ACT III.

NOTE:

The setting for Act III is the same as for Act I except that the small chair which Jenny brings on at the opening of the play is eliminated.

_Jenny is seated at the table below the piano, reading the Pictorial Review. The door closes out at the right. She stops reading and listens. Then resumes. Ritter wanders in from the right hallway, wearing a black overcoat and a derby. The derby is a bit over one eye and his cigar is at a comic angle. Jenny sees him and rises immediately, circling around to the left to the middle of the room._

JENNY. Oh, Mr. Ritter! [_He comes into the center-door and stands there, looking at nothing._] I didn’t hear you come in, sir. Is the show over?

RITTER. [_Removing his gloves_] It’s all over town by this time.

JENNY. [_Standing slightly left of the center of the room, facing him_] Mrs. Ritter just telephoned a minute ago.

RITTER. Is she alive?

JENNY. Alive, Mr. Ritter?

RITTER. [_Moving down to the table below the piano, and thrusting his gloves into his overcoat pocket_] Because if she is, she’s got a charmed life. [_Commencing to unfasten his coat_] The Seamen’s Institute! God help them on a night like this.

JENNY. She was anxious to know if you were still unconscious.

RITTER. [_Taking off his overcoat_] If she telephones again, tell her yes. [_He is in a tuxedo-suit._]

JENNY. [_Crossing to him and helping him with the coat_] Ain’t you feelin’ well again, Mr. Ritter?

RITTER. No, Jenny, I’m not. [_He hands her his derby._]

JENNY. [_Taking the hat and coat to the partition-seat above the piano_] Well, I’m sure I’m sorry, sir.

RITTER. [_Removing his scarf_] And after that exhibition tonight,--I don’t think I ever shall feel exactly well again.

JENNY. [_Coming down at his left and passing back of him_] Was it a sad play?

RITTER. [_Handing her his scarf, and speaking with measured conviction_] The saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

JENNY. I allus cry when a show is sad.

RITTER. Is that so?

JENNY. Yes, sir; and a funny thing about me is--the sadder it is the more I cry.

RITTER. You’d have had a big night if you’d been with me. [_She passes back of him with the scarf, to put it with the other things._] You’d better leave those things here, Jenny, I may leave town again tonight.

JENNY. I’ll leave them right here. [_She turns from an arrangement of the things and comes forward to the middle of the room._] Did they clap much when Mrs. Ritter finished?

RITTER. [_Still standing above the table near the piano, clipping the tip of a cigar which he has taken from his pocket_] I didn’t wait for the finish; they carried me out.

JENNY. I’m dyin’ till she gets home, for I know exactly how she felt. [_He looks at her keenly--she is looking straight ahead._]

RITTER. Have you been on the stage, too, Jenny?

JENNY. [_Turning to him_] No, sir, I haven’t, Mr. Ritter, not lately. But when I was at home in England I used to go on every once in a while. For a bit of a change, you know.

RITTER. Yes, I know.

JENNY. We had a little club in the town I lived in, and we used to give a show twice a year. [_Ritter nods slowly and comprehendingly._] I always took off the comical parts.

RITTER. How is it they didn’t get you into this show tonight?

JENNY. Oh, I haven’t been on for a long time now, Mr. Ritter. My husband put a stop to it. [_She looks away off._]

RITTER. [_Turning to her_] What was the matter?

JENNY. [_Turning to him, suddenly_] He died.

RITTER. [_Replacing his penknife_] I see.

JENNY. And I never felt much like cuttin’ up after that. [_The telephone-bell rings. She turns quickly and starts for the center-door._]

RITTER. [_Moving over towards the mantelpiece_] See who that is, Jenny.

JENNY. [_Hurrying out into the left hallway_] Yes, sir.

RITTER. [_Getting a match from the table below the mantelpiece_] Anybody for me, I’ve gone into permanent retirement.

JENNY. [_At the telephone_] Yes? [_He listens narrowly._] Mr. Ritta? [_He makes a rapid movement towards her._] Oh, Mrs. Ritta?

RITTER. [_In a subdued tone_] Who do they want?

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] No, mam, she hasn’t got home yet. [_Lowering the telephone and speaking to Ritter_] Mrs. Ritter.

RITTER. [_Casually_] Who is it, the police? [_He lights his cigar._]

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] All right, Mrs. Livingston, I’ll give her your message as soon as she comes in. You’re more than welcome I’m sure. [_She hangs up and comes to the center-door._]

RITTER. [_Looking at her_] Mrs. Livingston?

JENNY. Yes, sir.

RITTER. What did she want?

JENNY. She sez she wanted to congratulate Mrs. Ritter on her perfect performance tonight.

RITTER. Did she see the show?

JENNY. She didn’t say, sir.

RITTER. [_Conclusively, and crossing in front of her down to the window at the right_] She didn’t see it. If any of those women come back here with Mrs. Ritter, Jenny,--say that I’m not home yet, do you understand.

JENNY. [_Settling the overcoat on the partition-seat_] Yes, sir.

RITTER. [_Looking through the window_] And that you haven’t seen anything _of_ me.

JENNY. Yes, sir, Mr. Ritter, all right.

RITTER. If my wife’s alone, let me know as soon as she comes in.

JENNY. Yes, sir, I will. [_The telephone-bell rings, and she hurries out to answer it._]

RITTER. [_Half turning from the window_] You haven’t seen anything of me, remember.

JENNY. No, sir. [_Into the telephone_] Yes, sir? [_He listens, without turning._] No, sir, she hasn’t got home yet. [_She lowers the telephone and looks at him, wide-eyed. He feels that she’s looking at him and turns suddenly._]

RITTER. [_Taking a step towards her, below the piano_] What is it?

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] No, sir, _he_ hasn’t got home yet neither.

RITTER. [_Apprehensively_] Do they want me? [_She nods yes._] Who is it? [_She nods that she doesn’t know._] Police Headquarters I’ll bet a ten dollar note! [_He crosses down below the table at the left and around up to the mantelpiece._] Tell them that I had absolutely nothing to do with her going on! That I didn’t hear about it until last night! [_He crosses back again down towards the table below the piano._] And that I’ve been unconscious ever since.

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] The Times?

RITTER. [_Stopping above the table_] My God, the newspapers have got hold of it!

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] Well, just a minute, please.

RITTER. [_Turning suddenly to her_] Tell them she did it on a bet!

JENNY. The Times newspaper wants to know if Mrs. Ritter has a full-length photograph of herself for the morning paper.

RITTER. [_Emphatically, and going out through the center-door into the right hallway and up the stairs_] Tell them NO!

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] Hello.

RITTER. But that she’ll have some taken as soon as she gets out of jail. [_He goes through the arched doorway at the head of the stairs._]

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] Why, I couldn’t say, sir, whether Mrs. Ritter has a photograph of herself or not, sir; but I’ll give her your message as soon as she comes in.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_In the right hallway_] Hurry, Theodore.

JENNY. [_Still at the telephone_] You’re more than welcome I’m sure. [_She hangs up and hurries in through the center-door, glancing out the right hallway as she comes and, gathering up Mr. Ritter’s overcoat, derby and scarf, hurries over above the table at the left and out._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_In the right hallway_] Be careful of those jonquils. Now, be careful, Theodore! Now go back and fetch the others. [_Coming into view, and seeing Jenny coming in again at the left door_] Oh, you’re up, Jenny, aren’t you! [_She comes through the center-door, carrying her fan and an armload of orchids and red chrysanthemums, and wearing an enormous flowing cape of ruffled black lace, touched all over with tiny circular sequins in gold. Her dress, of course, is the ruby-velvet one of the preceding act._]

JENNY. Yes, mam, I’m up.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Hastening to the table below the piano_] I’m so glad; I hope I haven’t roused you. [_She puts her fan on the piano and sets all the flowers down on the table._] Will you go out and get those flowers from my chauffeur, Jenny?

JENNY. [_Going out through the center-door into the right hallway_] Yes, mam.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Arranging the flowers on the table_] He’s set them right down there in the hallway. I came right on in when I found the door unlocked; I was afraid you’d be asleep.

JENNY. No, mam, I was waitin’ up.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Sweeping around to her left and up to the center-door_] Well, that’s perfectly angelic of you I’m sure. [_She stands on the left side of the center-door and looks out into the right hallway._] Can you manage, dear?

JENNY. [_Appearing from the right_] I think so. [_She struggles through the center-door carrying an enormous horseshoe, made of red and white carnations and ferns. It is at least four feet high, set upon an easel, and across the front of it is a strip of white-satin ribbon ten inches wide with the word “SUCCESS” inscribed upon it in blue-velvet letters. She is also carrying a huge basket of jonquils, and a star made of white pansies. This last touch is fastened upon a violet easel._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Let me help you, child. [_She takes the basket of jonquils and the star of pansies from Jenny._] Now, set that right down there. [_She indicates a point in front of the mantelpiece for the horseshoe, and Jenny crosses in front of her with it._] I want Mrs. Ritter to see it _first_, when she comes in,--it’s so appropriate. [_She sets the basket of jonquils on the piano._] I suppose we can put these down anywhere here until she comes, can’t we? [_She sets the easel of pansies down on the floor at the right of the table below the piano._]

JENNY. [_Having set the horseshoe down in front of the mantelpiece_] This way, Mrs. Pampinelli?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, dear, _facing_ the door.

JENNY. Oh, I see. [_She turns it round facing the center-door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That’s it. I want it to catch her eye as she comes in. And now will you go back and fetch the others, Jenny?

JENNY. [_Hurrying out through the center-door_] Yes, mam.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Gathering up the chrysanthemums from the table_] And these chrysanthemums, [_She sweeps across towards the mantelpiece and turns to her left, strewing the chrysanthemums through the center-door and down toward the table at the left._] I’ll just strew in her pathway. [_Jenny comes in from the right hallway carrying a huge anchor of vivid red roses, with a broad band of navy-blue ribbon running diagonally across it, and the words “SEAMEN’S INSTITUTE” in white-velvet letters. She stands right in the center-door, holding it, waiting for instructions as to its disposition from Mrs. Pampinelli. But Mrs. Pampinelli is lost in admiration of it, standing just to the left of the center-door._] Now, set that right down here, Jenny. [_She indicates a point at the extreme left, below the door, and Jenny hastens to place it there, setting it down half-facing the center-door; and Mrs. Pampinelli stands up at the center-door admiring it._] Hope! [_Jenny turns to her and gives a faint little laugh._] Hope, for the success [_She indicates the horseshoe with a gesture._] of our enterprise. [_They both laugh, and Mrs. Pampinelli steps quickly down to the table below the piano and picks up the orchids._] And these orchids, I think I shall just put right here on this table. [_She crosses to the table below the casement-window and puts them down; then straightens up and sighs._] Ho, dear me, I’m warm! [_She crosses back between the piano and the table below it, picking up her fan as she goes._]

JENNY. [_Moving up and across back of the table at the left, towards the center of the room_] ’Tis a bit warm.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Fanning herself, as she moves towards the middle of the room_] And then I hurried so,--foolishly.

JENNY. Did everything go along all right?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Magnificently, my dear child! And Mrs. Ritter was a positive sensation.

JENNY. Did she get all these flowers?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Deprecatingly_] Ho! This isn’t the half of them! We sent three automobiles full to the various hospitals. And Mrs. Fell’s car was still taking them when I left. [_Jenny shakes her head from side to side in wonderment._] These are just a few that we rescued for Mrs. Ritter. [_She moves towards the center-door._] Sort of a little surprise for her, you know, when she gets home. [_She stands looking out into the right hallway, expectantly._]

JENNY. They’re certainly ’andsome.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. She doesn’t even know that I’ve brought them.

JENNY. Is she comin’ right home, do you know, Mrs. Pampinelli?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to Jenny_] Why, I _expect_ her, yes. I was afraid she’d get here ahead of me. She was waiting for Mr. Ritter. [_Coming forward a little_] We heard at the hall that he was there, and she thought probably he’d come back and pick her up. He hasn’t _come_ home, has he?

JENNY. No, mam, I haven’t seen anything of him.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Laughing a little, indulgently, securing a hair-pin, and moving over towards the right_] Poor man! His wife’s success has very likely gone to his head. [_She glances out the window._]

JENNY. He went out of here about eight o’clock.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning and coming back towards Jenny_] Yes, we were so surprised to hear that he was there at all. Because Mrs. Ritter had said that he hadn’t regained consciousness up to the time she left the house.

JENNY. He hadn’t, neither. I thought I ’ad two ’eads on me when I came in and saw him puttin’ on ’is ’at and coat.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, did he seem all right?

JENNY. Yes, he seemed right enough; but he was awful pale-lookin’. And a couple a times I spoke to ’im, he gave me kind of a funny answer. So I got a bit frightened, you know; and I asked ’im if he knew where he was goin’. And he said, “Yes,” that he was goin’ to see “The Torch-Bearers.” Kind a flightly, you know.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, he would be, naturally.

JENNY. So then,--when he got to the door, he turned around--and he sez to me--“Jenny!--if you never see me again,--I want you to know I _died_ in the cause of Art.”--And he went out.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. He was probably rambling a bit.

JENNY. But, he walked straight enough.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning suddenly to the center-door_] I think I hear a machine, Jenny.

JENNY. [_Stepping across quickly below the table to the casement-window_] I’ll see.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Do quickly, dear.

JENNY. Is Mrs. Fell comin’ back tonight?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Looking out eagerly into the right hallway_] Yes, she’s bringing the rest of the flowers. I’ve sent my car back for her.

JENNY. [_Turning abruptly from the window and hurrying across below the piano towards the center-door_] Here’s Mrs. Ritta now!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Is Mr. Ritter with her? [_Intercepting Jenny_] No, don’t go out, Jenny! I want to hear what they say when they see the flowers. [_Turning her round by the shoulder and indicating the door down at the left_] You go into the other room there, and I’ll hide here-- [_She moves forward at the right and across below the piano._] in this window.

JENNY. [_Hurrying towards the door at the left_] All right, mam.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Stopping near the window and turning to Jenny_] And, Jenny dear!

JENNY. [_Turning at the left door_] Yes, mam?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Don’t come out--until you hear _me_ say “SURPRISE!”

JENNY. All right, Mrs. Pampinelli, I won’t. [_Mrs. Pampinelli steps into the alcove of the window, then turns again to Jenny._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Now, remember, Jenny,--“SURPRISE!”

JENNY. Yes, I know. [_She closes the door, and Mrs. Pampinelli conceals herself behind the window-drapery. There is a slight pause; then Mrs. Ritter hurries in from the right hallway, carrying a marvelous bouquet of American Beauty roses. She comes in through the center-door and stands, looking, with a touch of astonishment, at the horseshoe. Then her eyes wander down to the anchor; and then over to the easel at the right. She is gowned in a very pale shade of gray lace, with gray-silk slippers and stockings; and around her head she is wearing a wreath of laurel in gold, touched with brilliants. Her cloak is of black chiffon-velvet, with a cape collar of black fox. She slides this cloak from her shoulders onto the partition-seat at the right, and starts across towards the door at the left._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Opening the door_] Are you up, Jenny?--Jenny! [_She closes the door again and crosses above the table at the left and over to the one below the piano. Here she sets down a few of the roses, then decides there is not sufficient room for all of them, and starts across to the table at the left. Ritter appears at the head of the stairs and starts down slowly. She sees him, and stops dead._] Fred! [_She moves up towards the left of the center-door._] You don’t mean to tell me you’ve been home here,--and there I’ve been waiting at the hall since before ten o’clock. [_He wanders in through the center-door and leans against the piano, holding a lighted cigar in his hand._] Why didn’t you come back for me? Irene Colter had to bring me home. [_She starts to cry._] Clara Sheppard _told_ me she saw you there, so, naturally, I waited for you. And when you didn’t come back, why, of course, right away--I thought something had happened to you. [_She cries into her handkerchief._]

RITTER. [_Without moving, and in a toneless voice_] Something _has_ happened to me. [_She looks at him apprehensively._]

MRS. RITTER. What happened to you, Fred?

RITTER. [_Stonily, and moving down and across below the piano_] I’ve seen you act.

MRS. RITTER. What? [_He raises his left hand solemnly and continues to the corner of the piano nearest the window, where he leans. She moves down a bit after him._] What’s the matter, Fred,--did you have another of those spells that you had last night?

RITTER. Yes; only a great deal worse.

MRS. RITTER. Oh, isn’t that dreadful! What do you think it is, dear?

RITTER. [_Turning slightly, and glancing at the violet easel and over at the anchor_] I don’t know what it is. It looks like a _wake_ to me. Who’s dead?

MRS. RITTER. Dead?

RITTER. What are all these flowers doing here?

MRS. RITTER. Why, I imagine some of the ladies have been here from the show--to fix up a little surprise for _me_.

RITTER. They should have lighted a few candles, and completed the effect.

MRS. RITTER. But, these are just presents, Fred, from friends of ours.

RITTER. [_Straightening up, and moving across below the table_] They are tokens of sympathy, that’s what they are. [_He crosses up and over above the table at the left._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Following him over_] But, there’s nobody _dead_, dear!

RITTER. [_Raising his left hand solemnly again_] Oh, yes there is! Oh yes!

MRS. RITTER. _Really_, dear! [_He turns, just back of the arm-chair, and pins her with a look._]

RITTER. You’re dead. [_She stands perfectly still, looking at him, wide-eyed._] You died tonight,--down there on that stage at Horticultural Hall. And so did everybody that was up there with you.

MRS. RITTER. [_With a troubled, uncomprehending expression_] Why, how could I be dead, dear,--when I’m here,--talking to you? [_He stands looking straight ahead, smoking. She bursts out crying, and turns to the partition-seat at the right of the center-door._] Oh, Fred! it’s terrible to see you this way!

RITTER. [_Sweeping his hand across his brow and starting across below the table towards the right_] The human brain can only stand so much.

MRS. RITTER. [_Setting her roses down on the partition-seat_] You’ve just been working yourself to death! But nobody could tell you anything! [_She starts out into the left hallway for the telephone._]

RITTER. [_Stopping over near the window and turning_] What are you going to do?

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to him_] Why, I’m going to call Doctor Wentworth of course.

RITTER. What for?

MRS. RITTER. Why, because you _need_ him!

RITTER. [_Taking a step or two towards her, between the piano and the table below it_] I won’t see any doctor, now!

MRS. RITTER. [_Coming back through the center-door_] Now,--listen, Fred--

RITTER. [_Raising his hand, and crossing to the left_] I won’t see any doctor, I tell you--there’s nothing he can do for me: [_He stops above the arm-chair at the left and rests his hand upon the back of it._] it’s all been done. There’s nothing left for me but to get out of town.

MRS. RITTER. [_Following him over_] Well, just let him come over and _see_ you, dear.

RITTER. What would I let him come over and _see_ me for? There’s nothing the matter with me.

MRS. RITTER. Why, you’re as pale as a ghost!

RITTER. That’s nothing--I’ve had a scare.

MRS. RITTER. [_Solicitously_] What scared you, dear? [_He turns and looks at her._]

RITTER. I was afraid every minute somebody was going to shoot _you_.

MRS. RITTER. [_After a bewildered pause_] But, why should anybody shoot _me_, darling?

RITTER. For trying to act. [_He moves forward and across in front of the table, to the right,--she watching him blankly._] Making a laughing-stock of yourselves in front of the community.

MRS. RITTER. Didn’t you like me, Fred?

RITTER. [_Casually, as he nears the window_] I did till I saw you act. [_He turns around to his right and leans on the piano. She moves over towards the table below the piano._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Rather helplessly, as the situation dawns upon her_] Why, Mrs. Pampinelli said I was a great artist.

RITTER. [_With vast amusement_] Ha! [_Then he looks at his wife and speaks very exactly._] Mrs. Pampinelli is perhaps the world’s greatest _NUT_. [_Mrs. Pampinelli, standing back in the widow-alcove at the right, in a state of puzzled irresolution, reacts, physically, to this last observation, causing an abrupt movement of the drapery. But, neither Ritter nor his wife are looking in that direction at the moment._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Laying the remaining roses on the table_] She says I ought to go on with the work.

RITTER. [_Dryly_] She meant the housework. [_He replaces his cigar in his mouth._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking at him with a touch of resentment_] No, she didn’t mean anything of the kind. She says I ought to go to New York. [_He takes the cigar from his mouth and looks at her keenly._]

RITTER. And what would you do when you’d _get_ there?

MRS. RITTER. Why, I’d go on the stage, of course.

RITTER. [_Very level_] How?

MRS. RITTER. Why, I’d go to the people that have charge of it.

RITTER. And, do you think they’d put you on the stage simply because you wanted to _go_ on it?

MRS. RITTER. Well, Mrs. Pampinelli could give me a letter--

RITTER. Hum!

MRS. RITTER. So that I’d have it when I’d _get_ there.

RITTER. That’d do you a lot of good. You’d find a _thousand_ there ahead of you, with letters from Mrs. Pampinellis. Nobody in New York knows Mrs. Pampinelli; and if they did, it’d probably _kill_ any chance that a person _might_ have otherwise. [_Mrs. Pampinelli can contain herself no longer. She flips the window-drapery aside with a deft movement and stands looking at Ritter, from a great height. Mrs. Ritter, who is facing the window, utters an abrupt shriek of astonishment. Then Ritter turns, rather casually, to see the cause of his wife’s agitation, and finds himself looking into the frozen eyes of Mrs. Pampinelli. He regards her rather impersonally, and then quietly reaches up and secures his collar and tie. She steps majestically from the window-alcove and moves a bit nearer to him, still holding him with an icy stare._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_After a devastating pause_] You creature.

RITTER. [_Turning smoothly away, to his left, as though he had been suddenly struck by something, in the right eye_] Another _actress_. [_He moves along a few steps to the left, in front of the table, then turns and speaks to Mrs. Pampinelli over his left shoulder._] What did you do, come through the window?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I’ve been _hiding_ here.

RITTER. [_Resuming his walk over to the left_] I don’t blame you,--after that show; I’ve been doing the same thing myself. [_He sits in the arm-chair over at the left._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Who has been standing in a panic in the middle of the room, staring wide-eyed at Mrs. Pampinelli_] Oh, Mrs. Pampinelli,--you _didn’t_ hear what he’s been saying?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Every word. [_She very regally deposits her fan upon the piano, and Mrs. Ritter, turning to Ritter, makes a long, moaning sound._]

MRS. RITTER. Now, Fred Ritter, you see what you’ve done! [_She bursts into tears, and comes down to the chair at the left of the table below the piano and sits down._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Moving to a point above the table_] And I wouldn’t have missed it. I’ll know how to regard this gentleman in the future. I came home hurriedly with these few flowers as a little acknowledgment of the appreciation your work deserved; and all I hear is abuse; and a very crude, but very venomous attempt at satire. [_Mrs. Ritter weeps aloud._] Control yourself, darling, I wouldn’t please him.

RITTER. [_Quietly_] She’s acting again.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Withering him with a glance_] You barbarian! [_To Mrs. Ritter_] Pull yourself together, dear.

MRS. RITTER. Oh, I just _can’t_, Mrs. Pampinelli.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Addressing Ritter directly, and indicating Mrs. Ritter_] Look at the state of emotion you’ve got this poor girl into!

RITTER. She’s an emotional actress. [_Mrs. Ritter bursts forth again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Savage! [_To Mrs. Ritter_] Let me get you something, darling.

MRS. RITTER. Call Jenny.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, dear. [_She crosses to a point just to the left of the middle of the room, then stops and calls toward the door at the left._] Jenny dear, _SURPRISE_! [_Ritter listens, with a puzzled expression._] Come here, Jenny,--SURPRISE! [_Ritter turns around in the chair, to his right, and looks at her curiously. She meets his eyes with steady bitterness. Then he shifts his gaze to his wife._]

RITTER. Why didn’t you take your make-up off?

MRS. RITTER. I forgot it,--I was so worried about you.

RITTER. You look like a Dutch squaw. [_She bursts into tears again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Hastening over to her_] Let her alone! Don’t mind him, Paula.

RITTER. She’s all made up! and it’s coming off.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, what if it is?

RITTER. [_Settling back into the arm-chair_] I don’t want to be reminded of that show. [_Jenny enters hurriedly from the door at the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mrs. Ritter is ill, Jenny. [_Jenny comes quickly across, above the table at the left._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Half turning to her_] My smelling-salts, Jenny.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing back of Mrs. Ritter_] Her smelling-salts, dear.

JENNY. [_Hurrying out through the center-door_] Yes, mam.

MRS. RITTER. They’re in my bureau-basket.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning and calling after Jenny_] In her bureau-basket, Jenny.

JENNY. [_Running up the stairs_] Yes, mam, I know where they are.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Gathering up the roses from the table_] Let me take these flowers out of your way, dear. You’ve been treated abominably. Although your husband’s attitude is entirely consistent with that of the average husband’s, after his wife has distinguished herself. [_Ritter makes a little sound of amusement, and she glares at him._] And any observations of Mr. Ritter’s to the contrary, you _did_ distinguish yourself tonight, Paula. [_She turns to her right and puts the roses on the piano._]

RITTER. [_Sitting away down in the arm-chair, smoking_] So did the Cherry Sisters. [_Mrs. Ritter weeps again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning back again from the piano to Mrs. Ritter_] We are not talking to you at all, sir. [_Mrs. Ritter has a slight coughing spell._]

MRS. RITTER. Will you get me a drink of water, please?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Certainly, darling, where is it?

MRS. RITTER. You’ll find it just inside the breakfast-room. [_Mrs. Pampinelli sails across the room towards the left door. Just as she is passing back of Ritter’s chair, he turns and looks at her, and the excessive grandeur of her manner causes him to burst out laughing. But she simply freezes him with a look and goes out through the left door. He continues to laugh; and Mrs. Ritter, not having seen the cause of his laughter, stops crying and turns and looks at him, very troubled._] Fred Ritter, you’re acting to me tonight--just like a man that’d be losing his mind! [_He looks over at her._] I really thought that was what was the matter with you when I first came in!

RITTER. [_Very confidentially_] Listen--When I didn’t lose my mind watching that show tonight, I couldn’t go nutty if I tried.

MRS. RITTER. Well, if anybody else comes here tonight, you just keep that kind of talk to yourself. There were lots of people there that thought it was wonderful. Look at all these flowers.

RITTER. These flowers were all paid for long before anybody saw that show. [_There is a staccato tap at the front door-bell. Jenny is hurrying down the stairs with the smelling-salts._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Rising, and trying to fix herself up a bit_] Well, that’s only your opinion. [_She starts for the center-door._] This is very likely Nelly Fell. [_Turning back to him as she nears the center-door_] Now, don’t you say anything to _her_, remember! She likes you.

MRS. FELL. [_In the right hallway_] No, I think I can manage, Theodore. [_Jenny hands Mrs. Ritter the smelling-salts, at the center-door._]

MRS. RITTER. Thanks, Jenny.

JENNY. You’re welcome. [_She hurries out into the right hallway, and Mrs. Ritter comes forward to the chair below the piano, sniffing the salts. Ritter rises and saunters around and up to the left of the arm-chair._]

MRS. FELL. You can close that door, if you will! Couldn’t wait for you, Jenny! [_She rushes in from the right hallway._] I’m too much excited! [_She plants herself in the center-door, holding aloft in her right hand a beautiful basket of tulips, and in her left, a huge bouquet of violets._] Well, here _I_ am, with _my_ frankincense and myrrh! [_She gives an hysterical giggle and teeters forward towards Mrs. Ritter._] Oh, there you are, Frederick Ritter! We thought something had happened to you! Pauline, dear child, I’ve come to worship at your shrine. [_She places the basket of tulips down on the floor to the left of Mrs. Ritter, then straightens up, regards Mrs. Ritter, giggles frantically, and looks over at Ritter._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Laughing wanly, and trying generally not to appear as though she’d been crying_] You’ve been very sweet.

MRS. FELL. Not half so sweet as you were on that stage tonight! [_Speaking confidentially, and with great conviction_] Dear child, you’re made! Absolutely made! [_Turning to Ritter_] Isn’t she, Frederick? [_But he’s busy getting rid of some ashes in the fireplace, so she returns to Mrs. Ritter._] It’s one of those overnight things that one reads about! [_She picks up the basket of tulips from the floor and teeters around above the table._] Dear me, look at this wilderness of flowers! [_She sets the basket on the table._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Trying not to cry_] Yes, yes, aren’t they beautiful! [_She darts a look at Ritter._]

MRS. FELL. [_Rapturously_] Not another word until I’ve kissed you! [_She kisses her on the left side of the head._] Oh, you sweet child! [_She shakes Mrs. Ritter by the shoulders._] what can I _say_ to you! [_Then she teeters to the middle of the room, addressing Ritter directly._] See here, young man! Why aren’t you just _pelting_ your wife with these flowers? [_He tries to hide his appreciation of the situation by turning away his head._] Answer me! [_He bursts out laughing, and Nelly teeters back towards Mrs. Ritter._] My dear, the man is so pleased he can’t talk! [_Ritter laughs a little more._] And if you were any other woman but his wife, Paula, he’d be sending you mash-notes! [_Ritter begins to laugh again, and Nelly teeters towards him._] Oh, you can laugh all you like, Frederick Ritter, but you can’t fool Nelly Fell! [_She comes back towards Mrs. Ritter, addressing her._] I’ve had three husbands,--I know their tricks. [_She places her finger on Mrs. Ritter’s shoulder._] Pauline, dear child, you may be sure that that young man is proud of you tonight if he never was before. [_Mrs. Ritter tries to laugh._] And when he gets you alone--[_Mrs. Ritter’s attempt at laughter is instantly abandoned, and she gives a startled glance toward Ritter, who turns away to his left and goes up towards the mantelpiece._] Oh, when he gets you alone! [_Mrs. Fell turns slowly and looks toward Ritter, with a roguish expression and a measured shaking of her finger at him._] He’s going to tell you you were the loveliest thing that ever stepped on a stage. If he hasn’t done so already. Have you, Frederick? [_She looks at him with a mischievous eye._] Have you? [_He laughs, at the irony of the situation. She crosses towards him._] Come on, ’fess up!--I know the position is difficult! [_He laughs hard, and she laughs with him; then turns back to Mrs. Ritter. Jenny comes in from the right hallway._] You see, my dear, the man is so pleased he can’t talk! [_She sees Jenny passing along the hallway and steps quickly up to the center-door._] Oh, Jenny dear! Will you take these violets out and put them in some water.

JENNY. [_Taking the violets_] Yes, mam. [_Mrs. Pampinelli enters at the left door, with a glass of water._]

MRS. FELL. I’m afraid they’ll be all withered. [_Jenny continues on into the left hallway. Mrs. Fell turns around into the room again._] Where’s Mrs. P.? [_Sees Mrs. Pampinelli_] Oh, there you are! I was just wondering where you were.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Crossing above the table at the left, towards Mrs. Ritter_] Did you get the smelling-salts, Jenny?

JENNY. Yes, mam, I gave them to Mrs. Ritter. [_She goes out at the left hallway._]

MRS. RITTER. Yes, Betty, I have them.

MRS. FELL. [_Coming a step or two forward_] Well, Betty, you see we managed to get them all here.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Back of the table below the piano, and at Mrs. Ritter’s left_] Here, try and drink this, Paula. [_Mrs. Ritter takes the water and tries to drink it; and Mrs. Pampinelli leans solicitously over her. There is a pause._]

MRS. FELL. [_Coming anxiously down at Mrs. Ritter’s left_] What’s the matter?--[_She looks at Mrs. Pampinelli._] Is Paula sick?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Straightening up, and very imperiously_] The _critic_--has been giving his impressions of our play.

MRS. FELL. Who? [_She turns towards Ritter._] This critic here, you mean? [_She indicates Ritter and then looks at Mrs. Pampinelli. Mrs. Pampinelli inclines her head, with the suggestion of a derisive smile, and passes up to the center-door. Mrs. Fell crosses quickly towards Ritter._] What have you been saying, Frederick Ritter?--Huh?

MRS. RITTER. [_Laying the glass of water down on the table_] Oh, what does it matter, Nelly, what he’s been saying!

MRS. FELL. [_Turning sharply to Mrs. Ritter_] What?

MRS. RITTER. [_Trying not to cry_] I say--I say [_She bursts into tears._] I say what does it matter what he’s been saying!

MRS. FELL. It doesn’t matter in the least, as far as I’m concerned--[_Mrs. Pampinelli turns at the center-door and comes forward slowly in the middle of the room._] there’s only one thing he _could_ say, if he told the truth.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Laying her hand on Mrs. Fell’s left arm_] Eleanor, dear child,--husbands are not always particular about telling the truth--where the abilities of their wives are concerned. If _I_ had listened to the promptings of my own soul, instead of to my husband, when I was a younger woman, I should in all probability be one of the leading figures in the American Theatre today. But I was fool enough, like a lot of other women, to believe that my husband had my welfare at heart,--when the fact of the matter was, as I see it now, when it’s too late,--he was simply jealous of my artistic promise. [_The cuckoo-clock strikes the midnight hour. Ritter turns and looks up at it, then glances at Mrs. Pampinelli. She is looking up at the clock distrustfully. Mrs. Fell raises her eyes discreetly to it, then drops them to the floor._] Why, the night I played Hazel Kirke, I had my best friends in tears: yet, when I returned from the hall, and the entire town of Cohoes ringing with my name,--my husband had the effrontery to tell me that I was so terrific he was obliged to leave the hall before the end of the first act. So,--[_She turns to Mrs. Ritter._] if this gentleman here has set himself up as your critic, Paula,--remember _my_ story,--the actress without honor in her own house. [_She sweeps across below the piano to the window._] Is my car out here, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Moving over a bit towards Mrs. Ritter_] Yes, it’s there. I told Matthew he needn’t bother coming back for me, that you’d take me home. [_Mrs. Ritter begins to cry softly, and Mrs. Fell steps to her left and puts her hand on her shoulder._] Don’t do that, Paula. [_She turns sharply and goes towards Ritter._] What was the matter with that performance, Frederick Ritter?

RITTER. [_Over at the left, below the mantelpiece_] Why, they didn’t even know their lines!

MRS. RITTER. [_Straightening up abruptly and looking at him, reproachfully_] Oh!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning sharply from the window_] That is a falsehood! They ran over every line last night, right here in this room,--and they knew--practically all of them.

RITTER. What good was that, if they couldn’t remember them on the stage.

MRS. RITTER and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

MRS. RITTER. [_To Ritter_] I _could_ remember them on the stage! [_Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli_] I never missed _one_ line!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Ritter_] They _could_ remember them on the stage!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Mrs. Ritter_] Not a line.

RITTER. She and that other woman sat there blinking at the audience like a couple of sparrow-hawks.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. They did nothing of the kind.

MRS. FELL. Of course they didn’t!

RITTER. [_Speaking directly to Mrs. Fell_] How do you know? _You_ weren’t out there.

MRS. FELL. I could see them through the scenery, couldn’t I? And they didn’t look anything _like_ a couple of sparrow-hawks,--as you say.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Contemptuously_] Well, as I have never seen a couple of sparrow-hawks, I cannot appreciate the comparison.

RITTER. Well, you’d have seen a couple tonight, if you’d been with me.

MRS. RITTER. Oh, don’t argue with him, Betty! He’s only trying to be smart.

RITTER. Why didn’t one of them _say_ something?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What could they have said?

RITTER. Why, any commonplace! It’d have been better than just sitting there blinking. [_Mrs. Ritter weeps._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. One can’t be commonplace in high comedy.

RITTER. Was that what it was?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Bitterly_] What did you _think_ it was?

RITTER. [_Turning and going up to the center-door_] _You_ tell her, Nelly; I haven’t got the heart.

MRS. FELL. [_Moving a little towards the right_] You bold thing. [_Nelly is wearing the gown she wore in the preceding act, and a heavy cloak of old-rose-colored velvet. She lays her hand on Mrs. Ritter’s left shoulder._] Don’t let him upset you this way, Paula. [_There is a little pause. Ritter turns at the center-door and comes forward again at the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Picking up her fan from the piano_] I suppose _you_ would have eclipsed Edwin Booth, if _you_ had been up there.

RITTER. Well, I’d have known better than to sit there blinking at the audience.

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning sharply to him_] I didn’t _blink_ at the audience.

MRS. FELL. Don’t answer him, honey.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What could they have done under the circumstances?

RITTER. Why, they could have covered it up!--if they’d had any brains.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Covered it up with _what_?

RITTER. Why, with anything! Impromptu conversation! [_Mrs. Fell looks at Mrs. Pampinelli and smiles pityingly._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And have the audience _laugh_ at them?

RITTER. They laughed anyhow, didn’t they?

MRS. FELL. [_Taking a step or two towards him_] That was not their fault!

RITTER. [_To Nelly_] Whose fault _was it_?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Imperiously, and moving over to a point above the table at which Mrs. Ritter is sitting_] It was Mr. Spindler’s fault.

RITTER. Mr. Spindler.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. He promised to attend to the various properties and he did _not_ attend to them.--There was supposed to be a pen and ink on the desk for Mrs. Rush to leave a note for Doctor Arlington;--and when Paula sat down to write the note, there was no pen--and no ink. So she simply had to go on sitting there until Mr. Spearing went off and got them.

RITTER. I thought he’d left town.

MRS. FELL. Oh, he wasn’t gone so very long, Frederick Ritter!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Bitterly, to Mrs. Fell_] Not five minutes.

RITTER. I thought the show’ud be over before he’d get back.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. The door wouldn’t open when he attempted to go back, so he was obliged to go around to the other side. [_She illustrates the circumstance by waving her fan in a circular gesture about the table. Ritter bursts out laughing. Nelly glares at him, then looks to Mrs. Pampinelli, who, with a deadly, level look, turns and moves haughtily up towards the center-door._]

RITTER. What happened to the skinny guy’s mustache, that it kept falling off every other line?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to him, up near the center-door_] It only fell off twice, don’t exaggerate. [_Ritter laughs again._]

MRS. FELL. You bold thing!

RITTER. How many times was it _supposed_ to fall off?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, what if it fell off a dozen times,--everybody knew it wasn’t real! [_He roars._]

MRS. FELL. It’s a lucky thing for you, Frederick Ritter, that you’re not _my_ husband!

RITTER. [_Quietly_] That goes both ways, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_Moving across towards him_] Well,--when you do something that you’ll get so many flowers that my limousine will have to make three trips to get them to the various hospitals,--we may pay more attention to what you have to say. [_She turns away and moves back towards the center of the room, where Mrs. Pampinelli is just moving forward from the center-door._]

RITTER. I suppose most of the audience have gone with the flowers, haven’t they? [_Nelly whirls round to retort, but Mrs. Pampinelli lays a restraining hand upon her right arm._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With immortal authority_] Don’t answer him, Eleanor--“Envy loves a lofty mark.” The next time we have a part that calls for a very limited intelligence, we’ll engage Mr. Ritter for it. [_She moves a little down to the right towards Mrs. Ritter._]

MRS. FELL. [_Looking at Ritter_] Now!

RITTER. [_Casually_] Well, if you do, he’ll know how to walk across the stage without tripping every other step.

MRS. FELL. Who tripped every other step?

RITTER. [_Indicating his wife_] The weeping-willow there. [_Mrs. Ritter begins to weep afresh._]

MRS. FELL. It’s a wonder to me you’re not afraid to lie so!

RITTER. She tripped when she first came through the door! I was looking right at her.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to him_] She didn’t _fall_, did she?

RITTER. No, but it looked for a while there as though she were going to. [_Mrs. Ritter’s weeping becomes audible again._] I very nearly had heart failure.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Laying her hand on Paula’s shoulder_] Don’t mind him, Paula.

RITTER. She tripped when she came _on_ the stage, she tripped when she went _off_, and she tripped over the rug when she went over to the desk!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With measured finality_] She didn’t trip any oftener than anybody else. [_He laughs._]

MRS. FELL. [_Directly to Ritter_] No, nor half so often as some of the others,--[_Turning towards Mrs. Pampinelli_] now that you speak of it! [_She turns and goes up to the hallway._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I will admit that Mr. Hossefrosse is a bit unsteady,--but that is due to his weak ankles.

RITTER. What was the star’s unsteadiness due to?

MRS. RITTER. The rugs!

RITTER. [_Looking at her keenly_] What?

MRS. RITTER and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

MRS. RITTER. The rugs.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Moving to the center of the room_] The rugs!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Those funny rugs--that they have down there. We didn’t use them at the rehearsals,--and, naturally, when it came to the performance,--Paula wasn’t accustomed to them.

RITTER. She was accustomed to rugs at home, wasn’t she?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Tersely_] Well, she wasn’t at home on the stage.

RITTER. [_With a gesture of complete acquiesence, and moving up towards the center-door_] That’s my argument in a nutshell. [_Mrs. Pampinelli stands frozen in the middle of the room, with an expression very much as though she were trying mentally to assassinate him. He comes back down again at the left, to his former position._] Why, I couldn’t hear _two-thirds_ of what she said.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, evidently there were many people there who _could_ hear what she said, for they laughed at all her points. [_She turns and goes to the piano, where she picks up several roses. Mrs. Fell comes forward through the center-door and down towards the piano._]

RITTER. I wanted to laugh, too, but I was afraid somebody’d turn around and _see_ me.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to Mrs. Ritter_] Are you ready, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. Yes, I’m ready.

MRS. RITTER. Are you going, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, I must, darling, it’s getting late. [_She places her hand on Mrs. Ritter s shoulder._] Good night, dear. [_She passes up towards the center-door._]

MRS. RITTER. Good night, Betty.

MRS. FELL. [_Laying her hand on Mrs. Ritter’s shoulder_] Good night, Paula child.

MRS. RITTER. Good night, Nelly. [_Nelly follows Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Stopping in the center-door and turning to Ritter_] Perhaps, at our _next_ performance,--Mr. Ritter will favor us with the benefit of some of his suggestions. [_She regards him with a touch of lofty amusement. He turns his head towards her and looks at her with a kind of mischievous squint._]

RITTER. [_Quite pleasantly_] There aren’t going to be any more performances, Mrs. Pampinelli, as far as anybody in _this_ house is concerned.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_After a steady pause_] No? [_He inclines his head in quiet emphasis._]

RITTER. Not until there’s a change in the management. [_There is another taut pause._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coldly_] Really? [_He inclines his head again._] Then, I’m afraid we sha’n’t have you with us, Mr. Ritter.

RITTER. [_Smiling_] I know very well you won’t have _me_ with you. And as far as Mrs. Ritter’s concerned,--she’s got a very good home here--and I love her; and any time she feels any dramatic instinct coming on, there’s a very nice roomy attic upstairs, and she can go up there and lock the door, and nobody’ll ever see or hear her. But if she ever gets mixed up again in anything like that atrocity I saw tonight,--I’m through. [_He speaks the last words with quiet definiteness, and turns towards the door at the left._] And she’ll get killed in the bargain. [_He hits the door open with the palm of his hand and goes out. There is a slight pause: then Nelly Fell crosses quickly towards the mantelpiece, addressing Ritter as she goes._]

MRS. FELL. Why, Fred Ritter!--I’ve heard you say yourself that you were in _favor_ of a Little Theatre in this city!

RITTER. [_Coming in again through the door at the left, carrying his overcoat, derby and scarf_] So I am! I say so again. [_He stops inside the door._] But in the light of that cataclysm tonight, you’ll pardon me if I add, that I do not see the connection.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Stepping forward to the middle of the room and challenging him with a lift of her head and brows_] What did you _expect_ to _see_, Mr. Ritter,--a finished performance from a group of comparative amateurs?

RITTER. I expected to see something almost as bad as what I saw;--that’s the reason I _fainted_ last night and was unconscious for twenty-four hours at the prospect of it. [_He turns to Mrs. Fell and speaks quite colloquially._] And that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever fainted. [_Nelly just gives him a look and turns her head away._]

MRS. RITTER. Don’t mind him, Betty,--he’s only trying to show off.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With bitter amusement_] No, but I’m a bit _curious_--to know just _how_ Mr. Ritter would expect to _accomplish_ the establishment of a Little Theatre here, unless through the medium of such performances as this one this evening. How else is our local talent to be discovered--or developed?

RITTER. Well, I’m equally curious, Mrs. Pampinelli, as to your exact _qualifications_--as a discoverer or developer of talent for the theatre.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That is a very familiar attitude. People who _do_ things--are constantly having their ability to do them called into question. [_She moves a step further forward and towards Mrs. Ritter._]

RITTER. I’m afraid that’s something you’ve read somewhere. [_She glares at him._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. The theatre is a matter of instinct.

RITTER. The theatre is a matter of qualifications,--the same as any other profession; and it will only be _through_ those particular qualifications that your Little Theatre will ever be brought about. [_He crosses over in front of Mrs. Fell and up towards the center-door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, perhaps you will come to the rescue;--you seem so familiar with the various necessities of the Little Theatre. [_He stops, just to the left of the center-door, and looks at Mrs. Pampinelli straight._]

RITTER. [_Quietly_] I am also familiar, Mrs. Pampinelli, with a little remark that Mr. Napoleon made on one occasion, a long time ago;--about the immorality of assuming a position for which one is unqualified. [_There is a pause,--he settles his coat on his arm, then moves slowly out through the center-door into the hallway: while Mrs. Pampinelli, with an expression of eternal exclusion, moves over between the piano and the table towards the window._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning_] Fred Ritter, where are you going?

RITTER. [_Lighting his cigar in the hallway, just outside the center-door_] I haven’t the faintest idea. But I shouldn’t be surprised if I’d go on the stage.

MRS. FELL. [_Standing back of the arm-chair at the left_] One star is enough in the family.

RITTER. [_Bowing very graciously to her_] Applause--[_She turns away and looks straight ahead. Then Ritter bows towards Mrs. Pampinelli._] and great laughter--[_Mrs. Pampinelli isn’t looking at him, but she knows that that is meant for her, so she simply moves another step or two towards the window. Mrs. Ritter turns to see what Ritter is doing. He takes a step and leans forward towards her, speaking rather confidentially._] followed by booing. [_She turns back again and starts to cry, while he continues out into the right hallway and up the stairs. As he mounts the stairs, he holds aloft his lighted cigar, after the fashion of a zealous bearer of the torch._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Picking up the orchids from the table below the window_] Paula, you should have Jenny put these orchids in water; they keep ever so long in a cool place. [_She comes across towards the left, below the piano._]

MRS. RITTER. Will you call her, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Crossing to meet Mrs. Pampinelli_] Give them to me, Betty, I’ll take them out to her. [_Mrs. Pampinelli gives her the orchids._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Tell her to put them in a cool place. [_Nelly starts up for the center-door. The telephone-bell rings._]

MRS. RITTER. Will you answer that, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Setting the orchids down on the chair in the left hallway_] Certainly, darling.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing back of Mrs. Ritter’s chair_] If it’s anything concerning the play, I shall be at home on Tuesday at two.

MRS. FELL. [_At the telephone_] Yes?--Yes?--Who?--Oh,--well, wait just one moment, please.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What is it?

MRS. FELL. [_Holding the transmitter against her bosom and leaning over the partition towards Mrs. Pampinelli_] It’s the Star Moving Picture Company.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What do they want?

MRS. FELL. They want the address of Mrs. Ritter’s manager. [_Mrs. Pampinelli gives a quick look at Mrs. Ritter._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Mrs. Ritter_] I anticipated this. [_She goes quickly towards the center-door, laying her fan and roses on the left partition-seat, as she passes out into the hallway._] Give it to me, Nelly. [_Nelly hands her the telephone, and, picking up the orchids from the chair, tiptoes back of Mrs. Pampinelli and in through the center-door._]

MRS. FELL. [_In an excited whisper to Mrs. Ritter_] What did I tell you! [_She giggles nervously, shakes her finger at Mrs. Ritter, and then watches Mrs. Pampinelli eagerly._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Hello-hello--This is Mrs. Ritter’s manager speaking. Mrs. Pampinelli. Pampinelli. Mrs. J. _Duro_ Pampinelli. Capital P--a--m, p--i--n, e--double l--i.--Correct. Yes--I see--I see.--Well, how do you mean, a thousand dollars, a thousand dollars a day, or a thous--I see. Well, just one moment, please. [_She lowers the telephone and leans towards Mrs. Ritter, speaking in a subdued tone._] The Star Moving Picture Company wants to know if Mrs. Ritter will appear in a special production of tonight’s play before the camera.

MRS. FELL. [_Narrowing her left eye_] What’s the figure?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. One thousand dollars per week.

MRS. FELL. [_Definitely_] Fifteen hundred.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Hello-hello!

MRS. RITTER. [_Rising_] Maybe I’d better talk to them.

MRS. FELL. [_Suggesting with a gesture that she be quiet and resume her chair_] Please, dear. [_Mrs. Ritter meekly sits down again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Why, I’m sorry,--but Mrs. Ritter does not appear under fifteen hundred dollars per week.

MRS. FELL. [_Watching her shrewdly_] Net! [_Mrs. Pampinelli turns and looks at her sharply, and Nelly emphasizes what she said by inclining her head: then Mrs. Pampinelli speaks into the telephone again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Net.

MRS. FELL. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli_] It’s a bargain at that. [_She nods towards Mrs. Ritter._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into telephone_] Twelve-fifty?

MRS. FELL. No compromise.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into telephone_] Well, just one moment. [_Covering the transmitter and speaking to Mrs. Fell_] Twelve-fifty is offered.

MRS. FELL. [_Definitely_] Fifteen hundred dollars. They’ll lift it.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning back to the telephone_] Why, I’m very sorry,--but Mrs. Ritter positively does not appear under fifteen hundred dollars. [_Nelly inclines her head towards her._] Net. Well, how do you mean satisfactory? Satisfactory at our figure? [_Mrs. Pampinelli glances at Mrs. Fell and Mrs. Fell glances at Mrs. Ritter._]

MRS. FELL. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli_] Sign!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Very well, then,--signed at fifteen hundred dollars per week,--

MRS. FELL. Net!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Net! And Mrs. Ritter appears. [_She stands holding the telephone and listening._]

MRS. FELL. [_Whirling round and teetering down to Paula_] Our STAR! I always said it! [_She shakes Mrs. Ritter by the shoulders._] I always said it! [_She whirls round and teeters up towards the center-door._] Haven’t I always said it, Betty? [_Mrs. Pampinelli is listening on the telephone, and tries, by dint of thrusting the telephone towards Nelly, to silence her. But Nelly is irrepressible._] That it was only a question of time? [_She turns and flies down towards Mrs. Ritter again._] We must telephone Mrs. Livingston at once, Paula!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Be quiet, Nelly, be quiet!

MRS. FELL. [_Rushing up towards the center-door again_] She’ll be so interested! We must call up Mrs. Livingston right away, Betty!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Please, Nelly! [_Nelly is silenced. Mrs. Pampinelli listens sharply, Nelly and Mrs. Ritter watching her; and there is a dead pause._] Beg pardon? [_There is another slight pause; and then Mrs. Pampinelli utters an abrupt shriek and sets down the telephone._]

MRS. FELL. What is it, Betty? [_Mrs. Pampinelli looks at her, then straight ahead._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With venomous enunciation_] It’s Ritter! [_Mrs. Ritter rises slowly._]

MRS. FELL. Ritter? [_Mrs. Pampinelli doesn’t stir._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Addressing Mrs. Pampinelli_] Fred?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I recognized his voice. [_She moves along the left hallway and comes in through the center-door and forward, a little to the left of the center of the room._]

MRS. FELL. [_Up just to the right of the center-door_] Why, where is he?

MRS. RITTER. [_Beginning to cry_] He must be on the extension upstairs. [_Nelly listens keenly._]

MRS. FELL. It is he; I hear him laughing. [_She crosses down to the door at the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Taking a step towards Mrs. Ritter_] Sit down, Paula. [_Mrs. Ritter sits down, rests her elbows on the table and weeps bitterly. Nelly stops over at the door and turns._]

MRS. FELL. [_Positively_] Paula,--if he were _my_ husband, I should lose no time in having him arrested. [_She goes out, at the left door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing back of Mrs. Ritter’s chair_] Paula dear, I do hope that you are not going to allow Mr. Ritter’s flippancies to discourage you. [_Paula clasps her hands in her lap and looks tearfully at the backs of them._] The way of the essential artist is always hard; and so very frequently the most serious obstacles are those to be encountered at home.

MRS. RITTER. But, I feel so unsuccessful.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I know, dear--I know exactly how you feel. But you must _go on_. Just remember that art is the highest expression of truth,--and you cannot fail. For you have everything in your favor, Paula.

MRS. RITTER. [_Weakly_] Thank you.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And the masses need you, dear; you are an altogether _new note_ in the theatre.

MRS. RITTER. But--I don’t know whether Fred’ll _want_ me to go on any more--[_Mrs. Pampinelli suddenly becomes very still and stoney, and looks down at Mrs. Ritter with merciless inquiry. Mrs. Ritter senses the change and turns hastily to explain._] the way he spoke.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And, do you mean that you will allow him to _stop_ you, Paula?

MRS. RITTER. [_Breaking down under Mrs. Pampinelli’s frozen amusement_] Well, of course, he’s my _husband_, Betty. [_She cries. Mrs. Pampinelli regards her with a kind of pained toleration; and settles her cloak, preparatory to going._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Very well, then, Paula--if you feel that way about it, I should advise you to keep him; and I shan’t waste any more of my time encouraging you. [_She sweeps around to her left and up towards the center-door._] There are far too many who are only too _willing_ to make the necessary sacrifices without being urged. [_She picks up her fan and roses from the partition-seat, lays them across her left arm, and turns regnantly to Mrs. Ritter._] Only remember this, Paula,--there will be actresses when husbands are a thing of the past. [_She sweeps out through the center-door and out into the right hallway. There is a slight pause; then Nelly Fell comes in at the left door. She misses Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. FELL. Where is Mrs. P., Paula?

MRS. RITTER. She’s just gone out to the car, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_Stooping to pick up one of the chrysanthemums from the floor_] Do you mind if I take one of these flowers, Paula? [_She stands in the middle of the room, holding it, and looking at Mrs. Ritter._] I want it for my dramatic shrine.

MRS. RITTER. You can take them all if you like.

MRS. FELL. Why, what would _you_ do, dear?

MRS. RITTER. I don’t want them.

MRS. FELL. [_Crossing towards her_] Now, you mustn’t feel like that, Paula Ritter.

MRS. RITTER. [_Having all she can do to keep from crying_] I just can’t help it.

MRS. FELL. I see in your husband’s attitude--nothing but a desperate attempt to save his home;--for he _must_ know what your performance tonight will inevitably lead to. [_Mrs. Ritter turns with a puzzled expression and looks at her._]

MRS. RITTER. I don’t understand what you mean, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. Why, you must go to New York, dear; you can do nothing dramatically here.

MRS. RITTER. But, I have a husband.

MRS. FELL. [_Very casually_] Every married woman has that cross, darling. But you mustn’t let it stand in the way of your career; he would very soon eliminate _you_, if you stood in the way of _his_.

MRS. RITTER. But, I don’t like the thought of breaking up his home, Nelly. [_Nelly gives a hard, knowing little laugh._]

MRS. FELL. Don’t be unnecessarily sacrificial, darling. I made that mistake with my first _two_ husbands; but I was _wiser_ with the third. And I said to him, immediately we returned from the church, I said, “Now, Leonard, you and I have just been made one; and _I_ am that one.” [_She touches herself on the breastbone with her forefinger, then touches Paula on the left shoulder._] And it worked out beautifully. So be sensible, darling. [_She skips up towards the hallway._] I must run along, Mrs. Pampinelli’s waiting! [_She teeters out through the center-door into the right hallway._] Cheerio, Paula darling!

MRS. RITTER. Good night.

MRS. FELL. Cheerio! [_She giggles and vanishes into the right hallway. Mrs. Ritter sits still for a second, looking from side to side, at nothing, particularly, and presently gets up. The horseshoe of “SUCCESS” over in front of the mantelpiece catches her eye, and she wanders slowly towards it. But the irony of it all overcomes her and she commences to cry again. Ritter appears at the head of the stairs and starts down. She turns and looks at him, as he comes through the center-door._]

MRS. RITTER. Fred Ritter, those women will never come inside that door again, the way you talked to them. [_He moves to the piano and leans against it._]

RITTER. Well, I don’t suppose that’ll make very much difference.

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking straight ahead_] Well, it _should_ make a difference.

RITTER. They’d hardly come here to see _me_, anyway.

MRS. RITTER. Well, they’d come to see me.

RITTER. But _you_ won’t be here. [_She turns and looks at him blankly._]

MRS. RITTER. Why,--what--what do you mean, I won’t be here?

RITTER. [_With a touch of delicacy_] Why, aren’t you going on with _The Work_?

MRS. RITTER. Well, I don’t want to go unless you _want_ me to.

RITTER. But, I _do_ want you to. I don’t think a talent like yours should be hidden; [_He looks straight out, thoughtfully._] it’s too unique.

MRS. RITTER. I thought you said a while ago you didn’t like me?

RITTER. [_Raising his left hand and crossing over and down in front of her towards the arm-chair at the left_] You mustn’t hold me responsible for what I said a while ago--[_He stops back of the arm-chair and rests his hand upon the back of it._] I was panic-stricken at the thought of having my home broken up. [_She moves down to the center of the room._] But I’ve been thinking it over upstairs, and I’ve concluded that it’s more important that the world should see you act, than that I should have a home to come to.

MRS. RITTER. But, I don’t like the thought of breaking up your home, Fred.

RITTER. [_Raising his right hand to her with a touch of solemnity_] You mustn’t consider me in the matter at all, dear. Every great gift has its victim--and I am, in a way, rather happy--to find myself chosen the victim of yours.

MRS. RITTER. What would _you_ do, if I were to go?

RITTER. [_With the faintest shade of classic pose_] I’d go with you; you’d need someone to look after the flowers--see that they got to the various hospitals all right.

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking away out_] I might not like it, after I’d get there.

RITTER. Maybe not. I suppose fame becomes monotonous like everything else. But, I wouldn’t want you in the future, to look back and feel that I had stood in your way.

MRS. RITTER. [_Carefully_] No, Fred,--I really don’t _know_ whether I want to be a great actress or not.

RITTER. But, you are a great actress, dear.

MRS. RITTER. Thank you.

RITTER. [_Indicating the anchor of roses down at the left_] Look at this anchor,--of hope. [_He steps back and picks up the horseshoe._] And this horseshoe of “SUCCESS.” [_He brings it forward and sets it down just to Mrs. Ritter’s left. Then he steps across in front of it, takes her hand and slips his right arm around her waist._] And I think, Paula, it might be a very sensible move, to just let the public _remember_ you as a great actress--as they saw you _tonight_--_at your best_.

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking wistfully straight ahead_] Do you think they _will_ remember, Fred?

RITTER. [_Inclining his head, with a suggestion of the obsequious_] Yes, I _think_ they will. [_Curtain._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning and sinking into his arms_] You’re awfully sweet, Fred.

THE END OF THE PLAY

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in typesetting have been standardized.