SCENE IV.—_Parlor of the hotel. DEACON ROBINSON, C., looking

over morning paper. Enter DR. CUMMINGS, L., who does not recognize the occupant of the room. Deacon Robinson advances to meet him warmly._

DEA. R. (_cordially_). How do you do, Dr. Cummings?

DR. C. (_distantly_). Really, sir, you have the advantage of me!

DEA. R. What, don’t you recognize me? You’ve known me for the last twenty-five years. I’m Deacon Jonathan Robinson, of Morristown.

DR. C. Why, bless my soul, so you are! But, good gracious, deacon, what possessed you to dress in this strange way?

DEA. R. Strange?

DR. C. (_sternly_). Yes. I consider it discreditable to one of your years, sobriety, and position in the community, to make such a popinjay of yourself.

DEA. R. (_uncomfortably_). But it isn’t my doings.

DR. C. Isn’t your doings? Then whose is it? I don’t understand it. Surely Mrs. Robinson doesn’t countenance such folly!

DEA. R. She doesn’t know anything about it.

DR. C. No; I thought not.

DEA. R. (_a little vexed_). If you won’t be in such a hurry, Dr. Cummings, I’ll explain it all. You see I came over to Rossville last evening and put up here. I went to bed early, but about midnight there was a cry of fire. I slipped on my overcoat, and went into the entry to learn whether it was near by. In a few minutes I heard that it was a false alarm. I hurried back to my room, which I couldn’t have been out of more’n ten minutes, and locked my door. Then I went to bed and to sleep. When I waked in the morning my old clothes, which have done me such faithful service, were gone, and these were left in their place.

DR. C. How do you suppose they came there?

DEA. R. It is my opinion that my friends in Rossville, knowing that I was to attend a convention, took this way of presenting me with a new and fashionable suit of clothes.

DR. C. (_shaking his head_). It’s a strange story.

(_Enter MRS. R. R. She starts back, surprised at the appearance of her husband._)

MRS. ROBINSON (_sharply_). I should like to know, Deacon Robinson, what has put it into your head to dress in this ridiculous style; you, a man most sixty years old!

DEA. R. I’m only fifty-eight.

MRS. R. And you dress as if you were eighteen. You refuse me a silk dress, and then go and squander your money on this foolish rig. I should think you had gone stark, staring mad.

DEA. R. (_anxiously_). Stop, Reeny, I’ll explain it all. My friends in Rossville came and brought me this suit in the night.

MRS. R. (_contemptuously_). Fiddlestick! Do you expect me to believe that ridiculous story? I’m really afraid you’ve been drinking. Nothing else could ha’ brought you to make such a fool of yourself.

DEA. R. (_excitedly_). Mrs. Robinson, I command you to be silent. It’s you that are makin’ a fool o’ yourself, I’d have you to know. It’s enough for you to think of your own dress, and not interfere with mine.

MRS. R. (_wringing her hands_). O Jonathan, is this the way you speak to me, who’ve been a faithful wife to you for more than thirty years?

(_FITZ HOWARD, clad in the DEACON’S old-fashioned garments, bursts into the room, L., and rushes up to DEA. R., assuming a belligerent attitude._)

F. H. So you’re the thief—aw—you rascal—

DR. C. (_rising and coming forward_). What does this mean?

F. H. (_gesticulating violently_). It means—aw—that this fellah has run off with my clothes—a hundred-dollar suit, and left—aw—this worthless rubbish (_extending his arms as if to show the clothes_) in its place. (_In a loud tone._) Help! Police—aw—where’s the police?

MRS. R. (_indignantly_). O Jonathan, have you brought disgrace upon your innocent wife and family by this strange conduct?

DR. C. (_in tones of horror_). O Deacon!

DEA. R. Hear me; hear me. There’s some strange mistake.

F. H. There’s no mistake about it. Bring the police.

(_Police enter, L., and endeavor to handcuff him. DEA. R. struggles furiously._)

DEA. R. I won’t go to jail. Call the landlord.

MRS. R. (_earnestly_). Yes; call the landlord. Perhaps he can explain about it.

(_One of the policemen goes out, R., and immediately returns with the Landlord._)

F. H. This man—aw—has stolen my clothes, and I demand his arrest.

DEA. R. Well, landlord, you’ve known me a good many years. Do you think I should be likely to steal now—at my age?

L. Impossible; there must be some mistake.

F. H. But there can’t be any mistake; don’t you see—aw—he’s got on my clothes, and I his?

L. (_smiling_). Yes; but if he intended to steal them he wouldn’t come in, and sit quietly in the parlor with the garments on. But I haven’t heard how it came about. Did either of you leave your room last night?

F. H. I only left it for five minutes—aw—when the alarm of fire was raised—aw—and this morning when I waked—aw—my new suit was changed into these horwid things. (_Glances with contempt upon them._)

L. (_to DEACON_). And did you leave your room, too?

DEA. R. Yes; but only long enough to go into the entry and back again.

L. I see how it is; your rooms were side by side. You both left them, and when you returned, you each went into the other’s room. That accounts for the change of clothing. (_One policeman beckons to the other, and they go out, L._)

DEA. R. By George, that must ha’ been the way ’twas done. But I declare to goodness, I never should ha’ thought about it. (_To LANDLORD._) Thank you, landlord, for gettin’ me out o’ this scrape. (_To FITZ HOWARD._) And look here, young man, suppose we just go up stairs and swap clothes again. I guess these aint any more becomin’ to me than them are to you.

F. H. You’re right there—aw—old man. (_Exeunt DEA. R. and F. H., L._)

MRS. R. Well, I thank goodness things have turned out as they have. I wouldn’t ha’ had Jonathan gone to the convention in that rig for nothin’ in the world.

DR. C. (_sarcastically_). Not even if they had been a present to him from his friends in Rossville!

(_Curtain falls._)

MRS. MARDEN’S LESSON.

CHARACTERS.

MR. JOHN MARDEN, A clerk, MRS. MARY MARDEN, His Wife. MR. EDWIN HASTINGS, His Friend. AUNT REBECCA, Mrs. Marden’s Aunt. SERVANT.