Transcriber’s Notes
Italic markup is enclosed within _underscores_.
Additional notes are located at the end of the file.
COMRADES.
_A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS._
BY
GEORGE M. BAKER.
This play is protected by law, and can only be performed by
special arrangement with the author.
PRINTED, NOT PUBLISHED.
1877.
[Illustration: COPYRIGHT GEO. M. BAKER. 1877.]
COSTUMES.
_Royal._ Age 35. Act I. Velvet breakfast jacket, light pants, dark
vest, dark curly wig slightly sprinkled with gray, dark mustache, and
side whiskers. Act II. Dark suit, thin travelling “ulster,” slouch hat.
Act III. Dark mixed suit.
_Matt._ Age 45. Act I. Ragged suit, with army cap, full gray ragged
beard, rough gray wig; red nose, and general make up of a drunkard.
Act II. Riding coat, light pants, riding boots, wide collar rolled
over coat, open at throat; neat gray wig, long gray side whiskers;
face clean shaved, a little florid, whole appearance neat. Act III.
1st dress. Old ragged army overcoat, buttoned at throat, slouch hat,
whiskers and wig as in act II, but chin rough and dirty, nose red,
general rough appearance. 2d dress, on last appearance, same as in act
II, chin clean and smooth; general appearance the same as in act II.
_Marcus._ Age 24. Act I. Genteel riding suit, with boots and whip. Act
II. Darksuit, and travelling overcoat or ulster. Act III. Handsome
mixed full suit. Hair and mustache natural.
_Simon._ Age 25. Act I. Fashionable “loud” spring suit, red neck-tie,
white hat, red wig. Act II. Dark pants, green apron, short green
jacket. Act III. Light pants, blue coat with brass buttons, black
hat, large gold chain, diamond pin _a la_ Tweed; dark pants and white
gaiters.
_May._ Act I. Tasty morning dress, with pretty morning cap. Act II.
Afternoon dress, muslin; apron and gloves on entrance. Act III. Evening
dress, handsome and tasty.
_Bessie._ Three dresses of the same character to contrast with May.
_Nancy._ Act I. Balmoral Petticoat, calico dress, pinned up; sleeves
rolled up. Act II. Neat muslin dress, with apron. Act III. Brown dress,
white collar and cuffs.
CHARACTERS.
ROYAL MANNING.
MATT WINSOR, a tramp.
MARCUS GRAVES.
SIMON STONE, a Jack at all Trades.
MAY MANNING, “Roy’s Wife.”
BESSIE BRADLEY.
NANCY NIPPER.
COMRADES.
A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS.
ACT I.
SCENE.——_Room in_ ROYAL MANNING’S _home. Doors_ C., _open to garden;
long window in flat_; L., _with curtains, draped back, stand of flowers
before it; upright piano against flat_, R., _of door, at which_ BESSIE
_is seated, playing, back to audience. Mantel_, R., _with fireplace._
ROYAL _standing in chair hanging a sabre_ (_sheathed_) _above the
mantel. Table_ L., C., MAY _seated_ L. _of it, sewing. Chair_ R. _of
table, hassock near it; ottoman back near window. Doors_ 1 _and_ 3
_entrance_ R.; _door 2d entrance_, L. _Flowers in vase on mantel; whole
scene tasty and comfortable. Music at rising of curtain,——“The Dearest
Spot on Earth to me is Home, Sweet Home!”_
ROYAL. There, May, we’ll hang this relic of my warrior days above the
mantel, to remind us, that now I have become a husband, the sword is
beaten into a ploughshare.
MAY. Very appropriate, now you have become a husbandman.
ROY. Good, very good! Wedlock has sharpened your wits. Yes, I am the
happy husband of the best little wife ever erring man was blessed with.
Oh, blissful state of matrimony! why did I not become your naturalized
citizen before? (_Steps from chair_). There, old friend, rest in peace!
no more shall we in fellowship dash upon the enemy; no more, hand in
hand, encounter the perils of the battlefield, the glory of triumph,
the shame of defeat. Oh, rest in peace, old dog of war, until you grow
rusty with honorable age!
MAY. How very pathetic! You have pronounced the eulogy. Bess, a dirge
would be appropriate just now.
BESS. Yes. How would “Old Dog Tray” suit the occasion?
ROY. Very bad. A biting sarcasm (_Looks at sabre_). Rather ornamental.
Hey, May? (_Sits in chair_, R. _of table._)
MAY. It has a wicked look. It makes me shudder.
ROY. Indeed! then down it comes. (_Rises._)
MAY. No, let it hang. I only fear that, like its master, it may
occasionally have martial fits, and then——
ROY. Fits! Well, what then?
MAY. My poor vases would fall beneath the sword.
ROY. Never fear; like its master, ’tis securely tied to your
apron-string. How time flies! ’Tis ten years since my old friend and I
closed our campaign.
MAY. And just three months since we closed our campaign——
ROY. Of courtship, yes, and massed our forces for the battle of life.
Yes, yes. Then I captured the heart, which, for two years, I had so
valiantly attacked.
MAY. Valiantly, indeed. ’Twas with fear and trembling, you, the veteran
warrior, approached the citadel.
ROY. Which was longing to surrender.
MAY. No; I’ll not confess that.
ROY. But you do not regret it, May? You are happy here?
MAY. Happy, Roy? I never dared to dream of so much happiness. I, a poor
sewing-girl, earning my living with the needle, have now a home any
lady might well be proud of, and a husband——
BESS. Ahem!
ROY (_rising_). Hallo! Little Pitcher’s ears are wide open. (_Crossing
to mantel, and leaning against it_). What’s the matter, Bess?
BESS (_swinging round on stool_). Can’t you speak a little louder, you
two? It’s so provoking to only hear the ripple of a conversation which
you know will be sure to end in a smacking breeze.
ROY. I was not within saluting distance. (_Aside._) I wish I had been.
BESS. Then I should have had a full report of your conversation. Ha!
ha! ha! you two have been married three months, and have not yet
finished your courting. Remarkable vitality! I thought love-making
ended at the altar.
ROY. Remarkable ignorance, Bess. But you are young and green. Did you,
indeed?
BESS. Yes; and that the flame of love was extinguished when the
husband, poor man! was obliged to rise, on a cold, frosty morning, to
build the fire.
ROY. That only adds fuel to the flame.
BESS. That the fountain of affection ceased to flow, when he had to go
a mile to draw a pail of water.
ROY. Liquid nonsense. You are alluding, of course, now, chatterbox, to
our first effort at housekeeping; but all that is over; everything is
nicely arranged, and we can now bask in the warmth of domestic fires.
BESS. If the chimney doesn’t smoke,——which it does, you know, awfully.
ROY (_crossing to chair_ R. _of table_). Hang the chimney! You’d put a
damper on anything. May, what shall we do with this girl?
MAY. Let her scoff. It will be our turn soon; her fate is approaching.
BESS (_jumping up_). Did you hear his step?
ROY. Ha! ha! ha!
“By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.”
BESS. It’s Marcus, and you have told me. (_Exit_ C.)
MAY. Stop! stop! Bess! I hear nothing.
ROY. Let her go; no doubt she’ll meet Marcus, and, having found him,
she’ll _mark-us_ no more. Do you know, May, I’m getting anxious about
that young man.
MAY. He’s a very agreeable fellow, seems honest, and is fast winning
the affections of Bess.
ROY. Yes, I know all that you know; but what we don’t know is what
bothers me. When, in pursuit of happiness, I made my way to the humble
but comfortable residence of the late Mrs. Bradley, you being the
attraction, I found this young man paying court to Bess in the parlor,
while I emulated his example by making love to you in the sitting-room.
MAY. They were well called suite (_soot_) er rooms, ha! ha! ha!
ROY. Allow me to correct your pronunciation for suite (_sweet_) er,
rooms, they must have been, with two pair of lovers. Well, Mrs. Bradley
died. You must have a home; there was nothing to hinder, and we were
married, came here, and brought Bess with us, a welcome addition to our
household.
MAY. Dear girl! She is the light of our house.
ROY. Well, I cannot exactly agree with you, having a star of the first
magnitude before my eyes. As a matter of course, Mr. Marcus Graves
follows. I don’t object to that, but I do object to his secretiveness.
Who is he? He seems to have no relatives, no friends: at least he never
speaks of them.
MAY. You know his business?
ROY. Yes. He’s a drummer.
MAY. A military man. Then you surely should like him.
ROY. A military man——not exactly, our military drummer——musters his men
to battle with the rattle of his sheepskin; your civil drummer, with
the rattle of his tongue, taps the sheepskin of the men he musters, and
too often makes enemies in his own ranks, with short and poor rations
not up to sample. Yes; I have become the natural protector of this
young lady, and should know something about this ardent suitor who
never speaks of marriage.
MAY. To be sure you should. Well, why don’t you?
ROY. What! Pin him in a corner, and, like a stern parent, ask him who
are his parents, and what are his intentions.
MAY. And what then?
ROY. Ten to one he’ll fly into a passion, tell me it’s none of my
business, and quit the house in disgust.
MAY. Somehow, Roy, I have faith in Marcus Graves.
ROY. Because Bessie loves him. Oh, the warm cloak of affection covers a
multitude of sins!
MAY. For the world I would not bring a pang to her dear heart! Her
mother, for fifteen years, was the dearest friend I had in the world.
When the war broke out, my father went to battle. We were all in the
West then. What ever became of him I never knew. No doubt he died for
his country as bravely as he went forth. My mother——
ROY. Deserted you! Fled with your father’s friend! It’s a sad story,
May. Don’t speak of it.
MAY. Yes: I was left to the care of strangers. And this kind neighbor,
Mrs. Bradley, took pity upon me. She was poor; but, hard as was her
lot, I was treated as her own child. O Roy! she was a mother to the
friendless little stranger! Heaven knows I am grateful! All the
tenderness she bestowed upon me I have tried to repay in love for her
child. In days of poverty, Bess and I shared our crusts together; and
now that fortune has blessed me with prosperity, her happiness is more
than ever, with your dear help, to be the aim of my life. Comrades in
adversity should be comrades in prosperity.
ROY. Right, Mary. For her happiness we will strive together. Comrades!
ah, that brings back the old days, May! But I forget; you do not like
to have me speak of them.
MAY. You do not mean that, Roy. Am I not proud of your war record? Do I
not glory in your triumphs, there where brave men fought and fell.
ROY. That old sabre, if it had a tongue, could tell wondrous stories.
Ah! old fellow! you failed me once. In those old days I had a
friendship for a man in our regiment, with whom I made a queer compact,
something after the manner of yours and Bessie’s. He saved my life
one day. ’Twas at Antietam, we were swooping down upon the enemy,——a
cloud of horsemen with flashing sabres. Just as we reached the foe, my
horse stumbled and fell. I thought my time had come. But between me and
a descending sabre rode my comrade. I was saved. That night in camp
we renewed our friendship, and, in jovial mood, vowed that whatever
good fortune should be in store for us in the future should be shared
between us. We were both poor——nothing but our soldier’s pay. The war
ending, we parted. He went West in search of friends. I come here, to
find my only friend, my father, dead, and, to my surprise, a small
fortune awaiting me. Poor fellow! I often wonder if he fared as well.
(_Rises, goes_ R.)
MAY. And you have not seen him since?
ROY. No: one of these days I mean to hunt him up.
MAY. To share with him your fortune?
ROY (_comes to back of her chair, hand on table; looks at her_). If he
be poor, yes; for I shall still be rich. He could not claim my chief
treasure, my pearl above price,——you (_stoops to kiss her_).
(_Enter Bess_, C.)
BESS. Ahem!
ROY (_starting up, and crossing to_ R). Bother that girl! Well, what
now?
BESS. I smell smoke, and where there’s smoke there must be fire.
ROY. Not where you are. You’re a capital extinguisher.
MAY. Did you find him, Bess?
BESS. No. ’Twas a false alarm. Oh, dear! why don’t he come?
ROY. Poor dear! how sad! Hasn’t seen him since last night——no, this
morning; for I’ll be hanged if the sun wasn’t rising when I got up to
fasten the door after him!
BESS. Yes, your father’s son. What a shame——
ROY. You’re right. I nearly caught my death.
BESS. To talk so! You know he left the house before ten.
ROY. This morning, yes. Quite time to be moving.
MAY. Roy, don’t torment her. See how anxious she is!
ROY. As anxious as a cat to seize a poor little mouse, that she may
tease it.
BESS. Oh, you wicked wretch! You know we never quarrel. (_Goes_ L.)
(MARCUS _runs in_ C., _riding-whip in hand._)
MAR. Oh, here you are, Manning! Call your chickens under their mother’s
wing; fasten up the hen-roost; barricade your pigpen; call out your
troops, and plant your biggest guns upon the ramparts. The enemy is at
your door!
ROY. Halloa! Halloa! What’s the matter?
MAY. Enemy! what enemy?
BESS. Marcus, have you been drinking?
ROY. I told you he was up late. Well, old fellow, who is the enemy?
MAR. The terror of housekeepers! the devourer of cold meats! the robber
of the clothes-line! Hush! “take heed! whisper low”——the tramp.
ROY. Oh!
BESS. Ah!
MAY. Indeed!
MAR. Yes. I met a true type of the fraternity half a mile below. He
stopped my horse, and begged money. I always make short work of these
fellows, so tossed him a quarter and rode on. He turned into that
shanty set apart for the entertainment of man and beast, and no doubt
will pour entertainment down his throat in beastly style. So look out,
Manning. He may pay you a visit.
ROY. ’Twill be a short one, then; and I’ll give him no quarter.
MAR. Well, how are you all, particularly my bonny Bess? (_Shakes hands
with her_, L.)
ROY. Half a mile below. Did he look rough?
MAR. Rough, but good-natured. Dress ragged, face bloated, figure plump.
These fellows thrive on their pickings these pests.
ROY. Don’t say that, Marcus. The fellow may have been unfortunate.
MAR. Unfortunate? Bah! What’s misfortune but a roll in the dust?——jump
up, shake yourself, and you’re as good as new. I’ve no patience with a
man who wants vim——something on the side of his face——you know——cheek!
ROY. Yes: a quality which tramps (_aside_) and drummers (_aloud_)
possess in a wonderful degree. (BESS _goes up to piano._)
MAR. For my part, I never allow myself to be staggered by the blows of
fate. When they come, I take a long breath, and hit out straight from
the shoulder.
MAY. When did you hear from your father, Mr. Graves?
MAR (_confused_). Eh,——my fa——yes——oh, yes! That is——not lately.
MAY. He was well when you heard?
MAR. Oh, yes, beautiful——that is hearty——he wishes to be remembered to
all my customers——my friends, I mean.
(_Goes up to piano._)
ROY (_coming to table_). May, what are you doing?
MAY. Pinning him in a corner. You men are so afraid of each other.
Woman’s curiosity knows no fear. We’ve found out one thing: he has a
father.
ROY. Yes, and one other: he’s afraid of him. Did you notice his
hesitation?
MAY. Yes. There’s some mystery about that father, which I mean to
fathom.
ROY. But not now; give him time. You staggered him——after his boast,
too. He didn’t strike out well. Come, let’s go into the garden. The
young people want to be left alone. (_Goes up._)
MAY (_rising_). Yes. I want you to look at my heliotropes; they’re just
splendid! (_Goes up and places arm in_ ROY’S.)
ROY. All right. Good-by, Bess. Don’t catch cold. There’s a smacking
breeze coming.
BESS. And another going. Good-by.
(ROY _and_ MAY _exit_ C.)
(GRAVES _comes down slowly and sits in chair_ R., _of table._ BESS
_watches him without speaking._)
GRAVES (_slowly_). Now what possessed Mrs. Manning to speak of my
father? A subject to which I have never alluded. Can she mistrust me?
Egad! she nearly took away my breath. My boasted boldness vanished
like a flash. (BESS _rises, takes a wisp of hay from mantel, and comes
behind him._) And yet I’ve nothing to be ashamed of,——only a mystery.
Mystery! why should I have a mystery here? (BESS _tickles his ear with
the wisp. He brushes it off quickly._) Confound it! it’s hurting me.
This girl loves me, and I love her. I’ve only to speak and she is mine.
(BESS _tickles him. He brushes it off._) Hang it! I’m tormented with
doubts. But confession is a sure road to favor. I’ll make a confidant
of Bessie. If anybody else should tell her I should be (BESS _tickles
him again_) stung with shame. Yes, I’ll meet it (BESS _puts her arms
round his neck and brings her face round as he speaks this_) face to
face.
BESS. Dreaming, Marcus? (_Sits on hassock at his feet, back to
audience_).
MAR. Why, Bess, what a brute I’ve been! Yes, dreaming, Bess, of a happy
future, I trust, in store for you and me. Do you ever dream of that
time?
BESS. Not I. When the skies are bright above us, why should we seek to
peep even in dreams beneath the horizon when we know not what storms
may be gathering there to roll over the brightness of the present?
MAR. Yes; but the cautious mariner is ever alert for the faintest signs
of the coming storm.
BESS. Well, I am not a mariner, and my umbrella is always at hand.
MAR. Bess, can’t you be serious?
BESS. I don’t know. Try me.
MAR. Bess, I love you.
BESS. A failure, Marcus. That pleases me.
MAR. And you are to be my wife?
BESS. Another, Marcus. That delights me.
MAR. Yes, Bess; I know my love is returned. For three years we have
been all in all to each other; and now, Bess, I tell you I am unworthy
of your love.
BESS. You, Marcus! Now, you surprise me!
MAR. You trust me fully? You would go with me to the altar hand in
hand, beyond the altar to death itself——
BESS. To death itself, Marcus!
MAR. And yet, on my part, there has been no confidence; into my
past life you have had no glimpse. You took me, a stranger, to your
heart,——never questioned me; and, beyond the interchange of affection,
myself, my fortune, and my home are strangers still.
BESS. Blind, Marcus! Blind, are you? My woman’s curiosity sought in the
beginning to know you; my heart’s instinct probed you, to know if you
were worthy. I found you polite, chivalrous, charitable, with a heart
open to every cry of distress, a hand ever ready to proffer assistance.
Oh, I tried you deeply, as your purse can show! I found you true,
noble, sincere. I had no right to question further.
MAR. But you must know me, Bess.
BESS. When you please, Marcus.
MAR. Then patiently hear me; for on your judgment rest my hopes of
future happiness.
BESS. Indeed! Now, Marcus, I _am_ serious.
MAR. Bess!
(_Enter_ SIMON STONE, C., _quickly._)
SIM. Beg your pardon! Don’t rise——I may be right. I may be
mistaken——Don’t rise. Is this the abode of Miss Nancy Nipper?
BESS (_rises quickly._ MARCUS _sits still_). Yes. Nancy is in the
kitchen.
SIM. Oh, made a mistake! Yes, yes. Can you point out the position of
the culinary department of your dwelling?
BESS. I will call her in. Take a seat.
SIM. Ah, thank you. (BESS _exit_ R. I. E.) Here’s my card. Gone! gone
without it, and I went to the expense of getting up that card for
the express purpose of having it placed in the hands of Miss Nancy
Nipper. Says I, “Simon, don’t be shabby. Go, like a gentleman. Spare no
expense.”——and it’s useless. (_Comes down_ R., _turns, and sees_ MARCUS
_in chair._) Halloa, Mark!——Mark, the perfect man.
MAR (_rises_). Si, old fellow where in the world did you drop from?
(_Gives hand._)
SIMON (_takes hand and shakes it_). Well, in truth, Mark——But stop. I
interrupted a _tete-a-tete_. There was a young lady sitting on that
hassock. O Mark, this is too bad! I’m in the way. Good-by (_starts for
door_).
MAR (_detaining him_). Stop, stop, Si! it’s all right. But why are you
here?
SIMON. I——why——well——Look here, Mark, I know I’m in the way. I’ll come
again (_starts for door_).
MAR (_detaining him_). No, no; it’s all right, Si. I see——you’re in
love with our Nancy.
SIMON. Our Nancy! Our——Good gracious, Mark! You don’t mean to say that
you are aspiring to the affection of that damsel?
MAR. Ha, ha, Si! You need not fear. When I said our Nancy, I meant our
girl——help, you understand.
SIMON. Oh! Ah! Then you are one of the family.
MAR (_confused_). Well, no. Not exactly.
SIMON. Oh, I see. Don’t blush, but I’m sure I must be in the way. I’ll
come again (_starts for door_).
MAR (_detaining him_). Simon, stop. If you leave this room we are
enemies.
SIMON. But, Mark, I might blast your prospects, were it known that you
and I——
MAR. Were friends, dear friends; that you were the only one who reached
out a helping hand to me a destitute stranger, when I entered yonder
city, five years ago.
SIMON. None of that, Mark. Don’t be shabby; helping hand, indeed, to a
loft in the sixth story, a bed on a heap of rags, and dry bread washed
down with water.
MAR. Divided your substance with me. Sim, when I forget your kindness,
may I be as hungry as I was then.
SIMON. Yes; but, Mark——
MAR. Hush. Here comes Miss Bess.
SIMON. Then I’ll just step outside (_going_).
MAR (_detaining him_). Not a step.
(_Enter_ BESS, R. I. E.)
BESS. Nancy will be here in a minute. Mr.——
MAR (_coming down_ L., _leading_ SIMON, _the right hands clasped_).
Bess, Miss Bradley, allow me to present a very dear friend,——Mr. Simon
Stone, my chum.
BESS. Indeed (_offering her hand_). Mr. Stone, you are very welcome
here.
SIMON (_takes hand_). Ah——yes; thank you. Thank you——very kind (_goes_
L.). Chums. Chums,——before her, too. There’s nothing shabby about that.
MAR. We’ll leave you, Simon, to your friend; but don’t go until I’ve
seen you again.
BESS. Oh, no. You must stop to dinner.
(BESS _and_ MARCUS _exeunt_, C., _arm in arm._)
SIMON. Yes, thank you, much obliged. Well, now, that’s hearty; pretty
as a picture, and he, there’s nothing shabby about him. Now, for Nancy.
Won’t her eyes glisten when she sees me in this stunning get-up. I
never did care for dress, but when I made up my mind to look after
Nancy again, I said to myself, “Simon, don’t be shabby; do the thing
in style;” and here I am, bran’ new from top to toe, from shampoo to
shining leather, but with the same old heart inside of me, advancing
double-shuffle to the tune of “Nancy is my darling.”
(_Enter_ NANCY, R. I. E.)
NANCY. Now, I’d like to know who——Good gracious! it’s Simon Stone.
SIMON. Nancy, it is. Simon, your Simon. How dye do (_offers hand_).
NANCY. Well, I declare! rigged out like a dancing-jack. You extravagant
dog!
SIMON (_turning round_). Gay, ain’t it. Cut to order by an artist,
(_turns round_); look at the “elegance of expression” in the back of
that coat, and the _tout ensemble_ of these pantaloons. That’s what
he called ’em, and I know they’re there, for I paid for ’em. Nothing
shabby about me.
NANCY. Well, and what brings you here?
SIMON. Love, Nancy. Devotion, Nancy. Affection, Nancy——
NANCY. Rubbish! Are you a fool? Don’t you know better than to bring
such things here on a washing-day?
SIMON. Washing-day! Confound it, Nancy! I’m fated to call when you are
in the suds.
NANCY. Because you always manage to come on a Monday, when I am up to
my ears in a tub.
SIMON. Monday——washing-day. That’s why somebody says cleanliness comes
next to godliness.
NANCY. Simon Stone, what is your present occupation?
SIMON. Nancy, at present I am a humble but earnest worker in the
confectionery business. (_Takes box from left coat pocket._) Have a
gum-drop? (_Offers paper._)
NANCY. No. Confectionery, indeed!
SIMON (_puts back paper_). Nancy, the first time I ever approached
you in humble admiration of your grace and beauty——try a peppermint.
(_Takes paper from his pocket and offers it._)
NANCY (_folding her arms and turning her head_). No.
SIMON (_puts back paper_). I was a butcher,——an honest but bloody
butcher. You turned up your nose at the scent of blood.
NANCY. Because I knew you wouldn’t stick to it.
SIMON. I turned my back upon the slaughtered beeves, and in that higher
sphere, the milky way, sought to win your love. You politely but firmly
assured me I couldn’t _comet_ in that line.
NANCY. I detest the whole race! Milk and water men! I’d like to scald
them.
SIMON. Cremation would suit them better. My next venture was in the
slippery walks of butter and cheese.
NANCY. Anything but a butter man.
SIMON. So I found out, when I attempted to slide into your affections
in that role. You told me to cheese it. I understood you, and I sought
a higher sphere. I embarked in the electric line, and went out into the
highways and by-ways to introduce lightning-rods.
NANCY. Well, I found no fault with that.
SIMON. No; but I did.
NANCY. Why didn’t you stick to it?
SIMON. Well, Nancy, (_takes box from breast pocket_). Have a little
taffee?
NANCY. No.
SIMON (_puts paper back_). The fact is, lightning-rods don’t agree
with me. I started out in high hopes, one bright morning, espied an
unprotected dwelling, rushed boldly up, rung the bell, notwithstanding
a gigantic mastiff lay at my feet, evidently occupied in catching
flies. Gent came to the door. In glowing speech I introduced my
business. He rubbed his chin, said, “I don’t know,” and looked at the
dog. I found he did know, when he further remarked, with emphasis,
“Rover, here’s another rod man.” The dog gave a growl and rose. An
electric shock was communicated to my being, and I calculated in one
brief minute how many rods I should have to clear before reaching
my rods outside. Then I left, closely attended by the dog. I didn’t
own these clothes then; if I had my loss would have been greater,
especially in that part of my wardrobe which the artist designated as
_tout ensemble_. I gave up that business in disgust.
NANCY. Well, what next?
SIMON. Then I sought the confectioner’s emporium. Said I, here’s a
sweet occupation, and a candid young man can win more lasses’ favor in
this line than in any other. Nancy, you would adore me could you see me
in a white apron, pulling molasses candy over a hook (_with gestures_),
with a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull altogether!
NANCY. Simon Stone, you are a fool!
SIMON. Nancy, I know it, or I should not be running after you, when
I’ve been snubbed time and time again. Nancy, dear Nancy, look upon me
with favor this time. (_Takes box from pocket behind._) Accept this
slight but sweet offering of affection. (_Presents it._) Real French
candy——made it myself.
NANCY (_taking box_). Do you mean to stick to this business, Simon?
SIMON. To be sure I do, and it’s an awful sticky business I tell
you——specially setting down into a pan of hot, cooling candy when you
aren’t particularly tired.
NANCY. Well, Simon, if I thought I could trust you.
SIMON. You can, Nancy, you can. O Nancy, quit this scrubbing existence
and work for me alone!
NANCY. I’ll think about it when you find the soap.
SIMON. I have found it in the confectionery line.
NANCY. Well, Simon, I must confess I rather like that.
SIMON. Do you Nancy. Eurekey, I’ve found it at last! (_Takes paper from
pants pocket._) Try a chocolate drop, Nancy. (_She takes it._) You make
me so happy. It’s just the nicest business you ever looked upon. Rows
and rows of shelves filled with all that’s sweet to the tooth——and
profitable to the dentist. And then the girls, Nancy, you should see
the girls.
NANCY. The what?
SIMON. Girls. Pretty girls that tend behind the counters, dealing out
sugar plums, and——and lozengers, and——and kisses, with eyes full of fun
and mouths full of candy. Oh, it’s just glorious! Ha! ha! ha!
NANCY (_sternly_). Simon!
SIMON (_sobered_). Well, Nancy?
NANCY. Do you ever look at the girls?
SIMON. To be sure I do. I’ve often received a kiss from them.
NANCY. Simon!
SIMON. Sugar ones, Nancy.
NANCY. Very well, Simon, very well. I’m perfectly satisfied.
SIMON. Oh, Nancy! then you——
NANCY (_furiously_). I’ll have nothing more to say to a man who so
debases himself as to associate with lozengers and lollypops, sugar
plums and pretty girls, with eyes full of candy and mouths full of
kisses. Good morning, Mr. Stone.
SIMON. Where are you going, Nancy?
NANCY. Back to my washing. The business won’t suit, Simon.
SIMON. What! are you going to snub me again? (_Angry._) Hang it, Nancy
Nipper! I’m not going to be treated in this shabby manner! Take me now,
or you lose me forever. It’s the last time of asking.
NANCY. I’m glad of that. ’Twill save much trouble.
SIMON. Then give me back my French mixture. There is nothing shabby
about me; but if I can’t have your affection, you shan’t have my
confectionery.
NANCY (_throws box at him_). There!
SIMON (_picks up box_). Good day, Miss Nipper. You’ve nipped my
prospects of having your sweet self; but I’ve got a sweet thing left in
the sugar and molasses line, and I don’t mean to give it up.
NANCY. Go back to your sweet things, your pretty waiter girls. Go, sir!
SIMON. I will, you cruel, heartless, scrubby thing! and if ever I face
you again with an offer of my heart——
NANCY. Be sure to come on Monday; for then I always have plenty of hot
water.
SIMON. Bah! I hope you’ll live and die an old maid, Miss Nipper. Them’s
my compliments to you, and there’s nothing shabby about me.
(_Exit_ C.)
NANCY. Good riddance, Simon. Wonder in what new freak of business he’ll
appear next.
(_Enter_ MAY C.)
MAY. Ah, Nancy, you’ve had a visitor! Nice-looking, clever young man, I
should say. (_Seats herself at her sewing_ L. _of table_).
NANCY. Clever! he’s too clever. Thinks he knows a great deal; and
I think he knows more by this time. They’re all clever enough to
come offering their affection; but, till he can offer something more
substantial, he’ll find I’m clever enough to keep single. (MATT
_staggers in from_ L. _to door_ C. _and leans against side of door_
L.). Good gracious! here’s a tramp. (_Goes_ R.)
MAY (_rising alarmed_). A tramp!
MATT. ’Scuse me (_hic_). Somesin’ to eat——four days since I tasted
noth—_hic_—in. Somesin’ for a brave sol—_hic_—dier, who flought and fed
for his country. (_Hic._) Tha’s me.
NANCY. Go away; clear out. ’Sh! nothing for you, you beast!
MATT. ’Scuse me (_hic_). Here’s gratitude! Where’s your pat—_hic_—rism?
Us brave fel—_hic_—lers,——that’s me. I’m one on ’em. Fit and fled
(_hic_), and won the gl—_hic_—ory. Look at your waving (_hic_)
cornfields. We s_h_aved ’em. Your princely pal—_hic_—aces. We protected
’em. And now you (_hic_) ’sh! and would give us noble de—_hic_—fenders
of the soil noffin’ (_hic_) to keep the door from the (_hic_) wolf.
(_Staggering down to chair_ R. _of table, hand on back of it._)
’Sgraceful; ’scuse me; ’sgraceful. (_Hic._) No offence; but it’s
’sgraceful. (_Sinks into chair._)
NANCY. You ugly bear! Leave this house quick, or I’ll scald you!
MATT. ’Scuse me (_hic_), young woman. I’m ’dressing my
con—_hic_—’sation to your superior of—_hic_—ficer——
MAY. Silence, sir! You are intruding here. If you want something to
eat, follow Nancy and she will provide for you.
NANCY. If I do, I hope ’twill choke him.
MATT. Oh, that’s Nan—_hic_—cy, is it? Nan—_hic_—cy, my regards. I
salute you, Nan—_hic_—cy! I’m a poor old soldier, deserted by his
(_hic_) country; but I’ve an eye for beauty (_hic_). Sorry you haven’t
any, Nan—_hic_—cy.
MAY. Nancy, speak to your master.
NANCY (_starts for door_). That I will, quick!
MATT (_rising and stopping her_). Don’t trouble yourself, Nancy. I’m
unfor—_hic_—’nate, but I’m (_hic_) polite. Stay where you are. (_Sinks
into chair._) This company’s good ’nuff (_hic_) for me.
MAY. Oh, where can Roy be? This fellow terrifies me!
MATT. ’Scuse me. I’m a patriot. (_Hic._) This is what a man gets for
servin’ his country. (_Hic._) When the battle’s over, turn him adrift.
(_Hic._) Why didn’t they make me Pres—_hic_—ident as well as that
other fellow? I fit and fed (_hic_), and he fit and run (_hic_) for
President. ’Sgraceful shame! (_Hic._) ’Scuse me.
(_Enter_ MARCUS _followed by_ BESS.)
NANCY. Ah, here’s somebody’ll make you run.
MAY. O Mr. Marcus! Mr. Graves!
MAR. Halloa! what’s this? The tramp! (_Comes down._) Here, fellow, you
start!
MATT (_turns and looks at him_). ’Scuse me (_hic_), are you anybody in
par—_hic_—ticular?
MAR. Leave this room at once. Do you hear?
MATT. ’Scuse me. I’m com—_hic_—fortable; make yourself at home.
MAR (_striking him with whip_). Scoundrel, begone, I say.
(ROYAL _enters_ C.)
MATT (_rising_). Ha! it strikes me that you struck (_hic_) me. (_Hic._)
I don’t keep no accounts. So let that settle (_hic_) it. (_Strikes at_
MARCUS. ROYAL _comes down, seizes him by nape of neck, and throws him
on floor_ L. _halfway up._)
ROY. Lie there, you scamp!
MATT (_staggering to his feet_). Ha, surrounded! then I’ll die game
(_hic_), I will. (_Rushes at_ ROY; _they grapple, and stand looking
into each other’s faces. Chord._)
ROY. Matt Winsor.
MATT. Here. (_Hic._) Hold on a minute. Yes, it’s Roy (_hic_), Roy
Manning, as I’m a s_h_inner!
ROY (_grasping his hand_). My old comrade, Matt. Heaven bless you! It
is, it is.
MATT (_shaking his hand_). Yes it’s him, glory (_hic_), old boy; we’ve
marched together, slept together, fought together, now let’s take
(_hic_) a drink together.
ROY. Not now, Matt; you seem to have taken a little too much already.
May, this is my old comrade, of the war.
MAY (_turning away_). His comrade?
BESS (_comes down_ L.). May, he’s drunk.
MATT (_comes down_). ’Scuse me, ma’am, we were sweethearts in the camp
(_hic_), you’re his sweet—_hic_—heart now; but you can’t love Roy any
better than I did in those (_hic_) gay old days (_hic_), and now an
ungrateful (_hic_) republic turns her noble ’fenders out to starve.
ROY. Not quite as bad as that, Matt. I’ve enough and to spare. Come
with me.
MATT. Hold on a (_hic_) minute, Roy. Who’s the chap with the whip?
ROY (C.). Mr. Marcus Graves.
MATT. ’Scuse me (_hic_), what did you say his name was? Oh! Mr. Tombs.
We’ve met before.
MAR (R.). Yes, once before to-day, when I tossed you a quarter. Sorry
you made such bad use of it.
MATT. So am I (_fiercely_). I wish I had turned and flung it in your
face.
MAR. Sir.
ROY. Matt.
MATT. He struck me, Roy——me, an old soldier of the (_hic_) republic.
’Sgraceful. I’m going to pay off that score. We met once——before this
day.
MAR. I never saw your face before.
MATT. Indeed. (_Hic._) My face is one to be remembered.
NANCY (_enters_ R.). That’s so. It has no beauty to speak of.
(_Aside_). Paid off that score.
MATT. Once before, in the prisoner’s dock. I as a vagrant (_hic_), you
as a defaulter.
ROY. A defaulter! Matt.
MAY. Gracious heavens!
BESS. No! no! ’tis false.
ROY. Matt, you are crazy.
MATT. Am I? What says Mr. Graves?
ROY. That it is false.
GRAVES. Unfortunately it is true.
MAY. True?
BESS (_flinging herself into_ MAY’S _arms_). O May!
ROY. And you dare to enter my house, you,——a felon?
MATT (_staggering down and sitting in chair_ R. _of table_).
’Scgraceful! (_hic_) ’mong respectable people (_hic_) like me.
MAR. Hold, Mr. Manning! hear, before you condemn. I am innocent
of crime. Five years ago I was employed in a house in Chicago as
book-keeper. A large sum of money was found missing, and I alone had
access to it. I was arrested, and placed in the prisoner’s dock.
No proofs could be found to convict me, so I was discharged. I was
innocent. The cunning rogue had so covered his tracks that the real
culprit could not be detected. I was requested to resign my situation,
which I did.
ROY. And you took no steps to make your innocence clear?
MAR. Unfortunately, no. I knew I was innocent, and, anxious to keep the
matter from my father, Hon. Lucius Graves, of Wisconsin, I came East,
hoping that in time my innocence would be admitted, and I should be
recalled.
ROY. And your father?
MAR. Believes I am still in Chicago.
ROY. And without a word of explanation, with this stigma upon your
character, you have won the affections of an inmate of my household?
Mr. Graves, I am a just man; when you can clearly prove your innocence,
you will be welcome. Until then, my doors are no longer open to you.
MAY. O Roy!
BESS. He is innocent; I know he is innocent!
ROY. Let him be proved so, and no one will give him warmer greeting.
But when a man’s character is attacked, to turn his back upon the enemy
and fly without striking one blow for his reputation is a mark of
cowardice which no soldier can pardon.
MAR. I understand you, sir; and, bitter as are your words, I thank you
for them. You have shown me my duty. Bess, darling, be of good heart. I
will return to claim you. You know I am innocent; but I will not appear
until the world shall know the truth. Farewell!
(_Exit_ C.)
BESS. (_Throws herself into_ MAY’S _arms._) O May May! this is cruel!
MAY. Cheer up, cheer up, my darling; all will yet be well.
MATT. (_Hic_). Bless my soul. I’ve done it. (_Rises._) Good-by,
Roy, (_offers hand_) ole fellow! Glad you are prospering, though an
ungrateful country did turn me adrift.
ROY. No, Matt, you wander no more. Do you remember our compact at
Antietam? Whatever fortune the world had in store for us should be
shared together.
MATT. Yes; I’ll stick to it, Roy. I’ll share with you mine, the spoils
of the tramp, crusts, (_hic_) kicks, and all.
ROY. I’ll share something better with you, a comfortable home,
friendship,——a far better life for you, old wanderer!
MAY. His home here!
NANCY. Then I’ll give notice.
MATT. Roy, old comrade, you are jesting. I shall disgrace you.
ROY. Then out of my disgrace shall a man be born again. As we fought
together for the old flag, we’ll fight again. I see a victory to be
won, a loyal heart to be reclaimed from the clutches of the enemy. I
will lead, old comrade; will you follow?
MATT. To victory or death, Roy, hand in hand. (ROY _clasps hand in_ C.)
MAY. Royal, are you mad?——this wretch in our happy home! Why, why is
this?
ROY. Your counsel, May. Comrades in adversity should be comrades in
prosperity.
TABLEAU.
ROY _and_ MATT _hands clasped_, C. MAY _with her arm about_ BESSIE’S
_waist_ L. NANCY R. _hands on her hips._
CURTAIN.