ACT I.--A HUSKING AT THE OLD HOME.

SCENE.--_A barn. In flat, large door to roll back_ L., _closed; above door, hay-mow, practicable staging, loose hay piled upon it; over that, window, through which moonbeams stream._ L., _stalls with harness suspended from pegs, bench on which are two basins and towels._ R., _bins, above stalls and bins_, R. _and_ L., _hay-mow with hay_ (_painted_). R. C., _two benches thus_: B D A C, [Illustration] _on which are seated_ A. TOM LARCOM, B. NAT HARLOW, _and between them four farmers, three girls; another girl standing_ C.; _beside her on floor, kneeling, a farmer picks up the husks thrown by the huskers, and puts them in a basket. A small pile of corn_, D., _which the occupants of the benches are at work on, throwing the corn into bins_, R.; _the husks behind. Just back of_ B., HANKS _seated on a barrel with violin playing, "In the sweet by and by."_ STUB _leaning against wing_, L., I E. _listening; stool_ R., I E.; _red lanterns hung_ R. _and_ L., _red light from footlights_. HANKS _plays the air through during the rising of curtain_.

STUB. Golly! hear dat now, will you? D-d-dat what I call music in de har, fur it jes make my har stan' on end, yes, it does. And I feel--I feel jes as dough I was skewered onto dat ar fiddle-bow, an' bein' drawed frou a sea ob bilin' merlasses. Golly, so sweet!

NAT. There's a first-class puff for you, Hanks, from the mouth of a critic--with a black border.

TOM. You do beat all nater, Hanks, with the fiddle; your hand is as cute, and your ear as fine, as though the one had never held a plough, or the other listened to the jingling of a cowbell. Talk of your genuses. Give me the chap that's a Jack at any thing, from digging ninety tater-hills afore breakfast, to sparking a pretty girl at 'leven o'clock on a starlight night.

STUB. Wid de ole man comin' roun' de corner ob de house wid a double-barrel rebolver, "You scoot or I shoot." Don't forget de embellishments, Tom Larcom. (_All laugh._)

NAT. Ha, ha! had you there, Tom.

TOM. What are you laughing at? If old Corum mistook me for a prowler one night, am I to blame?

STUB. Coorse not, coorse not, when you didn't stop to 'lucidate, but jumped de fence and scooted down de road hollering "Murder!" (_Laugh._)

TOM (_flinging an ear of corn at_ STUB). A little more ear and less tongue, Stub.

STUB (_ducking his head_). Don't waste de fodder. Had ear enough dat night. Golly! jes woke de whole neighborhood.

TOM. Ah! the course of true love never did run smooth.

STUB. By golly! you--you found it pretty smoove runnin' dat night.

TOM (_threatening_ STUB). Will you be quiet?

STUB. Ob coorse. Don't waste de fodder.

NAT. Ah, Tom, Nature never cut you out for a lover.

TOM. P'r'aps not; but I've got _art_ enough to cut you out, Nat, if you do make up to my property, Kitty Corum. (_Enter_ KITTY, R., _overhearing last words_.)

KITTY. Indeed! Your property! I like that. And when, pray, did you come into possession?

TOM. That's for you to say, Kitty. I'm an expectant heir as yet. Don't forget me in your will, Kitty.

NAT. Don't write your will in his favor.

KITTY.

"When a woman wills she wills: depend on't; And when she won't she won't, and there's the end on't."

TOM (_sings_). "If I could write my title clear."

NAT. Give me the title, Kitty.

TOM. I'd give you a title--Counter-jumper, Yardstick; that's about your measure. You talk about titles; why, all you are good for is to measure tape and ribbons, cut "nigger-head," shovel sugar, and peddle herrings for old Gleason. Bah! I smell soap now.

NAT (_jumping up_). You just step outside, and you shall smell brimstone, and find your measure on the turf, Tom Larcom.

KITTY. There, there, stop that! I'll have no quarrelling. Supper's nearly ready, and the corn not finished.

TOM. We'll be ready for the supper, Kitty. If I could only find a red ear.

KITTY. And if you could?

TOM. I should make an impression on those red lips of yours that would astonish you.

KITTY. Indeed! It would astonish me more if you had the chance. (_Laugh._) But where's Harry Maynard?

TOM. Off gunning with Mr. Thornton. He said he'd be back in time for the husking: they must have lost their way.

KITTY. His last night at home, too.

STUB. Yas, indeed. Off in de mornin', afore de broke ob day. I's gwine to drive dem ober to de steam-jine station. Miss Jennie gwine to see him off; 'spect she'll jes cry her eyes out comin' home.

TOM. Well, I can't see the use of Harry Maynard's trottin' off to the city with this Mr. Thornton. Let well enough alone, say I. Here's a good farm, and a smart, pretty girl ready to share life with him; and yet off he goes to take risks in something he knows nothing about.

KITTY. Don't say a word against Mr. Thornton; he's just splendid.

CHORUS OF GIRLS. Oh, elegant!

TOM. There it is! Vanity and vexation! here's a man old enough to be your father. Comes up here in his fine clothes, with a big watch-chain across his chest, and a seal ring on his finger, and you girls are dead in love with him at first sight.

KITTY. Tom, you're jealous. Harry Maynard is not content to settle down here; he wants to see the world, and I like his spunk. If I was a man _I_ would get the polish of city life.

STUB. So would I, so would I. Yas, indeed; get de polish down dar. Look at Joe Trash; he went down dar, he did. New suit ob store clo's onto him, and forty dollars in his calf-skin. He come back in free days polished right out ob his boots.

TOM. Well, I s'pose it's out of fashion not to like this Thornton, but there's something in the twist of his waxed-end mustache, and the roll of his eye, that makes me feel bad for Harry.

KITTY. You needn't fear for Harry. He won't eat him.

STUB. No, sir, he's not a connubial: he's a gemblum.

TOM. Ah! here's the last ear, and, by jingo! it's a red one.

CHORUS. Good for you, Tom! good for you!

NAT. I'll give you a dollar for your chance.

TOM. No, you don't, Nat; I'm in luck.--Now, Kitty, I claim the privilege. A kiss for the finder of the red ear. (_All rise._)

KITTY. Not from me, saucebox.

NAT. Run, Kitty, run! (KITTY _runs in and out among the huskers_, TOM _in pursuit_.)

TOM. It's no use, Kitty; you can't escape me. (_She runs down_ R. _corner; as_ TOM _is about to seize her, she stoops, and runs across stage, catches_ STUB _by the arms, and whirls him round_. TOM, _in pursuit, clasps_ STUB _in his arms_.)

STUB. "I'd offer thee dis cheek ob mine." If you want a smack take it. I won't struggle.

TOM (_strikes his face with hand_). How's that for a smack?

STUB. Dat's de hand widout de heart: takes all de bloom out ob my complexion. (_Goes across stage holding on to his face, and exits_ R. KITTY _runs through crowd again, comes_ R., TOM _in pursuit_.)

TOM. It's no use, Kitty: you must pay tribute.

KITTY. Never, never! (_Runs across to_ L., _and then up stage to back. Door opens, and enter_ HARRY MAYNARD _and_ THORNTON, _equipped with guns and game-bags_; KITTY _runs into_ HARRY'S _arms_.)

HARRY. Hallo! just in time. You've the red ear, Tom, so, as your friend, I'll collect the tribute. (_Kisses_ KITTY.)

KITTY (_screams_). How dare you, Harry Maynard!

TOM. Yes, Harry Maynard, how dare you?

(THORNTON, HARRY, KITTY, TOM, _and_ NAT _come down; others carry back the benches, and clear the stage; then converse in groups at back_.)

HARRY. Don't scold, Tom. It's the first game that has crossed my path to-day: the first shot I've made. So the corn is husked, and I not here to share your work. We've had a long tramp, and lost our way. (_goes to_ R. _with_ THORNTON; _they divest themselves of their bags, and lean their guns against bin. 2d entrance_.)

TOM (L. C.). Empty bags! Well, you are smart gunners: not even a rabbit.

HARRY (R. C. THORNTON _sits on stool_, R.). No, Tom; they were particularly shy to-day, so I had to content myself with a deer, your dear, Tom. (_All laugh_; NAT, L., _very loud_, TOM _threatening him_.)

KITTY (C.). His dear, indeed! I'll have you to understand I'm not to be made game of.

HARRY. No, dear, no one shall make game of you; but keep a sharp lookout, for there's a keen hunter on the track, and when Tom Larcom flings the matrimonial noose--

KITTY. He may be as lucky as you have been to-day, and return empty-handed.

TOM. Don't say that, Kitty; haven't I been your devoted--

KITTY. Fiddlesticks! (_pushes him back, and comes to_ L. C.) If there is any thing I hate, it's sparking before company.

NAT (L.). And there's where you're right, Kitty. As much as I love you, I would never dare to be so outspoken before company.

TOM. Oh, you're a smart one, you are! (_Enter_ STUB, R.)

STUB. Supper's onto de table, and Miss Maynard, she says, says she, you're to come right into de kitchen, eat all you like, drink all you like, an' smash all de dishes if you like; an' dere's fourteen kinds ob pies, an' turnobers, an' turn-unders, an' cold chicken, an'--an'--cheese--

HARRY. That will do, Stub. My good mother is a bountiful provider, and needs no herald. So, neighbors, take your partners; Hanks will give you a march, and Mr. Thornton and I will join you as soon as we have removed the marks of the forlorn chase.

STUB. Yas, Massa Hanks, strike up a march: something lively. Dead march in Saul; dat's fus rate.

TOM (C.). Kitty, shall I have the pleasure? (_Offers his left arm to_ KITTY.)

NAT (L.). Miss Corum, shall I have the honor? (_Offers his right arm to_ KITTY.)

KITTY (_between them, looks at each one, turns up her nose at_ TOM, _and takes_ NAT'S _arm_). Thank you, Mr. Harlow. I'll intrust this _property_ to you.

NAT. For life, Kitty?

KITTY. On a short lease. (_They go up_ C., _face audience; others pair, and fall in behind them_.)

TOM (C.). Cut,--a decided cut. I must lay in wait for Yardstick when this breaks up, and I think he will need about a pound of beefsteak for his eyes in the morning. (_Goes_ L. _and leans dejectedly against wing. Music strikes up, the march is made across stage once, and off_ R., STUB _strutting behind_.)

HARRY (_crosses_ L.). Why, Tom, don't you go in?

TOM. Certainly. Come, Hanks. (_Goes over to_ HANKS.) They'll want your music in there, and I'm just in tune to play second fiddle. (_They exeunt_ R., _arm in arm_.)

HARRY (_goes to bench_ L., _and washes hands_). Now, Mr. Thornton, for a wash, and then we'll join them. (THORNTON _keeps his seat in a thoughtful attitude_. HARRY _comes down_.) Hallo! what's the matter? Homesick?

THORNTON (_laughs_). Not exactly; but there's something in this old barn, these merry huskers, this careless happy life you farmers lead, has stirred up old memories, until I was on the point of breaking out with that melancholy song, "Oh, would I were a boy again!"

HARRY. Now, don't be melancholy. That won't chime with the dear old place; for, though it has not been free from trouble, we drive all care away with willing hands and cheerful hearts.

THORNTON. It is a cheery old place, and so reminds me of one I knew when I was young; for, like you, I was a farmer's boy.

HARRY. Indeed! you never told me that.

THORNTON. No: for 'tis no fond recollection to me, and I seldom refer to it. I did not take kindly to it, so early forsook a country life for the stir and bustle of crowded cities. But, when one has reached the age of forty, 'tis time to look back.

HARRY. Not with regret, I trust: for you tell me you have acquired wealth in mercantile pursuits, and so pictured the busy life of the city, that I am impatient to carve my fortune there.

THORNTON. And you are right. The strong-armed, clear-brained wanderers from the country carry off the grand prizes there. You are ambitious: you shall rise; and, when you are forty, revisit these scenes, a man of wealth and influence.

HARRY. Ah, Mr. Thornton, when one has a friend like you to lead the way, success is certain. I am proud of your friendship, and thankfully place my future in your keeping.

THORNTON. That shows keen wit at the outset. Trust me, and you shall win. (_Rises._) But I am keeping you from your friends, and I know a pair of bright eyes are anxiously looking for you. (_Goes to bench, and washes hands._)

JESSIE (_outside_ L., _sings_),--

"In the sweet by and by, We shall meet on that beautiful shore," &c.

HARRY. Ah! my "sweet by and by" is close at hand. (_Enter_ JESSIE, R., _with pail_.)

JESSIE. O you truant! (_Runs to him._) Now, don't flatter yourself that I came in search of you. Do you see this pail? this is my excuse.

HARRY. 'Tis an empty one, Jessie. I am very sorry you have been anxious on my account; but I'm all ready, so let's in to supper.

JESSIE. Not so fast, sir: the pail must be filled. I'm going for milk.

HARRY. Then "I'll go with you, my pretty maid."--You'll excuse me a moment, Mr. Thornton.

JESSIE. Mr. Thornton!--Dear me, I didn't see you! Good evening.

THORNTON. Good evening, Miss Jessie.

JESSIE. Are you very, very hungry?

THORNTON. Oh, ravenous!

JESSIE. Then don't wait, but hurry in, or I won't be responsible for your supper: huskers are such a hungry set.--Come, Harry.

HARRY. Don't wait, Mr. Thornton: it takes a long time to get the milk; don't it, Jessie?

JESSIE. Not unless you tease me--but you always do.

HARRY. Of course, I couldn't help it; and tease and milk go well together. (_Exeunt_ JESSIE _and_ HARRY, L. THORNTON _stands_ C._looking after them_.)

THORNTON. Yes, yes, 'tis a cheery old place. Pity the storm should ever beat upon it; pity that dark clouds should ever obscure its brightness; yet they will come. For the first time in a life of passion and change, this rural beauty has stirred my heart with a longing it never felt before. I cannot analyze it. The sound of her voice thrills me; the sight of her face fascinates me; the touch of her hand maddens me; and, with it all, the shadow of some long-forgotten presence mystifies me. This must be love. For I would dare all, sacrifice all, to make her mine. She is betrothed to him. He must be taken from her side, made unworthy of her, made to forget her. The task is easy to one skilled in the arts of temptation. Once free, her heart may be turned towards me. 'Tis a long chase: no wonder I am melancholy, Harry Maynard; but there's a keen, patient hunter on the track, who never fails, never. (_Enter_ JOHN MAYNARD, R.)

JOHN MAYNARD. Well, well, here's hospitality: here's hospitality with a vengeance. That rascal Harry has deserted you, has he?--you, our honored guest. It's too bad, too bad.

THORNTON. Don't give yourself any uneasiness about me, old friend. Harry has left me a moment to escort a young lady.

MAYNARD. Ah, yes, I understand: Jessie, our Jessie, the witch that brings us all under her spells. No wonder the boy forgot his manners; but to desert you--

THORNTON. Don't speak of desertion; you forget I am one of the family.

MAYNARD. I wish you were with all my heart. I like you, Mr. Thornton. I flatter myself I know a gentleman, when I meet him. You came up here, looked over my stock, and bought my horses at my own price, no beating down, no haggling; and I said to myself, He's a gentleman, for gentlemen never haggle. So I say I like you (_gives his hand_), and that's something to remember, for John Maynard don't take kindly to strangers.

THORNTON. I trust I shall always merit your good opinion.

MAYNARD. Of course you will; you can't help it. There's our Harry just raves about you, and you've taken a fancy to him. I like you for that too. Then you are going to take him away, and show him the way to fortune by your high pressure, bustle and rush, city ways. Not just the notion I wanted to get into his head; but he's ambitious, and I'll not stand in his way. He's our only boy now. There was another; he went down at the call of his country, a brave, noble fellow, and fell among the first; and he died bravely: he couldn't help it, for he was a Maynard. But 'twas a hard blow to us. It made us lonely here; and even now, when the wind howls round the old house in the cold winter nights, mother and I sit silent in the corner, seeing our boy's bright face in the fire, till the tears roll down her cheeks, and I--I set my teeth together, and clasp her hands, and whisper, He died bravely, mother,--died for his country like a hero,--like a hero.

THORNTON. Ah! 'tis consoling to remember that.

MAYNARD. Yes, yes. And now the other, our only boy, goes forth to fight another battle, full of temptation and danger. Heaven grant him a safe return!

THORNTON. Amen to that! But fear not for him. I have a regard, yes, call it a fatherly regard; and it shall be my duty to guard him among the temptations of the city.

MAYNARD. That's kind; that's honest. I knew you were a gentleman, and I trust you freely.

THORNTON. You shall have a good account of him; and 'twill not be lonely here, for you have a daughter left to comfort you.

MAYNARD. Our Jessie, bless her! she's a treasure. Sixteen years ago, on one of the roughest nights, our Harry, then a mere boy, coming up from the village, found a poor woman and her babe on the road lying helpless in the snow. He brought her here: we recognized her as the daughter of one of our neighbors, a girl who had left home, and found work in the city. This was her return. Her unnatural father shut the door in her face, and she wandered about until found by Harry. She lingered through the night, speechless, and died at sunrise. I sought the father, but he had cast her out of his heart and home; for he believed her to be a wanton. Indignant at his cruelty, I struck him down; for I'm mighty quick-tempered, and can't stand a mean argument. I gave the mother Christian burial, took the child to my heart, and love her as if she was my own. As for him, public opinion drove him from our village; and her child is loved and honored as he could never hope to be.

THORNTON. And your son will marry her with this stain upon her?

MAYNARD. Stain? what stain? Upon her mother's finger was a plain gold ring; and, though the poor thing's lips were silent, her eyes wandered to that ring with a meaning none could fail to guess. She was a deserted wife; and, even had she been all her father thought her, what human being has a right to be relentless, when we should forgive as we all hope to be forgiven? But come, here I am chatting away like an old maid at a quilting. Come in, and get your supper, for you must be hungry: come in. (_Exeunt_ R. _Enter_ L., HARRY, _with his arm round_ JESSIE, _the pail in his hand_.)

HARRY. Yes, Jessie, 'tis hard to leave you behind; but our parting will not be for long. Once fairly embarked in my new life, with a fair chance of success before me, I shall return to seek my ready helper.

JESSIE. Harry, perhaps you will think me foolish, but I tremble at your venture. Why seek new paths to fortune when here is all that could make our lives happy and contented?

HARRY. But it's so slow, Jessie; and, with the best of luck, I should be but a plodding farmer. To plough and dig, sow and reap, year in and year out,--'tis a hard life, all bone and muscle: to be sure, rugged health and deep sleep; but _there_ is excitement and bustle, quick success and rousing fortunes. Ah, Jessie, if one half my schemes work well, you shall be a lady.

JESSIE. To be your own true, loving wife, your ever ready helper, is all I ask. O Harry, if you should forget me in all this bustle!

HARRY. Forget you? Never: in all my hopes you are the shining light; in all my air-built castles, which energy should make real and substantial ones, you are enthroned my queen.

JESSIE. Enthrone me in your heart: let me be an influence there, to shield you from temptation, and, come fortune or failure, I shall be content.

HARRY. An influence, Jessie: hear my confession. Unknown to you, I stood beneath your window last night, as you sat looking up at the moon, singing the song I love, "In the sweet by and by." I thought how soon we must part, and your sweet voice brought tears to my eyes. Jessie, I believe, that, were I so weak as to fall beneath temptation, in the darkest hour of misery, the remembrance of that voice would call me back to you and a better life.

JESSIE. You will not forget me?

HARRY. Oh, we are getting melancholy. (_Smiles._) Why should _I_ not fear a rival?

JESSIE. Now you are jesting, Harry. Do I not owe my life to you?

HARRY. Hush, hush! that is a forbidden subject, and all you owe to me has been paid with interest in the gift of your true, loving heart. (_They pass off_, R. _Enter_ CAPT. BRAGG, C.)

CAPT. BRAGG. Well, I never--no, never. If Parson Broadnose himself, in full black, with all his theological prognostications to back him, had said to me, Capt. Bragg, did you ever? I should have fixed my penetrating eyes upon him, and answered boldly, No, never. Slighted, absolutely, undeniably, unquestionably slighted! I, Capt. Nathan Bragg, distinguished for my martial deportment, my profound knowledge, my ready wit, yes, every thing that adds a charm to merrymaking; I, ex-commander of that illustrious corps, the Lawless Rangers, that rivals the grandest European regiments in drill and parade,--slighted at a mean, contemptible little husking. Fact, by jingo! But I'm not to be slighted: I won't be slighted. I am here to testify my profound contempt for a slight. If John Maynard has a husking, and forgets to invite the grand central figure on such occasions, it is the duty of the grand central figure to overlook the little breach of etiquette, and appear to contribute to the happiness of its fellow townsmen. There is an air of gloom about this place, all owing to my absence. They're in to supper: I'll join them, to cheer the dull hearts and (_going_ R.)-- Hallo! guns, guns. (_Takes up one._) There's a beauty. This reminds me of my warlike days at country muster, and the Lawless Rangers. Ah, those rangers! every man with a Roman nose, six feet high, and a dead shot: not a man would miss the dead eye at one hundred paces,--if he could help it. Ah! I can see 'em now as I gave the order: ready--aim--fire (_raising gun and firing as he speaks._) Murder! the blasted thing was loaded. (_Drops it, and staggers across stage to_ L., _trembling. A fowl drops from_ R., _at the shot. Enter_ R., MR. MAYNARD, STUB, HARRY, JESSIE, TOM, _and_ MRS. MAYNARD.)

MAYNARD. Who fired that gun? Ah, Capt. Bragg, what's the matter?

STUB (_taking up fowl_). Dat ar poor ole rooster am a gone goose. Dat's what's de matter.

HARRY (_taking up gun_). Captain, have you been meddling with my gun?

MRS. MAYNARD. Of course he has: he's always meddling.

CAPT. Mrs. Maynard, that's an absurd remark. It's all right: one of my surprises. You must know I wanted a rooster for to-morrow's dinner. I'm very fond of them: there's such a warlike taste about them. And we are a little short of roosters; my last one, being a little belligerent this morning, walked into Higgins's yard, and engaged in deadly combat: so deadly that Higgins's fowl was stretched a lifeless corse upon the ground: for Bragg's roosters always lick, always. But in spite of my earnest protest, despite the warlike maxim, Spoils to the victor belong, Higgins shot my rooster and nailed him to his barn door like a crow, and _his_ crow was gone. Fact, by jingo.

MAYNARD. Yes: but what's that got to do with my rooster?

CAPT. Well, I wanted a rooster: so says I to myself, Maynard's got plenty, he can spare one just as well as not; so I'm come to borrow one. Well, I found you had company, and not wishing to disturb you, and seeing a gun handy, I singled out my dinner roosting aloft there, raised the gun,--you know I'm a dead shot,--shut my eyes--

TOM. Shut your eyes! Is that one of your dead shot tactics?

CAPT. Shut one eye, squinted, of course, that's what I said, and fired. The result of that shot is before you. If you will examine that fowl, you will find that he is shot clean through the neck.

STUB. He's shot all ober; looks jes for all de world like a huckleberry puddin'.

MAYNARD. Well, captain, I call this rather a cool proceeding.

CAPT. Ah, you flatter me: but coolness is a characteristic of the Braggs. When I raised that company for the war, the Lawless Rangers, I said to those men, Be cool: don't let your ardor carry you too far.

TOM. Yours didn't run you into battle, did it, captain?

CAPT. I couldn't run anywhere. Just when the call came for those men, after I had prepared them for battle, and longed to lead them to the field, rheumatism--in the legs too--blasted all my hopes, and left me behind. But my soul was with them, and, if they achieved distinction, they owed it all to my early teaching--to the Bragg they left behind. (_Struts up stage._)

JOHN MAYNARD (_to_ THORNTON). Ah! he's a sly old fox.

THORNTON (_tapping his head_). A little wrong here.

MAYNARD. No, he's a cool, calculating man, but as vain as a peacock.

CAPT. (_coming down_). Sorry I didn't know you had company. Wouldn't have intruded for the world.

MAYNARD. It's all right, captain. Join us: we were expecting you. (_To_ THORNTON.) I can say that truly, for he's always popping in where he's not wanted.

CAPT. Ah! thank you. A-husking, I see. What's the yield?

MAYNARD. Excellent. My five-acre lot has given me two hundred bushels. That's what I call handsome.

CAPT. Pooh! you should see my corn. There's nothing like Bragg's corn. My three-acre lot gave me three hundred bushels, and every other ear was a red one.

CHORUS. Oh!

CAPT. Fact, by jingo! (NAT _and_ KITTY _enter_ R., _followed by huskers_.)

MAYNARD. Come, boys, get ready for the dance.--Mother, you take the captain in to supper.

MRS. MAYNARD. Come, captain, you must be hungry.

CAPT. (_coming to_ R.). Thank you, I could feed a bit. But don't stir: I can find the table; and, when I do find it, I shall do full justice to your fare, or I am no Bragg. (_Exit_ R. HARRY _rolls back the big door, others put out lanterns. Moonlight streams upon the floor. Change footlights._)

THORNTON (_to_ JESSIE). Miss Jessie, shall I have the honor of dancing with you?

JESSIE. Thank you, Mr. Thornton. (_Takes his arm, and they go up._ NAT _and_ KITTY _come down_ C.)

NAT. Ah, Kitty, now for the dance. Of course you will open the ball with me.

KITTY (_hanging on his arm, looks around, and nods to_ TOM; _he comes down on the other side_). Did I promise you a dance to-night, Mr. Larcom?

TOM (_sulkily_). I believe you did: but I ain't particular.

KITTY. But I am.

NAT. Kitty, dance with me.

KITTY. I shall do just as Mr. Larcom says; if he does not wish me, why--

TOM. Oh, Kitty, you know I do, you know I do! (_Takes her arm, and whirls her up stage._ NAT _goes over to_ L., _and leans against wing watching them_.)

HARRY. Now, boys, take your partners for Hull's Victory.--Come, mother. (_Gives_ MRS. MAYNARD _his arm, and goes to door, taking the lead_. TOM _and_ KITTY, THORNTON _and_ JESSIE _next, others form in front of them_. STUB _goes to_ L. _Dance Hull's Victory. When_ TOM _and_ KITTY _come in front_, TOM _talks with_ MR. MAYNARD, _who stands_ R., _and_ KITTY _makes signs to_ NAT: _he comes over, takes her arm, and they go up and off_, L. U. E., _appearing soon after in the loft at back; they sit on the hay, and watch the dancing. The dance is continued some time_, STUB _dancing by himself_, L. _When it is_ TOM'S _turn to dance_, STUB _slips into set, and gives his hand_. TOM _dances a little while before finding his mistake; then pushes_ STUB _back, looks round and up, descries_ KITTY _and_ NAT. _Goes off_ L. U. E. _Dance goes on. Enter_ CAPT. BRAGG, R., _with a chicken-bone in one hand, and a piece of pie in the other; stands watching the dancers_. TOM _appears in loft, behind_ NAT. NAT _puts his arm round_ KITTY, _and is about to kiss her_; TOM _pulls him back upon the hay, and pummels him_.)

NAT. Help! Murder! Murder! (_Dance stops._)

CAPT. Hallo! Thieves! Burglars! (_Seizes the other gun, raises it, and fires. Fowl drops from_ L. STUB _picks it up_; MR. MAYNARD _seizes_ CAPTAIN'S _arm_.)

STUB. Dere's anoder rooster dead shot.

CAPT. Fact, by jingo!

TABLEAU.

CAPT. R. C., _with gun raised_; MAYNARD C., _with hand on gun_; STUB L., _holding up fowl; others starting forward watching group_. TOM _has_ NAT _down in the loft with fist raised above him_. KITTY _kneels_ R. _of them, with her apron to her face_.

CURTAIN.