. I always did get along better 'thout 'em.
Milly. (on landing, r. u. e.) Oh, mum, mum! I don't know what's the matter with baby! (coming down stairs—general shout)
Deb. What's the matter, now?
Milly. (r.) I was showing baby the turkeys, an' all of a sudden she began yellin' like mad.
Deb. Oh, get out of my sight. (runs after her)
Milly. (going up, crying) I couldn't help it, mum. (then to herself) Gettin' scared at gobblers—what a baby! He! he! he! (laughs gs she exits, l. 'u. e.— all laugh)
Deb. Oh, dear! I'm so excited, (up l. to window) I hope Unca Bartlett won't come till I .have time to titivate up a bit. Ye'll excuse me for leavin' ye, won't ye? Bro'r Tom'll entertain ye.
Owen. Yes, mum.
Deb. (to Tom) I do hope the baby won't cry while Unca Bartlett's here, (going, l. 3) Auntie's comin' to yer, baby. Auntie's comin' to yer. (exits)
Owen. Oh, Tom, I do hope the baby won't cry while Unca Bartlett's here. (laughing—sits, l. of table) Tom, whenever I mention Unca Bartlett's name to Deborah, her face fires all up. Did ye notice it jest now?
Tom. M'm! M'm!
Owen. An' every time I speak 'bout Deb to Unca Bartlett, he stammers jes' likes he had the faver and ager. It 'pears to me them's symptoms they're sparkin', ain't it?
Tom. (still in arm-chair, b. 1) Owgn, they've been doin' that all their lives. (both laugh) Unca Bartlett can do a heap to help on other people's courtin', but when it happens to be for himself, he knows no more what to say than a flounder knows 'bout the war.
(Unca Bartlett outside—sings.)
Owen, (goes up to window, l. u. Opens it—laughs) Oh, I do hope the baby won't cry while Unca Bartlett's here! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! (sits, l. c.) Tom, I've got it.32
MAY BLOSSOM.
Tom. I know it.
Owen. Tom, I've got an idea.
Tom. Of course you have.
Owen. Let's help Unca Bartlett to propose marriage to Sis Deb.
(Tom takes pipe from mouth and turns quickly—assumes extravagant position.)
Tom. (rises—goes r. of table—sits) That's it! That's it! Tell you what. You pretend you're sparkin' Deb yourself, an' he'll rile right up an' pop.
Owen. (with right hand) No, siree! (with emphasis) No! I ain't gwine to run no danger o' gettin' kicked clar over old P'int Comfort—why, I'd rather get over thar in front o' them thar cannons, an' swallow red-hot shot than get Unca Bartlett mad with me.
Tom. But he ain't goin' to get mad wi' ye. He'll get mad wi' himself, that he's been so back-rds, an' he'll spunk right up an' pop, don't you see?
Owen. Oh! well, if ye put it that way, Tom. (shakes hands)
Tom. Why, of course; but, Owen, no foolin'.
Owen. Now, Tom, ye know I never do no foolin'. (laughs) Ye know ye can trust me.
Unca B. (outside) Put them in the shed. (both look of great expectation)
Tom. Here he comes. Now, Owen, be in earnest.
Owen. Earnest! I reckon I will. I'll be as earnest as a sea-bass a kickin' at bein' landed. (up c.) Oh, dear, dear, Bro'r Tom, I do hope the baby won't cry while Unca Bartlett's here. (hearty laughter—exits, c. e.)
Unca B. (outside) You can put the rest in the shed, boys. (appears at window, l. u.)
Voice. (outside) All, right, Unca.
Tom. How do, Unca Bartlett?
Unca B. How do, Tom. Well, here I am. 'Spose Owen told ye the particulars. Here's my donation. Brought everything I could find from a bag of hominy to a side of shoat—put the rest of them in the shed, boys.
Tom. Come right in, Unca Bartlett.
(Unca Bartlett enters c. door—down c.)
Unca B. Say, Tom, we're just going to make things hum here to-night, ye hear me?MAY BLOSSOM.
33
Tom. I bet ye.
Unca B. Help me with these things. (Tom puts them in dresser, l. 2) I say, Tom, it won't do ter let Steve or May know anything about this, will it? That 'ud kinder spile things, wouldn't it?
Tom. That's so.
Unca B. How's Miss Deborah?
Tom. She's pretty well, Unca Bartlett; won't ye sit down?
Unca B. Thanks. Don't care if I do. (delighted— sits r. of table—Tom sits, l.) Say, Tom, (pause) what is she doin' just now?
Tom. Talkin' to Owen.
Unca B. Talkin' to Owen?
Tom. Ain't he lookin' stunnin'? All dressed up! (confidentially) 'Tween you and me, I think he's makin' up to her.
Unca B. (astounded) N—o—o—o-
Tom. (first nods his head) Sartin' sure. (bus. nods his head dejectedly)
Unca B. Say, Tom, you don't wish me to infer that—that is—you don't really think Owen wants to marry—Miss Deborah?
Tom. (rises—goes back of table) Looks like it. (laughs aside—goes up, r. c.) Unca Bartlett, come here. Look there, (points off, l. u. e.)
Unca B. (rises—goes up, r., looks off—facial bus.— chokes back a lump) It does "look sort o' serious, don't it?
Tom. Unca Bartlett, he knows how to get on the right side o' women. Don't you see him playing with my baby now?
Owen. (outside, l. u. e. ) Ouchey! Couchey! Couchey!
Tom. Women think a man's got a heap o' 'fection, if he does that, (doivn, r.)
Unca B. (crosses to table—very earnestly) Say, Tom, haven't got another baby convenient, have you? (sits l. of table—holds head between his hands—bus.. Tom, smothered laugh, front of table, it. c.)
Tom. (aside) Reckon I've shook him up wus'n a Peruvian earthquake. (aloud) Unca Bartlett, you ain't too late yet. (crosses over to him—back of table) If anybody can, you can. Oh! (ivith a wink) You're a regular sun downer, you are—a Tom. cod.
Unca B. Nonsense. Go along. You flatter me, Tom.34
MAY BLOSSOM.
Tom. Yes, you are.
Unca B. (rises) Well, I'm no crawfish, I reckon (swelling up) Tom. (b. u. e.) Well, I reckon not. I reckon not.
(Owen shows himself at k. 3—Puts l. hand on r. shoulder. Tom runs him off, r. 3, with a look at Bart. Exits, chuckling, r. 3.)
Unca B. (rising) My heart is right up in my mouth. Feel as if I was going to have the fever an' ague. (looks off, r. 3) There he is. I wish he'd drop that baby. (with fierce determination) I'll not stand this any longer. I'll go home, but I'll come back this evening, and if I don't cut out that shovel-nosed shark, I hope I'll turn a gorilla and go on all fours for the rest of my life. (exits angrily, c.)
(Tom and Owen appear, watching him. Owen laughs —goes to c, and turns, r. Tom falls into Owen's arms —they run to window and laugh heartily.)
Owen. Oh, Tom, I hope the baby won't cry when Unca Bartlett's here, (laughing bus., goes to chair, l., sits, bus. laughter—as laughter subsides, Tom holds stomach—Owen rises, gets hat, up l., crosses to Tom) What'll I say if I meet Unca Bartlett? (falls on table and on Tom's shoulddr and laughs immoderately)
(Warn music.)
Tom. Say you've spoken to Deb' for the first dance to-night.
Owen. That's it. Ha! Ha! Ha! Oh, Bro'r Tom, I do hope the baby won't cry when Unca Bartlett's here. (tremendous laughter.)
(Owen exits by door, c., off l.—stops at windows-shakes hands with Tom, laughing.)
Tom. Reckon we've worked him up to popping p'int! Ha! Ha! Ha!
(Music—Tom goes off, r. 3, chuckling. Steve comes doion stairs—It is palpable there is something on his mind, and the intense suffering he undergoes is ap' parent.)MAY BLOSSOM.
35
Steve. One year to-day since we were married—one year of bliss—bliss? No—for the thought of Richard haunts me—haunts me-
(He comes forward and sits, toith a deep sigh, r.—lost in thought—a very slight pause—May enters, c.; she is at all times very affectionate to him—she has a small basket in her hand—sees Steve—places "basket on.table, c.—steals forward and covers his eyes with her hand.)
Steve. May.
(Stop music.)
Mat. Steve, how did you know? You saw me? Steve. Do you think I could feel the slightest touch of those little fingers, and not know to whom they belonged?
May. Ah, of course, find something pretty to say. Why don't you ask me where I have been all the morning? (goes to table and gets necktie) I have been shopping. (erosses to him) First of all, I brought
you a nice—guess-
Steve. I can't.
May. Necktie, (kneels on stool and puts on a new one) There! (going to table, c.) And see—(holds up a little white baby's dress, hat, pair of baby's stockings, and a pair of tiny blue shoes. Shows each article separately and with motherly pride) All for baby. Won't she look cunning? Bless her! It's almost time to put her in short clothes. These will be her first. Her very first. I've picked out a blue, another white, a pink, and a drab, a dotted gray, and a half a dozen other pretty shades that I'm going to buy for her next week. And here's some darning needles and some wool for Auntie, and some tobacco and a brand new pipe for father. I'm afraid I'll ruin you with my extravagance, Steve. Not hard to tell whose been here, is it? Father and Owen been having one of their chats and smokes. I saw Owen as I was getting the tobacco for father. I knew he was coming here. Now, tell me, what have you been doing all the morning?
(May moves to table, l. c.) Steve. Playing with baby.
May. Playing with baby? Oh, you vain fellow! You36
MAY BLOSSOM.
love baby because she looks like you; and she is like you, isn't she, Steve? And she is growing dearer and dearer to me every day, because—because she is just like her father. (hanging hat by door, c.)
Steve. Dearer to you because of that? May, you and the little one .keep me from despair.
May. Despair? Steve.
Steve. (for a moment forgetting himself) Yes, May, despair, for when I think what I have done, I feel that I have sinned against the dead. (Mat, at the sound of the word " dead," turns away. Steve notices her agitation) Forgive me, May, it slipped from me.
May. (crosses to him—embraces him) Forgive me, Steve, forgive me. (kissing him on forehead very affectionately—cheerfully) Do you know what day this is? It is the anniversary of our marriage. We have been married a whole year.
Steve. A whole year. (to himself) A—whole— year. And yet no word—no sign—nothing—(conveys his thoughts by a look) Thank heaven, our happiness is assured.
May. (sitting by window—her hand resting under her chin) How strangely things come about, Steve— I can hardly realize it sometimes.
Steve. (going up to her at window—sits at her left —pause) And you have no regrets? None?
May. (rising—very womanly) Steve, I am your wife. (with a laugh) But, what children we are— let us think only of baby—talk of baby and-
(Music.)
Steve. May, did you ever hate any one?
May. (rising) What is the matter with you, Steve? Something is on your mind. (playfully) Have you done something terrible? Den't be afraid! Tell me— tell me what it is and I will forgive you.
.Steve. (risinp) Forgive me?
May. I forgive you already.
Steve. Angel. (takes her hand)
May. (releases herself playfully) Oh, no, I'm not, but baby is. Come, cheer up, as long as we have true hearts, our home will be one of happiness. But I must go to baby now. I haven't seen her since morning. I'll be back in just an instant, Steve. (runs upstairs and off, r. u. e.)
Steve. (relapsing into mood) Two long, wearyMAY BLOSSOM.
years. He must be dead. (pause) The officer said would be treated as a spy—and—yes—it must have been—(rising—down c.) So he was shot as a spy— and buried. But—should he have escaped! No—no— the gun-boat took him far away from here. They shot and threw him overboard—still he might have—Oh! (shudders) I always picture him alive because my broken promise to the dead haunts me night and day. Is he alive or dead? Which is it? Which is it? (rises and crosses to l. ) I will endure this no longer. I will confess everything to her—everything. I will clear my soul to-night—to-night! (sits in chair, l.)
(May re-enters, l. u. e., crosses to t.)
Steve, (taking her hand) May, I want to tell you something.
May. (both up c.) Ah, you have a secret, eh? I knew it.
Steve. Not now. When you have placed baby in her crib to-night and hushed her to sleep, come here, and I will tell you something I should have said long, long ago.
May. (c.) So serious—why—(becoming alarmed) Steve, what have you to tell me?
(Deborah enters, x,. u. e.)
Steve. Sh! (low) To-night! to-night!
Deb. (r. u. e. at door) Steve, I've been askin' Bro'r Tom all mornin' to bring some wood, but I can't get him 'way from baby, (coming down) Steve, will you fetch a few sticks? I'm that flurried and excited--
(Enter Hiram, bringing donations to the party. Deb.
motions to him that May and Steve are there and he
tries to hide bundles.)
May. Good afternoon, Hiram.
Hiram. Good afternoon, Mis' May.
May. What have you there?
Hiram. Thar—whar ?
May. Why, there? (crossing to Hiram and pointing to where he has tried to conceal bundle)
Hiram. (crosses to Deb.) Oh, that's a bit o' coffee bag to mend the old sail with. (aside to Deb.> Git 'em away or dey'll see me sho'.38
MAY BLOSSOM.
{Enter Steve, r. 3 e.)
Steve. (gets his hat) I'm going. (crosses' xt door, l. 2)	■
May. (crossing to him) Don't be long.
Steve. No.
May. And to-night, you remember.
Steve. To-night. {exits, l.)
May. {aside—looking after him) What can he have to tell me?
Deb. (l., moves center table up l., against staircase) May, go right upstairs to your room an' stay there, an' don't come down till I call you.
May. (c.) Upstairs—why, auntie?
Deb. Don't ask any questions, but go. It won't do for you to know that the folks are goin' to s'prise you and Steve? Will it, Hiram? {he shakes his head)
May. What?
Deb. {confidentially) The boys are goin' to give you a s'prise party. {down r.—earnestly) An' you mustn't know anything about it.
May. {up l.—hiding her smiles) Oh! {laughing) Then I won't, {goes back and sits sewing, with her face turned away)
Hiram. {aside to Deb) The rest o' the boys'll be 'long soon with the fixin's. {goes up, c.)
Deb. {at door, l. u. e.) Tell 'em to put 'em in the shed, {aloud—as they move to the door) Goin'?
Hiram. {at door, c.—aloud) Yes, got to get the boat ready for fishin' fo' sunrise. {crossing to Deb— peepsrunder her apron at chicken) Mind, don't let them know nothin' about it.
Deb. I'll be careful.
Hiram, {laughing bus.) Oh, this will be a s'prise party! {exit, c., laughing)
{Warn music.)
Deb. Oh, dear, I never was so exrvted in ail my life, I say, May, will ye come an' help me.—never mind. I ll get Milly.
( Music at Deb's exit. Going off, r. 3 e.)
Milly, I want you to—{off, door closed)
May. {up at window, looking off, l.—waves her hand to Hibam) A surprise party! I remember now, as IMAY BLOSSOM.
39
came along, every one I met stopped and talked to me as though they wanted to tell me something. Oh, I must go and tell Steve. (crosses to l. c., and stops) Shall I? Yes, I must tell him. We will make them believe we are awfully surprised. " (about to open door, l. 2 e.)
(Eph. appears at window, the light outside floods the stage—he is very ragged—old Federal uniform.)
Eph. Miss May—Miss May! (repeat)
May. (at first sound of his voice stops—as he repeats the name starts) Ah!
Eph. Oh, Miss May!
May. (turning, half dazed) Eph!
Eph. Yes, Missey—(Eph enters, c., weeping for joy) I'se so glad ter see you—so glad! (sinks at her feet) Bress de Lord, I'se back again. (May stares at Eph as though unable to believe her own eyes) Don't look skeered, Missey. I bring good news.
May. (l. 2 e.—Eph kneels to her) News?
Eph. News—news from him.
May. From him?
Eph. Massa Richard.
May. (almost inaudible) Richard! (staggers, crosses to r.) My God! My God!
Eph. (with wild joy) Yes, Missey. He's come back. (May standing up, sinks against arm-chair, stunned—Eph c.( runs to window) He's comin' across the field now, we went first to de ole house down de beach. When we foun' it deserted 'nd everybody quiet an' still roun' de place, an' de weeds a-growin' slam up to de door, Marse Richard mos' give in—he thought you'd gone away. Den we happened to see yer—he spied yer fust, Missey—agoin' 'long de paf to dis yer house, an' he sent me dar to bear de glad tidings. He'll soon have ye hugged close. (half crying) Oh, I'se so glad I'se back again. I'se so happy—so happy.
May. (in hoarse whisper as before) Alive! No! No! no—it cannot be. (crosses to chair, l. 1 e.—falls heavily into it)
Eph. (frightened—hurrying to her and rubbing her hands) Missey, what the matter, Missey? What make ye so still? Ain't ye glad? I thought ye'd jest screech wid joy. Heaven's sake, Missey, say somethin'—don't look at me in dat way—say somethin'—sas —ah—massa ■—massa (runs c., off l.)40
MAY BLOSSOM.
May. (seated in arm-chair, l. 1—slowly recovers—-holds her hands to her temples, as if in pain—turns slowly to where Eph stood, as though expecting to see a horrible phantom) Ugh! (rises—goes to door, c.— opens it—looks out—door shuts violently—starts in terror—down c.—laughs at fears—checks herself quickly)
(Warn music to change.)
Oh, what a hideous dream! (goes to fire-place and looks in mirror) Yes, and I have my senses. Ugh! Ugh! (with a shiver. Rests her head on mantel, facing the mirror—a slight pause)
(Music changes. Richard, with clothes rather the worse for wear, and very pale, showing the marks of long sickness and imprisonment, crosses by window. He disappears—a second afterward a low knock is heard—door gently opens and for a second he stands on the threshold, with a mute gesture of joy, steals gently towards her and embraces her. Stop music.)
Rich, (in a weak voice) Darling! Mat. (recoils) Ah!
Rich. (springing toward her with extended arms) May!
May. (recedes as far as possible from him—crosses to l. u. Falls on sofa, face in hands) It is—it is Richard. The sea has given up its dead!
Rich'. (above and over her) Dead! No; but here with you, May, never to part again.
(May, almost fainting, sinks on sofa, her face hidden in the cushions.)
(tenderly) I have frightened you. I should have remembered how fatal joy sometimes is, but if you only knew how I have looked forward to this day, you would forgive the surprise. I have been in prison, dear, for two long years, because they could prove nothing against me. It was the fortune of war, but I knew I could trust you, and so I was content to wait. At last, one night, while a storm was raging, with Eph's help, I managed to escape and fought my way to liberty—though fired at by the guard—through the bullets, through the angry waters, through darkness, I fought my way toMAY BLOSSOM.
41
to you. Why this silence, May? I have come back to you. (about to embrace her)
May. (rising with a cry—waving him back) You must not.
Rich. (as she starts from him) May.
May. (crossing to r. c.) Go! leave me! I implore you! Go!
Rich. (amazed) Go?
May. Oh! Have pity on me!
Rich. What does this mean?
May. (with a powerful effort) I—I—I—am—a wife
Rich. (crosses to c.—starts terrified) A wife! YouT you! A wife! You are jesting. (pauses) So whil« I was a prisoner of war, you grew tired of waiting—■ forgot your vows of love, and—(pause) married, (pausi —almost fiercely) Whom? (c.)
May. (r. u. e.—almost in a tohisper) Steve.
Rich. (unable to realize it) Steve Harland? The man who told you of my arrest? He who saw me cruelly dragged away—I bade him tell you to be true to me, as I would be to you. (between every phrase he gasps and pauses for her answer) He told you that. (subdued passion) He also told you of his coward love, and you—you listened to him! (reproachfully) Oh, May! May!
(N. B.—The following scene must be very carefully played—subdued intensity.)
May. (up to him, c.—very much perplexed) Whal do you mean? My husband's coward love? (erect) Are you mad?
Rich. (turning) I bade Steve Harland tell you 1 was arrested as a spy—and he swore to me he'd do so.
May. (low and slow) Steve, my husband, knew yoi» were not dead?
Rich. Yes.
May. (closer) He saw you taken—prisoner—the night you pledged your love to me?
Rich. He did.
May. (almost unable to believe it—pausing between every word as though she were not able to comprehend it) And Steve—swore—to—you—that—he—would—tell —me?
Rich. I call heaven to witness that he did.
May. (for the first time realizing the truth, with a long cry of pain, staggers across stage, and supports42
MAY BLOSSOM.
herself against tack of table) O-h!!! (to herself— musing) No! I'll not believe it!
(Change music.)
Heaven, forgive him, I never will. (crosses to c.— stops—pause—opens door with a single blow—leans against it for support. Noise of chopping wood heard as door is opened. Mildly) Steve! (pause) Steve! (loud and shrill) Steve!!! (fiercely) Steve!!! (chopping stops)
Steve. (outside—pleasantly) I'm not deaf, May darling. Just another piece to chop. (noise of chopping wood—one blow) There! I'm coming! (at first sound of his voice, Richard is about to start towards him—May waves him back. Appearing with an armful of wood) This is mighty tough wood, May.
(May totters up stage a couple of steps—Richard stands l. u. e.—Steve—laughingly) Why-
(Stop music.) Rich. You scoundrel!
May. (stepping in between the two men) Richard! (Steve, as his eyes rest on Richard, utters a low groan —the wood drops piece by piece from his arms, he stands like one struck dumb—quietly and calmly.)
May. Steve, here is Richard. He is not dead, but has tome back—come back to make me his wife, as I had promised him. For two years he has been in prison. He says you knew of his arrest, and that he charged you with a message for me, which you swore to deliver. Steve, is this true? (pause) Silent? Oh, Steve, speak, or my heart will break!
Rich, (vehemently) Yes, traitor, speak if you have a tongue. I bade you tell her what your own eyes saw, and to be true to her vow. Speak! Did I not? (pause —fiercely) Before Heaven, did I not bid you tell her this? You dare not answer—you treacherously hold your peace—(about to strike him) Scoundrel!
(Starts fiercely toward Steve, as if to strike him— Steve, not flinching, bows resignedly.)
May. (seizing Richard's hand as 'it descends) Rich-MAY BLOSSOM.
43
ard, how dare you? (fiercely forcing Mm down, r. 1) You shall not—(throwing him off)—shall not! (r. c., tenderly) Forgive me, Richard, forgive me. I didn't mean that, but I couldn't help it—he is my husband. (turns slowly to Steve, whose head U hung with self-reproach—speaks very quietly) Are you—--turned to stone? Have you nothing to say? (pause) Answer me.
Steve. (imploringly—in a voice almost inaudible) May!
Mat. Answer me!
Steve. (low—dead) Nothing.
May. My God! It is true! (crosses to c.—frenzied) Out—out of my sight! Go! Go! Let seas divide us! Ay, even death is welcome. Never let me see your treacherous face again. Go! Go! Go!
(Steve totters toward ihe door like a blind man.)
No! No! (shrieks) Don't go! Steve! Steve to l. c. —crosses to r. c.) Oh! Richard. (with an entire change of manner and rapid voice) You see how it is. He has deceived us both. The night you were taken prisoner, I told Steve that you loved me, and had asked me to be your wife. Father, Aunt Deborah, and the village can tell you that for a year I mourned you as dead. I found your hat and the keepsake I gave you on the beach. I wore that ribbon until the day I married him—him that I thought so good, so brave, so honorable. Don't turn away from me. I loved you, Richard, and only you. Steve, there, can tell you so. (turning tearful to Steve—crosses to c.) Steve, wasn't it true? Oh, Richard, Richard. (she kneels on the floor, c., with face in her hands, and sobs)
(Warn curtain.)
Steve. (without a movement—only raises his eyes above) God pity me! (music) Have mercy! End it all.
Rich, (bending over her) May! My little May, you love me still? (she starts and turns from him) And I—I love you. (lifting her up)
May. (trying to release herself) You forget
Rich. I forget nothing!
May. I am his wife.44
MAY BLOSSOM.
Rich. (dragging her down to r.) His wife by treachery.
Mat. (crossing to his right. He puts right arm around her and drags her slowly toward the door) The laws of God and man.
Rich. No, you belong to me, and by heaven! I'll kill him who dares to take you from me. You are my wife —not his. The oath we plighted, no lies shall break. Come—May—come with me. Leave that wretch to repent the wrong he has done us both.
(He drags her to u. r. e.—just at that moment Steve, who has been in a dazed condition, seems to realize that all he loves is about to be torn from him. With a sudden and ferocious spring, he drags May from Richard, with a cry like an enraged and wounded animal. She falls fainting, supported upon his left arm, his right extended, repulsing Richard. Richard retreats with bowed head mutely recognizing the husband and father.)
Steve. She is my wife. She belongs to me. No power on earth can take her from me.
ACT III.
Scene.—Same as Act II., evening, moonlight. Characters dressed in Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. The opening scene is a faithful reproduction of the old-time manners and customs.
Events.—The opening of the Act discloses friends and neighbors, who have gathered at Steve's cottage to celebrate the anniversary of his union with May. They have been married a year. Through the plots of Tom and Owen, Unca Bartlett is induced-to come to the point, and propose to Deb. Steve and Mat receive a tender and touching blessing from Unca Bartlett, surrounded by their friends, who know nothing of their resolve to part. s At close of Act, Steve climbs the stairs to kiss for the last time their little one, to whom Milly croons a low lullaby,
Call.—Tom, Owen, Hiram, Deborah, discovered. __ Milly, Six Supers, Six Ladies, Fiddler, Bartlett,' ready, b. u. e.MAY BLOSSOM.
45
(Lamps lighted at rise of curtain. Fiddler on table, playing. Tom standing on chair.)
Gents and Ladies Lady Gent Lady Gent Milly Hiram Deb	Owen
(At rise of curtain all shout and laugh, dancers come down, c., balance, Deb and Owen join hands high, Hiram and Milly lead, all follow down c., up outside, Deb and Owen last; this forms new figure, with Hiram and Milly first, Deb and Owen last, repeat figures as before, Deb and Owen stop at head, all separate, r. and l., balance, gents on one side, ladies on the other. Tom, on chair, calls the figures.)
Tom. Swing yer partners.
(Ladies and gents meet in c., and swing to places. Positions.)
Gent Lady Lady Gent Milly Owen Hiram Deb
Tom. Forward four.
(Deb and Owen, head of set, back to audience, last lady and gent foot of set, forward and back.)
Cross over.
(They exchange positions.) Forward again.
(They do so and back.)
Cross over.
(They do so and swing to sides as at first. Side couples repeat figures, Tom calling as before.)
Forward four.
Cross over	Hiram and Lady
Forward again	Milly	Gent
Cross over Hands all round46
MAY BLOSSOM.
(All join hands and circle half way round.)
The other way.
(They circle back to places. Tom sings.)
Such happiness and jollity
We're going to have to-night,
Old Hawkinds plays the fiddle,
We will dance with all our might.
To celebrate the marriage
Of our lovely little May,
We'll dance all night till broad daylight
Omkes. Hurrah!
Tom. And then we'll dance all day. Chorus. Then forward four,	(cross over all)
Just hear the music play.	(balance)
We'll dance all night,	(back, all)
Till broad daylight,	(balance)
And then we'll dance all day. Cross once more,	(cross over)
Come join without delay	(back)
And celebrate the wedding of Our darling little May.
Tom. Grand right and left.
(Right hand to partner, left to next, etc. Music.)
Tom. (yells) Kiss your partners. (The women scream and run off, followed by the men, l. 2e. As Owen attempts to kiss Deborah, she recovers, shrieks and runs off, l. 2 e.)
Catch her, Owen, catch her.
(Owen runs after, l. 2 e. The voices of the girls and the laughter of the men die away.)
Tom. (c.) Ha! Ha! Ha! Sis Deb's got more 'gility than I thought she has. Ain't had so much fun since I battled with a shark last winter, (laughter outside, l. 2 e.) Here they come. (goes to window— noise and laughter louder) Ha! Ha! Ha.! Deb's coming into port as though she was chased by a school of porpoises. Ha! Hal Ha!MAY BLCSSOM.
47
(Laughter kept up. Enter Milly, r. 3 e., followed by omnes—scattering about stage—keep up noise. Enter Deb, l. 2 e. She runs across and off c. door and by window, followed a moment later by Owen—loud laughter. Enter Deb, r. 3 e., crossing to l. 2 e. Owen enters, r. 3 e., sees her, exits quickly, r. 3 e., to head her off. Laughter and noise. Hiram and others near r. 3 d., go off and right on again, talking.)
Omne. " He's got her." " They're coming." " Here they are," etc. (enter Deb and Owen, exhausted, r. 3 e., come down, c.) Oh-o-o-o-
{Laughter and shouting as Owen kisses her, and crosses to Tom's l. as he does so. Bart, who has come on c. e., gets up to c., and sees him, at same time all laugh and shout. Bart comes down c., Deb goes to l. Music stops.)
Deb. (stands horrified) Oh, Unca Bartlett! Omnes. Good evening, Unca Bartlett. Unca B. (aside—glaring at Owen) If . I didn't preach peace, I'd strangle that red-headed crab crusher!
(Deb goes to dresser, l., Bart crosses to fire-place—sits.)
Ov^en. (pulls Tom by coat-tails to c., backing—Tom chuckling) Did ye see me, Tom?
Tom. (laughing) Well, I reckon. Ha! Ha! and heard ye, too. Say, Owen, I think he's riled up to jealousy point. Let's get the folks out of the way, and 'pend on it, he'll come to a proposal point immediately.
Owen. He! He! Ye've got a head like a whale, ye have! • (crosses up l.)
Tom. (c. All gather about him. He is well up stage) Say, hoys and girls, ain't you hungry?
Omnes. (r. and l.) Wall, I reckon we are. Wha— wha—che—got? Tom. Very hungry? Omnes. Deed—in-—deed——
(Owen, l. c., trying to flirt with Deb, who stands by the dresser.)
Tom. As-ton-ish-ing-ly—hungry?
Omnes. (impatiently) You bet we are.
Tom. Well, look here. (they surround him) Sig43
MAY BLOSSOM.
Deb's got two of the fattest gobblers you ever saw a sizzling on the kitchen stove.
Omnes. Oh—Oh! Oh! (smack, their lips) Aye. Scrumptious, etc. Tom. So, make a break for 'em.
(Everybody, with a cry of delight, stampede off, r. 3 e. Hiram and Owen last to exit, r. 3 e.—Owen turns, throws kisses to Deb, who stands by dresser, l. Bart seated at fire-place.)
Unca B. (rising—up, r. c.) Miss Deborah, Owen kissed you.
Deb. (l. r., indignant) The idea! (back of chair, l.)
Unca B. It sort o' riled me when he did it. Indeed it did. I came mighty near doing something desperate. Deb. Desp'rate?
Unca B. Yes, indeed. Owen Hatherway had better keep away from you, you hear me?
Deb. (aside) I never saw him so riled before. Unca B. (makes one or two more efforts to speak —wipes his face) Warm, to-night, ain't it?
Deb. Kinder. (aside) What is the matter with Unca Bartlett?
(She affects to be engaged—occasionally steals a g.lance at him—he evinces his nervousness by shifting his position—tying his handkerchief into knots—clearing his throat, etc. After bus.)
Unca B. Miss—Debor—ah. Deb. Did you speak? (goes to him) Unca B. No—I—just said Miss Deborah. Deb. What's a troublin' you, Unca Bartlett? Unca B. Nothing—nothing—why—I—they've gone and left us all alone, haven't they?
Deb. Yes, but if you're afeered, I'll call 'em back. (about to cross up 'r. )
Unca B. (stopping her) Don't do it. Don't call 'em back, don't call 'em back. (aside) If I could just get started once, I'd settle the business mighty quick. (down, r. c.—makes effort to speak—loosens his cravat, etc.) Miss Deborah—will you—I—I—was thinkin' that —we've been acquainted so long that (crosses to r. c.) Do you think the war'll last long?
Deb. Can't say. I never trouble myself about the war. (crosses, l.)MAY BLOSSOM.
49
Unca B. No, but if ye did, would ye? I mean if you could—did ye? No, no, I mean that—(chokes) Miss Deborah, (aside) I'll out with it now if it takes every hair in my head. I've been wanting for some time to tell you something that's been a rankling here. (indicating heart—trembling from head to foot, and looking at her imploringly)
Disr. (aside) What's he shaking so for? No—yes —I do declare, if I don't think he's going to propose.
(Enter Tom, Owen and Hiram, peeping in from door, B. 3. Bus.)
(to him—low and tremblingly) We—I—I-
Unca B. I want you to answer me a question, (get ting closer)
Deb. (aside) It's a comin'. (very low) Wh— what question?
Unca B. I was thinking about asking you if—if—I— I—mean to say— (straightens his vest—aloud) Will you—won't you—what d'ye say? I—Miss Deborah— won't you be—(very abruptly) D'you care for Owen? Deb. Been all this time a sayin' that? Lor' no. Unca B. Deb! No? you don't—you don't care for Owen? (getting closer) Well, do you care a little for—for—(getting away from her) me? (jumps quickly away when he says me) _ . Deb. (with a cry) Oh, Unca Bartlett! Unca B. (from corner) Say you do or say you don't. Say something. Deb. (shyly) Well, I—I—I—I think I do. Unca B. You do! (goes towards her as if afraid of his reception, and carefully puts his arm about her, holds her with one hand and with the other wipes his face) Miss Deborah, what do you say, if we (suddenly) Will you marry me? Tom. He's proposed.
Deb. Oh, Unca Bartlett! It's so sudden—so— (bus.) Well, then, I reckon so.
(Tom, Owen, and everybody appear—they steal cautiously down.)
Unca B. (excitedly) Oh, say it again. Deb. Yes.
Unca B, (gives a screech of delight) Hooray! (Omnes, who have quietly and quickly surrounded them.50
MAY BLOSSOM.
burst out laughing—shout. Deborah gives a slight scream and runs upstairs and off. Unca B. puts his fingers in the armlets of his vest, and with a looJc of disdain at Owen, turns, whistles and walks up stage and off, r. 3 e. Slow bus. All laugh boisterously. )
Tom. (r.) Well, I reckon we've fixed him. Owen. (l.—with pride) Oh, say it again, (laughs) Tom. (calls off) Start the music—make things lum-
(Violin without, r. 3 e.)
Owen. Oh, I reckon. Where's Steve? Tom. Dunno. Reckon he's somewhar about the house.
Hiram. I'll bet the young cod's down by the creek with May. My! My! an' didn't May look purty, too. All dressed in white?
Tom. Why, that's May's weddin' dress. The gals tnade her put it on. Let's find 'em, and interrupt their courtin'. (all exit, laughing, r. 3 e.)
(May enters, down stairs—a great change has come over her—she is dressed very prettily.)
May. Oh, I wish the night was over. (looks about nervously) How will it end? (looks in glass) I cannot hide it, yet I must appear happy! Happy, with this chill at my heart. (leans on mantel) Oh, Steve J Steve! (sobs) Omnes. (off r. 3 e.) Take yer partners. All ready.
(Pause. Bus. off stage, singing. May turns slowly round.)
May. How happy they all are. And how little they dream of the anguish that fills the two souls whose marriage they are celebrating
(Chorus outside.)
Oh, what a mockery! I can endure it no longer.
(Closes dovr, r. 3 e. Cusic stops. Enter Milly, past window—stops inside door and listens.)MAY BLOSSOM.
51
Mat. Well, Milly?
Milly. Massa Steve's comin'. I told him that yer wanted to see him. (goes to window) Here he is, missy.
May. That will do, Milly. Go and take a look at baby. Be careful you don't waken her.
Milly. (going upstairs) Oh, I'm always keerful, I won't waken her. My, how she does yell when she's 'sturbed. I'll be keerful, mum. (exit, r. u. e.)
May. (looking out of window) Yes, there he is— my husband—he's coming. (listens, examines door, etc. Steve passes window) Heaven help me in this bitter trial!
Steve. (crosses window—enters—appears at door— his face very pale) You—you sent for me?
May. (r.—standing—in subdued tones) Come in and shut the door. (Steve closes the door—takes off his hat—stands mutely, l. c. May, with exertion) Be —be seated.
Steve. Let me stand—here—I am listening—will listen to the end.
May. (recovering) As you please—Mr. Harland.
Steve, (as she says "Mr. Harland," a thrill of pain goes through Mm—pause—his head bent low) I am listening. You—you—called me Mr. Harland. (after a struggle) Well?
May. (looks at him—struggles with her feelings—■ after an effort—tenderly) Steve!
Steve, (with a grateful look) God bless you.
May. I have not sent for you to reproach you. No anger, no harshness, no bitterness or tears can efface the memory of your--
Steve. I know it—I know it!
May. (the tears running down her face) Oh, Steve, the knowledge of this great wrong has almost killed me. I could have placed—our baby girl in her coffin and not have suffered one-half the pain I have endured this night. (Steve moans) Not for him, Steve, not for him. (fervently) No! heaven be thanked for that. Richard is as dead to me as—my heart.
Steve. May!
(Get more light ready.)
May. Yes, Steve, dead. But, enough of ,this. Richard and your wife will never meet again. He has gone away.52
MAY BLOSSOM.
Steve. Gone—away?
May. It was his duty. (looks him steadily in the face) His duty, (pause) I will not tell you of his great grief, his anguish at being forced to leave—his home. It was all pictured in his face. Steve. Did—he—go—cursing—me? May. You are my husband. (rises suddenly) Oh, Steve, why did you do this? Why? Why? Where was your manhood, your honor? It is not Richard's love for me that affects me. No, no. It is my lost faith in you. Do you remember how you won me? Do you remember (down, l.) how hard I tried to shut him from my heart and place (up, l.) you there? See me now—a heart-broken, deceived woman!
(Goes up stage arid sits near window, l. u. Moon throws a light upon her—a pause—during following speech, she sits with her hands clasped between her knees, gazing at the moon and sobbing.) .
Steve, (r. c.—humiliated and in subdued tones) I do not deny my guilt nor do I attempt to offer any excuse. I cannot blame you for hating me. (May turns to him) Listen. One year ago, I called you my wife, and took the vow that should have bound us heart to heart forever. The words of dear old Unca Bartlett penetrated my soul only to show me how black was all within; and while friends showered their blessings upon us, my heart stood still with terror—with fear that he might break through the crowd and curse me. One year ago.' And in that year, May, I have lived a century. Waking, I looked around me every day to see him back. Sleeping, I was struggling with him, for he came to take you from me. (hoarsely) Many a time I have rushed from the house determined to put an end to all these tortures in the sea, but the waves mocked my agony and cried: "No rest is here—no rest—no rest! " (up c., quickly) May. Oh, misery!
Steve. Oh, May! (passionately and with subdued frenzy) May, I loved you so—I could not give you up. (intensely) Curse me, for I have blighted your young life. Drive me from you. Oh, what expiation can I make? Speak! Tell me—I will not hesitate—(wildly) Speak! My God! Tell me! May. Hush, .Steve, they will hear you. Steve, (desperately) What do I care, since I haveMAY BLOSSOM.
53
lost you. I will tell them everything. Let them know I have deceived you. Bid them drive me from the house like a dog. I will not murmur, for I deserve it all—all.
(turns and fall3 against foot of stairs, r. c., and hides face)
May. (overcome by his tears, displays a desire to forgive him—then assumes an air of firmness) No, it must not be—the past is dead—but we are man and wife, and must keep this wretchedness to ourselves. It would break father's heart—he must not know—you understand, Steve. Oil, Steve, what of the future. Steve. (turning slowly in despair) The future? May. ■ Yes. I will abide by anything you say. Steve. (with stony despair—pause) There is only one thing left to do. (pause) I will go away. May. (falling in chair, l.). Go away? Steve. What else can I do? You have lost faith in me—and justly. My presence here would only add more misery "to your life'. I couldn't dare look into your face, for the silent reproaches I should read there would kill me. This home and everything I have belongs to you. You and the old folks shall never want—I'll see to that. Oh, I'll find some excuse. May! May! It's like tearing my heart out, but I must go. May. Where?
Steve. Men are needed at Richmond. My time has come. (May starts, but controls herself) I'm going to the army, where I can try to make reparation.
(May turns from him—buries her face in her hands and bursts into tears. Steve goes toward hereto take her in his arms, but dare's t.ot. Gives way to his grief. May rises, crosses, r. )
Steve. Good-bye, May. (going up) Will you take my hand? (coming down slowly)
May. (drops handkerchief, r. c.—delicate bus.) Wait—wait—let me first forget.
(Steve, with stony despair, turns—looks at her—sees handkerchief—picks it up and puts it inside of vest next to heartj after kissing it.)
Hiram, (appears at window) Ah! there they are! What did I tell you?
(Stop music.)
On his knees, making love to her again! (enters with54
MAY BLOSSOM.
others and pokes Steve in the ribs) Well, what have yer to say for yerself, eh? (enter Tom and Owen) Speak out, ye Tom cod, what ye got to say?
Steve, (with forced laughter—trying to he cheerful) Why—what—ha! ha! ha!—why May (turning to her) here are the folks—we've been hiding from them, but they've found us at last.
Hiram. And a nice chase they gave us, too, didn't they?
Omnes. Yes, that they did! etc.
Tom. (r. c.) Say, May, heard the latest? It's all fixed. Owen and me fixed it.
May. {same as Steve, trying to be cheerful) What, father?
Tom. (to Steve) D'ye mean to say ye haven't heard the news? Sis Deb and Unca Bartlett's engaged. (crosses to Steve)
May and Steve. Engaged!
Steve. I must find them and congratulate them. (starts to go, r. 3)
May. (glad of a chance to get away) And so must I. (starts to go up l., but is stopped by Hiram)
Owen, (crosses to c.) Hold on! Hold on! They can't be both sides of the house. Don't let them go. (the women seize Steve and the men seize May) D'ye know what we are going to do? Well, we're—(crosses to Tom)
(Enter Unca B. and Deb.—arm in arm—r. 3 e. They come down c. stage—all making room for them.)
Unca B. (to Steve and May—with great pride, looking across defiantly at Owen. Tom pokes Owen in ribs—they both chuckle) Well, my children, give us your congratulations. I'm one of the family now. (to Deb) Ain't I, Deb?
Deb. 'Squit your foolishness. You're too pert.
Unca B. Oh, I reckon not. Been courting you nearly thirty years, (with a look at Owen) But it's fixed now, an' I'm not sorry for some folks that got left, either, (to Tom) What was a certain party about to remark when I interrupted?
Owen. Wall—I was—going ter say—we were going to have a sort of a jollifi-
Unca B. (severely) Excuse me! I was addressing Mr. Thomas Blossom. Is your name Thomas Blossom?
Owen. No. Only—I was going to say we were going— (looks at Tom—side glance)MAY BLOSSOM.
55
Unca B. That'll do! That'll do! That is sufficient. (Owen crosses, r.) Thomas. (to Tom) Proceed. (Owen looks sideivays at Tom)
Tom. (pokes owiin in the ribs—aside to him) Oh, he'll never forgive you, never. (Owen sits fire-place—■ Tom crosses to Bart, r. c.) Well, as this s'prise party is given in honor of the anniversary of Steve's marriage to my May, we want you to say something to 'em. It wouldn't be no s'prise party if you didn't, (to May and Steve) Kneel down. Unca Bartlett's goin' to say some-thin' to you.
Unca B. (wipes face, hands handkerchief to Deb— comes c.) Honey! Steve!
(They kneel before him—all stand round.)
May the good Lord above—who sees and reads all our hearts—looking down on you two young people—bless you both. May your future be prosperous and happy, and may you both live long to enjoy it. Amen.
(May and Steve turn away—Deb returns specs and goes to dresser.)
Girls, (to Steve) Now kiss May. Men. (to May.) Now kiss Steve.
(Steve kisses her forehead. All laugh. May staggers, r., concealing her agitation. Steve, c., almost unable to realize it, receives the kiss as a gift from heaven.)
Tom. My! My! Ain't this downright happiness for you? (Owen goes to Tom—Tom delighted) Great Crab! but this is a s'prise party. (Owen crosses to Deb.— music heard) Hook on—take your partners. (all seize partners) I'll join you this time, if my old hinges break.
Omnes. (sing) Such happiness, etc.
(Tom seizes a girl and runs off, followed by all the rest, r. 3 e.—as they exit, Owen starts to go off with Deb. Bart pushes him away and goes off with her himself—Hiram last, slaps his knee and laughs, exits with Owen, imitating Unca B. and Deb. Pause—May stands at mantel—Steve stands l.)
Steve, (covering face with hands) May, I must go56
MAY BLOSSOM.
now, while I have the courage—the party will soon be breaking up. I will see our friends as they pass out the gate and say good-night to them. When they are all gone, send Unca Bartlett to me. May. Unca Bartlett! Steve. Yes, we can .trust him, May. May. (controls herself with difficulty) Yes. Steve. <l. 2—at dresser—takes up baby dress— breaks down—hides face in it, and sobs) Our child, you will not love her less—because—she—you have often told me so—resembles me—no—no—no—she had no part in my crimes. (crosses to c.—May, at chair, remains immovable) When she is oldeT and asks for her father, tell her—tell her—oh! May, you won't let her forget me? sometimes in her prayers. Tell her to think of me—to pray for that pardon I dare not ask— you will do this, May, won't you? Won't you? (tears in voice) May Yes.
Steve. (overcome, he leans a second, l. 2, on sideboard—he sees the little baby clothes of last act. He picks them up—looks at them—and places them back. Inaudibly) May, before I go—May, may I kiss baby?
May. Oh, Steve, don't, don't, I implore you! I should be afraid to look at her again—lest I saw your parting tears still wet upon her face. Oh, don't!
(Steve staggers to door—when he gets on threshold to door.)
MilIy. (sings outside upstairs)
Now, tootsey wootsey, go to sleep An' close those darlin' little eyes In slumbers soft, and low an' sweet, While cherubs watch you from the skies.
May. (deeply overcome) Steve-
Milly (as before—very low)
An' in your happy, peaceful dreams—
May. (a little louder) Steve-
Milly. (as before)
The angels in the balmy air-
May. (choking) Kiss baby. Milly. (lower)
Will look along the silvery streams An' see your papa waiting there.
(When May says " kiss baby," he turns and gives herMAY BLOSSOM.
57
One long, thankful look, and staggers across the room, upstairs to bedroom. May falls iveeping—her head resting on table—as Steve opens door, voice louder)
Waitin' here for baby dear For baby dear, for baby dear, So hush-a-by and go to sleep, Your papa's near—my baby dear.
(The above as curtain falls. Ring down.)
CURTAIN.
ACT IV.
six years later.
CHERRY DELL.
Time.—Autumn.
Scene.—A portion of the village church, l., seen in the distance through cut drop. The opposite side is broken up with hillocks, trees, shrubbery, vines, etc. On the stage proper are wild rose bushes (deep red, light and white in full bloom) and wild cherries hanging on the boughs of cherry trees. The entire stage one patch of grasses and wild flowers of all colors and variety. During the act, Autumn leaves fall from the overhanging branches, and the sun is seen peeping from behind a huge hill, casting a beautiful sunlight effect upon the scene, r. bright and sunny. l. in the shade. Path to dell, r. u. e. and l. 2 e. At rise of curtain, the village chimes are heard in the distance. Tom Blossom, hair very white, and Owen Hatherway, very stout, discovered lying in the shadow of a large willow tree, svioking. Village chimes are heard at rise of curtain.
Tom. Owen, this is what I call real, regular, downright comfort, stretched out under this old wilier on a Sabbath arternoon, smokin' 'way as though we were as rich as a bank president.
Owen. (fixing pipe) Tom, there's been great changes sence the war. Tom. Yes, indeedy, Owen, the war does make a58
MAY BLOSSOM.
mighty change in the old town. Le's see. It must be nigh onto six years sence Hampton was burned. Owen. It happened the night o' the s'prise party. Tom {sadly) Yes, that was the night Unca Bartlett and Sis Deb made it up—an' next.mornin' Steve left us.
Owen. Tom, I want ter ax ye somethin'. I've been long wantin' to know, but feared I might be 'trudin.'
Tom. Why, Owen, ye can't ax me nothin' I won't tell ye up an' down.
Owen. Was it on account o' Richard that Steve went away so sedden?
Tom. I've often thought so, Owen, though Steve nor May never breathed a word about it. Richard was in town that very night, ye know, and never spoke to a
soul except-
Owen. Except-
Tom. Well, I always did think that Richard must have seed Steve and May—but I never knew for sure. He left that very night, and has never been heard of-sence.
Owen. An' that was the reason that Steve joined the boys at Richmond, and, after the war was ended, went on that Arctic cruise catching whales?
Tom. Poor Steve! It's two years now since his ship has been heard from.
Owen. Tom, s'pose Steve should be lost. Do you think May has ever forgotten—Richard?
Tom. Heaven only knows that, Owen, her heart seems kind o' frozen up—except for the child. Look— (points, r. ) Ain't that a purty sight—the little un deckin' the mother's hair with flowers? That's a tiny glimpse o' heaven. They're comin' this way. Let's go. Don't let them see us.
Owen. Hold on. I only done got home this mornin', an' I want to speak to them.
Tom. S'mother time. (draws him, l.) They're in a little world of their own, now, an' we'd only be sort p' 'trudin' on 'em—come!
(Music for entrance of May and child. Owen and Tom exit, l. u. e. Little May, about six years old, enters, playfully pulling on May. May has several picture books in her hands, and a bunch of wild flowers in her hair.
L. May. Oh, see how crooked you've got the flowers. Come, sit down—I must fix them. (pulls May to seat and arranges flowers)MAY BLOSSOM.
59
May. My darling, shall I show you the pictures in your new play-books?
L. May. I don't care for picture books. Milly says only little girls look at pictures, and I'm a big girl. I like stories.
May. Indeed! What kind of stories? About fairies and giants and goblins and-
L. May. No, I like love stories.
May. Love stories! (drawing her in front of her) Why, you are too young to understand them.
L. May. Oh, no, I'm not. (childishly) I like stories where a great big prince (hurriedly) a real nice, good-looking prince—just like papa's picture on the wall {nodding her head as she utters each word) loves—a— beautiful—girl—who loves somebody else.
May. (moved) Who—who has been telling you that?
L. May. Why, Milly, and she told me lots of other nice things. Don't Milly tell good stories! Oh, I love to be a listen-en-in' to Milly.
May. My little innocent!
(Get mechanical butterfly ready.)
Deb. (enters, l. u. e.—hair iron gray) Oh! here you both are! I know'd you was out in the burnin' sun 'thout a thing on your heads. It seems to me I have ter do the thinkin' for the hull family. Thar—(gives hat to May) Put on your hat. Let aunty put on yours. (puts Little May's hat on) I dunno what ye'd all do if it warn't for me. (catching her breath) Seen that ole man o' mine about yere?
May. No, aunt, I haven't seen Uncle Bartlett since breakfast.
L. May. I did, aunty, and he's going to buy me a new doll.
Deb. He's alius fetchin' you somethin'. If ye were growed up petticoats, I'd be right down jealous o' ye. (laughs, then draws Little May to her) Give me a kiss, and run catch butterflies. Lots on 'em about. I dunno how 'tis, but it seems to me more butterflies are out Sundays than any week-a-days.
L. May. (clasping her hands) Oh, there goes a black and white one.. (runs back and catch butterfly, r. u. e.)
Deb. May, mos' time that child went ter school. Can't 'spect to play with her as a sort o' doll baby all yer life!
May. She is all I have left (sitting with her handsCO
MAY BLOSSOM.
clasped, r!) None but a mother can know the great joy that fills a woman's heart when little arms are twiined about her neck—when a little head lies nestling on her breast.
Deb. (sighs)	N
May. (looking off at Little May) When she came —the little, struggling thing—so tender—so helpless— she was dependent on me for every smile that flitted a.cr«ss her face. Day by. day the tendrils of her love clung closer and closer around my own heart. I—I have nothing to live for but my child now.
Deb. Nothin' ter live for! Why, May! Have you forgotten Steve?
May. (seems to freeze up)' No, I have not forgot-ten.
Deb. (prayfully) I know ye hain't. It was only my foolishness. He'll be comin' home soon, May. How s'prised he'll be to see his baby that he left a red-faced thing (glancing at Little May) now growed up a great, romping gal.
May. (as though anxious to change the. subject) Aunt, Owen came home this morning. Have you seen him?
Deb. Yes, I met him and Bro'r Tom goin' to meetin'. (chuckling) He's jest as full of fun as ever.
May. You liked Owen once, djdn't you?
Deb. (coquettishly) That was when I was young and giddy. (chuckles) But Bartlett got ahead o' him. (seriously) Owen took it awful hard though; so to simmer him down, I knit him a pair o' socks—white an' blue, an' he's been a keepin' o' 'em ever since, out o' regard ter me. (long sigh) Poor Owen, but as the almanac says " all's fair in love and war."
L. May. |overhearing speech) Oh, mamma, that's just what Milly said in the story.
Deb. Said what?
L. May. All's—fair—in—love—and—war.
Deb. (to May) Weill' If that child hain't heered every word I said. If she was ter tell Bartlett I knit a pair o' socks for Owen, Bartlett would forbid him ter come ter the house. I might know'd when I opened my mouth about ole times, I'd put my foot in it.
Bart, (enters, singing, l. u. e.) Hello, Deb!
Deb. " Hello, Deb," well I do declare.
Bart. Owen's come back, did ye know that?
Deb. Why, o' course I did; everybody knows that.
May. We were just speaking of Owen.MAY BLOSSOM.
6£
L. Mat. Yes, and Aunt Deb said he took it mighty hard when you got 'head of him, Uncle Bartlett.
Babt. (much amused) Did she?
Deb. Well, do listen to that child!
L. May. Aunt Deb knit him a pair o' white and blue socks, when she married Uncle Bartlett, to simmer him down, and out of regard for her he's been wearing them ever since. (runs off, laughing)
Unca B. Oh, ha! ha!
Deb. Oh, you naughty child!
Unca B. Oh, Deb! oh, Deb! (teases her—Milly runs in excitedly)
Milly. Oh ,missy! Oh, missy! Sich an accident!
May and Deb. Accident!
Deb. Is the house on fire?
Milly. Wuss 'an that! I was feeding Missey May's birdie, an' while I was getting some water, that good for nothin' cat upset the cage, grabbed little birdy and scrunched him all to nothing!
Unca B. (much concerned) Too bad! Too bad! (then suddenly recollecting) Wait a moment, Deb. I've something for her. (runs off, l. u. e.)
L. May. (hears and rushes up) Oh, my birdie!
Milly. (sinks at Little May's feet and sobs) Oh, Missey, Missey, I couldn't help it, 'deed an' I couldn't!
L. May. (clings to May) Oh, my poor birdie! (through her tears and sobs) Oh, mamma! Let's take it to the doctor's! (seizing and pulling her off) The nasty, cruel cat. . I'll—never—speak to—him—again (pushes Milly back) No, I don't want you. Oh, my poor birdie. Let's take him to the doctor!
Milly exits with May and L. May sobbinb, l. 2 e.)
Unca B. (entering hurriedly, l. u. e., calls) May!
X)eb. She is gone.
Unca B. See what I jest bought her. (pulls out a parcel and unwraps it—displaying a doll) Jes' look at that! That's the latest European baby!
Deb. Ain't it lovely? Give it to me!
Unca B. Be careful, now! Be careful! You'll spoil
it!
Deb. Reckon I know how to handle a doll.
Unca B. Reckon you do. You're holding her upside down.
Deb. Oh, well, that's the way you gave it to me.
Unca B. No, my dear. That's the way you took it. (laughs)62
MAY BLOSSOM.
Deb. Pshaw! What do you know about dolls?
Unca B. About as much as you do, my love, you never were a father.
Deb. Bartlett! Ain't she lovely, though! What did you give for that doll? Look at her gown. Must have cost a bit a yard!
Unca. B. Bit a yard! Why, I gave a dollar for that doll!
Deb. A dollar, Bartlett!
Unca B. Oh, but you don't know what it can do! (takes doll) Look, it cries whenever you strike it.
Deb. Well, I declare.
Unca B. And that's not all. Whenever you lay it down, it closes its eyes and goes to sleep.
Deb. No!
Unca B. Look! (lays doll down) See her close her eyes.
Deb. Oh, Bartlett (both chuckle and laugh) Let's take her to May. Her little eyes will just pop out of her head when she sees this. (takes doll and tosses her, laughing) Catchie, catchie! (moves to exit)
Unca B. Stay, Deb, stay just one moment—I have something to show you. (produces newspaper) The Columbia has been heard from at last—Steve's ship.
Deb. Bartlett!
Unca B. She was spoke on the banks by an incoming steamer. Must be in port now.
Deb. And Steve?
Unca B. This paper was over a week old before I saw it. I have just written to inquire about Steve.
Deb. Oh, what will May say when she hears about this? She's home. I'll tell her.
Unca B. No—no—not before we are sure—but I must speak to May—send her to me, Deb, I must prepare her.
Deb. Oh, Bartlett! Bartlett! to think that we'll see Steve again! (moves to go—sees May coming) Why, here she comes!
Unca B. Not a word to her—leave her to me. I must speak to her alone—you take this to little May. (gives her doll)
May. (enters, l. 2 e.) Poor little May is just brokenhearted! She wants you, auntie.
Deb. Look (shows doll) See what Bartlett has got for her—that'll soon cheer her up.
May. Oh, Uncle Bartlett! How good—how kind you are! (exit Deb, l. 2 e.—May moves to follow) Come, Uncle Bartlett, you must give it to her yourself.MAY BLOSSOM.
63
Unca B. (stops her) May, my child, I want to speak to you.
May. To me, Uncle Bartlett.
Unca B. Yes, honey—I want to speak to you—about —about Steve.
May. You promised—(turning away)
Unca B. Never ter speak ter ye about Steve. I know it, else I' wouldn't be asking now if I mought. Kin I, May, kin I? (before she can answer) How lpng 'go is it since Steve's been gone?
May. (very low) Six years.
Unca B, Six years, an' I'm the only one that knows about the trouble between ye!
May. The—only—one.
Unca B. The evening Steve tole it ter me, he made me promise to help you ter hide it from the ole folks, an' I've done my dooty as I sed I would.
May. You have, Uncle Bartlett, and you don't know how grateful I feel for all your kindness to me.
Unca B. Sit yar, May. (she sits beside him on log—he takes her hand in his) Listen, little gal— ever sence yer mother put ye in my arms to be christened, I've watched ye—tended ye, an' when she died an' she was laid out in the little back parlor in the ole home 'fore it was burnt—seems as if it was but yesterday—I lead ye ter her side an' held yer tiny hand, an' ye knelt to kiss her cole, pale lips for the las' time —ye kissed her three times, I 'member—then put your little face 'gainst hers—an' I let ye lay there on her breast till it was time to fas'en down the lid, then I drew ye away, an' put ye sobbin' as if yer little heart would break into yer father's arms. (meaningly) Yer father's arms. (both greatly affected—a slight pause) May, you are a mother now, and should (with effort) anything happen ter-
May. (looks at him tearfully)
Unca B. you whar—whar— is little May's father?
May. (with a cry—sobs on his breast)
Unca B. Let 'em flow! Let 'em flow. Let your tears wash out the past. (tenderly stroking her hair) Honey, this is all a mistake. Yer both young yet, an' have the world 'fore ye. Don't let this false idee of wrong forever come 'tween ye. Ye're man an' wife— mother an' father—an' in spite o' all, both your hearts are twined 'round one little baby girl. (May sobs aloud) She calls you " mamma." Would she callMAY BLOSSOM.
Steve "papa" if he should stan' 'fore her? No! No! He is a stranger to her! A stranger!
May. (sinks on her knees before him and hides her face in her hands, sobbing low and convulsively)
Unca B. (bending over her) Little gal, would ye be glad ter see him come home again'? (turning her slowly round to him) Speak, read yer heart to me. There's no one round but Him. (pointing upward) This is His day, an' He is listenin' ter ye—ready an' willin' to pardon an' forgive our errors. Tell me, would ye be a little mite glad ter see him? Wouldn't ye? Wouldn't ye? (tenderly raises her face to his—coaxing an answer)
May. Glad! Oh, Uncle Bartlett! Unca B. Thar—thar. Don't cry! (takes handkerchief and wipes her eyes—then wipes his own—half laughing—half crying) Don't cry! (forgetting himself) Oh! it's glo-ri-ous! Glo-ri-ous (sings) in the year o' Jubilee. (May starts and looks at him) N-n-now, don't ax me nothin'. (chimes heard) Thar's the ole bell ringing. It's time for arternoon service. (putting his arm about her) Come, come, honey, come! The clouds will part at last—trust and hope.
(They exit slowly, l. 2 e.—enter /Steve from the back, r. u. e. He has evidently been watching them from
afar.)
Steve. Oh, for one look into her dear eyes! But ho, she must not see me—never, never—to her I must be as if I were dead—I have passed from life as an evil dream—passed from the thought of all who once loved me—there needed no disguise—hardship and grief have left little of the Steve they once knew. I met Hiram yonder, and he looked me straight in the face and passed on without a thought. Oh, how quickly a man does pass out of this life, and is forgotten—just as though I were dead. Dead! I wish I were! That alone could atone for the wrong I have done her! That alone could make her free! Free to marry the man she loves. " I loved you, Richard, and only you." Those were her very words, and I, her husband, stood there and heard her speak them—" I loved you, Richard, and only you." That was six years ago—but the very tone of her voice rings in my ears. By day, by night, even in my dreams, I hear her! For her my life is a curse. I know it. Often in the lonely night watch, as the ship plungedMAY BLOSSOM.
65
through the stormy northern seas, I have gazed into the dark, restless abyss, and felt that there only could I find rest. But the longing to behold her once more restrained me. Yes, I must see her—see her and my child once more.
(The following is heard in the distance—sung by eight little children. They pass back of the stage, sing, ing.)
Poor little birdie, sweet little birdie, Gone to that home where love never dies;
Dear little birdie, sweet little birdie,
Gone to its home in the bright blue skies.
(The children come marching, 2x2, with a wheelbarrow containing the dead bird. They march down through the narrow lane. Little May is in advance, wheeling the barrow. A very small tot of a girl follows her, with her apron full of flowers. The tallest boy (Yank) carries a miniature spade. At end of the procession a small boy (Willie) carries an empty cage and Milly carrying a cat.)
Birdie is gone to the birdie land, Gone where the good little birdies stand;
Angels with white wings
Soft little white wings, Take my poor birdie with loving hand.
(The red glare of sunset on everything. Birds singing, chirping, flying from tree to tree—bush to bush. The voices of the children come nearer.)
Poor little birdie, sweet little birdie, .
Gone to its home where love never dies,
Poor little birdie, sweet little birdie,
Gone to its home in the bright blue skies.
(They form crescent.)
Boy X
Girl X
Baby girl with flowers.
Willie with em X
Wheelbarrow X
X
empty cage X X
Girl X
Girl
Yank with spade X66
MAY BLOSSOM.
Birdie is gone to the birdie land,
Gone where the good little birdies stand, Angels with white wings Soft little white wings, Take my poor birdie with loving hand. Birdie! Birdie! Dear little birdie, . Fly! Fly!
Away to the sky.
L. May. (to boy with spade) Yank, you make the hole.
(Yank comes, c., and digs hole.)
Now— let's bury—poor—little— (almost chokes) birdie! (kneels—takes the bird from the barrow and kisses it) Omnes. Oh, let me kiss it!
(Little May holds out the bird—they surround her, exclaiming as they kiss it—"Poor little birdie! Is it it really dead," etc., etc. Enter Steve at back.)
L. May. (places bird in grave) There, go to heaven, birdie. (takes flowers from the apron of little Tot and throws in the grave) Don't forget to give these to the angel, and he'll let you in the gate.
(.4.S they fill in the dirt, they kneel and repeat chorus. 'When 'the grave is filled, little Tot comes and dumps flowers from her apron over the grave.)
L. May. (throwing herself across the tiny grave, sobbing) Oh! cruel, cruel kitty! (all weep—to Milly) Cry, Milly, cry.
(Milly cries—all cry and sob.)
Yank.' (jumps up) Now, let's hang the cat.
(Enter Steve.)
(to Milly) Now, Milly, bring that cat here.
Milly. Oh, no! Mass'r Yank. Don't hang the kitten. (cries)
Yank. Yes, I will—come, do you hear me? Bring it here.MAY BLOSSOM.
67
(Milly comes up slowly, sobbing—sets cat down near Yank.)
L. May. Don't, Yank, don't. (tries to stop him)
Steve. Surely, my son, you wouldn't hurt the poor kitten?
Yank. Yes, I will. He's a murderer.
Steve. But, my boy—(tries to stop him)
L. May. (to Steve) Don't touch him! Oh, don't touch him, sir, or he'll hit you. He hit a great big boy the other day, and made his nose bleed awful.
Steve. He must be a terrible fellow. But surely such a great, strong boy wouldn't hurt a poor kitten.
Yank. Yes, I will.
L. May. Oh, don't, don't!
Yank. Well, I'll let kitty go for you, but not for him. Here, Milly, take away your old cat.
Milly. Oh, de Lord be thanked! (takes up cat and carries it away delighted—kissing cat)
Steve. That's my brave boy. (gives him money) Take that and buy something.
Yank. Can't buy candy on Sunday! Oh, Milly, wait. (runs oft, l. u. e.)
Steve, (to Little May) Stay, my child. What's your mother's name?
L. May. May Harland, sir.
Steve. And your name, too, is May—Little May.
May. Yes, sir. (moves to go)
Steve. Stay, my child, stay. You are not afraid of me?
L. May. I ain't afraid.
Steve. Aren't you? Why are you so brave?
L. May. 'Cos my papa is a brave soldier.
Steve, (aside) My baby girl. (aloud) And are you brave enough to come here and take my hand?
L. May. (after hesitation) 'Course I am. (crosses to him and timidly holds out her hand)
(Steve, with restrained emotion, takes it.)
See! I ain't afraid. He's real nice.
Steve. So your papa was a soldier?
L. May. (laughs and holds her hand over her mouth) Oh, it's awful funny, too.
Steve. What is awful funny?
L. May. I never saw my papa, 'cos I was a little baby when he went away.68
MAY BLOSSOM.
Steve. Yes, I know. (overcome)
L. May. What makes you cry? Have you got a little girl?
Steve. Yes—she also was a little baby when I went away. Oh, my darling!
L. May. I am not your darling. (releases her hand) Oh, you hurt. What made you squeeze my hand—you hurt me.
Steve. (sits—draws Little May to him—looks into her face) You have your mother's eyes and her hair. Tell me, is she well?
L. May. Yes, sir.
Steve. And happy?
L. May. Yes, sir.
Steve. Your father was an- old friend of mine. He told me to come to you. (takes her on his knee) Tell me, does your mother ever speak to you of your father?
L. May. Yes, often, and mamma always cries.
Steve. There's cause enough for tears. But she'll soon be happy now. Little girl, I want you to say something to your mother for me. Will you?
L. May. Yes, sir.
Steve. Listen to me and try to remember. Tell her that I have seen your father. He sent her this. She will understand—(gives her envelopes) with his love and blessing. Tell her to forget the past—it was but an evil dream! Steve Harland only asks of her one thing—that his child may not forget him—your father wants you to speak his name in your prayers, my child, you will remember? And he sends you this. (puts locket around her neck) See—this is his portrait—wear it for his sake —for your poor father's sake—my little one—and now— now, I must leave you—take care of these papers—they are important—Uncle Bartlett will know what to do with them. Your father made a little money—enough to keep you and your mother in comfort, and this is his will. Now kiss me, little one—God bless you—farewell, my darling, forever.
L. May. (begins to cry) Oh, my poor papa! Won't he ever come back?
Steve. Never, my child, never—till the sea gives up its dead, (exit, r. u. e.)
L. May. (runs to ging, l., sobbing) Oh, Milly, Milly, where's my mamma? (sobs—meets Milly, who enters, l. 2 e.)
Milly. Bless de child! What's de matter, Missey? (runs to wing and calls) Massa Bartlett! Missis May!MAY BLOSSOM.
69
(Enter May and Bartlett, quickly.)
Dere's somethin' de matter with de chile!
L. May. Oh, mamma! mamma! {sobs) the man said to—give—this—to—you—Uncle Bartlett. (sobs)
(Bartlett takes letters.)
May. The man! What man! -Oh, Uncle Bartlett, tell me—Steve—my husband—you have seen him—Oh, tell me!
Unca B. May, my darling, be calm. (puts her off) No—no—let me see these papers (opens envelope—May watches him)
(Steve appears, r. u. e., listening behind cut woods.) May. It is—from him. Steve, my husband! (springs up and goes to Bartlett) He has returned. Oh, where is he?
Unca B. May, my own child, my darling! May. What is it? There are tears in your eyes! What is it? (starts to take paper) Give it to me! This is killing me.
Unca B. God's will be done! (lets her have paper) May. (reads) His will! Dead! Oh, is he dead? Steve. (advancing quickly, catches her in his arms) May! May! my darling. I am here.
CURTAIN.
■ •
_ ____FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA.
Price 15 Cents each.—Bound Volumes $1.25.
VOL. h
1	Ion
3 F:ulo
2	The Lady of Lyons 4, Richelieu
B The Wife 6 The Honeymoon •j The School for Scandai
8	Money
VOL. II.
9	The Stranger
10 Grandfather Whitehead 1! Richard 111 12 Love'i Sacrifice 18 The Gamester
14	A Cure for the Heartach
15	The Hunchback
16	Don c&'sar de Bazan
VOL. 111.
17	The Poor Gentleman
18	llamlet 16 Charles II
20	Venice Preserved
21	Pizarro
22	The Love Chase
23	Othello
24	Lend me Five Skillings
VOL. IV.
25	Virginius
26	King of the Commons
27	London Assurance
28	The Rent Day
2y Two Gentlemen of Verona 36 The Jealous Wife
31	The Rivals
32	Perfection
VOL. V. [Debts
33	A New Way to Pay Old
34	Look Before You Leap
35	King John
36	Nervous Man
37	Damon and Pvthlas
38	Clandestine Marriage
39	William Tell
40	Day after the Wedding
VOL. VI.
41	Speed the Plough
42	Remeo and Juliet
43	Feudal Times
44	Charles the Twelfth
45	The Bride
46	The Follies ot a Night
47	Iron Chest [Fair Lady 4* Faint Hear' Never Won
. VOL. VII.
49	Road to Ruin
50	Macbeth
51	Temper
52	Evadne
53	Bertram
54	The Duenna
55	Much Ado Aboot Nothing 66 The Critic
VOL. VIII.
57	The Apostate
58	Twelfth Night
59	Brutus
60	Simpson 4 Co
61	Merchant of Venice
62	Old Headsi Young Hearts
63	Mountaineers [riage
64	Three Weeks after Mar-
VOL. IX
65	Love
66	As You Like It
67	The Elder Brothj?
68	Werner
69	Gisippus
70	Town and Country
71	King Lear
72	Blue Devils
VOL. X
73	Henry VIII
74	Married and Singh
75	Henrv IV
76	Paul Pry
77	Guy Mannerlng
78	Sweethearts and Wlvss
79	Serious Family
80	She Stoops to Conquer
VOL. XI.
81	Julius Ca*sar
82	Vicar of Wakefield
83	Leap Year
84	The Catspaw
B5 The Passing Clontf
86	Drunkard
87	Rob Roy
88	George BarnweB
VOL. XII
89	Ingomar
90	Sketches In Indln
91	Two Friends 9; Jane Shere
93	Corstcan Brothers
94	Mind your own Buslnes!
95	Writing on the Waif
96	Heir at Law
VOL. XIII.
97	Soldier's Daughtea 9" Dougias
99 Marco Spada
100	Nature's Noblem&r
101	Sardauapalus
102	Civilization
103	The Robbers
104	Katharine and Petruchlo
VOL. XIV.
105	Game of Love
106	Midsummer Night';
107	Ernestine	[Dream
108	Rag Picker of Paris
109	Flying Dutchman lid Hypocrite
111	T'lier^
112	La Tour de Nesit
VOL. XV.
113	Trerand As It Is
114	Sea of Ice
115	Seven Clerks
116	Game oi Life
1!7 Forty Thieves
118	Bryan Boroihme
119	Romance and Reaiit?
120	Ugolino
Y^L. XVI.
121	The Tempest
122	The Pilot
123	Carpenter of Rouen 1/4 King's Rival
125	Little Treasure
126	Dombev and Son
12" Parents and Guardians 118 Jewess
VOL. XVII. 129 Camille 1:10 Married Life
131	Wenlock of Wenlock
132	Rose of Ettrickvale
133	David Copperfield
134	Aline, or the Rose of
135	Pauline [KUlarney
136	Jane Eyre
I	VOL. XVIII.
137	Night and Morning
138	,€thiop
139	Three Guardsmen
140	Tom Cringle
141	Henrlette. the Forsaken
142	Eustache Baudln
143	Ernest Maltravero
144	Bold Dragoons
VOL. XIX.
145	Dred, or the Dismal [Swamp
146	Last Days of Pompeii
147	Esmeralda
148	I'eter Wilklni
149	Bon the Boitswaln
150	Jonathan Bradford
151	Retribution
152	Minerali
VOL. XX.
153	French Spv
154	V. ept of Wish-ton Wish
155	Evil Genius
156	Hen Bolt
157	Sailor of France
158	Red Mask
159	Life of an Actress
160	Wedding Day
[Moscow
VOL. XXI. lfil All's Fair In Love
162	Hofer
163	Self
164	Cinderella
165	Phantom
166	Franklin
167	The Gunmaker'of
168	The Love oi » Priuce VOL. XXII.
169	Son of the Nigh*
170	Rory O'More
171	Golden Eagle 72 Rienii
173	Broken Sword
174	Rip Van Winkle
175	Isabel Ie
176	Heart of Mid Lothlac VOL. XXIII.
177	Actress of Padua
178	Hoating Beacon
179	Bride of Lammermoor 18n Cataract of the Ganges
181	Robber of the Rhine
182	School ol Reform
183	Wandering boys
184	Mazeppa
VOL. XXIV.
185	Young New \ork 1«6 The Victims
187	Romance alter Marrlagi
188	Brigand
189	Poor of New York 19u Ambrose Gwinett
191	Raymond and Agnes
192	Gambler's Fate VOL. XXV.
193	Father and Son
194	Mass&nlello
195	Sixteen String Jack
196	Youth lul Queen
197	Skeleton Witness
198	Innkeeper of Abbeville
199	Miller and his Men
200	Aladdin VOL. XXVI.
201	Adrienne the Actre»»
202	Undine
203	Jesse Brown
204	Asmodeus
205	Mormons
206	Blanche of Br&ndywine
207	Viola
208	Deseret Deserted VOL. XXVII.
209	Americans Id Paris
210	Victorine
211	Wizard of the Wave
212	Castle Spectre
213	Horse-shoe Robinson 21; Arniand, Mrs. Mowatt
Fashion, Mrs. Mowatt
216	Glance at New Ynrk VOL. XXVI11.
217	Inconstant
2L8 Uncle Tom's Cabin 21*1 Guide to the Stage
220	Veteran
221	Miller of New Jersey
222	Dark Hour l.efore Dawn
223	Midsum'rNight'sDream
[Laura Keene's Edition
224	Art and Artifice
VOL. XXIX.
225	Poor Young Mnn
226	Ossawattomie Brown
227	Pope of Rome Oliver Twist
229	Pauvrette
230	Man in the Iron Mask
231	Knight of Arva
232	Moll Pitcher VOL. XXX.
233	Black Eyed Susan
234	Satan in Paris
235	Rosina Meadows [es:
236	West End, or Irish<Heir
237	Six Degrees of Crime
238	The Lady and the Devil
239	A veneer, or Moor of Sic'
240	Masks and Faces
VOL. XXXI.
241	Merrv Wives of Windsor
242	Mary's Birthday
243	Shandy Maguire
244	Wild Oats
245	Michael Erie
246	Idiot Wituest
247	Willow Copse
248	People's Lawver VOL. AXXII.
249	The Boy Martyrs
250	Lucretla Borgia
251	Surgeon of Paris
252	Patrician's Daughter
253	Shoemaker of Toulouse
254	Momentous Question 265 Love and Loyalty
256	Robber's Wife VOL. XXXIII.
257	Dumb Girl of Genos, ■J-:h Wreck Ashore
259	Ciari
260	Rural Felicity
261	Wallace
262	Madelaine
263	The Fireman
264	Grist to the Mill
VOL. XXXIV.
265	Two Love6 and a Life
266	Annie Blake
267	Steward
268	Captain Kyd
269	Nick of the Woods
270	Marble Heart
271	Second Love
272	Dream at Sea
VOL. XXXV.
273	Breach of Promise
274	Review
275	Ladv of the Lake
276	Stilf Water Runs Deep |
277	The Scholar
278	Helping Hands
279	Faust and Marguerite 380 Last Man
VOL. XXXVI.
281	Belle's Stratagem
282	Old and Young
283	Raffaella
284	Ruth Oakley
285	British Sir ve 2o6 A Life's Ransorc. 287 Giralda
Time Tries All
VOL. xxxvn.
289	Ella Rosenburg
290	Warlock of the Glen
291	Zelina
292	Beatrice
293	Neighbor Jackwood
294	Wonder
295	Robert Emmet
296	Green Bushes VOL. XXXVTII.
297	Flowers of the Forest
298	A Bachelor of Arts
299	The Midnight Banquet
300	Husband of til Hour
301	Love's Labor Lost
302	Naiad Queen
303	Caprice
304	Cradle of Llbertv
VOL. XXXIX.
305	The Lost Ship
306	Country Squire
307	Fraud and its Victims
308	Putnam King and Deserter
310	La F ammina
311	A Hard Struggle
312	Gwinnette Vaughan VOL. XL.
313	The Love Knot [Judge
314	Lavater, or Not a Bad
315	The Noble Heart
316	Coriolanus
317	The Winter's Tale
(.French's Standard Drama Continued on yd page ofCdver.) SAMUEL FRENCH 28-30 West 38th Street, Ne*c Vork City,
OH) U. P/ 9 c r