ACT III.

Chapter 916,075 wordsPublic domain

SCENE: _Club rooms as before. Time, next day after Act II._

MARY. (_Discovered as curtain rises._) Alfaretta is very negligent of her work lately. There’s the flowers for the president put away in the corner instead of on the desk, as they should be. (_Puts flowers on the desk._) The postman is late to-day. Poor fellow! I wonder if he is stuck in the tube again. I wouldn’t be shot through that tube for anything. Just think of being chucked into that pipe and fired a mile between breaths. The man always looks as if he were out of breath. They say all the carriers have to be hypnotized before they go into the tube. I think it’s cruel. (_During this speech she is looking at old letters in boxes._) There are letters here for a member that’s been dead five years. Why didn’t that party give notice of her demise. (_Noise outside, L._) There’s Mack bringing the ice. Dear fellow! My heart is all in a flutter. I’ll just wait to see if he comes in here to speak to me. I know he will. He’s blue all day if he doesn’t see me. Oh, if that terrible Birdie Robbins should discover us. I aint a bit afraid of the president. If she ever says boo, I’ll just ask her how the Hon. Brennan de Cork is. Oh, there he comes.

_ENTER MACK, L._

MARY. Good morning, Maxie! You are irresistible this morning.

MACK. Hist, Smiley, we may be overheard.

MARY. There’s no one here.

MACK. Are you sure? If the club found out, you would lose your place and I should be compromised. They are so against love-making.

MARY. Yes, sometimes.

MACK. What do you mean, Smiley?

MARY. Better call me plain Smilax. You are here on business, you know.

MACK. All right, dearie, but what did you mean by that _sometimes_?

MARY. Oh, nothing. I know a thing or two.

MACK. I think my driver suspects me.

MARY. Yes, she’s a jealousy old thing.

MACK. Do you think that’s it?

MARY. Sure! Get the company to put on a man.

MACK. Oh, I couldn’t think of trying that. They might suspect, and if they found out I’d be discharged instantly. It’s posted in the rules and in display at that: “All male employés are absolutely forbidden to receive attentions from women, on pain of instant dismissal.” The man has to take all the blame you know.

MARY. I’ll protect you, have no fear.

MACK. (_Pleadingly._) Mayn’t I name the day?

MARY. No, not yet. You see, I’ve a good soft job here and I shan’t give it up till the last minute. I’m savin’ money. Now, you’d better go, Maxie. Some one _might_ come, you know. (_Noise outside, R._) There, be quick. (_Snatches kiss. Kiss may be blown if advisable._) Ta, ta!

MACK. (_Going L._) Au revoir!

MARY. Just in time. Some one is coming.

_ENTER HYKIGHT, R., followed by members to attend Directors’ meeting. Buzz of conversation. MISS HYKIGHT takes chair, calls meeting to order. Members seated. Buzz of conversation._

PRES. The meeting will come to order! (_Nobody pays any attention._) Order, ladies! (_Sharply._) Order, if you please. (_Sudden silence._) A special meeting has been called to transact very important business. The call specifies an emergency and was made at the instance of Vice-president Robbins. Secretary, are the directors all present?

SEC. (_Reads roll._) Hykight, Robbins, Lightfoot, Doughflyer, Willie Jones—not present. Is Miss Jones in the city, does any one know?

DAISY. (_Rises with solemn demeanor._) Miss President, I have an unpleasant duty to perform. (_All in attitude of expectancy._) I regret to say that Miss Willie Jones is no longer worthy to be a member of this club.

CHORUS. Oh! What has she done? Do tell us.

DAISY. The story of her treachery is soon told. She has eloped!

CHORUS. Good gracious!

DOLLIE. And _so_ timid!

BIRDIE. (_Severely._) Timid, indeed! All put on! I knew all the time that she’d do something. She’s as sly as a weasel. I think no motion is necessary to strike her name from the roll.

PRES. (_Gravely._) No, that is not necessary. Secretary, strike Miss Jones’ name from the roll. If there is no objection I will appoint Miss Dollie Giglette director in her place. Now, Miss Robbins, you may state the object of the meeting.

BIRDIE. Oh, I’m so overcome, I must have a moment’s time. (_Uses smelling bottle._) That horrid, sly, deceitful Jones girl has completely upset my nerves.

DOLLIE. Miss President, I think I can state the object of this meeting, if Director Robbins will allow me. It’s all about two men who get in here accidentally. I think there’s a good deal of pother about nothing. I advised Robbins to let the whole thing drop.

BIRDIE. When such things are overlooked or winked at, the days of the Anti-homo Club are numbered, its purpose wholly defeated. Dissolution is at hand.

DOLLIE. Well, if a little thing like that is going to kill it, I say—

BIRDIE. (_Severely._) What does the constitution say?

DOLLIE. If you insist, then let us take the matter up. One was the ice man who has a yearly permit to call once a day between the hours of 9 and 10 a. m. The other was a plumber.

BIRDIE. I saw the wretch! He was no plumber.

DOLLIE. A plumber is what is known as an emergency man and needs no permit, just as a male doctor was once called in to treat a member, in an emergency.

BIRDIE. I demand an investigating committee.

DOLLIE. Oh, I make no objection if you think it so important as that. But emergencies will arise. The ice man and the postman can not always be on time. As we know, under the new system, the postman is shot through the Instantaneous Pneumatic Delivery Company’s tubes. Only a few days ago the poor fellow stuck in the tube owing to his carelessness in dropping a peach pit as he entered the chute. Reversing the engine only wedged him tighter and he would have smothered if one of the professors in charge had not thought to fire fresh oxygen balls at him by means of the new aluminum, vacuum, weather-report gun. Now they can’t shoot a plumber through the tubes because—

BIRDIE. I insist this was no plumber. Plumbers don’t wear eye-glasses. I found his on the floor. (_Produces glass._ “Ohs” _by members._)

PRES. Suppose we call Mary. (_Pulls bell._)

DAISY. We might as well go to the bottom of the matter. It’s sure to get into the papers now.

BIRDIE. Yes, thanks to the indifference of the Public Censor, Adelaide Witherspoon.

_ENTER MARY, L._

PRES. Mary, have you seen any men in the club rooms?

MARY. Only the licensed ones.

BIRDIE. (_Severely._) Smilax, do you ever examine their licenses?

MARY. Why no! I know them all.

BIRDIE. How careless! Now tell me plainly, have you seen anything here that didn’t look right?

MARY. (_Confused._) Why, I—that is—

DOLLIE. Robbins, had you not better leave all this to the investigating committee?

BIRDIE. Let the president name it then.

PRES. I name the president, the secretary and Miss Dollie Giglette.

BIRDIE. I’ll have no whitewashing.

PRES. (_Sternly._) Is this a reflection on the chair and the committee?

BIRDIE. I make no charges. I only demand my rights. As the one making the motion, custom demands that I be named on the committee. Add Doughflyer. Doughflyer has the best interests of the club at heart.

DAISY. I shall try to act in this grave matter as would become my illustrious ancestors the Du Fays who came over with the Normans.

DOLLIE. Oh, I’m a Norman, too.

PRES. We are making much of a trivial matter.

BIRDIE. You will find it not so trivial before we get to the bottom. Smilax, tell me plainly, did you see a plumber in the club rooms yesterday?

MARY. I? Goodness, no!

BIRDIE. Did you see a dude?

MARY. (_Throws up hands._) Laws a me, no!

BIRDIE. Well, I did, and so did Giglette. With him was another person, a fine-looking person I regret to say, who evidently had no business here.

DAISY. A dude! Shocking! A plumber is bad enough but a dude—Let the investigation proceed.

SEC. (_Starting uneasily._) Miss President, I decline to serve on that committee. In fact, I have an important communication to make and deem this an opportune time. I hereby resign my office and my membership in the club. (“Oh’s” _as before._)

PRES. (_Solemnly._) This investigation apparently is about to assume a personal tone, which I deprecate and can not countenance. I also resign rather than be a party to such an inquisition. (_Rises, vacates chair, comes down C. Sensation_ “oh’s,” “Did you ever,” _etc._) And I don’t mind saying further, since certain persons are so inquisitive, that Chief of Police, Brennan de Cork has consented to change his name soon to Hykight. (_Sensation as before._)

DOLLIE. Congratulations, old chap!

SEC. (_Rises and comes out from desk._) And Mr. Blake of the gas company has at last consented to become Mr. Blake-Lightfoot. I’ve saved enough for two.

DOLLIE. Shake, old chap! (_Groans, others buzz._)

MARY. And, if you please, ladies, I give notice. Next month I lead Mr. Mack to the altar. (_Excitement._)

BIRDIE. And you too, Smilax! Since you were a tiny waif, this club has been your mother and has watched over you. We taught you to be a new woman, and this is our reward.

MARY. Oh, please, Miss Robbins, I respect you greatly, and I do love the club dearly (_sighs_), but I love dear Mack more. I just couldn’t help it. (_Cries with face in apron._)

BIRDIE. There’s nothing to do but close the doors. The club is dead. (_Wipes eyes._)

DOLLIE. (_Crosses R. C., takes BIRDIE’S hand._) Cheer up, Robbins, cheer up. You are not a marrying woman. I value freedom too much to surrender it. And there’s Doughflyer, she’ll stick by us. She has principles—and a _name_. We’ll go on as before.

BIRDIE. The mischief is done.

DOLLIE. We’ll reorganize if necessary. (_She leads BIRDIE down C., dress stage._)

BIRDIE. (_Sadly._) No, we never can survive this disaster. The old woman will laugh at the new, and ridicule kills. The club is dead. The finger of progress goes back on the dial of time at least a century. Good-bye dear, old club, the scene of my busiest, happiest, hours. Good-bye forever.

_R._ _L._

PINK T., ROSA, BIRDIE, DOLLIE, DAISY, MARY.

CURTAIN.

ONLY COLD TEA

A TEMPERANCE FARCE

BY T. S. DENISON

_Author of_ Odds with the Enemy, Initiating a Granger, Wanted, a Correspondent, A Family Strike, Seth Greenback, Louva, the Pauper, Hans Von Smash, Borrowing Trouble, Two Ghosts in White, The Pull-Back, Country Justice, The Assessor, The Sparkling Cup, Our Country, Irish Linen Peddler, The School Ma’am, Kansas Immigrants, An Only Daughter, Too Much of a Good Thing, Under the Laurels, Hard Cider, The Danger Signal, Wide Enough for Two, Pets of Society, Is the Editor In? The New Woman, Patsy O’Wang, Rejected, Only Cold Tea, Madam P’s Beauty Parlors, Topp’s Twins, A First-Class Hotel, It’s all in the Pay-Streak, The Cobbler, A Dude in a Cyclone, Friday Dialogues.

_Also the Novels, The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc._

CHICAGO: T. S. DENISON, PUBLISHER, 163 RANDOLPH STREET.

ONLY COLD TEA.

CHARACTERS.

MR. BOB SLIGHTLY, fond of a drop. DICK PLYER, friend of Bob’s, “takes the same.” DR. GAGG, who knows what ails a person. MRS. SLIGHTLY, who drinks tea. ALICE, her sister, admired by Bob. MRS. NEVERDUN, who does not know when to go.

_Time of playing, twenty minutes._

PROPERTIES.

Bottles with labels and cold tea, hand-satchel for doctor, books, bottle of smelling salts, cane for Dick.

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

_R._ means right of the stage; _C._, center; _R. C._, right center; _L._, left; _1 E._, first entrance; _U. E._, upper entrance, etc.; _D. F._, door in flat or back of the stage. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience.

ONLY COLD TEA.

SCENE—_Slightly’s Parlor. Doors Right and Left. May have door at only one side, and one back, or only one door, if no better can be done. Sofa, table, chairs, etc., to taste. Discovered, Mrs. S., and Alice, as curtain rises, seated by table C._

MRS. S. Alice, I’m afraid Dick Plyer takes a little too much wine.

ALICE. I begin to think so myself. At that dinner at the Brown’s he came pretty near making a show of himself.

MRS. S. Go slow, Alice, don’t get too fond of him.

ALICE. Leave that to me. I am decided on one thing and that is I shall never marry a tippler. There may be enough trouble in the family already.

MRS. S. Sister, what do you mean by that, neither of our brothers drinks.

ALICE. No, thank heaven, but you don’t have to go so far as that.

MRS. S. (_Jumps up, drops her work._) Alice, what do you mean?

ALICE. I mean your husband, Mr. Bob Slightly.

MRS. S. Alice, this is unkind of you. Robert never was intoxicated in his life. He says so himself.

ALICE. Before long he may not be able to say that. Sister, you don’t hear what people say, as I do.

MRS. S. (_Distressed_) Alice, what do they say?

ALICE. Well, they say that since Mr. Bob Slightly’s old chum, Dick Plyer, has returned from the west, that both are taking a great deal more liquor than is good for them.

MRS. S. But Robert is so kind and so good natured he can’t refuse, and his business requires it, you know.

ALICE. I know it doesn’t. How does brother John get along in the same business, without constant treating?

MRS. S. But Robert never was drunk in his life. He has often told me so. He never told me a lie yet.

ALICE. But he forgets that he has a liking for it, and that his appetite will grow.

MRS. S. Alice, you alarm me, this is dreadful. Oh, anything but a drunkard! But why do you encourage Dick Plyer, if he is so dangerous?

ALICE. Encourage him! I never encouraged him. I wanted to be sure of his character, and now that I know his weakness I shall decline his company.

MRS. S. But what can I do for poor Bob?

ALICE. Take the wine off your own table.

MRS. S. I never thought of that. But then Robert wishes it. It is necessary for his digestion he says.

ALICE. If put to the test which would he prefer? You or the wine?

MRS. S. Oh me, of course. He is so fond of me.

ALICE. That is what all wives say. Listen to me. Dick Plyer has written me a note that he will call this very evening. He’ll come up with Bob and you will set out refreshments. The men will make a pretense of eating, but they will drink a great deal more. For some men the word _refreshments_ means drink. They don’t care a snap about the eating.

MRS. S. Oh goodness! I’ve noticed some men eat enough for a family.

ALICE. Take my advice and observe them closely.

MRS. S. But what can I do?

ALICE. I have a plan. To show your husband the effects of intoxication in its true light just get drunk yourself.

MRS. S. (_Surprised._) I get drunk! Horrors! Alice, are you crazy?

ALICE. Not a bit of it. That’ll teach him a lesson he won’t forget soon.

MRS. S. (_Decidedly._) I shan’t do it, that would be disgraceful.

ALICE. (_Laughs._) Just pretend, you goose. Did you think I wanted you to march down the middle of Broad street swinging your hat and singing “We wont go home till morning?”

MRS. S. You are ridiculous.

ALICE. Seriously, try it.

MRS. S. When?

ALICE. Now, this very evening.

MRS. S. It would be a great joke. But I can’t act a part as you can.

ALICE. Oh, it’s easy. Just stagger a little and look silly and say idiotic things. You’ve seen men drunk.

MRS. S. Do you think Robert would get angry?

ALICE. He might, but it’ll set him to thinking. Of course he mustn’t find out the trick.

MRS. S. I’ll do it just for a lark, all to ourselves.

ALICE. It’ll be a capital joke. I’ll pretend not to know what ails you.

MRS. S. How shall we proceed? Robert will be home pretty soon to take his bicycle ride before dinner.

ALICE. I’ll fill a wine bottle with cold tea and put glasses on the table. (_Exit L. for things._)

MRS. S. Alice is so full of mischief. I’m afraid I can’t do it right. I’ll have to stagger and hiccup I suppose and be quarrelsome. That is the way drunken men always act in plays.

_RE-ENTER ALICE with two bottles and glasses, L._

ALICE. (_Looking at label._) “Veuve Clicquot.” How’s that?

MRS. S. Goodness, he’ll think I’ve been drinking champagne.

ALICE. So much the better. Muss up your hair. Look silly. (_Musses MRS. S.’S hair._)

MRS. S. Oh, Alice, I can’t do it.

ALICE. Yes you can. (_Noise outside, R._) There he comes. Sing a song! (_Spills liquid on table. ALICE seated L. takes book and pretends to read._)

MRS. S. Poor Bob! it’ll be such a shock!

_ENTER BOB gaily, R._

BOB. Hello Pussie, I’m home early, you see. (_Notices her._) Why Puss, what ails you? (_Alarmed._) Another spell, dear?

MRS. S. Oh, Bob! you dear old—goodness me. (_Staggers to sofa and buries her face in the cushions._)

BOB. (_Alarmed._) Why, she is sick! Alice, what ails her?—why didn’t you telephone for me?

MRS. S. (_In changed voice._) Bob, you’re a trump!

BOB. Oh, she’s out of her head!

ALICE. (_Reading._) I guess not.

BOB. I say she is very sick. (_Feels his wife’s pulse._) She’s in a fever! How long has she been taken? (_Petulantly._) Why do you sit there so unconcernedly. Puss—Puss. When was she taken?

ALICE. (_Reading._) Oh, I found her that way when I came in. She said she wasn’t sick.

BOB. But don’t you see she is sick? Can’t you do something?

ALICE. (_Reading._) Do something yourself. She’s your wife.

BOB. Heartless creature! put that book away. (_Snatches book away from A., and flings it out L._)

ALICE. (_Jumping up._) That’s manners, Mr. Slightly!

BOB. (_Dancing around excitedly._) Do something, for heaven’s sake. She’s in a high fever, she’ll faint. (_MRS. S. groans._) Get the salts, quick! You stand like a post. Rub her hands. (_Darts out L. saying_) I’ll call Dr. Gagg. (_Women do not hear this._)

ALICE. (_Going to MRS. S._) Get up you ninny, you are not half playing it.

MRS. S. (_Laughing._) Poor Bob, it is too bad, it distresses him. I can’t do it right.

ALICE. Well, I could. Sing, dance!

MRS. S. Why Alice, you shock me!

ALICE. Then upset the table, break something, stagger. (_MRS. S. staggers round room. Flings a book across the room._) That’s it, throw something at his head.

MRS. S. I’ll upset the table!

ALICE. Do it!

_ENTER MRS. NEVERDUN, R._

MRS. N. I’ve been ringing half an hour! (_ALICE and MRS. S. scream in chorus, MRS. S. falls on sofa as before._)

ALICE. (_Aside._) That horrid Mrs. Neverdun!

MRS. N. Dear me! Is she sick?

ALICE. Yes, one of her fainting spells! Call some one please, quick! (_Rubs MRS. S.’S hands._)

MRS. N. (_Down front, looks at bottles, sniffs suspiciously._) Well I never! Them bottles looks awful suspicious. This is pretty goins-on for respectable people.

ALICE. (_Busy working with MRS. S._) Oh, Mrs. Neverdun, please do something. The salts are on the side-board. Call Mr. Slightly.

MRS. N. (_Down front._) She’s drunk! Champagne, too! That’s a matter for the church. I s’pose I’ll have to testify.

ALICE. (_Coming down._) Mrs. Neverdun, don’t let her fall. Go to her. (_MRS. N. goes to MRS. S._)

MRS. N. I guess she aint very bad!

ALICE. I’ll call Robert. (_As she goes L., sweeps bottles off table, one in each hand, leaves glasses, runs out L. MRS. S. gets up angrily._)

MRS. N. Don’t excite yourself, dearie!

MRS. S. Hold your tongue, woman!

MRS. N. Laws a me! She’s gittin’ sassy, jist like a man!

MRS. S. I wont be insulted in my own house!

MRS. N. Dear me suz! Who’s insultin’ you, I’d like to know?

MRS. S. You are, you know it, too!

MRS. N. Highty tighty, that’s the best proof in the world of your condition. You are a real nice lady when ye’re sober.

MRS. S. (_With scorn_) Do you mean to say, Mrs. Neverdun, that I am not sober? You are a gossip!

MRS. N. Oh, don’t go a callin’ names. I aint a callin’ any.

MRS. S. Oh dear, it’ll be all over town before night.

MRS. N. An’ s’posin’ it is? What kin women expect that goes an’ gits full o’ that nasty champagne. An’ it goes right to the head, too, an’ stays there.

MRS. S. How do you know?

MRS. N. Bob Slightly has had enough experience to tell his wife better.

MRS. S. Oh, Mrs. Neverdun, don’t speak that way. You are mistaken, I can explain it all.

MRS. N. I aint askin’ no explanations.

MRS. S. Please say nothing about this. I’ve been foolish. Be my friend, will you?

MRS. N. Good land, haint I always been yer friend? I haint an enemy in the world as I knows of. An haint I been active in the sewin’ society an’ didn’t I give them as nice refreshments as anybuddy? If I am nobuddy but Ole Missus Neverdun, aint I as good as the best of ’em. (_Gets voluble, talking faster and faster._) I aint no fool, I kin tell ye.

MRS. S. Yes, but—

MRS. N. I don’t care a tuppence fur their talk. My tea an’ my coffee an’ my doughnuts aint beat nowhere.

MRS. S. Yes, but I—

MRS. N. I don’t care a rap. Mrs. Hartley wears dimons and lace and she sets a mighty poor table, an’ I aint afraid to tell her so. They all eat at my house till I thought they’d bust. (_MRS. S. laughs._) You kin laugh Mrs. Slightly, but I won’t be put on. (_More and more excited._) An’ I’ll have my say when it comes to that. Sallie Neverdun aint the kind to be put on an say nothin’.

MRS. S. But Mrs. Neverdun—

MRS. N. I aint castin’ no reflections on _your_ table, fur it was bang up, an’ I sez right there, to Marier Wilkins, sez I, “this layout beats Mrs. Hartley’s with her dimons an’ her kerridges an’ she—”

MRS. S. (_In despair._) But, Mrs. Neverdun, haven’t I always been your friend?

MRS. N. I’ve nothin’ agin you, Mrs. Slightly. Haven’t I just said that many’s a time? I said to Marier Wilkins that your table beat Mrs. Hartley’s all holler, with her dimons an’ two niggers to dish salat an’ turn coffee. Why, her salat—

MRS. S. (_Excitedly._) But _Mrs._ Neverdun—

MRS. N. There! it’s goin’ to her head agin. Lay down a spell.

MRS. S. Goodness! _do_ let me say a word.

MRS. N. An’ haint ye been talkin’ all the time, I’d like to know!

MRS. S. Please don’t say a word of what happened here this afternoon. I can explain it all.

MRS. N. I aint askin’ no explanations, I tell ye. Everybody must think Sallie Neverdun is an inimy o’ mankind goin’ round devowerin’. The whole town knows I wouldn’t harm a worm o’ the arth. But s’posin’ it gits out an’ the church hauls me up as a witness, I reckon they’d _make_ me tell.

MRS. S. I’ve made a pretty mess of things. (_Calls._) Robert! Alice! Where can they be? (_Going L., meets ALICE entering._)

ALICE. (_Aside._) Get rid of her.

MRS. S. Hist, we must explain all. (_They turn C. towards MRS. N._) Where is Robert?

ALICE. I don’t know. The cook says he went tearing down the street bare-headed.

MRS. N. No wonder he’s tearin’ round. It’s enough to make any man tear round!

ALICE. (_To MRS. N._) Go and look for Bob.

MRS. S. Oh goodness, what shall I do?

MRS. N. Don’t excite her, young woman! Lie down, dearie.

MRS. S. (_Indignantly._) I am perfectly well.

MRS. N. Indeed you are not, you are dreadfully flushed! Are ye sick at the stummick? You must lie down. (_Leads MRS. S., resisting, to sofa._) Alice, arrange the cushions. (_Just as they get her comfortably located._)

_ENTER hastily R., SLIGHTLY followed by DR. GAGG. Latter puts pill bag on table and goes to patient._

ALICE. (_Aside._) Now the fat’s in the fire.

BOB. Are you better, darling?

MRS. S. (_Faintly._) I think so. I didn’t need Dr. Gagg, dear.

DR. Nothing like precaution, madam. (_Feels her pulse._) Some fever. Any vertigo?

MRS. S. (_Faintly._) Yes.

DR. Mr. Slightly, your wife’s nerves are unstrung!

MRS. N. Well, I should think so.

DR. She must have quiet. She’ll be all right to-morrow.

MRS. N. (_Aside._) Knowed that much myself.

BOB. (_Anxiously._) What is the matter, doctor?

DR. Old complaint with complications. (_MRS. S. throws up her hands unnoticed by DR._) Her nerves are unstrung. Observe the abnormal action of the levator labiæ superioris, the orbicularis oris and the levator palpebrarum.

MRS. N. Land o’ rest! jist hear that!

DR. I think there is a slight difficulty, too, in the decussation of the medulla oblongata which has established a sympathetic action with the solar plexus and the pneumogastricus.

MRS. N. Say, Dr. Gagg, what does all that rigmarole mean? hysterics?

DR. (_Glaring at her._) The science of medicine, madam, has made many advances since you were a child.

MRS. N. Ye don’t say! An’ I s’pose it’ll keep on a-dancin’ till a doctor knows when a person’s—(_warning gesture from MRS. S._)

DR. (_Aside to BOB._) That woman is exciting your wife. Get rid of her.

BOB. How the——what can I do with her?

_ENTER DICK PLYER, gaily, R._

DICK. I say, old boy, I was just going past—(_Sees MRS. S._) I beg pardon. Is Mrs. Slightly indisposed?

BOB. Only a slight nerve attack.

DICK. I’m very sorry if I disturb her.

MRS. S. It is nothing at all. I am glad to see you, Mr. Plyer. Alice, please show Dick a chair. (_Gives ALICE knowing look._)

ALICE. Take this seat, Mr. Plyer. (_Then goes and whispers to MRS. S._)

BOB. I say, Dick, wont you go into the smoking room? I’ll join you as soon as I can leave my wife.

DICK. Oh, certainly, I’m awful sorry! Can’t I be of any use?

DR. Just one moment, Mr. Slightly. Take this prescription to be filled at once! Make haste! Dose every half hour, till patient finds relief. Miss Alice, wet a cloth with vinegar and place it on her forehead. The solar plexus is dangerously disturbed.

MRS. N. That’s an anatomy I never heerd tell of.

ALICE. Robert, I wish to speak with you, if Mr. Plyer will step into the smoking room meanwhile.

DICK. Certainly! At your service. (_Bows politely, exit D. F._)

BOB. (_Going with A., L._) Excuse me a moment, Dr.

DR. (_To MRS. N._) A word with you, madam. (_They come down C. so MRS. S. can not hear._) You appear for some reason to excite the patient. You had better go at once.

MRS. N. Oh, I kin take a hint.

DR. I mean for her sake, you know.

MRS. N. You needn’t palaver. What ails her?

DR. (_Mysteriously._) A very strange case, madam. Very strange. It would baffle the skill of a young practitioner. The eye of science madam—

MRS. N. I ’low it takes the eye o’ science to see through a grindstone when there aint no hole in it.

DR. (_Pleased._) Exactly! I’ve had in my lifetime just three such cases, all since la grippe came. I may say, in fact, that I have discovered a new disease.

MRS. N. Doctor Gagg, you are a wise man. (_He bows and looks puzzled._)

DR. A compliment madam?

MRS. N. Nonsense! Did you smell her breath?

DR. (_Surprised._) I, no indeed! Why should I?

MRS. N. You’ve made a fool of yourself. She’s drunk, that’s all!

DR. (_Excitedly._) A fool! Drunk! Why madam, this is scandalous.

MRS. N. Oh, keep cool. You’ll get well paid to say nothin’. But didn’t I see the bottles on the table?

DR. But it is impossible.

MRS. N. Didn’t I see her stagger? If you don’t b’lieve, look at the puddles of wine on the table. Smell it.

DR. (_Puts finger in liquid spilled, smells._) True! Why, this is an insult to my profession.

_ENTER BOB, followed by DICK and ALICE._

BOB. Dr. Gagg, I wish a word in the smoking room.

DR. (_Indignantly._) I have a word, too, sir. You have insulted my profession, sir.

BOB. But hold, I’ll explain.

DR. I’ll not hold. I am the victim of a hoax. Your wife is not sick at all.

BOB. (_Nettled._) Why didn’t you find that out at first, then?

_ENTER DICK._

DICK. Yes, the eye of science, solar plexus, vinegar and water, etc. (_laughs_). That’s great stuff. There’s nothing like science.

DR. You are offensive, sir. I’ll have nothing to say to _you_. (_To BOB._) Now, Mr. Slightly, your conduct is most inexcusable.

BOB. But I’m trying to explain that it was all a little joke between my wife and her sister. She was only pretending.

DR. (_Pompously._) And I am to be the victim of other people’s jokes. You shall pay for this, sir.

BOB. Send in your bill.

DR. Bill! Who cares for the paltry fee! My professional feelings have been outraged. The profession is not to be trifled with. Mr. Slightly, I’ve a mind to sue you for damages.

BOB. A fig for your dignity!

MRS. S. Oh, Robert!

DICK. Let him sue. Get me on the jury.

DR. (_Taking up pill bag angrily._) I shall consult my attorney at once.

BOB. Save the trouble and the fee! Let lawyers alone! Make your bill as large as you please. I prefer to be plucked by one man rather than by two. Your professional dignity will at least insure _silence_.

DR. (_Growling._) Humph! _My_ feelings are nothing! (_To MRS. N._) Madam, let me say to you that you are a meddling old fool!

MRS. N. Dr. Gagg, while ye’re at it say there’s a pair of us. Bob Slightly may pull the wool over your eyes, but he can’t fool me. Didn’t I see champagne bottles, and didn’t I see her stagger, an’ didn’t—

MRS. S. Mrs. Neverdun, this is too much—

BOB. Easy my dear! (_Restrains her._)

ALICE. (_To DICK._) Oh, Mr. Plyer, can’t you do something?

DICK. (_Bowing politely._) I’ll try. (_Steps forward to MRS. N., good humoredly._) Mrs. Neverdun, let me say a word. I’ve always maintained that you can set a better table any day than Mrs. Hartley.

MRS. N. Well, I should say!

DICK. Now, when I stand up for people I want them to stand up for me.

MRS. N. Them’s my principles!

DICK. Now, I can clear this matter up in just a minute. Miss Alice, bring in those bottles and glasses. (_Alice goes L._) We’ll clear up this mystery in short order. I guess I’ve seen enough of champagne to know it when I see it.

MRS. N. Dear me suz, I reckon nobody’ll deny that.

_RE-ENTER ALICE with bottles._

DICK. (_Takes bottle pours out liquid._) Now this is _only cold tea_. Smell it, Dr. Gagg, smell it, Mrs. Neverdun. (_They smell._) Look! there’s a tea leaf in it. If any body wants to smell the table do so.

MRS. N. Well I vum!

BOB. (_To MRS. S._) Dick’s a trump!

DICK. Now mum’s the word all round. Just a little joke of the ladies.

MRS. N. Good land, I aint a tellin’ anything!

DICK. It must be quits, is mum the word?

BOB. My dear, what a lesson, I’ll never touch another drop.

MRS. S. Oh, you dear Bob. (_Puts arm in his._)

DICK. Mrs. Neverdun, I still stick up for your table. (_Dress stage, DR. angry, R., MRS. N., DICK down C., ALICE L., MR. and MRS. S. arm in arm by table._)

MRS. N. I reckon you will. It’s the best in town.

DICK. I am going to Mrs. Hartley’s to dinner next Wednesday, and—

MRS. N. Land o’ Goshen! Then jist come to my house Thursday an’ I’ll show ye a dinner ’at’ll be a dinner. What do I care for Mrs. Hartley an’ her kerridge an’ dimons an’ fiddle faddle—

QUICK CURTAIN, _while MRS. N. is talking._

A FIRST-CLASS HOTEL

A FARCE

BY T. S. DENISON

_Also the Novels, The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc._

CHICAGO: T. S. DENISON, PUBLISHER, 163 RANDOLPH STREET.

A FIRST-CLASS HOTEL.

CHARACTERS.

LANDLORD. BULGER, a drummer. LEGGATT, a literary man. SCHNELL, of the firm of Schnell & Augenblick.

_Time of playing, twenty minutes._

PROPERTIES.

Pistol, valise, cane, pipe, book, empty bottles, box of pills, candles in candlesticks, crash bag.

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

NOTE—The rapid action in this play requires careful rehearsal and strict attention to cues. In many cases the least drag will spoil the effect. The boy who does the caterwauling must be always ready the instant he gets his cue from the prompter. He must be able to produce the effect of _two_ cats and should make the audience hear distinctly.

A FIRST CLASS HOTEL.

SCENE—_Bed room, two cots, one up R. C. by flat, other by wall, down L.; table near head of last, with books, pistol, pipe, etc.; wash-stand against flat, L. C.; window in flat, L.; (or a door anywhere at L. can be made to serve for make-believe window by hanging a curtain.) As curtain rises, LEGGATT in bed, apparently asleep, vest hanging on chair at head of bed, pantaloons and coat on wall._

_ENTER LANDLORD and BULGER, R., LANDLORD carrying candle and BULGER’S valise. Lights low._

LANDLORD. This is the very best I can do, Mr. Bulger.

BULGER. Hang it all, I believe I’ll go over to the Eagle.

LAND. Hist! (_Looks toward LEGGATT._) You’ll wake him. No use to go to the Eagle. All full there. It’s County Fair, you know.

BULGER. Hang the fair! Landlord, this is no way to treat an old customer. This is a one-horse town anyway.

LAND. (_In low voice._) Very sorry, Mr. Bulger, but I didn’t make the town. It’s the best I can do. (_Looks toward LEGGATT._) Mr. Leggatt’s a very nice quiet gentleman. (_Confidentially._) Why, he’s a littery man!

BULGER. Confound literature! It aint in it with trade.

LAND. Quite right, but it’s got to be humored same as other things. He’s as quiet as a lamb if you don’t wake him.

BULGER. (_Suspiciously._) Hum! And if he wakes?

LAND. He’s kind o’ restless. He may walk the floor.

BULGER. (_Growling._) Indeed! Let him try it.

LAND. (_Hand on B.’S arm._) Quiet now. You may wake him. Good night, sir. (_Leaves candle on stand. Exit R. softly._)

BULGER. (_Hangs coat on rack, goes to closet door, looks in._) What’s this? A two by three closet. (_Sits and takes off boots._) I’ll put my things in the closet, though I don’t suppose this one-horse town can afford even a burglar. I’ll strike this town from my list. Such a snide hotel isn’t to be found this side the Mississippi river. (_Goes in closet. LEG. turns in bed and mutters in his sleep. Caterwauling in alley. Boy outside up L. does this._)

_RE-ENTER BULGER, in pajama or colored night robe. Examines sheets._

BULGER. Damp, as usual! I’ll catch my death of cold. I always get a cold in this town. The place is so slow, that’s the only thing people can catch. (_Rings bell by door R._) I’ll have the sheets changed, if I have to rouse every chambermaid in the house. (_Sits and opens valise._) I’ll take a liver pill while I think of it. Always have to take a liver pill in this town. It’s so slow that a man’s liver stops business. I am catching cold already. If I sneeze I’ll wake him. (_Business of suppressing sneeze._) There’s a draft somewhere. (_Tip-toes to window. LEGGATT turns and mutters in his sleep. B. stops._) I’ll wake his literary nibbs, sure. (_Tries window._) Wide open and stuck fast; windows always stick in this town. When they are up they stay up, when they are down they stay down. And that old hay-seed actually calls this a first-class hotel. He amuses me. (_Sets candle on chair._) Confound that bell. (_Pushes it again several times._) I guess I’ll smoke while I am waiting. (_Goes to get pipe out of coat pocket._) Where’s that pipe? (_Pulls coat with impatience, rack comes down with a clatter and coat swings round and knocks candle to floor, putting it out. B. darts to his bed and gets in._)

LEGGATT. (_Rising to sitting posture._) What’s that? Who’s there? Heh? A burglar! I’ll shoot, you rascal! (_Attempts to pull out drawer of his table to find pistol. Drawer sticks and his books and everything go clatter to floor._)

BULGER. (_Alarmed._) Don’t shoot! Don’t! It’s only me!

LEGGATT. (_Excited_) Who’s me? (_Feeling for the matches._) Blow it, where’s that infernal candle? I’ll have to get up.

BULGER. Don’t get up! It’s all an accident.

LEGGATT. Who the deuce are you, anyway?

BULGER. (_Strikes match._) I’m a guest of this beastly hotel, if its victims may be called by so genteel a term as guest.

LEGGATT. (_Sitting up._) A guest! I don’t like that.

BULGER. (_Nettled._) Neither do I.

LEGGATT. You’ve disturbed me and now I’ll have a night of it.

BULGER. I’m very sorry indeed!

LEGGATT. So am I.

BULGER. (_With surprise._) Sir, I apologized.

LEGGATT. Confound your apology! I was sound asleep.

BULGER. You _are_ a nice roommate. The landlord was right when he said you were.

LEGGATT. I beg your pardon, stranger. I wasn’t quite polite.

BULGER. Don’t mention it. My name is Bulger.

LEGGATT. And mine is Leggatt. (_B. crosses and they shake._)

BULGER. I’m very sorry I disturbed you. I had just rung the bell and was waiting.

LEGGATT. That bell hasn’t been connected with the office for a year.

BULGER. Oh, what a hotel!

LEGGATT. When I want anything I just throw a pop bottle down to the right. (_Motions._) It’ll break at the office door and rouse the landlord.

BULGER. By George! It takes a literary man, after all, for ideas.

LEGGATT. You’ll find some empty pop bottles in the closet. I keep them for that purpose—and the cats.

BULGER. (_Gets bottle._) I’ll try it. Did you say to the right?

LEGGATT. Yes, you can see the glass door if you look out. Hit the pavement so the bottle will crash. (_BULGER throws out of window, tremendous crash._)

BULGER. What a crash for one bottle. I guess that will fetch him.

LEGGATT. Now you _have_ done it.

BULGER. Done what?

LEGGATT. You’ve broken the glass of the hot bed and the tomato plants will all freeze. You threw the wrong way.

BULGER. You said to the right.

LEGGATT. I meant to _my_ right.

BULGER. (_Provoked._) Well, I’ll be everlastingly—

LEGGATT. Hold on, Mr. Bulger, it isn’t worth swearing about. It’s of no consequence. We shall have to wait a month longer for tomatoes, that’s all.

BULGER. I’m very sorry, Mr. Leggatt. I’ll turn in now and risk the damp sheets. I hope you will sleep. (_Gets in bed._)

LEGGATT. But I won’t. I’m in for a night of it.

BULGER. What is the cause of your insomnia?

LEGGATT. My book!

BULGER. Keep away from the races, why don’t you?

LEGGATT. I don’t mean that kind of a book. It is the great novel I am writing. It is killing me.

BULGER. (_Blows out his candle._) Ah! When are you going to die?

LEGGATT. (_Testily._) Die! I’m not going to die.

BULGER. (_Sleepily._) You’ll make a long job of it in this town, it’s so slow.

LEGGATT. But I’m not here for that purpose, I say. What is your line, by the way?

BULGER. (_Murmurs._) Line—cheapest way—I’ll ship your goods by Blue Line, same as before.

LEGGATT. Blue Line! Are you drunk? (_Pause._) Hang it he’s asleep. I wish I could go to sleep like that. I envy a drummer. (_Blows out candle, lies down and covers up; caterwauling outside._) That infernal cat again! (_Turns over with nervous motion of sleepless man and settles down. All still for say 15 seconds. B. begins to snore loudly. LEGGATT sits up again, angrily._) That settles it! I shant sleep a wink to-night. I’ll read, I guess. (_Lights candle._) Where is that book? (_Dextrously fishes book toward him by means of a cane which stands at bedside, lays cane across table. Begins to read—any book—gets interested, makes comments._) This book is simply drivel, such character drawing. There are no great novelists anymore except myself and Tolstoi. (_Reads paragraph._) That fellow has a wretched style. His cacophony is terrible. The true test of good writing is to read it aloud. (_Reads aloud. B. rolls over as if about to wake._) All stuff, the poorest kind of slush. I can’t stand any more of that. (_Throws book on table and accidentally knocks cane on floor with a rattle._)

BULGER. (_Starts up and sits in bed._) What was that? Heh? (_No reply._) Leggatt?

LEGGATT. Only my cane, sir. I’m very sorry.

BULGER. So am I.

LEGGATT. Ah, then we agree. Will you join me in a pipe since you are awake?

BULGER. A pipe at midnight! Well, you are cool!

LEGGATT. No, I’m not. I am on the contrary slightly feverish.

BULGER. Your proposition is cool enough. Smoke at this hour!

LEGGATT. I find it soothing. I cultivate repose of mind. It isn’t what we are, you know, in this world but how we like the situation. To like what we can’t mend is the true philosophy.

BULGER. Philosophy be blowed! This is a situation that I don’t like.

LEGGATT. I can’t say that I actually enjoy it but since—(_Caterwauling outside._)

BULGER. (_Gets up angrily._) Oh those infernal cats. I’d like to murder every cat in creation.

LEGGATT. Kindly throw a pop bottle. Straight ahead this time over the shed.

BULGER. (_Snorting._) Throw it yourself.

LEGGATT. (_Coolly._) It was only a suggestion to be acted on or not at your discretion.

BULGER. I’d as soon have a room over a boiler shop as in this infernal little hotel. First-class—oh, what a liar this landlord is.

LEGGATT. My dear sir, your attitude toward Boniface is hardly justifiable. Landlords indulge in hyperbole.

BULGER. Hyperbole! What is that?

LEGGATT. It is the faculty of not letting a statement lack strength.

BULGER. Well, I must say this landlord’s statements are very robust.

LEGGATT. Neatly put, Bulger. I believe you cultivate literature yourself. You should at any rate. Literature—

BULGER. (_Walking floor._) Literature be d—d.

LEGGATT. My dear sir, you wont sleep at all if you go on at that rate. Since you decline to join me in a pipe let me read a chapter of Squibbs’ last novel to you; that’ll do the business.

BULGER. (_Pausing in front of L.’S cot._) Read Squibbs to me! At midnight, in a strange hotel! Preposterous!

LEGGATT. He is very soothing.

BULGER. (_Emphatically._) I wont have it (_gets in bed_).

LEGGATT. I’m very sorry. I’ll have to read all to myself.

BULGER. (_Sitting up._) Are you going to read?

LEGGATT. I am.

BULGER. And keep that candle burning?

LEGGATT. Certainly! I don’t read in the dark. I haven’t cat’s eyes.

BULGER. Really, I say—do you know that I have a call for the three o’clock train?

LEGGATT. Don’t worry about it, Bulger. I shall be awake and I’ll call you promptly. Will 2:45 be about right?

BULGER. (_Jumps up._) That man is crazy. I’ll never get a wink of sleep here. (_Seizes blanket._) There’s a sofa in the hall, I’ll try that. Next time I come to this town I’ll stop at the roundhouse for a quiet place. (_Runs out R. with candle and blanket._)

LEGGATT. I am disappointed in him. I thought his nerves were sound. He’ll break down if he travels long. He’ll catch cold in the hallway, I’m afraid. (_Lays down book. Pause._) My sleepy spell has come on. I didn’t expect it till four o’clock. I believe I shall not pass a white night, as the French say, after all. (_Lies down and goes to sleep. Pause 15 seconds._)

_ENTER LANDLORD, tiptoe, R._

LAND. (_Looks at B.’S bed, then at L.’S._) Bulger is a strange man. Now, why did he leave his bed and take that sofa in the hall? He’s the hardest customer to please that comes this way. Doesn’t like cats, finicky about drafts, always sends his steak back, objects to two in a room. I s’pose two in a bed ’ud set ’im crazy. There aint a steadier, nicer man in the house than Mr. Leggatt. Where shall I put that Dutchman? The sofa was the last thing. (_Scratches head._) Why, here, of course. I’ll just make up the bed! (_Hastily makes up bed._) There, he’ll not notice it has been slept in. (_Caterwauling outside._)

_Exit R. and RE-ENTER with SCHNELL._

LAND. Quietly! There’s a man asleep there.

SCHNELL. Oh, dis vas a touble room alretty?

LAND. Yes.

SCHNELL. (_Looking round._) Mit single petts. Lantlort, vas dot man safe?

LAND. Perfectly safe.

SCHNELL. Vel, I mean vas I safe? I know he was safe, alretty.

LAND. Why, he’s the peacefulest man in the town. (_Impressively._) He’s a littery chap.

SCHNELL. (_Puzzled._) Littery man! Vat was dot?

LAND. He writes books.

SCHNELL. Oh, ya, a pookkeeper.

LAND. No, he writes for the magazines.

SCHNELL. (_Still puzzled, scratches head._) Mackaseens! Ya, powter mackaseens. Ya, ya, dot bin all right. I kess, he wont plow up.

LAND. (_Ready to go._) Your name is Schnell, I believe.

SCHNELL. Ya! Gus Schnell, of Schnell oont Augenblick.

LAND. Line sauerkraut?

SCHNELL. Sauerkraut oont weinerwurst.

LAND. Any call?

SCHNELL. Ya, by de Cherman saloons.

LAND. I mean shall I call you in the morning?

SCHNELL. Yoost leaf me alone till I shleeps out. (_Exit LANDLORD R._)

SCHNELL. (_Taking off shoes._) Dot man was a goot shleeper, alretty. I hope he ton’t shnore sometimes. Dot man shleep like one little papy. (_Takes off coat, feels bed._) Dunder! dot pett vas warm alretty. Dere moost pe a furnace oonter dot pett. (_Looks, feels._) I feels vint. Dot was strange, der room colt, mit vint plowin, oont der pett varm. Dere vas no planket py dot pett. Gott in himmel! vy vas dot pet varm! meppe dot wasn’t a mystery. I yoost shleep in my clodings, I take no shances mit dot preeze plowin. (_Gets in bed._) Ach, I forcot to put dot candle out. I plieve I can reach him. (_Reaches out toward candle in chair and losing balance falls out of bed with a crash, extinguishing candle and overturning chair._)

LEGGATT. (_Starting._) What’s that? Where’s my pistol?

SCHNELL. Gott in himmel, ton’t shoot.

LEGGATT. (_Crossly._) Well, what ails you now?

SCHNELL. Nodings. I yoost fell out py de pett.

LEGGATT. (_Half awake._) You have disturbed me again! Why in thunder can’t you go to sleep?

SCHNELL. (_Angry._) Vel, vy tont you gif me some dime alretty? I yoost cot in mine pett, two tree minutes foreby. (_Gets in bed._)

LEGGATT. (_Starting up, wide awake._) That’s a strange voice. Bulger—(_Pause._) Bulger—Great heavens! has Bulger been murdered? (_Tries to strike matches, several go out._) This comes of putting strangers in the same room. What ails the infernal matches! (_Lights candle; SCHNELL is all covered up except his face, LEG. peers at him for a moment._) That isn’t Bulger. Where can Bulger be! That’s a burglar, I’ll bet. (_Gets pistol quietly from drawer, sitting up in bed._) I’ll have a crack at him if he resists. (_Sharply to SCHNELL._) Hello there, you!

SCHNELL. Vas?

LEGGATT. A Dutchman! Heh, you fellow! Sit up or I’ll shoot.

SCHNELL. (_Bounding out of bed and badly scared._) Mine Gott, meester ton’t shoot! Vat in himmel you want alretty yet?

LEGGATT. Who are you? Where is Bulger?

SCHNELL. Pulcher! I ton’t know Pulcher. Gott in himmel, put away dot pistol down.

LEGGATT. Who are you?

SCHNELL. Put dot bistol town. It goes off meppe.

LEGGATT. What are you doing here?

SCHNELL. Shleeping.

LEGGATT. Well, why in the dickens don’t you sleep then? Another man in my room! The landlord is drunk again. He’ll have the whole town in here before morning. (_SCHNELL standing middle of room._) Why don’t you go to bed?

SCHNELL. Ya, I coes right away. (_Pause._) Mine frent.

LEGGATT. Well?

SCHNELL. Dot lantlort sait you vas a beaceful chentleman. I vas beaceful too oont I vants no more misdakes apout purglars oont bistols. My name vas _Schnell_, of Schnell oont Augenblick, wholesalers mit sauerkraut. Dat’s my cart. (_Gives LEGGATT card._)

LEGGATT. (_Throws card away._) Confound it man, will you go to bed?

SCHNELL. Ya! Ya! (_Gets into bed._) He vas not a pit sociable.

LEGGATT. And look here, Mr. Wagonblock—

SCHNELL. Nine, Schnell! of te firm—

LEGGATT. Well, Snell then; you’d better keep pretty quiet. If this racket continues much longer I’ll miss my four o’clock sleeping spell. Now I _wont_ be disturbed. (_Lies down._)

SCHNELL. Ya! Ya! (_Pause fifteen seconds, then loud caterwauling outside, ad lib._) Oh, dem cats! (_Softly._) I was afraid of dot beaceful littery chap. He might shoot if he hears dem cats. (_Rolls over._) Vell, I ton’t schleep, dot’s sure, alretty. (_Glances at L.’S cot._) Dot man was tangerous. I yoost dries to ket a nap by der office. (_Rises, softly stealing toward door, R., LEG. rolls over. SCHNELL, alarmed, darts out._)

LEGGATT. (_Sleepily yawns._) More noise, somewhere, and I was just going—(_settles down and drops to sleep, short loud caterwauling, then all quiet._)

_BULGER steals in R. with candle._

BULGER. This night will be worse on me than a week’s sickness. I’ll have to take another liver pill. (_Takes pill._) If I had a keg of powder under this old hotel I’d blow it to Kingdom-come, landlord, cats and all. But I mustn’t wake that author or he’ll want to read Squibbs’ novel to me. He’s had a good sleep. I’ve caught cold in that hall. It was like the Cave of the Winds. (_Feels bed. Surprised._) Why, that bed is warm yet. That’s very strange! The room is as cold as a barn. There’s no blanket here either. I left that in the hall. If I close that window may be I can get along. I’ll wake everybody in the house probably. (_Goes softly to window, tugs at it, steals glance at LEGGATT, gives a quick tug, down comes window on the run and breaks a pane of glass._)

LEGGATT. (_Starting up, sitting posture._) What’s that? Who’s there? (_BULGER crawls behind the curtains._) Hey there! Say! (_Pause._) It’s that Dutchman again! He’s worse than Bulger was. Fallen out of that rickety old bed again, I suppose. If he’d only break his neck! (_Scratching matches, lights candle._) Why, he isn’t there. Now, that’s odd! Both gone! A good riddance. I may catch my four o’clock turn yet. (_Starts._) My watch! I’ll bet that Dutchman was a thief in disguise. (_Feels in vest pocket._) No, it is there all right. I have nothing else to steal. I’m an author. He wouldn’t take Squibbs’ novel. No, nobody would run away with Squibbs. (_Looks at watch again._) 2:45! It’s just time for Bulger’s train. (_B. behind curtain_, “Confound it.”) What’s that? I surely heard a voice. Some one _is_ concealed somewhere. I’ll call the landlord. No bell. I’ll catch cold if I get up to throw a pop bottle. I guess I’ll just fire the pistol. (_B. in alarm dodges closer to wall. Pistol shot._) There! I guess that’ll fetch him. I’ll give him a piece of my mind. When I took this room I gave him the privilege of putting in a quiet party occasionally. Quiet! This has been a delightfully quiet night.

_ENTER LANDLORD, R., excitedly followed by SCHNELL._

LAND. Great heavens! Where was that shot?

SCHNELL. Himmel! He sound like a cannon. I joomp out o’ my schleep ten feet alretty.

LAND. (_Excitedly._) Where was it? The house will be in an uproar. Leggatt, why don’t you speak?

LEGGATT. (_Coolly._) I _will_ speak. Landlord, it is my deliberate opinion that you keep the worst hotel that I ever saw.

LAND. That’s a slander, strictly first-class! But the shot?

LEGGATT. In the absence of a bell the shot was simply to call you.

LAND. (_Angrily._) Why, you don’t mean to say—

LEGGATT. That’s just what I mean to say. You were to put only quiet people in here.

LAND. Bulger is all right. Best man on the road.

LEGGATT. He has softening of the brain.

LAND. Impossible! Bulger is one of the best salesmen on the road.

LEGGATT. I’ve had enough of him. I think he’s crazy. (_B. angry gesture from behind curtain._)

LAND. Nonsense! His head is as level as—as mine.

LEGGATT. I wont dispute _that_!

LAND. And you mean you fired a pistol and alarmed the whole house just to tell me this.

LEGGATT. I’m not done yet. Next thing you bring in an idiotic Dutchman—

SCHNELL. Vy, you rascal! dot is me.

LEGGATT. (_With wave of hand._) Allow me, Wagonblock. I’m talking to the landlord.

LAND. Let up and go to sleep. You’ll be all right in the morning. Where is Bulger? It’s train time.

LEGGATT. Bulger! What do I know about Bulger? Get out now and leave me alone.

LAND. But Bulger—(_LEG. lies down._) Say, Leggatt!

SCHNELL. I tink dot littery chap haf kilt Pulcher.

LAND. (_Starting._) What? (_Seizes LEGGATT by arm and jerks him to sitting posture._) Produce Bulger. The shot—Bulger. Have you murdered him?

LEGGATT. (_Throwing him off._) I’m ready to murder somebody. (_Seizes cane._)

LAND. (_Retreating._) Where is Bulger?

BULGER. Here he is! (_Strides down angrily. LAND. and SCHNELL start back._) And let me add to what that literary man says. I thought he could use words better in such a case than a plain drummer, but he isn’t in it. Of all the noisy, windy, ill-kept, bad-smelling, disreputable (_gets emphatic as he speaks_), disorderly, rag-tag-and-bob-tail hotels in creation—

SCHNELL. Mine Gott!

LAND. Hold on, sir. You’re going too far.

BULGER. I’ll go farther next trip. I’ll go to the next town. (_Getting valise and things._)

LAND. Your bill is ready.

BULGER. (_Snorting._) Bill! bill!

LAND. (_Decidedly._) I said _bill_.

LEGGATT. Bulger, you’ll miss your train if you stand there quarreling. Now clear out, all of you, or I’ll miss my 4 o’clock sleep. I almost feel as if I should miss it after this. (_LANDLORD takes B.’S valise and is going R. followed by B. SCHNELL stands undecided._) Hi there, landlord, don’t leave that Dutchman here. (_LANDLORD pays no attention, exeunt._)

SCHNELL. (_Angrily._) Tutchman! dat was me—Mine frent, I was no Tutchman, I was Cherman oont—

LEGGATT. Get out before I commit murder. A first-class quiet hotel! Oh! (_Reaches for pistol. SCHNELL goes flying out R._)

QUICK CURTAIN.

MADAM PRINCETON’S TEMPLE OF BEAUTY

A FARCE

BY T. S. DENISON

_Also the Novels, The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc._

CHICAGO: T. S. DENISON, PUBLISHER, 163 RANDOLPH STREET.

MADAME PRINCETON’S TEMPLE OF BEAUTY.

CHARACTERS.

MADAME PRINCETON, Proprietor of Temple of Beauty. MRS. COMPTON, very stout, wants to be reduced. MISS DICKIE BIRD, who wants to be bleached. MISS TERWILLIGER, who is in search of a complexion. MISS McFADDEN, a suspicious enquirer. SUSAN, an assistant of Madame P.’s.

_Time of playing, twenty minutes._

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

_R._ means right of the stage; _C._, center; _R. C._, right center; _L._ left; _1 E._, first entrance; _U. E._, upper entrance, etc.; _D. F._ door in flat or back of the stage. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience.

NOTE—To present this piece properly, the ladies must make up as directed. But young ladies as a rule greatly dislike putting anything disfiguring on their faces. Miss Terwilliger should use make-up paints, one side of face fiery red, the other very brown, freckled. But she may get along very well by bandaging one side and splotching the other freely with court plaster, reddened with carmine ink. It is best to select a lady naturally stout, with a keen sense of humor, for Mrs. Compton. Full instructions maybe found in a good “make-up” book.

MADAME PRINCETON’S TEMPLE OF BEAUTY.

SCENE—_Entrance R. and L. in 1. D. F., L. C.; shelves for “goods” against flat R. C., sofa near wall up L., chair between that and door R., table with books and flowers down L. C., operating chair (barber’s) R. C.; other chairs and little accessories to taste, but do not crowd stage. May be played in any room having two doors._

SUSAN. (_Discovered as curtain rises examining toilet articles on shelves._) The skin food is nearly out. Skin food! Mutton fat and bergamot, cost, ten cents a jar. China jar and gilt label twenty cents more, total thirty cents, sells for five dollars. Well I guess there’s more money in skin food than there is in stomach food or brain food, for that matter. (_Takes up another bottle._) Anti-fat! Vinegar and water, three dollars a bottle. Anti grandmother! (_Laughs._) Why, I’m talking about my relatives. What fools these women are. I’ll start a Beauty Parlor I guess. (_Coquettishly._) I am a sample of Madame Princeton’s work myself. Humph! I never did a blessed thing for my beauty. I wouldn’t put her skin food on a mangy dog. That fat old Compton thing goes waddling round taking anti-fat and jerking the pulleys in the gymnasium. My, she makes me laugh. She gets fatter every day.

_ENTER briskly MADAME P., R._

MAD. P. Susan, have you opened up the gymnasium to air it?

SUSAN. Yes’m!

MAD. P. Where is Mary?

SUSAN. In the stock room.

MAD. P. Have we plenty of everything? There’s going to be a run on Madame Princeton’s Toilet Articles. The World’s Fair medal is a great card.

SUSAN. I suppose we’ll get that medal before the next Fair opens?

MAD. P. The delay is so annoying. But we’ll do as the others do—say we have it already.

SUSAN. The skin food is low.

MAD. P. Did you telephone the commission man to hurry up that mutton tallow?

SUSAN. Yes, he sent it by mistake to Madame La Duke’s Parlors.

MAD. P. Madame La Duke’s, indeed! I’ll sue her for damages if she steals any more of my secrets.

SUSAN. I guess Madame La Duke knows mutton fat from goose grease.

MAD. P. She is an ignorant imposter. Every idea she has she stole from me. Tell Mary to set the girls making a gross of skin food immediately. (_Exit SUSAN, L._)

_ENTER MRS. COMPTON, R., puffing._

MAD. P. (_Running to meet her._) Why, how charming you look, Mrs. Compton.

MRS. C. (_Dropping in chair._) I’m nearly starved to death. I haven’t eaten a bite of meat for three days.

MAD. P. Abstinence and Madame Princeton’s Anti-fat will do the business. Take a dose now, (_pours out wine glass full_). That will revive you. It operates on the fat glands and allays their abnormal activity. It is excitement of the fat glands which causes excessive flesh. Do you feel better? You’ve lost, I should say, fifteen pounds the last week.

MRS. C. Madame Princeton, I just feel completely gone. Why, when the girl brought in Mr. Compton’s breakfast this morning, I felt like a wild animal. I just wanted to grab his steak and tear it with my fingers and teeth.

MAD. P. But you must not indulge your appetite.

MRS. C. I dare not or Mr. Compton would suspect. Heaven forgive me the lies I’ve told that man. And I a church member, too. Told him one day I had no appetite, and the next a headache, and the next that I had lunched hastily down town. Dear me, what can I tell him next!

MAD. P. Does he suspect you?

MRS. C. I’m afraid so. He said this morning if I didn’t eat pretty soon he’d send for the doctor.

MAD. P. Keep it up three days more and then we’ll surprise him. You will have lost at least thirty pounds by that time. Your husband will be delighted at your improved appearance.

MRS. C. I don’t know about that. He’s a queer man. When I first met him I weighed only ninety pounds. It didn’t seem to matter to him when I weighed twice that.

MAD. P. But it does matter. He is deceiving you. Men prefer willowly women.

MRS. C. Maybe, but I’ve heard him say that Mrs. Smith was as thin as the last run o’ June shad. Couldn’t you fatten that woman? It would be a relief to her neighbors if you could, and it would prove that you can perform miracles.

MAD. P. Yes, get her to come in. I’ll give you a commission. It’s very simple. If she’d only take my Anti-lean. All she needs is to have the fat glands stimulated. Anti-lean is the greatest discovery of the age.

MRS. C. Would you mind telling me what it is; in confidence, you know.

MAD. P. Oh, goodness, that is a professional secret.

MRS. C. I’ll tell her about it, but, good land, what ye’re doin’ to me would kill her. I couldn’t stand it if I wasn’t as strong as an ox.

MAD. P. You are doing bravely. What did you eat for breakfast?

MRS. C. Three oatmeal crackers and a cup of coffee.

MAD. P. You have broken the rules. I limited you to two crackers.

MRS. C. It was Mr. Compton’s fault. He insisted I should eat.

MAD. P. Any cream in the coffee?

MRS. C. Only a spoonful.

MAD. P. You must obey me if you expect good results. I’ll give you a double dose of Anti-fat. And you shall lunch here to-day. One small white cracker, one large pickle and a double portion of Anti-fat.

MRS. C. Mayn’t I have a chalk crayon to nibble at. I’ll eat the wax candles next thing.

MAD. P. Oh, you may have all the chalk you want. Now go to the gymnasium. First the rowing apparatus, then the dumb bells and lastly, the swinging rings. That’ll fetch you round.

MRS. C. If it doesn’t kill me. (_Exit D. F._)

_ENTER SUSAN, L._

SUSAN. The mutton fat—

MAD. P. Hist! (_Whispers in SUSAN’S ear and gives meaning look toward D. F._)

_ENTER MISS TERWILLIGER, R._

MAD. P. How do you do, Miss Terwilliger? You are very punctual. Some women have no notion what an engagement means.

MISS T. (_Heavily veiled._) Madame Princeton, my face pains terribly. I am really alarmed.

MAD. P. (_Coldly._) I told you there would be some pain. Let me see your face. Removing freckles is rather a painful operation, if done by the quick method. (_MISS T. removes veil, discloses bandage covering the whole of one side of the face. MAD. P. removes bandage, shows one side of face very red the other brown._) It is working beautifully.

MISS T. (_Goes to glass, shrieks._) Oh, horrors! What a fright! Oh, oh!

MAD. P. Be cool, my dear.

_ENTER MRS. C. from D. F._

MRS. C. Goodness, what a start you gave me! (_Sees MISS T._) Why what on earth are you doing to that girl? Poor child! One side of her face is red as a beet and the other brown as a berry.

MAD. P. Really, Mrs. Compton, there is nothing the matter. That is the way it always works, Miss Terwilliger.

MISS T. But my face is on fire, oh! oh! And I read in the paper that a young lady died here undergoing treatment.

MAD. P. That was all a lie! I’ll never let another newspaper reporter interview me as long as I live. Come this way for treatment. (_Going L._) Madame Compton, go back to your exercises. (_Exeunt MAD. P. and MISS T., L._)

MRS. C. Well, I’m glad I haven’t freckles or warts or whiskers. I never could stand it to be skinned alive, I know. I’m so hungry I could eat a jar of that skin food.

_ENTER SUSAN L. Exit MRS. C., D. F._

SUSAN. Silly little goose. She’s going to be a bridesmaid and is willing to be skinned in order to look pretty.

_ENTER DICKIE BIRD._

DICKIE B. Are you the young lady I spoke to yesterday?

SUSAN. You are Miss Dickie Bird?

DICKIE. I am. I have an appointment at this hour.

SUSAN. I operate on the hair. Take this seat. (_DICKIE seated facing L. so audience can have side view of hair and face; lets down DICKIE’S hair, which must be dark and beautiful._) Oh, what beautiful hair! If I had that hair I wouldn’t dye it for the world.

DICKIE. But blondes are so fashionable! They are all the rage, you know. (_SUSAN tucking the barber’s apron closely round DICKIE._) Does it cause any inconvenience?

SUSAN. Not the least! You can not appear anywhere for several days. (_Scream from MISS T. heard off L._)

DICKIE. (_Bounding from chair._) Goodness! What is that?

SUSAN. Oh, nothing. They are skinning a girl in there.

DICKIE. Mercy sakes! Skinning a girl! That is horrible.

SUSAN. (_Laughs._) You misunderstand. It is the complexion treatment. It takes off the old skin, and I think they took it off that girl pretty deep. It burns like fire at first. (_Another scream._)

_MRS. C. runs out D. F._

MRS. C. My nerves just wont stand that!

DICKIE. I’m very glad I don’t have to be skinned. Ugh! it makes me shudder. (_Gets in chair._)

MRS. C. And what are you going to have done?

DICKIE. I’m going to be bleached!

MRS. C. What color?

DICKIE. Why, blonde, of course.

MRS. C. Well, if I had that head of hair I wouldn’t bleach it for the world. What lovely hair, and Mr. Compton does so admire hair.

DICKIE. (_Coquettishly._) They all do. (_Susan getting bottles and brushes._)

SUSAN. Are you ready, Miss Bird?

DICKIE. Quite ready.

MRS. C. (_Going D. F._) Bird! That must be Dickie Bird. Giddy thing! She’s the worst flirt in town. Oh dear, I could eat a raw frog! (_Exit D. F. Noise of pulleys going furiously._)

DICKIE. What is that fat old thing doing here?

SUSAN. Improving her shape. She’s on Anti-fat.

DICKIE. (_Sarcastically._) You couldn’t reduce her waist with one of those what do you call ’em machines. She’s had her day. Why doesn’t she stay at home with her old man.

SUSAN. Neither age nor condition is beyond the aid of Madame Princeton. That woman can work miracles. (_DICKIE is now swathed in apron and towels till she looks like a mummy._)

DICKIE. Why are you so very particular about wrapping me up, Susan?

SUSAN. The stuff is very powerful. I musn’t let a single drop get on your skin.

DICKIE. Oh dear, I am nervous. (_Tries to move._) Mercy, I can’t move hand or foot. (_Screams._)

_ENTER, hastily, MAD. P., L._

MAD. P. What is the matter, Miss Bird?

DICKIE. I am afraid!

MAD. P. My dear, there isn’t the slightest pain or danger. Go on, Susan. (_Aside to SUSAN._) You’ve been talking again. Why can’t you keep your customers quiet like mine. (_Scream from MISS T. who runs in, one side of face in great red blotches._)

MISS T. Madame Princeton, you will kill me! Oh, how my face smarts!

MAD. P. It can’t hurt much.

MISS T. It’s on fire! Oh, oh!

MAD. P. Only a temporary twinge, Miss Terwilliger. (_Gets between DICKIE’S chair and MISS T., turns latter away, nods to SUSAN who busies herself with DICKIE._) To-day I will apply my great discovery, Pastilla di Pasta and to-morrow you will have the complexion of a baby. (_Rushes MISS T. out L., shuts door._) Some people make a great fuss about nothing.

_ENTER MRS. C., with played-out look, D. F._

MRS. C. Madame Princeton, haven’t I exercised enough to-day?

MAD. P. (_Severely._) Not half enough!

MRS. C. (_Puffing._) Well, I shall die, that’s what I’ll do!

MAD. P. (_Impatiently._) I wouldn’t if I were you, Mrs. Compton.

MRS. C. Madame Princeton, you are positively cruel! I believe you actually enjoy our sufferings.

MAD. P. That’s right, excite yourself! Your heart is strong and excitement reduces flesh. It stimulates the lean glands, just as repose invigorates the fat glands.

MRS. C. But s’pose I die right here in your place. Think of the consequences. One woman did die.

MAD. P. No, she didn’t.

DICKIE. Goodness, that woman makes me nervous. Talks of dying in the place. I can’t stand this any longer. (_Tries to rise._)

SUSAN. (_Restraining her._) Be careful, you’ll make me spill it and then—

MAD. P. Susan, hold your tongue.

DICKIE. I am afraid. (_Manages to stand up, swathed like a mummy, MAD. and SUSAN support her._)

MAD. P. Sit down, Miss Bird. The remedy is as harmless as water.

DICKIE. I am _so_ nervous, let me go home. I read of the girl that nearly died here.

MAD. P. (_Indignantly._) No such thing ever happened, I tell you. She only fainted.

DICKIE. But papa doesn’t know what I’m doing. He wouldn’t approve at all. And if anything more should happen and _my_ name get in the papers—

MAD. P. Nothing can happen. How absurd. (_They get DICKIE back in chair._)

MRS. C. _I_ am nervous, too. If Mr. Compton ever caught me here, oh dear.

MAD. P. Mrs. Compton, I beg you will act rationally. Go back to your pulleys! It is against the rules for one patient to enter the room where another is being operated on.

MRS. C. Humph! I can hear the racket of all of ’em. I’ll break that old machine. (_Exit D. F., noise of pulleys violently._)

_ENTER MISS McFADDEN, R._

MISS McF. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Madame Princeton?

MAD. P. (_Bows._) You do. Won’t you come into the reception room? It’s a mistake of the girl to show you in here. Your name?

MISS McF. Miss McFadden. Since we are here I think we can manage. I have but a moment.

MAD. P. Did you wish to enquire about treatment, Miss McFadden?

MISS McF. Yes, if you please.

MAD. P. Complexion, perhaps?

MISS McF. Exactly! My skin feels rather harsh at times.

MAD. P. You need my crowning discovery, the wonderful skin food, followed by Pastilla di Pasta.

MISS McF. I had thought of trying something of the kind. (_MAD. P. showing vase of “food.”_) How much?

MAD. P. Five dollars a jar.

MISS McF. Isn’t that rather expensive?

MAD. P. Excuse me, it is worth twice the money. I ought to charge ten dollars. The materials are very costly, and the secret is invaluable.

MISS McF. I’ll take a jar! (_Gives money._)

MAD. P. (_Smiling._) Anything else?

MISS McF. No, that is, yes, my sister has a wart on her nose, which disfigures her slightly!

MAD. P. That can easily be removed.

MISS McF. Will it leave a scar?

MAD. P. Oh dear, no! I never leave a blemish! In fact I improve on nature in her happiest moods, to such a state of perfection has my art attained.

MISS McF. (_Has been writing in note book._) Will it be a painful operation?

MAD. P. Not at all! My customers actually enjoy the various processes, just as they say men enjoy being shaved and having their heads rubbed.

MISS McF. My sister may come in—(_Loud screams L._) What is that? (_Terrific crash back of flat. SUSAN drops bottle._)

MAD. P. Mercy! What has happened?

DICKIE. (_Jumping up from chair._) There! you’ve spilled some on my hand! (_Struggles free from wraps, throwing them right and left._)

MAD. P. (_Throwing up hands._) Miss Bird! Miss Bird! Do be careful!

DICKIE. It is black as ink. This is disgraceful, Madame Princeton.

MAD. P. Oh dear, Susan! Wash it off quick with the stain remover!

_ENTER MISS TERWILLIGER, L._

MISS T. (_Indignantly._) Madame Princeton, I wont stand this any longer! (_One side of her face covered by a thick plaster the other shockingly red._) My face is on fire.

MAD. P. But, Miss Terwilliger, patience. You will look like a baby when I am done with you.

_ENTER MRS. C. puffing, D. F._

MISS T. I’m burning up. (_Hands to face._)

MRS. C. Throw water on her, she’s afire!

MAD. P. Water, indeed!

MRS. C. She looks like a boiled lobster now! Did you ever see such a face?

MISS McF. But the process is painless?

MAD. P. Quite so, her nerves are unstrung, poor thing. (_MISS McF. writing in note book._) What are you writing there?

MISS McF. Only your address.

MISS T. (_Rubbing face._) Oh, my face! Will it ever look right again?

MAD. P. Don’t rub it!

MISS T. But I can’t help it!

MAD. P. My dear, you will look like a June rose.

DICKIE. And my hand, look at the great horrid black spot. (_Exposes hand._)

MAD. P. It’ll all come off in a month.

DICKIE. A month, did you say! Oh, I can’t endure it that long.

MRS. C. Humph, I’ve been starving that long. Some people make a great fuss about nothing!

DICKIE. But I must go to the charity ball next week!

MAD. P. Mrs. Compton, you have thirty minutes yet. The rings are next.

MRS. C. Oh sugar! Maybe you think I’m a fool! I’m done with your old machine. I smashed it with the Indian clubs.

MAD. P. Smashed the machine! You shall pay for it. Indeed, you shall.

MRS. C. Oh, I’ll pay. And what’s more, I’ll eat if I have to weigh 300 pounds.

MAD. P. That’s what you will weigh.

MRS. C. (_Spiritedly._) Well, I wont get fat to please you. I am not going to eat if I die for it.

DICKIE. Oh, that stain! It’ll never come off I know.

MISS T. Oh, my face!

MRS. C. Oh, my stomach!

MAD. P. (_Emphatically._) Oh, my patience!

MISS McF. Yes, your patients. (_Writes._) Quite an interesting lot.

MAD. P. (_Sternly._) Young woman, what _are_ you writing?

MISS McF. Just a little item. I am a reporter for the “Daily Fudge.”

ALL. A reporter! (_Excitement_, “oh’s” and “dear me’s.”)

DICKIE. My name in the papers! Papa will never forgive me! (_Darts out R., MISS T. darts out L._)

MRS. C. Mr. Compton will be furious. To think! Our names in the paper.

MAD. P. (_Glaring._) Do it if you dare, young woman. She doesn’t dare. I’ll sue the “Fudge” for damages.

MRS. C. (_To MISS McF._) I’m as weak as a cat, or I’d choke you, you horrid thing! Yes I would. (_Glares at MISS McF. who stands coolly writing._) My name in the “Daily Fudge!” And that horrid Anti-fat!

MAD. P. After all ladies like their names in the papers. It wont hurt anything. It advertises business.

TABLEAU.

_R._ _C._ _L._

MISS McF., SUSAN, MRS. C., MAD. P.

QUICK CURTAIN.

A DUDE IN A CYCLONE

A FARCE

BY T. S. DENISON

_Also the Novels, The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc._

CHICAGO: T. S. DENISON, PUBLISHER, 163 RANDOLPH STREET.

A DUDE IN A CYCLONE.

CHARACTERS.

MAJOR TOWNSLEY, Proprietor of hotel. JIM FUNK, a “wild and wooly” Texan. SOLOMON ISAACSTEIN, insurance agent and “bromoter.” ADOLPHUS PUTERBAUGH, from the Manhattan Club, New Yawk. MRS. TOWNSLEY. PATTIE BAGGS. JACK AND TOOTSIE.

_Time of playing, twenty minutes._

NOTE—The only difficult part in this play is that of Sol. Isaacstein. He is a Jew of the extreme type. The best study is that of the typical Jew traveling man who is not native born. Isaacstein’s dialect is of course exaggerated, as all dialect must necessarily be in farce. One useful hint may be given, i. e., try to get an easy swing to it. To pronounce _der_ gombany with nicety of precision spoils the effect entirely. _Der_ is not plain _dare_ in English. It is more indistinct so that the _d_ may be nearly a _t_. The same remarks apply to the dialect of Adolphus.

A DUDE IN A CYCLONE.

SCENE—_Cyclone cellar in Texas. One door R., blank walls, bench back, all characters discovered, as curtain rises, in state of confusion, some holding lighted candles; footlights out, stage dark._

TOWNSLEY. Is everybody in? (_Closing door and barring it._)

MRS. T. Oh John, I’m afraid they’re not all in. Jack are you there, an’ Tootsie?

JACK. I’m O.K. maw, Tootsie, too.

SOL. I. Boot me down O.K. (_O gay_) too. I set my ziglone alarm, greatest invention of the age. Wendt off an hour ago. Macher, I’ll sell you some stock; 50 per zent down, balance—

MRS. T. Where’s Pattie Baggs?

MRS. B. I’m here, Mrs. Townsley. And I’m dyin’ o’ fright. Oh, I wish John was here!

MRS. T. Do you want him here to be blown to fiddle-strings in the cyclone?

MRS. B. But he’s on the cyars and it may blow the train off the track.

SOL. I. Tear laty, regomment him to my ziglone ogsident bolicy!

MRS. B. Oh, I shall faint if you go on that way.

ADOLPH. Deah me, is the stom so vewy violent as that?

JIM F. Well, I should say, Puterbaugh! Last cyclone there was an old goose on a nest under the barn. It blew those goose eggs, would you believe it, right through the brick chimney. Holes in the brickwork looked as if there had been a cannonade.

ADOLPH. Dweadful! I’m sowwy (_sorry_) I evah left New Yawk!

SOL. I. Mine frent, Nye Yorick vas a great blace, but it ish not in it gombared to Dexas.

JIM F. That’s what, Isaacstein. A cyclone’s not bad. It’s a little exciting, but rather enjoyable when you get used to it.

ADOLPH. Weally, you don’t say! It must be vewy twyin’ on the nerves.

MRS. T. Townsley, is the door barred securely?

TOWN. Yes, my dear.

MRS. T. John, put something more against it. (_A pause._) You men lean against it.

TOWN. Let the door alone, can’t you!

MRS. B. Oh my nerves, they’re twitchin’ forty ways for Sunday.

MRS. T. Pattie Baggs, can’t you keep still? This is a serious time.

SOL. I. Mine frent, vat becomes of dot goose?

JIM F. Oh the goose, that was the strangest thing ever heard of. The cyclone blew that barn all to fliggets and scattered it over half the county and it actooally left that old goose settin’ on the same spot with not a feather on her, an’ nary an egg under her.

ADOLPH. Did you evah heah the like?

MRS. T. (_To PATTIE._) Jim Funk couldn’t stop tellin’ stories if old Nick was at the back door; he had ought to be ashamed of himself.

SOL. I. (_Taking out note book to write._) Dot was a stranche (_strange_) phenomenon. I will write dem insurance gombanies to stop wridin’ bolicies on parns oont wride dem on gooses. Der gombany safes monies oont I get a gommission.

JIM F. A capital idea! Why, it blew so hard last time—

MRS. T. (_Petulantly._) Major Townsley, can’t you men stop talkin’. It’s a solemn occasion.

TOWN. Madam, I haven’t said a word.

MRS. T. But Dizzie Jim an’ that Jew—

TOWN. My dear, they are guests of the hotel. I can’t tell ’em what to say. Jim Funk, this is a serious matter.

JIM F. You bet it is, major.

MRS. B. Oh my nerves—is it comin’? (_Bright flash of lightning._)

TOWN. (_Peeps at crack in door._) Dark as Egypt and roarin’ like Tophet.

MRS. B. Oh! oh! I shall smother.

MRS. T. Pattie Baggs, keep quiet. Hollerin’ aint goin’ to stop it. My land, where’s Bridget an’ Susan. (_Looks round._) They aint in; Townsley, do go an’ fetch them.

TOWN. It’s too late now. I guess they have run out the back way and got in Smith’s cellar.

MRS. T. But maybe they haven’t an’ they’ll be killed sure.

MRS. B. Oh goodness! If you talk of killing, you’ll kill me dead, and John—

TOWN. (_Severely._) Mrs. Townsley, who is talking now?

MRS. T. But you don’t do anything. You just stand there as unconcerned.

TOWN. What can I do?

MRS. T. I wish I was a man.

ADOLPH. This is puffickly dwedful!

SOL. I. If you blease, macher, a little petter light. (_Getting closer to candle._) I wrides dem ogsident gombanies to put a goupon on der bolicy, “Not good unless der barty vas in der zellar.” Dem gombanies safes monies oont I get a gommission.

MRS. T. (_Suddenly._) Where’s Tootsie?

TOOTSIE. I’m here all right, maw.

JACK T. Yes, I fetched her, you bet. (_JACK goes to door to peep out. Lightning and fierce crash of thunder. MRS. T. and MRS. B. scream in concert. ADOLPH starts and stumbles, falling, drops candle._)

JIM F. Hello there, Puterbaugh. (_Helps him up._) Lightning strike you?

ADOLPH. Weally I cawn’t say. I feel so shook up. (_Feels his arms._)

JIM F. You’re all right. That ain’t a marker to what we’ll get. Why, last cyclone the lightning fell in great balls, as big as your head, that danced round the ground among the hailstones and melted away slowly—them that didn’t explode. (_Lightning and another crash of thunder._) I saw a chunk of it in the chimley corner next day.

ADOLPH. (_Jumping._) Weally, I cawn’t stand that, don’t you know. I wish I’d nevah left New Yawk.

SOL. I. Mine frent, you was nerfous. Haf you an ogsident bolicy? I’ll write you up. You vas a goot risk, seein’ you was in der zellar.

ADOLPH. Weally, my fwend, you aw impawtunate. I have me insurance, don’t you know, always cawy it same as me cane.

SOL. I. Dot Nye Yorick insurance vas no goot in Dexas. It hasn’t got der ziglone goupon.

JACK. (_Going to door._) Oh Tootsie, come an’ look. It’s just splendid. Black as ink, an’ way off yellow as can be. (_TOOTSIE runs to door._)

TOOTSIE. Aint that just tip top?

MRS. T. (_Severely._) Major Townsley, do you see those children?

TOWN. My dear, I see them.

MRS. T. Do you want them killed?

TOWN. Fiddlesticks! Keep still, can’t you.

MRS. T. Send them away from that door—if anything happens!

TOWN. (_Goes to door._) Go, my dears, back to the far corner! (_Looks out._) Something will happen! It’s a grand sight! It’s coming like a race-horse!

MRS. B. Oh, Major Townsley, do you want to frighten us all to death!

MRS. T. (_Sarcastically._) It’s no use trying to keep men still.

JIM F. I hope it wont blow this cyclone cellar out of root. (_Fearful hissing of wind with lightning._)

ADOLPH. Gwacious! do you think it’ll do that?

JIM F. No tellin’! Last cyclone—

MRS. T. (_Severely._) Jim Funk, can’t you keep still?

JIM F. Why yes, if it is the wish of the company. (_Sits on bench back._)

ADOLPH. _I cawn’t_ keep still, I say now!

SOL. I. Dot gomes from hafin no insurance! Bedder dake a ziglone bolicy. Dot helps der nerfs bedder.

ADOLPH. (_Scornfully._) Go away, fellah, weally you annoy me. I’m used to pwivacy.

SOL. I. (_Puts up note book._) Zome beoples always stands in der vay of der own lidght. (_Taking out book suddenly._) Say, lantlort! (_No reply._) Macher Downsley, dis zellar vas boorly lidghted, vy ton’t you but in elegdrick lidghts? (_Increased roaring of wind._) He toesn’t hear. (_Goes to T. who is near door, speaks very loud in his ear._) Macher Downsley!

TOWN. What are you yelling about?

SOL. I. I’ll dake a gondract to lidght dis zellar from basement to addig mit elegdrick lidghts. (_Aside._) I can get a small gommission from der gompany. (_Clap of thunder._) He gan’t hear. It vas a drifle noisy for peesness.

TOWN. Isaacstein, you had better sit down. (I. _sits on bench back._)

MRS. T. Townsley, how does it look outside?

TOWN. Roaring like all the fiends. The roof of the hotel will go in a minute. There goes the chimneys now!

JACK. (_Runs to door._) Oh paw, let me see!

TOOTSIE. An’ me, too! (_Going._)

JACK. Go back, Tootsie! (_Pushes her away._) It aint fur girls.

TOOTSIE. (_Pushing._) Paw, Jack’s pushin’ me.

MRS. T. (_Severely._) Come here, both of you. Major Townsley, do you see those children? And at such a time! Humph, you aint fit to be the father of a family! No more government than a cat—(_clap of thunder._) Oh! oh!

MRS. B. Save me! save me!

MRS. T. I guess ye aint gone yet.

TOWN. (_To children._) Run back dears, to the far corner. (_They go L., holding hands._)

TOOTSIE. Jack, I’m afraid.

JACK. Don’t be skart, Tootsie. Paw an’ me’s here.

ADOLPH. (_Who will not sit down, suddenly._) Oh, I say, majah, say, don’t you know! (_Goes to TOWN._) He cawn’t heah. Majah!

TOWN. Speak louder!

ADOLPH. (_Shouting in T.’S ear_) Me twunk!

TOWN. (_Gruffly._) What’s the matter now?

ADOLPH. I fohgot me twunk, don’t you know.

TOWN. Trunk! What on earth do you want with your trunk?

ADOLPH. It contains all me linen and things. Let me out! I must have it! (_Looks at watch._) It’s the houah to change me tie.

TOWN. (_Restraining him._) Mr. Puterbaugh, you can’t go out in that storm. Hear the roaring. (_Groaning of the wind loudly._)

ADOLPH. But I change me linen twice a day, don’t you know.

JIM F. (_Jumping up._) I’ll loan you a shirt!

ADOLPH. Thanks awfully, but I nevah weah flannel, besides what would you do, I say now?

JIM F. Do you think I have only _one_ shirt!

SOL. I. (_Jumping up._) Mine frent, my vardrobe vas limited, but it is at your disbosal.

ADOLPH. Thanks, awfully, but I cawn’t weah percale, it’s two dweadful! (_To TOWN._) Don’t you think I could dwag me twunk into this cave? (_At door._)

TOWN. (_Pushing him away._) Why, you lunatic! you wouldn’t risk your life for a trunk would you?

ADOLPH. (_Hopping round._) I’m dwedfully nervous! I haven’t been so excited since the day I thweatened to cane Gawge Bowkah in the Manhattan Club. Insulted me, the cad! They had to westwain me, and all that. Adolphus Putehbaugh was the hero of the houah. Got hauled up befoah the diwectahs and all that. Made me a weputation as a dangewous man, don’t you know—(_Clap of thunder._) Gwacious! that’s comin’ it stwong!

SOL. I. (_Rushes forward._) Mine frent, vil you dake dot bolicy now? No dime like der bresent. Telay is tangerous. I tell you vot I’ll do. (_Whispers in his ear._) Half der gommission! (_Begins writing._) Gristian name Adolphus—Age?

TOWN. (_At door._) There goes the roof! (_All jump up._)

MRS. B. Land sakes, I’m goin’, too!

MRS. T. (_Jerking her back on seat._) No you aint! Patty Baggs, don’t be a fool.

MRS. B. Oh, if John were only here!

SOL. I. My tear laty, in dis case distance vas der pest bolicy—exzepting always der ziglone bolicy.

MRS. T. If the roof is gone how will we manage for dinner, I’d like to know?

TOWN. (_Snorting._) Dinner! That’s like a woman.

MRS. T. Yes, and it’s like a man to say nothing till he’s hungry as a wolf, and then he expects it in two minutes.

JIM F. Never mind, Mrs. Townsley, we’ll get along somehow.

MRS. T. Humph! There aint a man in the county that has a better appetite than you have.

JACK. Maw al’ays said ’at Dizzy Jim was a dandy to eat!

TOWN. Boy, keep still there.

SOL. I. (_Peering out._) Macher Downsley, dot roof was gone sure enough. Say, I’ll dake a gondragt to repuild dot hotel on a scale of magnifizence suitable to dis greadt state of Dexas.

TOWN. You a contractor, too? I thought your line was insurance.

SOL. I. Haf you not my gardt alretty? (_Gets card._) Read dot gardt. “Solomon Isaacstein, Bromoter.” I bromotes eferyding from ziglone bolicies to hodels oont shtock gombanies. Wherefer dere was gommissions dere was Isaacstein retty for peesness.

TOWN. Wait till we find out the damages.

SOL. I. Mine frent, der bresent is der only dime. Der bast was brotested oont der future disgounted. I’ll figger on dot gondragt now oont have an esdimate ven der ziglone subsites. (_ADOLPH drops his candle._) Dem gandles vasn’t equal to such an occasion as der bresent. Macher, haf you consiteret dot broposition for elegdrick lights in dis ziglone zellar? (_Tremendous flash and splitting thunder._)

ADOLPH. (_Who was nervously trying to light his candle drops it panic stricken._) I say now this is gettin’ to be a beastly boah.

SOL. I. Frent Puterbaugh, allow me. (_Lights match._) You vas standin’ in your own lighdt, my tear sir.

ADOLPH. I should say that I’m standing in me own dark. (_Laughs._) Aw, wathaw good joke that, best I’ve made since I left New Yawk. You cawn’t make a good joke in this blawsted country. Climate so vewy depwessing. We’re an awfully witty lot of chaps in the Manhattan Club.

JIM F. (_At door._) How is it outside, major? (_JIM and T. look out intently._)

SOL. I. (_Lighting A.’S candle after some trouble._) Der glimate vas hart on matches in Dexas. Mine frent, a goot shoke is ter best donic for te nerfs excebt a ziglone bolicy—

ADOLPH. I say now Mistah—ah, I cawn’t quite wecall youah name.

SOL. I. Solomon Isaacstein, Bromoter, Nye Yorick oont San Franzisco. (_Confidentially._) Let me make a broposition, der macher vas a little slow.

ADOLPH. He keeps a beastly place heah, don’t you know.

SOL. I. (_Enthusiastically with the Jew gestures of the comic papers._) Ogzactly, ogzactly, but petter oxpressed dan I could oxpress it. Dis blace vas not up mit der dimes even for Dexas. It needs elegdrick lights (_suddenly struck by idea_) oont, py chorge, (_slaps A.’S shoulder till latter staggers_) vat you say to pilliarts in dis zellar?

ADOLPH. By Jove! Good idea, don’t you know.

SOL. I. Sugchest it to Macher Downsley. My prudder Abe Isaacstein makes pilliart dables. He gives a tiscount of dwenty per zent to der drade, put I makes Abe gif me sefenty-fife per zent. I’ll tifide dot gommission. (_Crash of thunder, lightning._) Himmel, vat a noise.

MRS. B. I know we’ll all be killed.

MRS. T. Pattie Baggs, are you hankering to be killed?

MRS. B. Oh Mrs. Townsley, how can you talk so?

MRS. T. Keep still, then. (_Aside._) That poor dude’s nearly scared to death already.

JIM F. (_At door._) There she goes.

MRS. T. The hotel?

JIM F. No, the stable. (_Enthusiastically._) Look at that!

CHORUS. What is it?

JACK. (_Runs._) Lemme see.

TOWN. Sit down, will you, boy.

JIM F. Aint that great! Aint it?

MRS. B. Do tell us, Jim. (_Pause._)

JIM F. Why, that old brindle mule. When the stable went it riled him so he’s got his grit up an’, dumme, if he aint just kickin’ the cyclone to strings right an’ left; he’s splittin’ it wide open.

ADOLPH. Gwacious me!

JIM F. But it’ll git the better of ’im, I ’low. He’s gittin old an’ short-winded an’ that cyclone holds a full hand. There goes a cabin. Look at it, major. Why, I’ll be shot if there aint three coon skins nailed on the door an’ a nigger smokin’ a pipe, as cool as patent ice.

ADOLPH. Gwacious, my twunk!

SOL. I. Oont no inzurance? No? I’ll write an emerchency bolicy for fifty per zent extra.

TOWN. Jim, you’ve a good eye to see coon skins in that light.

JIM F. (_Looks again._) Hanged, if I wasn’t mistaken. It’s fox skins. Might a knowed that by the rings on the tails. Old Brindle’s knocked out! No, he isn’t. He’s taken a hitch round an apple tree with his tail. There goes the tree, roots an’ all, an’ the mule holdin’ on by his tail. The cabin’s out o’ sight now.

MRS. B. Mercy me, Jim, d’ye see any cyars? John’s in the cyars.

JIM F. No, Mrs. Baggs, I don’t see no cyars, but if there doesn’t go half a mile o’ track sailin’ along over the tree tops.

MRS. B. Mercy on us! I’ll bet the cyars is wrecked an’ John’s hurt. Oh Jim—

JIM. Don’t be skeared, mom! The cyars didn’t get into the cyclone, only the locomotive. It’s still runnin’ nateral as life. The fireman’s heavin’ in coal.

ADOLPH. I weally cawn’t get back to New Yawk without me twunk.

SOL. I. Ton’t co pack py Nye Yorick yet, mine frent. You haf not seen half ter peauties of dis great gountry alretty.

JIM. T. There it’s about over now. Major Townsley, I’ll bet three to one that old mule doesn’t get back inside three days. It took him two days last time an’ he’s gittin’ old an’ stiff. (_Gets lighter._)

SOL. I. (_To ADOLPH._) Mine frent, dot was a coot pet. We’ll make up a little zindigate oont dry it. Jim, I dakes ten tollars vort of dot pet, hants town. (_Gets daylight again._)

MRS. T. Townsley, is the hotel gone?

TOWN. (_Unbarring door._) No, only the roof and the chimneys. Jim has been exaggerating slightly.

SOL. I. I suspected oxacheration. I’ve pin dere pefore. (_Struck with idea._) Py cracious, I’ll ket up an oxacheration bolicy for dis gountry. It would be a vortune broperly hantled. (_T. opens door._)

MRS. T. (_Going toward door._) Roof gone and dinner ruined.

ADOLPH. And my twunk gone to the bow wows, an’ it’s half an howah pawst the time to change me linen. (_All going R., SOL. last, making notes._)

SOL. I. (_Calls._) Mr. Bewterpaugh! Mr. Bewterpaugh! (_OVERTAKES A._) I’ll find dot drunk for a slighdt atvance, cash town.

QUICK CURTAIN.

It’s All in the Pay-Streak

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

BY T. S. DENISON

_Also the Novels, The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc._

CHICAGO: T. S. DENISON, PUBLISHER, 163 RANDOLPH STREET.

IT’S ALL IN THE PAY STREAK.

CHARACTERS.

JOHN LAWTON. FLOSSIE, his young daughter. HERBERT, his son, an outcast. HARVEY VANCE, Flossie’s accepted lover. JIM ROGERS, alias “Pay Streak,” a rustler. MOLLIE BAKER, alias “The Rocky Mountain Grouse.” RACHEL, old family servant of Lawton’s.

_Time of playing, one hour, forty minutes._

PROPERTIES.

Ring for Florence, money, architect’s plan, two pistols, dishes, towels, skillet, stove for cabin, gun, card tray, card, oranges in basket, two cots, blankets, newspaper, cartridge belt.

COSTUMES.

The costumes of this play are all “of the day” except the make-up of ROGERS and VANCE in the mountains, Act II. These are: Brown coarse overalls and blouse or roundabout. (Blue will answer, but is not right.) Cartridge belt when worn is heavy and full of cartridges; slouch hats, black or white, to taste; very heavy boots (not shoes), very dusty; overalls may be in boot tops or not; for variety, one each way will do. VANCE may have very long whiskers or stubble. PAY STREAK is more juvenile and may be shaven. Face very brown. Clothing greasy and smeared with clay.

HINTS ON PRESENTATION.

This play has been written from mining life and hotel life as the author has actually found it, except that miners employ a very energetic and picturesque profanity which can not be reproduced in a play. One caution is necessary in the characters of “Pay Streak” and the “Rocky Mountain Grouse.” The man is not a _clown_ and the girl is not _coarse_. Miners are serious people, and however ludicrous their conversation and actions may appear to outsiders, to themselves it is earnestness. A man who will stand up and die in defense of his claim must be an earnest man. The other characters need no special elucidation. Great care must be taken, in the duel scene, to use blank cartridges. Any mistake here may prove real tragedy.

BILL OF THE PLAY.