Chapter 1

Produced by David Garcia, Lynn Bornath and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.

Why The Chimes Rang: A Play in One Act: by Elizabeth Apthorp McFadden:

Adapted from the story of the same name: by Raymond McDonald Alden

Samuel French: Publisher 25 West Forty-fifth Street: New York LONDON

Samuel French, Ltd. 26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND

COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY E.A. MCFADDEN

WHY THE CHIMES RANG.

This play is fully protected by copyright.

Permission to act, read publicly or make any use of it must be obtained of Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York. It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of the following royalties:

1. This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of Five Dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel French, at 25 West 45th Street, New York, or at 811 West 7th Street, Los Angeles, Calif., one week before the date when the play is given.

2. Professional rates quoted on application.

3. Whenever this play is to be produced the following note must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play:

This play is a dramatization of the story by Raymond MacDonald Alden entitled "WHY THE CHIMES RANG," published by The Bobbs-Merrill Company.

This version of Raymond MacDonald Alden's story is published with permission of the Bobbs-Merrill Company of Indianapolis, Indiana, the publishers of Professor Alden's story and the holders of the copyright.

_WARNING_

The copying, either of separate parts or the whole of this work by any process whatsoever, is forbidden by law and subject to the penalties prescribed by Section 28 of the Copyright Law, in force July 1, 1909.

PREFACE.

This little play is prentice work done in Professor George P. Baker's class, English 47 at Radcliffe College in the fall of 1908. Several years later it was staged by Professor Baker in the "47 Workshop," his laboratory for trying out plays written in the Harvard and Radcliffe courses in dramatic technique.

I am glad to acknowledge here my indebtedness to the "Shop" and its workers for this chance of seeing the play in action. Of the various advantages which a "Workshop" performance secures to the author none is more helpful than the mass of written criticism handed in by the audience, and representing some two or three hundred frank and widely varying views of the work in question. I am especially grateful for this constructive criticism, much of which has been of real service in the subsequent rewriting of the piece.

"Why the Chimes Rang" was again tried out the next year in seven performances by the "Workshop" company in various Boston settlements. Other groups of amateurs have given it in Arlington, Massachusetts, Los Angeles, California and in Honolulu. These performances have proved that while its setting may seem to call for the equipment of a theatre, the play can be acceptably given in any hall or Sunday school room.

Suggestions for the simplest possible staging have been added to the present publication in an appendix which contains data on the scenery, music, lighting, costumes and properties for the piece.

ELIZABETH APTHORP McFADDEN.

WHY THE CHIMES RANG.

CHARACTERS.

HOLGER......................._A peasant boy_ STEEN........................_His younger brother_ BERTEL......................._Their uncle_ AN OLD WOMAN LORDS, LADIES, _etc._--

TIME:--_Dusk of a day of long ago_.

* * * * *

SCENE:--_The interior of a wood-chopper's hut on the edge of a forest_.

Why the Chimes Rang.

The scene is laid in a peasant's hut on the edge of a forest near a cathedral town. It is a dark low-raftered room lit only by the glowing wood fire in the great fireplace in the wall to the right, and by a faint moonlight that steals in through the little window high in the left wall. This window commands a view of the cathedral and of the road leading down into the town. The only entrance into the hut is the front door near the window.

The furnishings are few: two substantial stools, one near the window, the other before the fire, logs piled up near the hearth, and on the chimney shelf above a few dishes, three little bowls, three spoons and a great iron porridge pot. A wooden peg to the right of the chimney holds Steen's cap and cape, one to the left an old shawl. Near the door Holger's cap and cape hang from a third peg.

Despite its poverty the room is full of beautiful coloring as it lies half hidden in deep shadow save where the light of the fire falls on the brown of the wood and the warmer shades of the children's garments, illuminates their faces and gleams on their bright hair.

When the curtain is raised Steen is sitting disconsolately on the stool near the fire. He is a handsome sturdy little lad of nine or ten, dressed in rough but warm garments of a dark red. Holger a slender boy some four years older, bends over Steen patting him comfortingly on the shoulder.

There is petulance and revolt in the expression of the younger boy but Holger's face is full of a blended character and spirituality that makes him beautiful. He is clad like his brother in comfortable but worn jerkin and hose of a dark leaf green. His manner to the little boy is full of affection, though occasionally he is superior after the manner of big brothers. Throughout the play, two moods alternate in Holger, a certain grave, half-mystical dreaminess and bubbling through it, the high spirits of his natural boyish self.

HOLGER. Take heart, Steen, perhaps we can go next year.

STEEN. Next year! Next year I'll be so old I won't want to go.

HOLGER. Oh, quite old folks go to the Christmas service. Come, let's watch the people going down to town.

STEEN. No.

HOLGER. The road'll be full, grand folk! (_He crosses to the window_) Come watch, Steen.

STEEN. No!

HOLGER. (_Looking out_) Why the road's all empty again!

STEEN. (_In a wailing tone_) Everybody's gone!

HOLGER. (_Trying to be brave_) They're lighting the cathedral!

STEEN. I don't care!

HOLGER. Oh, Steen, come see,--like the stars coming out!

STEEN. I won't see! Mother said way last summer that we could go to-night, and now--(_His voice breaks in a sob_)

HOLGER. She meant it! She didn't know that the grandmother would be ill, and she and father'ud have to go to _her_. Be fair, Steen!

STEEN. They might let us go alone. "Too little!" Bah!

HOLGER. (_In a low almost frightened tone_) Steen, come here!

(_The tone, rather than the words, take_ STEEN _quickly to_ HOLGER'S _side_.)

STEEN. What?

HOLGER. (_Pointing out the window_) Look, by the dead pine yonder, an old woman facing us, kneeling in the snow, see? praying!

STEEN. (_In an awed tone_) She's looking at us!

HOLGER. She's raising her hand to us!

STEEN. She's beckoning!

HOLGER. No, she's making the Sign of the Cross.

(_Both boys drop their heads devoutly._)

STEEN. Who is she, Holger?

HOLGER. I don't know.

STEEN. (_Drawing back from the window and crossing the room to the fire_) Oh, Holger, I'm afraid!

HOLGER. No, no! Look, she has turned away,--she's deeper in the shadow,--why, she's gone! (_Following_ STEEN _with all his bright courage bubbling high again, and speaks in a bantering tone_) Just some old granny going down to town, and thou afraid!

STEEN. (_Recovering also_) And _thou_ afraid!

HOLGER. I was not!

STEEN. (_Derisively_) Oh-h-h-h!

HOLGER. Well, I was just a little bit afraid--lest she might frighten thee. (_Steps are heard outside the house. Both boys start and look frightened again_) Hush,--steps--coming here!

STEEN. (_Backing from the door_) The old woman!

HOLGER. (_Crosses the room, looks cautiously out of the window, then cries joyously_) No,--Uncle Bertel!

BERTEL. (_Off stage_) Hullo, there,--open, Holger!

(STEEN _and_ HOLGER _make a dash for the door, fling it open and_ BERTEL _enters. He is a jolly robust peasant uncle of early middle life, clad in rough gray jerkin and hose, with a dark gray cloak wrapped about him. He so radiates cheer that the room seems warmer for his presence in it. Nothing to be afraid of about him, the children adore him._)

STEEN. (_Clinging to him, happily_) Oh, Uncle, Uncle, Uncle Bertel!

HOLGER. (_Seizing_ BERTEL _on his other side_) Uncle Bertel, welcome!

BERTEL. (_Tousling their hair and shaking himself loose in pretended dismay_) Help, help!--Robbers!--I'm beset!--Gently, youngsters!--(_He goes over to the fire and stands warming himself_) Brrrrr! It's cold in the forest to-night!--Well, (_He faces them genially_) why am I come?--Tell me that!

STEEN. (_Exultantly_) To take us to the Christmas Service?

HOLGER. Uncle! How didst thou know we were not going?

BERTEL. I met a fox--who said--

HOLGER. Oh-h!--Thou hast seen mother and father!

BERTEL. (_Draws the stool nearer the fire and sits, the children promptly drop on the floor beside him_) By our Lady, yes!--and walking so fast they had only time to throw me a word from the sides of their mouths. "Go up," cried Mother,--"I wist my boys are deep in tears!"--and I, not wishing to see you drown in so much water--

HOLGER. (_Patting his arm_) Dear Uncle Bertel!

STEEN. (_Rising on his knees_) Come, let's go quick!

BERTEL. Patience, patience, young colt, plenty of time, mother said something else.

STEEN. What?

BERTEL. (_His eye on the shelf above the fire_) That I should find some warm porridge for my pains.

HOLGER. (_Springing to his feet_) Why, of course, there _is_ porridge! (_He goes to the shelf_) Nice and warm it is! All ready for supper. (_He hands the first bowl to_ BERTEL, STEEN _capers nimbly across the intervening space and seats himself on the side of the hearth, facing_ BERTEL, _his back to the audience_)

STEEN. Supper! How could we forget supper?--Give me a _big_ bowlful, Holger.

HOLGER. (_Handing_ STEEN _his porridge_) There isn't a _big_ bowlful here.

STEEN. (_Taking the bowl and hugging it_) Nice kind good supper, umh! (_Begins to eat eagerly_)

HOLGER. (_Suddenly looking toward the door_) Listen!

BERTEL. To what?

HOLGER. (_Awed, hesitant_) Someone--sobbing--at the door! (_He goes to it, the others watching him startled, he opens the door, finds nothing, closes it and comes back_) Nothing there!

BERTEL. The wind!--Thy old tricks, Holger,--always dreaming some strange thing.

HOLGER. (_Recalled by_ BERTEL'S _words to something else_) Didst thou pass an old woman on the road--near here?

BERTEL. Not a soul nearer than the town gate. (HOLGER _stands thinking, absorbed_) Come, boy, eat,--_eat_! See how Steen eats!

HOLGER. (_Breaks through his abstraction and reverts to his bright self_) Oh, Uncle Bertel,--I'm too glad to eat!

BERTEL. (_More seriously_) Thou art right, lad,--fasting were better than feasting this day in Tralsund!--they say,--do you know what they say in the town?

HOLGER. What?

BERTEL. They say--that to-night in the great church--when the offerings are laid upon the altar for the Christ child,--_something will happen_!

(STEEN _has finished his porridge, puts the bowl on the shelf near him, seizes his cloak and cap from the peg near the hearth and stands eager to be gone._)

HOLGER. What?

BERTEL. Who can say? All day the folk have been pouring into the town as never before. The market place is crowded, every inn is full. No church but the cathedral could hold such a multitude. Never have I seen such excitement, such fervor!

HOLGER. There will be many gifts!

BERTEL. --the rich are bringing their treasure, gold and jewels, king's ransoms, aye and the King comes. (BERTEL _finishes his porridge and hands the bowl to_ STEEN)

HOLGER. The King?

BERTEL. The King Himself!

STEEN. Oh, and shall we see Him, Uncle, and the fine gifts and everything?

BERTEL. Why not?--Even the poorest may go up and give--what hast thou to offer?

STEEN. (_Abashed_) I?--Nothing! (_Puts his porridge bowl and_ BERTEL'S _on the shelf then goes restlessly to the door_)

HOLGER. (_Breaking in with eagerness_) Oh, I have, see, Uncle? (_Feels in his pocket and brings out two pennies_) See!--Last week I was gathering sticks in the forest and a fine gentleman rode past and asked the way of me. I showed him the path and he gave me these! (_Holds up the pennies_)

BERTEL. (_Rising and going to_ HOLGER _who is in the middle of the room_) Faith, real money in the family. (_Stoops and looks at the pennies as though they were a rare sight_)

STEEN. Oh, I thought we were going to buy cakes with those, Holger.

HOLGER. But it's better to give it to the Christ Child. You see He is a little child, smaller than even you,--and I think He would like a little gift,--a little bright gift that would buy cakes for Him. (HOLGER _goes toward the window and stands looking dreamily out at the lights of the church_)

BERTEL. Aye, to-night we must think of Him,--there in His Holy Church.

HOLGER. It _is_ a holy place, the church!--I feel it every time I go,--it's like God's forest,--the pillars like old oaks and the great windows all colors like sunsets through the trees.

BERTEL. _'Tis_ like the forest.

HOLGER. And when the organ plays that's like a storm gathering in the mountains.

BERTEL. A storm?--Aye!--"The Lord hath His way in the whirlwind and in the storm and the clouds are the dust of His feet!"--Why should He not do a wonder as of old? Perhaps the great miracle will come again!

HOLGER. Oh, which, Uncle?--There are so many in the Bible!

STEEN. Yes, which?--Would there be a whale now to swallow a priest?

BERTEL. Thou goosey! This was no Bible miracle,--it happened there, _there_, where we see the lights,--hundreds of years ago. (BERTEL _has followed_ HOLGER _to the window and_ STEEN _joins them. As he speaks_ BERTEL _slips his arms affectionately round both children and the three stand looking out. At this moment something stirs in the dim shadows that shroud the corner up above the fire-place. Suddenly out of the dark the_ OLD WOMAN _emerges. A tall figure, if she were not so bent, wrapped in a black cloak. There is nothing grotesque or sinister in her appearance, she might have stood for a statue of old age, impressive in its pathos. As she sits on the stool near the fire she throws back the cloak disclosing the plain straight dress of gray beneath. The light of the fire reveals her crouched, swaying back and forth praying silently, her face still shaded by the heavy hood of her cloak. The others gazing intently out at the church do not see her._ BERTEL _continues speaking_) Surely thou hast heard of the Miracle of the Chimes?

HOLGER. I've heard folks speak of it,--but I never knew just what happened.

STEEN. Oh, tell us, Uncle Bertel.

BERTEL. Aye, listen then!--You see the great tower there?--(_Both children nod emphatically_) It goes so high into the clouds that no one can see it's top!--No one even knows how high it is for the men who built it have been dead for hundreds of years.

STEEN. But what has that to do with the chimes?

HOLGER. Hush, Steen, let uncle speak!

BERTEL. The chimes are up at the top of the tower--and they are holy bells,--miraculous bells, placed there by sainted hands,--and when they rang 'twas said that angels' voices echoed through them.

STEEN. Why doesn't someone ring them _now_?

BERTEL. Ah, that is not so easy!--They are said to ring on Christmas Eve when the gifts are laid on the altar for the Christ-child,--but not every offering will ring them, it must be a perfect gift. And for all these years not one thing has been laid upon the altar good enough to make the chimes ring out.

HOLGER. Oh, that's what the priest was talking about to mother, then. He said it mustn't be just a fine gift for show but something full of love for the Christ-child.

STEEN. Oh, I want to hear them!

BERTEL. _We shall!_--The very air is full of holy mystery! The Spirit of Christ will be there in the church to-night! (_To_ HOLGER) Thy cap, boy!

(HOLGER _stands wrapt in thought gazing out at the cathedral._)

STEEN. (_Taking the cap and cloak from the peg near the door and bringing them down and piling them into_ HOLGER'S _arms_) Here they are, old dreamer!--(_He turns back up toward the door in such a way that he does not see the silent figure in the corner_) _And hurry!_

(BERTEL _too turns toward his left hand and does not see the woman._)

HOLGER. (_In a tone of bright happiness, roused from his dreaming_) I'm coming!--Nothing can happen to stop us now, can it? (_As he says this he wheels to his right in a way that brings the chimney corner in his line of vision. He starts, bends forward staring as the others open the door, then he speaks in a tone that is little more than a gasp_) _Steen!_

(_The others stop and stare at him, then in the direction of his look._)

STEEN. Oh!--The Old Woman!

BERTEL. (_Looking to_ STEEN) When did she come in?

STEEN. I didn't see her!

(HOLGER _crosses timidly towards her. As he approaches the_ OLD WOMAN _turns her eyes on him and holds out her hands in pitiful appeal._)

HOLGER. What dost thou want, dame?

OLD WOMAN. (_In a voice that is harsh and broken_) Refuge--from the storm of the world!

HOLGER. Surely thou shalt rest here.

OLD WOMAN. (_Half rises stiffly as_ HOLGER _draws nearer_) Oh, son, I am so weary and so heavy laden. (_She sways and_ HOLGER _runs forward, catching her in his arms and supporting her on the stool. The others stand watching. She sits huddled forward in a position that suggests collapse_)

HOLGER. She's faint! (_He touches her hands_) She's so cold! Quick, Steen, build up the fire! (STEEN _goes to the fire and puts on another log, the flames blase up_. HOLGER _busies himself chafing the woman's hands and covering her with the old cloak that has dropped back from her shoulders_) She must have lost her way in the forest.

BERTEL. (_Stands watching the woman rather suspiciously, now comes to_ HOLGER _taps him on the arm and draws him a little apart, speaking in an undertone_) We have scant time to lose with that old beggar.

HOLGER. What'll I do with her?

BERTEL. Leave her and come on.

STEEN. And _come_--before it is to-morrow! (_He is back by the door, his hand on the latch_)

HOLGER. (_Turns and looks at the old woman and then back to_ BERTEL) Oh, I--ought we to go and leave her?

STEEN. Not go?

BERTEL. Go, of course we'll go, she'll warm herself and march along.

HOLGER. But she is ill. (_Turns to_ STEEN _with new decision in his manner_) Thou shalt go with Uncle but I--must stay with her.

BERTEL. Nonsense, Holger!

HOLGER. No, it isn't!--If we should all go now, the fire would go out and the light,--and she would wake up in the cold darkness and not know where to turn for help.

BERTEL. Na, by Saint Christopher!--Miss a miracle to keep company with a beggar!--Who held her hand before thou camest along? Send her packing and make haste, Holger.

STEEN. Oh, do, Holger!

HOLGER. If there were some place near that we could take her.

BERTEL. There isn't a place on the road,--they've all gone to town long ago. Bid her fare there also!

HOLGER. (_Looks at the_ OLD WOMAN, _then at_ BERTEL, _then back to the_ OLD WOMAN, _then he shakes his head_) Mother wouldn't treat her so,--she'd be good to her.

BERTEL. Think of what you'll miss! (_An expression of anguish passes over_ HOLGER'S _face, but he shakes his head and turns toward the old woman_) Well, this is idle talk, thou and I will go, Steen.

STEEN. Oh, come,--let's go!

BERTEL. (_To_ STEEN, _but for_ HOLGER'S _benefit_) Thou and I will see the King, perchance--The Christ! Thou art stubborn, Holger, I who am older tell thee what to do! (HOLGER _shakes his head again_) Come, Steen! (_He opens the door and goes out_)

STEEN. (_Following him_) Good-bye, Holger.

HOLGER. Good-bye! (STEEN _goes out and shuts the door. There is a moment's pause while_ HOLGER _stands staring at the closed door, then he suddenly runs toward it_) Oh, wait, wait for me, Uncle, I will go! (_He opens the door, starts to go through it, then stops, turns and looks at the Woman, is drawn slowly backward by his gaze and comes in closing the door_) No!

WOMAN. (_Moaning_) The path--is so--steep!

HOLGER. (_Goes to her and bends over her_) Didst thou speak, dame? (_The_ WOMAN _does not answer_) Thou art like Grandmother, and I know what Mother would do for _her_! (_Feeling her hands_) Art warmer, dame?--still cold!--The covers aren't very thick. (_He looks about the bare room, sees the old shawl hanging from the peg near the fire, takes it down and spreads it over the woman_) Thou must get warm! (_Goes to the fire and builds it higher_)

WOMAN. (_Still wandering in her mind_) Berries,--yes, find berries.

HOLGER. Oh, thou art hungry! (_He turns to the shelf, takes his own untasted bowl of porridge, brings it to her_) Dame, here is food!

WOMAN. (_Rousing_) Food, give it to me, child, I am dying for food!

(HOLGER _gives her the porridge and sits down on the floor beside her._)

HOLGER. (_Watching her as she devours the porridge_) _Ah, poor soul!_--Why, thou wert starving!--Na, just see!--Mother says that's what makes my little brother so round and rosy, because he eats so much porridge,--you like it, don't you?

WOMAN. It is life itself! (_Her voice has grown young and strong. Sinks back again as she has eaten it all_) Bless thee, Child!

(HOLGER _sets the empty dish aside on the hearth and turns to feel her hands._)

HOLGER. Oh, thou art warm!

WOMAN. Aye, warm! (_In a voice increasingly rich and sweet. At this moment there comes the distant sound of organ music._ HOLGER _straightens suddenly in a listening attitude_) Listen,--is that music?

HOLGER. From the Cathedral!--Aye, it must be,--last summer we could hear it plain, and now with so many thousands there! (_Leaves the woman and stands in the center of the room listening attentively_) It's beginning!--(_Pause_) Everyone is there!

WOMAN. Why are they there.

HOLGER. It's the great service! (_He goes toward the window and stands looking out. He talks on half to her, half to himself_) All the world is there, the village folk, and strangers from afar, great court folk, too,--aye, and the King,--our King! And He will give a gift,--a King's gift! (_She rises erectly and follows him across the room. There is the strength and poise of youth in her walk. The heavy black hood has fallen back revealing a head covering of white linen that suggests a sister of Charity and gives her face a look of austerity and sweetness. She is strong, maternal, beautiful. Intuitively,_ HOLGER, _in his disappointment begins to lean upon her sympathy. The music grows a little louder and floats into the room_) Look, dame, you can even see the windows gleam! It is so near! It's all beginning and--I--am not there! (_A sob creeps into his voice_)

WOMAN. Son!

HOLGER. Aye, dame? (_He turns and comes toward her, she seats herself on the stool near the window, reaches out a hand and draws him down beside her_)

WOMAN. Thou, too, wouldst go? (HOLGER, _too moved by her sympathy to speak, nods silently and puts up a hand to hide the trembling of his lips. She slips her hand to his shoulder_) Another time thou'll go!

HOLGER. (_Fighting back his tears_) It'll never be the same again! To-night the Christ comes. Bertel said--"The Christ!"

WOMAN. Nay, son, pray to the Christ-child, pray that He does not pass thee by! (_She sits facing the back wall of the hut._ HOLGER _kneels before her, and drops his head in her lap. She lays her hand gently upon his hair and makes the sign of the cross above him_)