DOLLIE. (_Hearing._) Oh, what did they s_Lively plays for live people

PRES. (_Raps vigorously._) Order please, ladies! It is already past the

hour for meeting.

BIRDIE. (_Sentimentally._) Oh, I do take such an interest in this club.

If this club fails, the new woman—(_Pres. sharply._) “Order.” (_BIRDIE

drops in seat._) Oh!

PRES. (_Raps very hard._) The club will come to order! Secretary, read—

MEMBER. (_Who has not yet heard the calls to order._) Ashes of roses

trimmed with—

PRES. The object of this club is to cultivate self-reliant _new_ women.

Let us live up to our opportunities. Secretary, call the roll.

SEC. (_Calls, nobody answers._) Miss Hykight, Miss Lightfoot, Miss

Robbins, Miss Giglette, Miss Smythe, Miss Tompkins, Miss White, Miss

Spooner, Miss Suitor, (_hesitates_) Miss Doughflyer, Miss—

MISS DOUGHFLYER. (_Jumps up hastily._) Miss President, I wish to correct

the secretary. (_With dignity._) My name is _not_ Doughflyer though it

is spelled that way. We are English, you know, of Norman extraction, and

pronounce our name Duffy. It comes from the French Du Fay.

SEC. I beg your pardon, pleased to make the correction.

PRES. (_To sec._) By the way, Miss Lightfoot, you appear to be a stranger

to Miss Duffy. Allow me to introduce you. Miss Duffy, Miss Lightfoot;

Miss Lightfoot, Miss Duffy. (_They bow._)

SEC. (_Continues._) Miss Hapgood, Miss Littlejohn, Miss

Brownmuffin—(_hesitates_) Willie Jones.

CHORUS. Good gracious, is she a boy?

BIRDIE. (_Rises, severely._) There seems to be some mistake about that

name. One of the rules of this club is that no man shall ever enter its

sacred precincts or even be mentioned except pro forma. I think it is an

insult to the club even to mention a man’s name here in that familiar

way—Willie Jones—much less to put his name on the roll.

PRES. I agree to that, Miss Robbins. It is in atrociously bad taste if

intended for a joke.

SEC. I found the name on a slip of members proposed.

PRES. (_With dignity._) Ladies, who proposed Willie Jones? (_No answer.

DOLLIE, who has been busily talking to a member suddenly realizes that

some business is before the club and asks_:)

DOLLIE. What is the question?

PRES. (_Sternly._) The question is, who dared desecrate our roll with the

name of a man. Willie Jones, who is he?

DOLLIE. (_Jumps up._) Goodness me, he’s not a he. He’s a girl! (_All

laugh._) Such a ridiculous mistake! It would so mortify poor Willie if

she were here. She’s such a dear, timid little thing; why, she hardly

dares breathe.

DAISY. What a funny name for a girl, anyway.

DOLLIE. Poor thing, she can’t help it. Parents old fashioned you know,

and like men well enough to want their names.

PRES. The name is very good since it is borne by a woman. The new woman

will not only do as she pleases, but call herself what she pleases. She

will not await the pleasure of some man to bestow his precious name on

her. _I_ never saw the man whose name _I_ wanted.

BIRDIE. (_Rises._) Nor have _I_, the presumptuous creatures. When they

fit themselves to be the companions of the nobler sex it will be time

enough for them to ask our friendship only, and for us to refuse if we

choose.

PRES. And we also assume the right to ask instead of waiting patiently

like slaves in a market. The new woman will be no slave.

CHORUS. Never!

PRES. I believe the next business is to consider the applications for

new members to the “New Woman’s Anti-homo Club.” (_To sec._) What

applications are there to come up to-day? (_Members begin an epidemic of

whispering._) Order please, ladies! (_Brief lull which ends in a general

buzz._)

SEC. (_Reads._) The first name is Miss Ernestine Arlington.

PRES. Who proposed Miss Arlington?

SEC. Miss Brownmuffin, who is not present.

PRES. Has anyone anything to say before the ballot is taken?

DOLLIE. I don’t know that I ought to say anything. (_General curiosity._)

DAISY. Oh yes, do.

DOLLIE. But people might blame me for trying to injure the girl.

PRES. Let people talk, the new woman does not care a fig for what people

say.

DOLLIE. Miss Arlington is a very sweet girl, but—

BIRDIE. (_Rises._) Miss President!

PRES. Miss Birdie Robbins.

BIRDIE. I rise to correct the language of Miss Giglette. I object to the

word sweet. It sounds silly. The new woman will, I hope, not be a piece

of confectionery, inciting men to cannibalism.

DOLLIE. (_With slight emphasis._) Well, I don’t care! Ernestine _is_

sweet but that’s not the worst, she’s engaged to be married. (_Chorus of_

“Oh’s.”)

DAISY. Who is he? Oh, I didn’t mean that? Has he money? Is he a foreigner?

PRES. A foreigner with money! Bah! A foreigner is only better than the

native tyrant in this, that he makes no pretension to be suffering from

that antiquated, imaginary malady _love_. He boldly proclaims that he

gives his name and reserves his freedom. He is at least honest. Engaged!

Silly, weak creature, that’s enough to know of her.

BIRDIE. I should say!

PRES. The constitution of this club, as we all know, forbids the marriage

of its members. We believe that we have a nobler work to accomplish in

the world. And I repeat, for the benefit of new members, that no member

of this club may receive any kind of attention from any man nor pay

attentions to any man, except by consent and advice of this club.

BIRDIE. (_Rises._) I think we ought to censure Miss Brownmuffin for

recommending such a creature who is weak enough to throw herself at a

man in that way, for I warrant she led him on.

PRES. Are there any other names to be presented to-day?

SEC. Yes, Mrs. Judge Stone!

MEMBER. (_Jumping up._) But no _Missus_ is eligible. We will have no

woman who is weak enough to marry a man.

SEC. But Mrs. Judge Stone’s case is quite exceptional. She is a brave

woman. Filed a bill of divorce, heard the case herself, and granted a

decree with a ripping alimony.

CHORUS. Good, good! (_Applause._)

BIRDIE. What was the cause?

SEC. Her husband, the tyrant, objected to her smoking during their

reception to the Count Spaghetti, who married Miss Bullion-Brown.

CHORUS. Oh! oh! the brute! served him right.

PRES. I think we should admit this brilliant woman, the champion of her

sex, without the formality of a ballot.

BIRDIE. Yes, by all means, and extend her a vote of thanks, besides, for

her achievements in the cause of progress.

CHORUS. Yes, yes!

PRES. Mrs. Judge Stone is admitted by unanimous consent, and the thanks

is also a vote. (_To sec._) What is next?

SEC. Some questions were to be presented for future discussion.

PRES. Read them!

SEC. WHEREAS: The New Woman’s Club and Anti-homo Association points with

pride to its record in the matter of political and social reform, it

further views with alarm the gradual encroachments of the male sex upon

the dress of women. Witness the almost universal adoption of bloomers

by men of fashion, which is rapidly being imitated by male maids of all

work, and even scullions and dish-washers.

BIRDIE. Miss President, such a condition of affairs is ominous. It

threatens the very foundations of society. In my opinion men are secretly

encouraged in such practices by that class of women whom we designate

as marrying women. Our battle is not yet completely won. A large number

of our own sex oppose us, and cling to the old system which made woman

a slave. I therefore move that a committee be named to call upon Her

Excellency, Governor Angelina Perkins, and Chief Justice Daisy Flyer

inviting them to a joint discussion of this important question, in the

rooms of this club.

DOLLIE. I second that motion.

PRES. I see no harm in it and will name as the committee ex-Judge Birdie

Robbins, ex-Mayor Dollie Giglette, of whom, by the way, we are all proud

as the youngest mayor ever elected in this city, and Miss Brownmuffin.

I think the question will be ably debated, since it is well known that

Governor Angelina Perkins is inclined to a strict interpretation of the

statutes, while Chief Justice Daisy Flyer has liberal tendencies and her

rulings give men all the privileges which they may fairly ask so long as

society is constituted as at present.

DOLLIE. For my part I think the question not important. Since women have

almost universally adopted pantaloons and derby hats I am willing that

the men wear bloomers and put feathers in their hats if they choose. Men

are naturally vain and the slaves of fashion.

BIRDIE. We set a bad example in our dress here!

PRES. Our dress here is only a survival, regalia in fact, like that of

the women’s Ancient Order of Matrimony.

DOLLIE. It is very absurd and should have been abolished long ago.

SEC. I have the following question to propose: (_Reads._) Shall men be

compelled to remove their hats in theatres?

DAISY. The law says plainly, they shall!

BIRDIE. The law, indeed! What’s the use to talk about the law when the

people have been fools enough to elect a gang mayor and a man at that.

He winks at most outrageous infractions of the law! What are we coming to?

DOLLIE. The remedy lies in the ballot.

SEC. (_Reads._) Shall a woman give her seat in a street car to a tired

man?

PRES. That question is absurd. If the man is young and stylishly dressed

he gets the seat and if he isn’t he stands, that’s all. Is there any

further business?

SEC. None!

PRES. The club stands adjourned till the next regular meeting. (_All rise

and with a buzz disperse going R. except pres. and sec._)

ROSA. Hykight, I am worried about the finances of the club.

PINK T. Lightfoot, that is Doughflyer’s business!

ROSA. Doughflyer is _so_ reckless!

PINK T. How much do we owe?

ROSA. Nearly five thousand dollars.

PINK T. That is nothing for a wealthy club like ours. Why, in the old

times when men carried the pocket-book and managed clubs they were always

head over heels in debt.

ROSA. (_Surprised._) Why, Miss Pink T. Hykight! Do you adduce the men’s

clubs as examples for our guidance?

PINK T. Certainly not. Their clubs are cheap nowadays because we allow

them so little pocket money. And they are so weak in the matter of drinks.

ROSA. But we can’t pay bills even in 1950 without money.

PRES. I tire of hearing about money. Money has never been the chief

object in any condition of society.

ROSA. We’ll not agree there. Our grandfathers and fathers made a god of

money, a swinish, brutal fetich. But we must do something; our wine bill

is enormous.

PINK T. That comes of giving a banquet at the Paragon Hotel and inviting

a thirsty horde of men.

ROSA. But the bill must be paid, and the cigar man is clamoring for his

money.

PINK T. Pay him!

ROSA. Pay him! Why, the bill is over three hundred dollars. We do smoke

so much and the members are hanging the club up.

PINK T. That is contrary to rules. Doughflyer is responsible for that.

She is too easy. By the way, have you a cigar about you?

ROSA. No, I came down in the car with Judge Flyer and she took the last

one I had. I’ll ring for Mary to bring in cigars.

_ENTER MARY, R._

PINK T. Oh, here she is now.

MARY. Miss Hykight, there is a man at the door who wishes to see the

president.

PINK T. A man! No man can come in here except in extreme necessity or in

a menial capacity. Tell him to go.

MARY. I have told him that. He insists, says he must see the president

and will not be put off longer. (_Going L._)

PINK T. Will not be put off! Such insolence! Call a policeman. Goodness!

I hear him coming in here! He’s bound to speak to me. There’s no escape.

I’m subject to impeachment if this gets out.

ROSA. I shan’t take any chances. (_Runs out L._, P. T. _following._)

_ENTER JACK BLAKE, R._

BLAKE. (_Bowing politely._) Can I see the president of the club?

PINK T. (_At L., with dignity._) I am the president. You are intruding,

sir.

BLAKE. (_Bowing very low._) I beg your pardon but I must see somebody.

PINK T. (_Aside._) _So_ polite! Your business, sir?

BLAKE. I am collector for the Universal Grab-all Gas Co. The bill, you

know.

PINK T. I do not know. See Miss Daisy Doughflyer, our financial secretary.

BLAKE. Duffy! The name given me was _Doughflyer_!

PINK T. (_Laughs._) How absurd! You got the name wrong. She spells it

Doughflyer and pronounces it Duffy. She’s English, you know.

BLAKE. Beg pardon! I didn’t know that. I’ve looked all over town for that

woman.

PINK T. She’s a lawyer. Doughflyer and Muldoon, Cinderella building,

corner of Matilda street and Marie Louise avenue.

BLAKE. Miss Hykight, I thank you for your courtesy. Sorry I intruded.

(_Bows politely._)

PINK T. Don’t mention it.

_ENTER MARY, L._

MARY. (_Sees B., coughs._) Miss President, the ice hasn’t come.

PINK T. I’ll see you later Mary! (_Slips coin in her hand. Exit MARY, L._)

BLAKE. By the way, where is the meter? Our man had trouble finding it.

PINK T. Step into the office, through that door. The stewardess will show

you. (_Exit BLAKE, bowing very politely, L._)

PINK T. What a charming man! The gas officials are so polite. I hear they

train all their men in a regular school of etiquette, taught by a real

French professor. But this little interview must be strictly on the Q. T.

(_Exit, R._)

_ENTER ROSA and BLAKE, talking earnestly._

ROSA. (_Glancing round._) Thank heaven, she is gone and no one is likely

to come so soon after the business meeting.

BLAKE. You have a charming place here. But why is it so very hard to see

your officials, Miss Lightfoot?

ROSA. Why, don’t you know? Our rules are very strict. No man without

a license is ever allowed to enter here except on certain days of

public receptions. If you were seen here with me I should be subject to

impeachment and expulsion and you would be hopelessly compromised.

BLAKE. (_Starting._) No!

ROSA. A fact! Can I rely on your discretion?

BLAKE. (_Bowing his best._) You can. I would gladly be the slave of such

a charming creature.

ROSA. (_Pretending offense._) No nonsense, please! The new woman dislikes

the word slave. On your honor, do you promise silence?

BLAKE. (_Bowing._) I do!

ROSA. For your own sake, too!

BLAKE. I must preserve my reputation. I shall be silent as the grave.

ROSA. (_Aside._) Such lovely manners! Now go, please.

_ENTER MARY L., she starts and coughs._

ROSA. (_To BLAKE._) Oh, please go at once! (_Exit BLAKE, hastily, R._)

Mary, you know our rules! This is an accident. He came to see about the

gas. (_She gives Mary a coin._) Can I rely on you?

MARY. Forever, Miss Lightfoot.

ROSA. Thank you! (_Exit R._)

MARY. Well, if there aint trouble brewin’ here, my name isn’t Mary

Smilax. First the president making eyes at him, and bribin’ me, and then

the secretary. And he’s just lovely, too. (_Hears noise._) Oh, there’s

the iceman!

_ENTER MACK, the iceman, L._

MACK. Is there nobody around this blessed shop? I’ve been hammering at

the side door for an hour.

MARY. Nonsense, Mack! I haven’t been out of my office for five minutes.

MACK. Don’t care, Smilax. I can’t be detained this way. I’ll just leave

your ice on the sidewalk hereafter.

MARY. Do it if you dare, and we’ll just try the Susie Miller Ice Company.

MACK. The Susie Miller Co. be blowed! (_Coaxingly._) Now Smilax, you

wouldn’t be that hard on a feller an’ lose him a good customer like this

club? The company looks to its drivers to hold customers.

MARY. And it’s a poor dependence.

MACK. Mary, don’t be hard on a feller.

MARY. Mr. Mack, your language is shockingly coarse at times. _Feller_ is

slang.

MACK. Well, Mary—

MARY. There you go again! Don’t call me Mary. Call me Smilax, or Miss

Smilax.

MACK. You used to be just Mary Smith.

MARY. Used to be isn’t now. Smith is too plain and common for me. When I

entered the employment of this club I became a new woman, and I just took

a new name. I was tired of Smith. When I applied to Justice Daisy Flyer

to get a permit to change my name, she said flowers were having a great

run for names, and I chose Smilax.

MACK. Mary, you are prettier to me than any flower.

MARY. (_Smiles._) That is a very pretty compliment, but you forget that

it is only proper for _our_ sex to pay such compliments as that. The new

woman—

MACK. Bother the new woman. Since you have become a new woman, Mary, you

drive me to distraction.

MARY. Mr. Mack, you are really provoking. So weak and sentimental. Do

have a little regard for propriety, and the modesty natural to your sex.

MACK. I never can please you now. The old woman was hard enough to

please, but the new one—heaven help us.

MARY. Mr. Mack, can’t I teach you that it is not your place to compliment

me, but my place to compliment you? You are rather forward.

MACK. Oh, it has come to _that_, has it? (_Going, angry, L._)

MARY. (_Aside._) He’s so fascinating when he is vexed a little.

(_Follows._) He’s irresistible. John!

MACK. (_Turning._) She called me John. (_To MARY, stiffly._) _John!_ I

think _you_ are presuming, Miss.

MARY. I beg your pardon. May I not call you John?

MACK. (_Drops eyes coquettishly._) You are so persistent.

MARY. Then I may call you John?

MACK. It’s so sudden! Give me time. I think I shall never marry.

MARY. Very well, if that is your decision, I—I—

MACK. (_Alarmed._) Oh, I didn’t mean that.

MARY. May I seal that sweet confession with a kiss? (_Advances toward

MACK._)

_ENTER BERTIE R. 1, JOHN darts out L._

BERTIE. (_Coughs._) Aw! I saiey there, now!

MARY. (_Turns angrily._) Who are you, sir? Do you know where you are?

BERTIE. (_Adjusting eye-glass and staring._) Yaas! (_Regarding her._)

Wathah pwetty, don’t you know; but lacks style.

MARY. (_Angrily._) Do you know where you are?

BERTIE. Yaas.

MARY. Oh, you do! Well let me say that the “New Woman’s Club” is

forbidden to men. Special charter, you see. Penalties attached! Why, you

could be committed for felony.

BERTIE. (_Starting._) You don’t saiey!

MARY. Yes, I do say. Now will you go at once, before I call a policeman?

BERTIE. I cawn’t, weally, till I’ve found out something I’m dying to know.

MARY. Well, did you ever! Wont go, eh! I shall have to throw you out.

(_Business of pushing up sleeves._)

BERTIE. (_Starting._) I declare, she’s going to wesoht to violence. I

saiey now! (_MARY takes BERTIE by shoulders and is rushing him toward

door. He drops cane, eye-glass, etc. Makes a feeble effort to resist._)

MARY. I’ll show you how to go, you insolent cub!

BERTIE. (_Manages to turn round._) Oh, I saiey now. Don’t be hasty, you

know I—I—(_gets coin from pocket and slips it in her hand._) I only

wanted to ask a question, then I’ll go.

MARY. (_Looks at coin and changes tone instantly._) Why didn’t you say so

at first. We may be detected. Who are you?

BERTIE. Bertie Howell, there’s my cahd!

MARY. Very well, Mr. Howell. Your business?

BERTIE. You were so thweatening, don’t you know. You quite alahmed me.

You look so musculah, don’t you know.

MARY. Cut that. Time is precious.

BERTIE. You must sweah eternal secwecy.

MARY. If it is so very important as that, I think I’d rather not.

BERTIE. Me weputation is in your hands. A word would blawst it. You know

I have long admiahed in secwet one of the membeahs of this club.

MARY. Indeed! That’s no news. They are rather a swell set.

BERTIE. Awful swaggah, don’t you know. I’ve noticed her in the cahs,

don’t you know, and she knows Governoh Angelina Perkins, too, and they

talk politics—an’ how I do wish I could undehstand those things, but I

cawn’t, you see.

MARY. Yes, I see.

BERTIE. Yestehday she gave me her seat in the stweet cah. It put me all

in a flutteh, don’t you know. I blushed scawlet and put me veil down at

once.

MARY. Poor silly thing! You are very imprudent coming here.

BERTIE. Vewy, but I confide in you.

MARY. You may trust me implicitly, but what can I do for you?

BERTIE. Mention casuawlly that I am an heir, mamma fwightfully wich,

don’t you know, only child, an’ all that. Start a talk, don’t you see.

MARY. But whom am I to talk to! I don’t know your flame.

BERTIE. (_Sucks cane._) Aw, an obstacle wight away, I neveh could

suhmount obstacles. I saiey now, help me out, woman. A cwuel custom

compels me to sit and wait to be wooed.

MARY. Describe her!

BERTIE. (_Brightening._) To be suah, good idea, don’t you know. Well, she

is awfully swell.

MARY. Nonsense! Blonde or brunette?

BERTIE. Aw, thanks for the suggestion. How deuced clevah you aw. She’s a

blonde.

MARY. Clothes?

BERTIE. Velvet suit, cutaway coat, silk tile, silveh knee chains that

hook into the wing of the shoe toes by a deuce of a clevah little hand,

don’t you know.

MARY. Why, that must be the Hon. Dollie Giglette.

BERTIE. _Dollie_, did you say? Oh, how fohgetful I am, I did hear them

call her—

_ENTER DOLLIE, R._

MARY. (_With warning gesture._) Hush! There she comes. (_Runs out, L._)

BERTIE. She comes! Wuined! (_Drops his veil instantly._)

TABLEAU.

_DOLLIE, laughing, down R. C. BERTIE, with averted face, L. C._

QUICK CURTAIN.

ACT II.

SCENE—_Club house as before. Time: Morning, a few days later

than Act I. Pres. Hykight discovered looking at letter case._

PINK T. Why, here _is_ a letter. That’s strange; my mail comes to my

business office. (_Opens letter, reads._) Why, from that Mr. Blake of

the Gas Company. Dear me! I wrote him that he really must not come here

any more and he has the audacity to answer, saying that he is obliged to

come. The rules of the company are inexorable, etc. Nonsense! It isn’t

the rules of the company that compel him. It is something else. I guess

I’m the attraction, in short. (_Sighs._) I’m getting tired of all this

strife fighting the battles of reform. The new woman is a pretty lonesome

creature. But I might have been brought up a marrying woman. And if I

had! Poor helpless creatures! (_Sighs._) Well, sometimes I think that

I’d rather preside in a nice home than in this club. Mr. Blake _is_

handsome—such eyes and such a mustache! and such manners! How kind of

the Gas Company to educate their men in etiquette. That is because a

woman is president of the company. Why, I’ve read that in the old time

the insolence of gas employés almost equaled that of employés in the

city hall nowadays. But he is poor and I can not stoop! The motto of the

Hykights is “Upward,” and I, Pink T. Hykight, a descendant of President

Hykight, shall not be the first to step out of the family rank. The

Blakes are of very good family, but Mr. Blake has only his salary.

_ENTER MARY, L._

MARY. Oh, are you here, Miss Hykight?

PINK T. Yes, I am early, called for my mail.

MARY. How absurd it was for that carrier to get stuck in the chute.

PINK T. Yes, it might have been serious. Smilax, I want the silver

counted to-day.

MARY. I’ll attend to it, Miss Hykight. (_Exit, MARY, L._)

PINK T. (_Looking at letter._) No, I think Chief of Police, Brennan

de Cork is more to my notion. The de Cork’s have been illustrious for

centuries. They were kings of Ireland, and they say he has made his pile

in politics, too. I’ll propose to de Cork yet. I believe he expects

it, too. I’m sick of public life. Poor Blake! I’ll just write him to

call about the meter again and find some way to let him know that his

hopes are vain. Poor thing! He is so infatuated with me. It’s dangerous

but I’ll risk it. (_Rings._) I’ll write de Cork asking him to theatre

this very night. (_Writes hastily._) No stamp! I’ll mail it outside.

(_Attempts to put note in pocket; drops it on floor. Rings._) Where are

all the servants?

_ENTER MARY, L._

PINK T. Smilax, where is Belinda and Alfaretta Pansy?

MARY. I sent Belinda for cigars. Alfaretta is sick to-day.

PINK T. What hour do you open the club house?

MARY. At eight o’clock, Miss Hykight, according to regulation.

PINK T. Is your help all here at that hour?

MARY. Promptly, Miss.

PINK T. When do members appear?

MARY. Seldom before noon, and most of them after four. You see the

trouble of dressing in this old regalia keeps them away. We ought to

abolish such an ancient rule and admit the modern dress.

PINK T. That is a club matter.

MARY. (_Vexed._) Oh, it’s not for me to say. I just suggested. Miss

President, the Swiss cheese for the bar is hardly up to the last lot, I

think. Will you come and taste it? (_Exeunt L._)

_ENTER ROSA LIGHTFOOT, R. 1._

ROSA. (_Has not seen them, goes to letter case._) A letter for me! A

strange hand! (_Reads._) Why, it’s from that Mr. Blake. Thanks me for my

kindness! Dear fellow. Hopes I may not think him bold. (_Laughs._) Such

audacity! He is bold, but I like him for it. And wants to meet me here.

Oh goodness! That will never do. (_Looks at note._) Tuesday at nine.

Hopes I’ll be alone. Why, he may come any minute. How indiscreet of him.

He must love me desperately. (_Rings._) Whatever shall I do.

_ENTER MARY, L._

ROSA. Mary, I expect a person here on business—important business. Is the

committee room unoccupied at this hour?

MARY. Yes, Miss, that is, unless Birdie Robbins should come in. She goes

round at all hours.

ROSA. (_Soliloquy._) Why didn’t she go into literature? She has no tact

for politics.

MARY. No, Miss Lightfoot, she hasn’t a spoonful of tact.

ROSA. Ah, Mary, you needn’t notice everything. If she or anyone else

drops in just say the committee room is in use, will you?

MARY. Yes, Miss. (_Exit L._)

ROSA. How my heart flutters. I’ve read that in the old times women’s

hearts were always fluttering. That is a weakness that comes from

centuries of degenerate training, but the new woman _will_ master it

yet. The men manage better. Their great solid chests are as impassive as

statues. We can be nonchalant, too. I’ll coolly light a cigar. (_Feels

pocket._) Goodness, I gave the last one to Inspector Lillie Evergreen.

(_Sound of footsteps, R._) Goodness, there he comes now. (_Listens._)

He’s saying good day to some one at the door. Oh, horrors! that’s Birdie

Robbins’s voice. What shall I do? (_Darts behind screen L._)

_ENTER BIRDIE ROBBINS, R._

BIRDIE. (_Cross._) I’ll just look around and see that everything is

in decent order, and I dare say it isn’t at all. The other directors

leave all that to me. Governor Perkins and Judge Flyer haven’t attended

a directors’ meeting for three months. They ought to be ashamed of

themselves. (_Looks in letter box, takes letter out, reads._) Another

appeal from the Pacific Coast Home Mission Society. Urgent appeal for

help. The Chinese are sending missionaries to America by the score.

Confucian daily paper published in San Francisco. Dear me, things are

going to the bad headlong, and this club doesn’t even protest. I wonder

if those people have repaired the faucets in the dressing room! (_Exit R.

U. E._)

ROSA. (_Comes from behind screen._) This is a pretty mess. I do hope

he won’t come. If I try to stop him at the door, it may lead to

complications. (_BIRDIE heard re-entering. ROSA behind screen as before._)

BIRDIE. Soap nearly all gone already. The servants are robbing us,

feeding their relatives at our expense, and smoking our cigars by the

score. We read that all these things happened in the old times. Alfaretta

sick to-day! She’ll have to be sent to the tobacco cure and the club

will be obliged by law to pay the bills. Such demoralization on every

hand. When the men managed things they stole everything in sight. I’ve

just been reading a curious old book of the last century called “An Iron

Crown.” There were big thieves then, according to that author, who stole

millions. Now women will stoop to purloin a few cigars. (_Petulantly._)

I’m ashamed of them. (_Sees note on floor._) What is this? (_Picks it

up._) Why this is directed to “Hon. Chief of Police, Brennan de Cork.”

It is unsealed too. Official business, doubtless, I’ll see. (_Opens and

reads._) Mercy! Can this be true? Impossible! I’ll put it back. No, it is

a matter too important to be concealed. (_Reads._) “Hon. Brennan de Cork:

Miss Pink T. Hykight presents her compliments to Mr. de Cork and desires

the pleasure of his company to the Elsie theatre to hear Paddiwinski next

Saturday evening. Find the usual gratuity for flowers enclosed.” Such

iniquity! I always suspected the sincerity of that woman. Her crime shall

be punished. As vice-president, I shall call a directors’ meeting at

once. (_Exit R. 1._)

ROSA. (_Coming down._) Here’s a pretty go! There’ll be a scandal sure,

for if there is a sincere member in the club, it is Miss Robbins. Who

would have thought that Miss Hykight was so sly? Well, de Cork is a

great catch. Dear me, if I am discovered. Mr. Blake is so indiscreet. I

shall talk to him seriously. (_Steps heard._) Goodness, some one coming.

(_Darts back behind screen._)

_ENTER BLAKE, R. 1._

BLAKE. I do hope she’ll meet me. Not here! How cruel! She thinks me

too forward, but I can not conceal my love. (_ROSA behind screen leans

forward eagerly to listen._)

_ENTER PINK T., quietly, R. 1._

BLAKE. Yes, I’ve been too forward. She despises me. (_P. T. advances on

tip toe, also ROSA comes further down, pleased._) Oh, for one word, one

glance of those beautiful eyes.

PINK T. (_Aside._) Poor thing!

ROSA. (_Aside._) How delightful.

BLAKE. I have hoped in vain. (_Turns R._)

PINK T. No, not so. Hope is—

ROSA. (_Coming out, screams._) Undone! Miss Hykight! (_All stare in

surprise for a few moments._)

PINK T. Miss Lightfoot, explain your conduct, if you please.

ROSA. Not to you, Miss Hykight.

PINK T. Then to the club.

ROSA. The club can have my resignation if that is what you mean.

PINK T. Your conduct has been scandalous. You have lured this confiding

young man here utterly regardless of his reputation or the club’s.

ROSA. Plague take the club! I love this man. Mr. Blake, be mine.

PINK T. (_Loftily._) Oh, indeed! If it comes to that I think I am one too

many. (_Sails out R. 1._)

BLAKE. (_Modestly._) I have been very indiscreet. Forgive me, dear.

ROSA. Darling, say no more, but you really must go at once. (_Noise

outside._) Too late. Get behind the screen there. (_He runs behind screen

R., ROSA L._)

_ENTER DOLLIE R._

DOLLIE. (_With easy swagger._) Here’s a go! That silly little Bertie

Howells thinks because I called on him three or four times and took him

to a concert once that I’m going to marry him. Humph! he’s decidedly

fresh. But this is the poor boy’s first season in society, and then

(_with jaunty air_) I suppose I am to blame. So far forgot himself as

to write me a note. Well, I must say, being an only child, his mamma’s

millions are very tempting. But then his papa is insupportable, no

pop-in-law for me just yet. (_Looks at letter box, fingering letters._)

“Grantly,” “Gorman,” “Ginseng,” “Gunther;” no Giglette. Well, the ninny

hasn’t sent any more notes, thank fortune. I’m pestered to death with

billet doux and designing papas. (_Going L. sees ROSA behind screen._)

Why, Lightfoot, old chap, what on earth are you standing in there for?

ROSA. (_Stammers._) Why, you see Giglette—you know I was just listening

if that induction was still in the heating coil. We could hear the engine

throb plainly.

DOLLIE. The plumber fixed that last week. Come and have something.

ROSA. Excuse me please, you know I never drink.

DOLLIE. Teetotaler! I forgot; well take a cigar.

ROSA. (_Coughs significantly._) Don’t care if I do.

DOLLIE. Lightfoot, you have a bad cough. (_Exeunt L._)

BLAKE. (_Comes out._) Now’s my chance to skip. (_Runs against BERTIE

ENTERING R., disguised as plumber._)

BERTIE. I saiey there, now! (_Tools fall with racket._)

BLAKE. Where are you going, you lubber?

BERTIE. Confwound you, it’s your fault.

BLAKE. No lip, young fellow. You’re too fresh!

BERTIE. Lip! Fellah! You aw vewy fwesh! You aw insulting, don’t you know.

BLAKE. Hello! Who are you, anyway? Lookin’ for a scrap are you? You look

like a plumber and talk like an avenue dude.

BERTIE. I cawn’t talk to you, you know. Because you’re no gentleman, see?

BLAKE. Why, you little shrimp, who the deuce are you to talk about

gentlemen? You’re not a plumber, nor a gentleman, either. You’re up to

some game. I’ll just unmask you. (_Pulls off BERTIE’S slouch hat, BERTIE

screams, BLAKE pulls off his false whiskers. BERTIE hits him but BLAKE

doesn’t mind it._)

BERTIE. (_Gasping._) You—you fellah—

BLAKE. Don’t try that game or I’ll pulverize you.

BERTIE. (_Squaring._) Don’t you twy that. I—weally, I may hurt somebody.

BLAKE. Young man, what are you doing in this club, sneaking in here in

disguise? (_Sternly._) Give an account of yourself.

BERTIE. (_Shrinking back._) Weally, don’t be wash, you know. I came heah

to meet the pearl of her sex.

_ENTER DOLLIE, L., overhears, stops._

DOLLIE. (_Hand to mouth._) Me!

BLAKE. No you didn’t, young fellow. That’s what I came for, and I’ll

break every bone in your body if you meddle in my affairs. (_Dollie

smiles pleased and gives expressive look._) Hear?

DOLLIE. (_As before._) Fun to come!

BERTIE. (_Contemptuously._) Why, she wouldn’t look at you. The peehless

flowah of her sex—

DOLLIE. That’s me. (_Laughs merrily. They start surprised._) Really, this

is too good! (_Laughs._) Really, gentlemen! Fie on you! These persistent

attentions are embarrassing. (_Comes toward C._)

BLAKE. (_Bowing politely._) Madam, I assure you—

BERTIE. (_Pushing him aside._) Go, fellah! This is my affaih! Miss

Giglette, I feah I look vewy ludicuous in this dwess and I cawn’t get on

without me eye-glaws, don’t you know. (_Feeling in pocket for glass. To

BLAKE._) You’ve bwoke me chain, I saiey.

DOLLIE. (_Laughs heartily._) Now go, please, both of you. I could have

you both arrested. Don’t cause a scene.

_ENTER BIRDIE ROBBINS, L._

BIRDIE. (_Sternly._) Men! In the Anti-homo Club. Is it possible?

(_Severely._) Miss Giglette, what does this mean?

DOLLIE. (_Laughs._) Really, I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.

BIRDIE. Miss Giglette, have you invited these creatures?

BLAKE. (_Aside._) Creatures! Old Major Prim!

DOLLIE. I have not invited them.

BIRDIE. Then why are they here? This looks suspicious.

DOLLY. (_Haughtily._) Miss Robbins, you forget that I am not on the

witness stand.

BIRDIE. There’s pretty goings on here in violation of our constitution

and by-laws. This club is on the brink of dissolution.

DOLLIE. Pshaw! It’s always on the brink of something.

BIRDIE. And they will not go, eh? I’ll ring up the police. (_Starts

toward police call in office, L._)

DOLLIE. (_Seizing her arm._) No, not that!

BERTIE. Police! Oh me weputation! Wheh’s me eye-glaws?

DOLLIE. (_Waving hand toward door_!) Now clear out, both of you, quick,

or you’ll get the G. B.

BERTIE. Dweadful. (_To BLAKE._) Aw, you mad weckless fellah, waising this

wow! We’ll be wuined. (_Pulling BLAKE hastily out R., BIRDIE glaring at

them. DOLLIE C., laughing._)

DOLLIE. Well, that’s too rich. (_BIRDIE glares at her._)

QUICK CURTAIN.

ACT III.

SCENE: _Club rooms as before. Time, next day after Act II._

MARY. (_Discovered as curtain rises._) Alfaretta is very negligent of her

work lately. There’s the flowers for the president put away in the corner

instead of on the desk, as they should be. (_Puts flowers on the desk._)

The postman is late to-day. Poor fellow! I wonder if he is stuck in the

tube again. I wouldn’t be shot through that tube for anything. Just think

of being chucked into that pipe and fired a mile between breaths. The

man always looks as if he were out of breath. They say all the carriers

have to be hypnotized before they go into the tube. I think it’s cruel.

(_During this speech she is looking at old letters in boxes._) There

are letters here for a member that’s been dead five years. Why didn’t

that party give notice of her demise. (_Noise outside, L._) There’s Mack

bringing the ice. Dear fellow! My heart is all in a flutter. I’ll just

wait to see if he comes in here to speak to me. I know he will. He’s blue

all day if he doesn’t see me. Oh, if that terrible Birdie Robbins should

discover us. I aint a bit afraid of the president. If she ever says boo,

I’ll just ask her how the Hon. Brennan de Cork is. Oh, there he comes.

_ENTER MACK, L._

MARY. Good morning, Maxie! You are irresistible this morning.

MACK. Hist, Smiley, we may be overheard.

MARY. There’s no one here.

MACK. Are you sure? If the club found out, you would lose your place and

I should be compromised. They are so against love-making.

MARY. Yes, sometimes.

MACK. What do you mean, Smiley?

MARY. Better call me plain Smilax. You are here on business, you know.

MACK. All right, dearie, but what did you mean by that _sometimes_?

MARY. Oh, nothing. I know a thing or two.

MACK. I think my driver suspects me.

MARY. Yes, she’s a jealousy old thing.

MACK. Do you think that’s it?

MARY. Sure! Get the company to put on a man.

MACK. Oh, I couldn’t think of trying that. They might suspect, and if

they found out I’d be discharged instantly. It’s posted in the rules

and in display at that: “All male employés are absolutely forbidden to

receive attentions from women, on pain of instant dismissal.” The man has

to take all the blame you know.

MARY. I’ll protect you, have no fear.

MACK. (_Pleadingly._) Mayn’t I name the day?

MARY. No, not yet. You see, I’ve a good soft job here and I shan’t give

it up till the last minute. I’m savin’ money. Now, you’d better go,

Maxie. Some one _might_ come, you know. (_Noise outside, R._) There, be

quick. (_Snatches kiss. Kiss may be blown if advisable._) Ta, ta!

MACK. (_Going L._) Au revoir!

MARY. Just in time. Some one is coming.

_ENTER HYKIGHT, R., followed by members to attend Directors’ meeting.

Buzz of conversation. MISS HYKIGHT takes chair, calls meeting to order.

Members seated. Buzz of conversation._

PRES. The meeting will come to order! (_Nobody pays any attention._)

Order, ladies! (_Sharply._) Order, if you please. (_Sudden silence._)

A special meeting has been called to transact very important business.

The call specifies an emergency and was made at the instance of

Vice-president Robbins. Secretary, are the directors all present?

SEC. (_Reads roll._) Hykight, Robbins, Lightfoot, Doughflyer, Willie

Jones—not present. Is Miss Jones in the city, does any one know?

DAISY. (_Rises with solemn demeanor._) Miss President, I have an

unpleasant duty to perform. (_All in attitude of expectancy._) I regret

to say that Miss Willie Jones is no longer worthy to be a member of this

club.

CHORUS. Oh! What has she done? Do tell us.

DAISY. The story of her treachery is soon told. She has eloped!

CHORUS. Good gracious!

DOLLIE. And _so_ timid!

BIRDIE. (_Severely._) Timid, indeed! All put on! I knew all the time

that she’d do something. She’s as sly as a weasel. I think no motion is

necessary to strike her name from the roll.

PRES. (_Gravely._) No, that is not necessary. Secretary, strike Miss

Jones’ name from the roll. If there is no objection I will appoint Miss

Dollie Giglette director in her place. Now, Miss Robbins, you may state

the object of the meeting.

BIRDIE. Oh, I’m so overcome, I must have a moment’s time. (_Uses smelling

bottle._) That horrid, sly, deceitful Jones girl has completely upset my

nerves.

DOLLIE. Miss President, I think I can state the object of this meeting,

if Director Robbins will allow me. It’s all about two men who get in here

accidentally. I think there’s a good deal of pother about nothing. I

advised Robbins to let the whole thing drop.

BIRDIE. When such things are overlooked or winked at, the days of the

Anti-homo Club are numbered, its purpose wholly defeated. Dissolution is

at hand.

DOLLIE. Well, if a little thing like that is going to kill it, I say—

BIRDIE. (_Severely._) What does the constitution say?

DOLLIE. If you insist, then let us take the matter up. One was the ice

man who has a yearly permit to call once a day between the hours of 9 and

10 a. m. The other was a plumber.

BIRDIE. I saw the wretch! He was no plumber.

DOLLIE. A plumber is what is known as an emergency man and needs no

permit, just as a male doctor was once called in to treat a member, in an

emergency.

BIRDIE. I demand an investigating committee.

DOLLIE. Oh, I make no objection if you think it so important as that. But

emergencies will arise. The ice man and the postman can not always be on

time. As we know, under the new system, the postman is shot through the

Instantaneous Pneumatic Delivery Company’s tubes. Only a few days ago the

poor fellow stuck in the tube owing to his carelessness in dropping a

peach pit as he entered the chute. Reversing the engine only wedged him

tighter and he would have smothered if one of the professors in charge

had not thought to fire fresh oxygen balls at him by means of the new

aluminum, vacuum, weather-report gun. Now they can’t shoot a plumber

through the tubes because—

BIRDIE. I insist this was no plumber. Plumbers don’t wear eye-glasses. I

found his on the floor. (_Produces glass._ “Ohs” _by members._)

PRES. Suppose we call Mary. (_Pulls bell._)

DAISY. We might as well go to the bottom of the matter. It’s sure to get

into the papers now.

BIRDIE. Yes, thanks to the indifference of the Public Censor, Adelaide

Witherspoon.

_ENTER MARY, L._

PRES. Mary, have you seen any men in the club rooms?

MARY. Only the licensed ones.

BIRDIE. (_Severely._) Smilax, do you ever examine their licenses?

MARY. Why no! I know them all.

BIRDIE. How careless! Now tell me plainly, have you seen anything here

that didn’t look right?

MARY. (_Confused._) Why, I—that is—

DOLLIE. Robbins, had you not better leave all this to the investigating

committee?

BIRDIE. Let the president name it then.

PRES. I name the president, the secretary and Miss Dollie Giglette.

BIRDIE. I’ll have no whitewashing.

PRES. (_Sternly._) Is this a reflection on the chair and the committee?

BIRDIE. I make no charges. I only demand my rights. As the one making the

motion, custom demands that I be named on the committee. Add Doughflyer.

Doughflyer has the best interests of the club at heart.

DAISY. I shall try to act in this grave matter as would become my

illustrious ancestors the Du Fays who came over with the Normans.

DOLLIE. Oh, I’m a Norman, too.

PRES. We are making much of a trivial matter.

BIRDIE. You will find it not so trivial before we get to the bottom.

Smilax, tell me plainly, did you see a plumber in the club rooms

yesterday?

MARY. I? Goodness, no!

BIRDIE. Did you see a dude?

MARY. (_Throws up hands._) Laws a me, no!

BIRDIE. Well, I did, and so did Giglette. With him was another person, a

fine-looking person I regret to say, who evidently had no business here.

DAISY. A dude! Shocking! A plumber is bad enough but a dude—Let the

investigation proceed.

SEC. (_Starting uneasily._) Miss President, I decline to serve on that

committee. In fact, I have an important communication to make and deem

this an opportune time. I hereby resign my office and my membership in

the club. (“Oh’s” _as before._)

PRES. (_Solemnly._) This investigation apparently is about to assume a

personal tone, which I deprecate and can not countenance. I also resign

rather than be a party to such an inquisition. (_Rises, vacates chair,

comes down C. Sensation_ “oh’s,” “Did you ever,” _etc._) And I don’t

mind saying further, since certain persons are so inquisitive, that Chief

of Police, Brennan de Cork has consented to change his name soon to

Hykight. (_Sensation as before._)

DOLLIE. Congratulations, old chap!

SEC. (_Rises and comes out from desk._) And Mr. Blake of the gas company

has at last consented to become Mr. Blake-Lightfoot. I’ve saved enough

for two.

DOLLIE. Shake, old chap! (_Groans, others buzz._)

MARY. And, if you please, ladies, I give notice. Next month I lead Mr.

Mack to the altar. (_Excitement._)

BIRDIE. And you too, Smilax! Since you were a tiny waif, this club has

been your mother and has watched over you. We taught you to be a new

woman, and this is our reward.

MARY. Oh, please, Miss Robbins, I respect you greatly, and I do love the

club dearly (_sighs_), but I love dear Mack more. I just couldn’t help

it. (_Cries with face in apron._)

BIRDIE. There’s nothing to do but close the doors. The club is dead.

(_Wipes eyes._)

DOLLIE. (_Crosses R. C., takes BIRDIE’S hand._) Cheer up, Robbins, cheer

up. You are not a marrying woman. I value freedom too much to surrender

it. And there’s Doughflyer, she’ll stick by us. She has principles—and a

_name_. We’ll go on as before.

BIRDIE. The mischief is done.

DOLLIE. We’ll reorganize if necessary. (_She leads BIRDIE down C., dress

stage._)

BIRDIE. (_Sadly._) No, we never can survive this disaster. The old woman

will laugh at the new, and ridicule kills. The club is dead. The finger

of progress goes back on the dial of time at least a century. Good-bye

dear, old club, the scene of my busiest, happiest, hours. Good-bye

forever.

_R._ _L._

PINK T., ROSA, BIRDIE, DOLLIE, DAISY, MARY.

CURTAIN.

ONLY COLD TEA

A TEMPERANCE FARCE

BY T. S. DENISON

_Author of_

Odds with the Enemy, Initiating a Granger, Wanted, a Correspondent, A

Family Strike, Seth Greenback, Louva, the Pauper, Hans Von Smash,

Borrowing Trouble, Two Ghosts in White, The Pull-Back, Country Justice,

The Assessor, The Sparkling Cup, Our Country, Irish Linen

Peddler, The School Ma’am, Kansas Immigrants, An Only Daughter,

Too Much of a Good Thing, Under the Laurels, Hard Cider,

The Danger Signal, Wide Enough for Two, Pets of Society,

Is the Editor In? The New Woman, Patsy O’Wang, Rejected,

Only Cold Tea, Madam P’s Beauty Parlors, Topp’s

Twins, A First-Class Hotel, It’s all in the Pay-Streak,

The Cobbler, A Dude in a Cyclone, Friday Dialogues.

_Also the Novels,

The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc._

CHICAGO:

T. S. DENISON, PUBLISHER,

163 RANDOLPH STREET.

ONLY COLD TEA.

CHARACTERS.

MR. BOB SLIGHTLY, fond of a drop.

DICK PLYER, friend of Bob’s, “takes the same.”

DR. GAGG, who knows what ails a person.

MRS. SLIGHTLY, who drinks tea.

ALICE, her sister, admired by Bob.

MRS. NEVERDUN, who does not know when to go.

_Time of playing, twenty minutes._

PROPERTIES.

Bottles with labels and cold tea, hand-satchel for doctor, books, bottle

of smelling salts, cane for Dick.

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

_R._ means right of the stage; _C._, center; _R. C._, right center; _L._,

left; _1 E._, first entrance; _U. E._, upper entrance, etc.; _D. F._,

door in flat or back of the stage. The actor is supposed to be facing the

audience.

ONLY COLD TEA.

SCENE—_Slightly’s Parlor. Doors Right and Left. May have door

at only one side, and one back, or only one door, if no better

can be done. Sofa, table, chairs, etc., to taste. Discovered,

Mrs. S., and Alice, as curtain rises, seated by table C._

MRS. S. Alice, I’m afraid Dick Plyer takes a little too much wine.

ALICE. I begin to think so myself. At that dinner at the Brown’s he came

pretty near making a show of himself.

MRS. S. Go slow, Alice, don’t get too fond of him.

ALICE. Leave that to me. I am decided on one thing and that is I shall

never marry a tippler. There may be enough trouble in the family already.

MRS. S. Sister, what do you mean by that, neither of our brothers drinks.

ALICE. No, thank heaven, but you don’t have to go so far as that.

MRS. S. (_Jumps up, drops her work._) Alice, what do you mean?

ALICE. I mean your husband, Mr. Bob Slightly.

MRS. S. Alice, this is unkind of you. Robert never was intoxicated in his

life. He says so himself.

ALICE. Before long he may not be able to say that. Sister, you don’t hear

what people say, as I do.

MRS. S. (_Distressed_) Alice, what do they say?

ALICE. Well, they say that since Mr. Bob Slightly’s old chum, Dick Plyer,

has returned from the west, that both are taking a great deal more liquor

than is good for them.

MRS. S. But Robert is so kind and so good natured he can’t refuse, and

his business requires it, you know.

ALICE. I know it doesn’t. How does brother John get along in the same

business, without constant treating?

MRS. S. But Robert never was drunk in his life. He has often told me so.

He never told me a lie yet.

ALICE. But he forgets that he has a liking for it, and that his appetite

will grow.

MRS. S. Alice, you alarm me, this is dreadful. Oh, anything but a

drunkard! But why do you encourage Dick Plyer, if he is so dangerous?

ALICE. Encourage him! I never encouraged him. I wanted to be sure of his

character, and now that I know his weakness I shall decline his company.

MRS. S. But what can I do for poor Bob?

ALICE. Take the wine off your own table.

MRS. S. I never thought of that. But then Robert wishes it. It is

necessary for his digestion he says.

ALICE. If put to the test which would he prefer? You or the wine?

MRS. S. Oh me, of course. He is so fond of me.

ALICE. That is what all wives say. Listen to me. Dick Plyer has written

me a note that he will call this very evening. He’ll come up with Bob

and you will set out refreshments. The men will make a pretense of

eating, but they will drink a great deal more. For some men the word

_refreshments_ means drink. They don’t care a snap about the eating.

MRS. S. Oh goodness! I’ve noticed some men eat enough for a family.

ALICE. Take my advice and observe them closely.

MRS. S. But what can I do?

ALICE. I have a plan. To show your husband the effects of intoxication in

its true light just get drunk yourself.

MRS. S. (_Surprised._) I get drunk! Horrors! Alice, are you crazy?

ALICE. Not a bit of it. That’ll teach him a lesson he won’t forget soon.

MRS. S. (_Decidedly._) I shan’t do it, that would be disgraceful.

ALICE. (_Laughs._) Just pretend, you goose. Did you think I wanted you to

march down the middle of Broad street swinging your hat and singing “We

wont go home till morning?”

MRS. S. You are ridiculous.

ALICE. Seriously, try it.

MRS. S. When?

ALICE. Now, this very evening.

MRS. S. It would be a great joke. But I can’t act a part as you can.

ALICE. Oh, it’s easy. Just stagger a little and look silly and say

idiotic things. You’ve seen men drunk.

MRS. S. Do you think Robert would get angry?

ALICE. He might, but it’ll set him to thinking. Of course he mustn’t find

out the trick.

MRS. S. I’ll do it just for a lark, all to ourselves.

ALICE. It’ll be a capital joke. I’ll pretend not to know what ails you.

MRS. S. How shall we proceed? Robert will be home pretty soon to take his

bicycle ride before dinner.

ALICE. I’ll fill a wine bottle with cold tea and put glasses on the

table. (_Exit L. for things._)

MRS. S. Alice is so full of mischief. I’m afraid I can’t do it right.

I’ll have to stagger and hiccup I suppose and be quarrelsome. That is the

way drunken men always act in plays.

_RE-ENTER ALICE with two bottles and glasses, L._

ALICE. (_Looking at label._) “Veuve Clicquot.” How’s that?

MRS. S. Goodness, he’ll think I’ve been drinking champagne.

ALICE. So much the better. Muss up your hair. Look silly. (_Musses MRS.

S.’S hair._)

MRS. S. Oh, Alice, I can’t do it.

ALICE. Yes you can. (_Noise outside, R._) There he comes. Sing a song!

(_Spills liquid on table. ALICE seated L. takes book and pretends to

read._)

MRS. S. Poor Bob! it’ll be such a shock!

_ENTER BOB gaily, R._

BOB. Hello Pussie, I’m home early, you see. (_Notices her._) Why Puss,

what ails you? (_Alarmed._) Another spell, dear?

MRS. S. Oh, Bob! you dear old—goodness me. (_Staggers to sofa and buries

her face in the cushions._)

BOB. (_Alarmed._) Why, she is sick! Alice, what ails her?—why didn’t you

telephone for me?

MRS. S. (_In changed voice._) Bob, you’re a trump!

BOB. Oh, she’s out of her head!

ALICE. (_Reading._) I guess not.

BOB. I say she is very sick. (_Feels his wife’s pulse._) She’s in a

fever! How long has she been taken? (_Petulantly._) Why do you sit there

so unconcernedly. Puss—Puss. When was she taken?

ALICE. (_Reading._) Oh, I found her that way when I came in. She said she

wasn’t sick.

BOB. But don’t you see she is sick? Can’t you do something?

ALICE. (_Reading._) Do something yourself. She’s your wife.

BOB. Heartless creature! put that book away. (_Snatches book away from

A., and flings it out L._)

ALICE. (_Jumping up._) That’s manners, Mr. Slightly!

BOB. (_Dancing around excitedly._) Do something, for heaven’s sake. She’s

in a high fever, she’ll faint. (_MRS. S. groans._) Get the salts, quick!

You stand like a post. Rub her hands. (_Darts out L. saying_) I’ll call

Dr. Gagg. (_Women do not hear this._)

ALICE. (_Going to MRS. S._) Get up you ninny, you are not half playing it.

MRS. S. (_Laughing._) Poor Bob, it is too bad, it distresses him. I can’t

do it right.

ALICE. Well, I could. Sing, dance!

MRS. S. Why Alice, you shock me!

ALICE. Then upset the table, break something, stagger. (_MRS. S. staggers

round room. Flings a book across the room._) That’s it, throw something

at his head.

MRS. S. I’ll upset the table!

ALICE. Do it!

_ENTER MRS. NEVERDUN, R._

MRS. N. I’ve been ringing half an hour! (_ALICE and MRS. S. scream in

chorus, MRS. S. falls on sofa as before._)

ALICE. (_Aside._) That horrid Mrs. Neverdun!

MRS. N. Dear me! Is she sick?

ALICE. Yes, one of her fainting spells! Call some one please, quick!

(_Rubs MRS. S.’S hands._)

MRS. N. (_Down front, looks at bottles, sniffs suspiciously._) Well I

never! Them bottles looks awful suspicious. This is pretty goins-on for

respectable people.

ALICE. (_Busy working with MRS. S._) Oh, Mrs. Neverdun, please do

something. The salts are on the side-board. Call Mr. Slightly.

MRS. N. (_Down front._) She’s drunk! Champagne, too! That’s a matter for

the church. I s’pose I’ll have to testify.

ALICE. (_Coming down._) Mrs. Neverdun, don’t let her fall. Go to her.

(_MRS. N. goes to MRS. S._)

MRS. N. I guess she aint very bad!

ALICE. I’ll call Robert. (_As she goes L., sweeps bottles off table, one

in each hand, leaves glasses, runs out L. MRS. S. gets up angrily._)

MRS. N. Don’t excite yourself, dearie!

MRS. S. Hold your tongue, woman!

MRS. N. Laws a me! She’s gittin’ sassy, jist like a man!

MRS. S. I wont be insulted in my own house!

MRS. N. Dear me suz! Who’s insultin’ you, I’d like to know?

MRS. S. You are, you know it, too!

MRS. N. Highty tighty, that’s the best proof in the world of your

condition. You are a real nice lady when ye’re sober.

MRS. S. (_With scorn_) Do you mean to say, Mrs. Neverdun, that I am not

sober? You are a gossip!

MRS. N. Oh, don’t go a callin’ names. I aint a callin’ any.

MRS. S. Oh dear, it’ll be all over town before night.

MRS. N. An’ s’posin’ it is? What kin women expect that goes an’ gits full

o’ that nasty champagne. An’ it goes right to the head, too, an’ stays

there.

MRS. S. How do you know?

MRS. N. Bob Slightly has had enough experience to tell his wife better.

MRS. S. Oh, Mrs. Neverdun, don’t speak that way. You are mistaken, I can

explain it all.

MRS. N. I aint askin’ no explanations.

MRS. S. Please say nothing about this. I’ve been foolish. Be my friend,

will you?

MRS. N. Good land, haint I always been yer friend? I haint an enemy in

the world as I knows of. An haint I been active in the sewin’ society an’

didn’t I give them as nice refreshments as anybuddy? If I am nobuddy but

Ole Missus Neverdun, aint I as good as the best of ’em. (_Gets voluble,

talking faster and faster._) I aint no fool, I kin tell ye.

MRS. S. Yes, but—

MRS. N. I don’t care a tuppence fur their talk. My tea an’ my coffee an’

my doughnuts aint beat nowhere.

MRS. S. Yes, but I—

MRS. N. I don’t care a rap. Mrs. Hartley wears dimons and lace and she

sets a mighty poor table, an’ I aint afraid to tell her so. They all eat

at my house till I thought they’d bust. (_MRS. S. laughs._) You kin laugh

Mrs. Slightly, but I won’t be put on. (_More and more excited._) An’ I’ll

have my say when it comes to that. Sallie Neverdun aint the kind to be

put on an say nothin’.

MRS. S. But Mrs. Neverdun—

MRS. N. I aint castin’ no reflections on _your_ table, fur it was bang

up, an’ I sez right there, to Marier Wilkins, sez I, “this layout beats

Mrs. Hartley’s with her dimons an’ her kerridges an’ she—”

MRS. S. (_In despair._) But, Mrs. Neverdun, haven’t I always been your

friend?

MRS. N. I’ve nothin’ agin you, Mrs. Slightly. Haven’t I just said that

many’s a time? I said to Marier Wilkins that your table beat Mrs.

Hartley’s all holler, with her dimons an’ two niggers to dish salat an’

turn coffee. Why, her salat—

MRS. S. (_Excitedly._) But _Mrs._ Neverdun—

MRS. N. There! it’s goin’ to her head agin. Lay down a spell.

MRS. S. Goodness! _do_ let me say a word.

MRS. N. An’ haint ye been talkin’ all the time, I’d like to know!

MRS. S. Please don’t say a word of what happened here this afternoon. I

can explain it all.

MRS. N. I aint askin’ no explanations, I tell ye. Everybody must think

Sallie Neverdun is an inimy o’ mankind goin’ round devowerin’. The whole

town knows I wouldn’t harm a worm o’ the arth. But s’posin’ it gits out

an’ the church hauls me up as a witness, I reckon they’d _make_ me tell.

MRS. S. I’ve made a pretty mess of things. (_Calls._) Robert! Alice!

Where can they be? (_Going L., meets ALICE entering._)

ALICE. (_Aside._) Get rid of her.

MRS. S. Hist, we must explain all. (_They turn C. towards MRS. N._) Where

is Robert?

ALICE. I don’t know. The cook says he went tearing down the street

bare-headed.

MRS. N. No wonder he’s tearin’ round. It’s enough to make any man tear

round!

ALICE. (_To MRS. N._) Go and look for Bob.

MRS. S. Oh goodness, what shall I do?

MRS. N. Don’t excite her, young woman! Lie down, dearie.

MRS. S. (_Indignantly._) I am perfectly well.

MRS. N. Indeed you are not, you are dreadfully flushed! Are ye sick at

the stummick? You must lie down. (_Leads MRS. S., resisting, to sofa._)

Alice, arrange the cushions. (_Just as they get her comfortably located._)

_ENTER hastily R., SLIGHTLY followed by DR. GAGG. Latter puts pill bag on

table and goes to patient._

ALICE. (_Aside._) Now the fat’s in the fire.

BOB. Are you better, darling?

MRS. S. (_Faintly._) I think so. I didn’t need Dr. Gagg, dear.

DR. Nothing like precaution, madam. (_Feels her pulse._) Some fever. Any

vertigo?

MRS. S. (_Faintly._) Yes.

DR. Mr. Slightly, your wife’s nerves are unstrung!

MRS. N. Well, I should think so.

DR. She must have quiet. She’ll be all right to-morrow.

MRS. N. (_Aside._) Knowed that much myself.

BOB. (_Anxiously._) What is the matter, doctor?

DR. Old complaint with complications. (_MRS. S. throws up her hands

unnoticed by DR._) Her nerves are unstrung. Observe the abnormal action

of the levator labiæ superioris, the orbicularis oris and the levator

palpebrarum.

MRS. N. Land o’ rest! jist hear that!

DR. I think there is a slight difficulty, too, in the decussation of the

medulla oblongata which has established a sympathetic action with the

solar plexus and the pneumogastricus.

MRS. N. Say, Dr. Gagg, what does all that rigmarole mean? hysterics?

DR. (_Glaring at her._) The science of medicine, madam, has made many

advances since you were a child.

MRS. N. Ye don’t say! An’ I s’pose it’ll keep on a-dancin’ till a doctor

knows when a person’s—(_warning gesture from MRS. S._)

DR. (_Aside to BOB._) That woman is exciting your wife. Get rid of her.

BOB. How the——what can I do with her?

_ENTER DICK PLYER, gaily, R._

DICK. I say, old boy, I was just going past—(_Sees MRS. S._) I beg

pardon. Is Mrs. Slightly indisposed?

BOB. Only a slight nerve attack.

DICK. I’m very sorry if I disturb her.

MRS. S. It is nothing at all. I am glad to see you, Mr. Plyer. Alice,

please show Dick a chair. (_Gives ALICE knowing look._)

ALICE. Take this seat, Mr. Plyer. (_Then goes and whispers to MRS. S._)

BOB. I say, Dick, wont you go into the smoking room? I’ll join you as

soon as I can leave my wife.

DICK. Oh, certainly, I’m awful sorry! Can’t I be of any use?

DR. Just one moment, Mr. Slightly. Take this prescription to be filled at

once! Make haste! Dose every half hour, till patient finds relief. Miss

Alice, wet a cloth with vinegar and place it on her forehead. The solar

plexus is dangerously disturbed.

MRS. N. That’s an anatomy I never heerd tell of.

ALICE. Robert, I wish to speak with you, if Mr. Plyer will step into the

smoking room meanwhile.

DICK. Certainly! At your service. (_Bows politely, exit D. F._)

BOB. (_Going with A., L._) Excuse me a moment, Dr.

DR. (_To MRS. N._) A word with you, madam. (_They come down C. so MRS. S.

can not hear._) You appear for some reason to excite the patient. You had

better go at once.

MRS. N. Oh, I kin take a hint.

DR. I mean for her sake, you know.

MRS. N. You needn’t palaver. What ails her?

DR. (_Mysteriously._) A very strange case, madam. Very strange. It would

baffle the skill of a young practitioner. The eye of science madam—

MRS. N. I ’low it takes the eye o’ science to see through a grindstone

when there aint no hole in it.

DR. (_Pleased._) Exactly! I’ve had in my lifetime just three such cases,

all since la grippe came. I may say, in fact, that I have discovered a

new disease.

MRS. N. Doctor Gagg, you are a wise man. (_He bows and looks puzzled._)

DR. A compliment madam?

MRS. N. Nonsense! Did you smell her breath?

DR. (_Surprised._) I, no indeed! Why should I?

MRS. N. You’ve made a fool of yourself. She’s drunk, that’s all!

DR. (_Excitedly._) A fool! Drunk! Why madam, this is scandalous.

MRS. N. Oh, keep cool. You’ll get well paid to say nothin’. But didn’t I

see the bottles on the table?

DR. But it is impossible.

MRS. N. Didn’t I see her stagger? If you don’t b’lieve, look at the

puddles of wine on the table. Smell it.

DR. (_Puts finger in liquid spilled, smells._) True! Why, this is an

insult to my profession.

_ENTER BOB, followed by DICK and ALICE._

BOB. Dr. Gagg, I wish a word in the smoking room.

DR. (_Indignantly._) I have a word, too, sir. You have insulted my

profession, sir.

BOB. But hold, I’ll explain.

DR. I’ll not hold. I am the victim of a hoax. Your wife is not sick at

all.

BOB. (_Nettled._) Why didn’t you find that out at first, then?

_ENTER DICK._

DICK. Yes, the eye of science, solar plexus, vinegar and water, etc.

(_laughs_). That’s great stuff. There’s nothing like science.

DR. You are offensive, sir. I’ll have nothing to say to _you_. (_To

BOB._) Now, Mr. Slightly, your conduct is most inexcusable.

BOB. But I’m trying to explain that it was all a little joke between my

wife and her sister. She was only pretending.

DR. (_Pompously._) And I am to be the victim of other people’s jokes. You

shall pay for this, sir.

BOB. Send in your bill.

DR. Bill! Who cares for the paltry fee! My professional feelings have

been outraged. The profession is not to be trifled with. Mr. Slightly,

I’ve a mind to sue you for damages.

BOB. A fig for your dignity!

MRS. S. Oh, Robert!

DICK. Let him sue. Get me on the jury.

DR. (_Taking up pill bag angrily._) I shall consult my attorney at once.

BOB. Save the trouble and the fee! Let lawyers alone! Make your bill as

large as you please. I prefer to be plucked by one man rather than by

two. Your professional dignity will at least insure _silence_.

DR. (_Growling._) Humph! _My_ feelings are nothing! (_To MRS. N._) Madam,

let me say to you that you are a meddling old fool!

MRS. N. Dr. Gagg, while ye’re at it say there’s a pair of us. Bob

Slightly may pull the wool over your eyes, but he can’t fool me. Didn’t I

see champagne bottles, and didn’t I see her stagger, an’ didn’t—

MRS. S. Mrs. Neverdun, this is too much—

BOB. Easy my dear! (_Restrains her._)

ALICE. (_To DICK._) Oh, Mr. Plyer, can’t you do something?

DICK. (_Bowing politely._) I’ll try. (_Steps forward to MRS. N., good

humoredly._) Mrs. Neverdun, let me say a word. I’ve always maintained

that you can set a better table any day than Mrs. Hartley.

MRS. N. Well, I should say!

DICK. Now, when I stand up for people I want them to stand up for me.

MRS. N. Them’s my principles!

DICK. Now, I can clear this matter up in just a minute. Miss Alice, bring

in those bottles and glasses. (_Alice goes L._) We’ll clear up this

mystery in short order. I guess I’ve seen enough of champagne to know it

when I see it.

MRS. N. Dear me suz, I reckon nobody’ll deny that.

_RE-ENTER ALICE with bottles._

DICK. (_Takes bottle pours out liquid._) Now this is _only cold tea_.

Smell it, Dr. Gagg, smell it, Mrs. Neverdun. (_They smell._) Look!

there’s a tea leaf in it. If any body wants to smell the table do so.

MRS. N. Well I vum!

BOB. (_To MRS. S._) Dick’s a trump!

DICK. Now mum’s the word all round. Just a little joke of the ladies.

MRS. N. Good land, I aint a tellin’ anything!

DICK. It must be quits, is mum the word?

BOB. My dear, what a lesson, I’ll never touch another drop.

MRS. S. Oh, you dear Bob. (_Puts arm in his._)

DICK. Mrs. Neverdun, I still stick up for your table. (_Dress stage, DR.

angry, R., MRS. N., DICK down C., ALICE L., MR. and MRS. S. arm in arm by

table._)

MRS. N. I reckon you will. It’s the best in town.

DICK. I am going to Mrs. Hartley’s to dinner next Wednesday, and—

MRS. N. Land o’ Goshen! Then jist come to my house Thursday an’ I’ll show

ye a dinner ’at’ll be a dinner. What do I care for Mrs. Hartley an’ her

kerridge an’ dimons an’ fiddle faddle—

QUICK CURTAIN, _while MRS. N. is talking._

A FIRST-CLASS HOTEL

A FARCE

BY T. S. DENISON

_Author of_

Odds with the Enemy, Initiating a Granger, Wanted, a Correspondent, A

Family Strike, Seth Greenback, Louva, the Pauper, Hans Von Smash,

Borrowing Trouble, Two Ghosts in White, The Pull-Back, Country Justice,

The Assessor, The Sparkling Cup, Our Country, Irish Linen

Peddler, The School Ma’am, Kansas Immigrants, An Only Daughter,

Too Much of a Good Thing, Under the Laurels, Hard Cider,

The Danger Signal, Wide Enough for Two, Pets of Society,

Is the Editor In? The New Woman, Patsy O’Wang, Rejected,

Only Cold Tea, Madam P’s Beauty Parlors, Topp’s

Twins, A First-Class Hotel, It’s all in the Pay-Streak,

The Cobbler, A Dude in a Cyclone, Friday Dialogues.

_Also the Novels,

The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc._

CHICAGO:

T. S. DENISON, PUBLISHER,

163 RANDOLPH STREET.

A FIRST-CLASS HOTEL.

CHARACTERS.

LANDLORD.

BULGER, a drummer.

LEGGATT, a literary man.

SCHNELL, of the firm of Schnell & Augenblick.

_Time of playing, twenty minutes._

PROPERTIES.

Pistol, valise, cane, pipe, book, empty bottles, box of pills, candles in

candlesticks, crash bag.

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

_R._ means right of the stage; _C._, center; _R. C._, right center; _L._,

left; _1 E._, first entrance; _U. E._, upper entrance, etc.; _D. F._,

door in flat or back of the stage. The actor is supposed to be facing the

audience.

NOTE—The rapid action in this play requires careful rehearsal and strict

attention to cues. In many cases the least drag will spoil the effect.

The boy who does the caterwauling must be always ready the instant he

gets his cue from the prompter. He must be able to produce the effect of

_two_ cats and should make the audience hear distinctly.

[Illustration: A FIRST-CLASS HOTEL.]

A FIRST CLASS HOTEL.

SCENE—_Bed room, two cots, one up R. C. by flat, other by wall,

down L.; table near head of last, with books, pistol, pipe,

etc.; wash-stand against flat, L. C.; window in flat, L.; (or

a door anywhere at L. can be made to serve for make-believe

window by hanging a curtain.) As curtain rises, LEGGATT in

bed, apparently asleep, vest hanging on chair at head of bed,

pantaloons and coat on wall._

_ENTER LANDLORD and BULGER, R., LANDLORD carrying candle and BULGER’S

valise. Lights low._

LANDLORD. This is the very best I can do, Mr. Bulger.

BULGER. Hang it all, I believe I’ll go over to the Eagle.

LAND. Hist! (_Looks toward LEGGATT._) You’ll wake him. No use to go to

the Eagle. All full there. It’s County Fair, you know.

BULGER. Hang the fair! Landlord, this is no way to treat an old customer.

This is a one-horse town anyway.

LAND. (_In low voice._) Very sorry, Mr. Bulger, but I didn’t make the

town. It’s the best I can do. (_Looks toward LEGGATT._) Mr. Leggatt’s a

very nice quiet gentleman. (_Confidentially._) Why, he’s a littery man!

BULGER. Confound literature! It aint in it with trade.

LAND. Quite right, but it’s got to be humored same as other things. He’s

as quiet as a lamb if you don’t wake him.

BULGER. (_Suspiciously._) Hum! And if he wakes?

LAND. He’s kind o’ restless. He may walk the floor.

BULGER. (_Growling._) Indeed! Let him try it.

LAND. (_Hand on B.’S arm._) Quiet now. You may wake him. Good night, sir.

(_Leaves candle on stand. Exit R. softly._)

BULGER. (_Hangs coat on rack, goes to closet door, looks in._) What’s

this? A two by three closet. (_Sits and takes off boots._) I’ll put

my things in the closet, though I don’t suppose this one-horse town

can afford even a burglar. I’ll strike this town from my list. Such a

snide hotel isn’t to be found this side the Mississippi river. (_Goes

in closet. LEG. turns in bed and mutters in his sleep. Caterwauling in

alley. Boy outside up L. does this._)

_RE-ENTER BULGER, in pajama or colored night robe. Examines sheets._

BULGER. Damp, as usual! I’ll catch my death of cold. I always get a

cold in this town. The place is so slow, that’s the only thing people

can catch. (_Rings bell by door R._) I’ll have the sheets changed, if I

have to rouse every chambermaid in the house. (_Sits and opens valise._)

I’ll take a liver pill while I think of it. Always have to take a liver

pill in this town. It’s so slow that a man’s liver stops business. I

am catching cold already. If I sneeze I’ll wake him. (_Business of

suppressing sneeze._) There’s a draft somewhere. (_Tip-toes to window.

LEGGATT turns and mutters in his sleep. B. stops._) I’ll wake his

literary nibbs, sure. (_Tries window._) Wide open and stuck fast; windows

always stick in this town. When they are up they stay up, when they

are down they stay down. And that old hay-seed actually calls this a

first-class hotel. He amuses me. (_Sets candle on chair._) Confound that

bell. (_Pushes it again several times._) I guess I’ll smoke while I am

waiting. (_Goes to get pipe out of coat pocket._) Where’s that pipe?

(_Pulls coat with impatience, rack comes down with a clatter and coat

swings round and knocks candle to floor, putting it out. B. darts to his

bed and gets in._)

LEGGATT. (_Rising to sitting posture._) What’s that? Who’s there? Heh?

A burglar! I’ll shoot, you rascal! (_Attempts to pull out drawer of his

table to find pistol. Drawer sticks and his books and everything go

clatter to floor._)

BULGER. (_Alarmed._) Don’t shoot! Don’t! It’s only me!

LEGGATT. (_Excited_) Who’s me? (_Feeling for the matches._) Blow it,

where’s that infernal candle? I’ll have to get up.

BULGER. Don’t get up! It’s all an accident.

LEGGATT. Who the deuce are you, anyway?

BULGER. (_Strikes match._) I’m a guest of this beastly hotel, if its

victims may be called by so genteel a term as guest.

LEGGATT. (_Sitting up._) A guest! I don’t like that.

BULGER. (_Nettled._) Neither do I.

LEGGATT. You’ve disturbed me and now I’ll have a night of it.

BULGER. I’m very sorry indeed!

LEGGATT. So am I.

BULGER. (_With surprise._) Sir, I apologized.

LEGGATT. Confound your apology! I was sound asleep.

BULGER. You _are_ a nice roommate. The landlord was right when he said

you were.

LEGGATT. I beg your pardon, stranger. I wasn’t quite polite.

BULGER. Don’t mention it. My name is Bulger.

LEGGATT. And mine is Leggatt. (_B. crosses and they shake._)

BULGER. I’m very sorry I disturbed you. I had just rung the bell and was

waiting.

LEGGATT. That bell hasn’t been connected with the office for a year.

BULGER. Oh, what a hotel!

LEGGATT. When I want anything I just throw a pop bottle down to the

right. (_Motions._) It’ll break at the office door and rouse the landlord.

BULGER. By George! It takes a literary man, after all, for ideas.

LEGGATT. You’ll find some empty pop bottles in the closet. I keep them

for that purpose—and the cats.

BULGER. (_Gets bottle._) I’ll try it. Did you say to the right?

LEGGATT. Yes, you can see the glass door if you look out. Hit the

pavement so the bottle will crash. (_BULGER throws out of window,

tremendous crash._)

BULGER. What a crash for one bottle. I guess that will fetch him.

LEGGATT. Now you _have_ done it.

BULGER. Done what?

LEGGATT. You’ve broken the glass of the hot bed and the tomato plants

will all freeze. You threw the wrong way.

BULGER. You said to the right.

LEGGATT. I meant to _my_ right.

BULGER. (_Provoked._) Well, I’ll be everlastingly—

LEGGATT. Hold on, Mr. Bulger, it isn’t worth swearing about. It’s of no

consequence. We shall have to wait a month longer for tomatoes, that’s

all.

BULGER. I’m very sorry, Mr. Leggatt. I’ll turn in now and risk the damp

sheets. I hope you will sleep. (_Gets in bed._)

LEGGATT. But I won’t. I’m in for a night of it.

BULGER. What is the cause of your insomnia?

LEGGATT. My book!

BULGER. Keep away from the races, why don’t you?

LEGGATT. I don’t mean that kind of a book. It is the great novel I am

writing. It is killing me.

BULGER. (_Blows out his candle._) Ah! When are you going to die?

LEGGATT. (_Testily._) Die! I’m not going to die.

BULGER. (_Sleepily._) You’ll make a long job of it in this town, it’s so

slow.

LEGGATT. But I’m not here for that purpose, I say. What is your line, by

the way?

BULGER. (_Murmurs._) Line—cheapest way—I’ll ship your goods by Blue Line,

same as before.

LEGGATT. Blue Line! Are you drunk? (_Pause._) Hang it he’s asleep. I wish

I could go to sleep like that. I envy a drummer. (_Blows out candle, lies

down and covers up; caterwauling outside._) That infernal cat again!

(_Turns over with nervous motion of sleepless man and settles down. All

still for say 15 seconds. B. begins to snore loudly. LEGGATT sits up

again, angrily._) That settles it! I shant sleep a wink to-night. I’ll

read, I guess. (_Lights candle._) Where is that book? (_Dextrously fishes

book toward him by means of a cane which stands at bedside, lays cane

across table. Begins to read—any book—gets interested, makes comments._)

This book is simply drivel, such character drawing. There are no great

novelists anymore except myself and Tolstoi. (_Reads paragraph._) That

fellow has a wretched style. His cacophony is terrible. The true test

of good writing is to read it aloud. (_Reads aloud. B. rolls over as if

about to wake._) All stuff, the poorest kind of slush. I can’t stand any

more of that. (_Throws book on table and accidentally knocks cane on

floor with a rattle._)

BULGER. (_Starts up and sits in bed._) What was that? Heh? (_No reply._)

Leggatt?

LEGGATT. Only my cane, sir. I’m very sorry.

BULGER. So am I.

LEGGATT. Ah, then we agree. Will you join me in a pipe since you are

awake?

BULGER. A pipe at midnight! Well, you are cool!

LEGGATT. No, I’m not. I am on the contrary slightly feverish.

BULGER. Your proposition is cool enough. Smoke at this hour!

LEGGATT. I find it soothing. I cultivate repose of mind. It isn’t what we

are, you know, in this world but how we like the situation. To like what

we can’t mend is the true philosophy.

BULGER. Philosophy be blowed! This is a situation that I don’t like.

LEGGATT. I can’t say that I actually enjoy it but since—(_Caterwauling

outside._)

BULGER. (_Gets up angrily._) Oh those infernal cats. I’d like to murder

every cat in creation.

LEGGATT. Kindly throw a pop bottle. Straight ahead this time over the

shed.

BULGER. (_Snorting._) Throw it yourself.

LEGGATT. (_Coolly._) It was only a suggestion to be acted on or not at

your discretion.

BULGER. I’d as soon have a room over a boiler shop as in this infernal

little hotel. First-class—oh, what a liar this landlord is.

LEGGATT. My dear sir, your attitude toward Boniface is hardly

justifiable. Landlords indulge in hyperbole.

BULGER. Hyperbole! What is that?

LEGGATT. It is the faculty of not letting a statement lack strength.

BULGER. Well, I must say this landlord’s statements are very robust.

LEGGATT. Neatly put, Bulger. I believe you cultivate literature yourself.

You should at any rate. Literature—

BULGER. (_Walking floor._) Literature be d—d.

LEGGATT. My dear sir, you wont sleep at all if you go on at that rate.

Since you decline to join me in a pipe let me read a chapter of Squibbs’

last novel to you; that’ll do the business.

BULGER. (_Pausing in front of L.’S cot._) Read Squibbs to me! At

midnight, in a strange hotel! Preposterous!

LEGGATT. He is very soothing.

BULGER. (_Emphatically._) I wont have it (_gets in bed_).

LEGGATT. I’m very sorry. I’ll have to read all to myself.

BULGER. (_Sitting up._) Are you going to read?

LEGGATT. I am.

BULGER. And keep that candle burning?

LEGGATT. Certainly! I don’t read in the dark. I haven’t cat’s eyes.

BULGER. Really, I say—do you know that I have a call for the three

o’clock train?

LEGGATT. Don’t worry about it, Bulger. I shall be awake and I’ll call you

promptly. Will 2:45 be about right?

BULGER. (_Jumps up._) That man is crazy. I’ll never get a wink of sleep

here. (_Seizes blanket._) There’s a sofa in the hall, I’ll try that. Next

time I come to this town I’ll stop at the roundhouse for a quiet place.

(_Runs out R. with candle and blanket._)

LEGGATT. I am disappointed in him. I thought his nerves were sound.

He’ll break down if he travels long. He’ll catch cold in the hallway, I’m

afraid. (_Lays down book. Pause._) My sleepy spell has come on. I didn’t

expect it till four o’clock. I believe I shall not pass a white night,

as the French say, after all. (_Lies down and goes to sleep. Pause 15

seconds._)

_ENTER LANDLORD, tiptoe, R._

LAND. (_Looks at B.’S bed, then at L.’S._) Bulger is a strange man. Now,

why did he leave his bed and take that sofa in the hall? He’s the hardest

customer to please that comes this way. Doesn’t like cats, finicky about

drafts, always sends his steak back, objects to two in a room. I s’pose

two in a bed ’ud set ’im crazy. There aint a steadier, nicer man in the

house than Mr. Leggatt. Where shall I put that Dutchman? The sofa was the

last thing. (_Scratches head._) Why, here, of course. I’ll just make up

the bed! (_Hastily makes up bed._) There, he’ll not notice it has been

slept in. (_Caterwauling outside._)

_Exit R. and RE-ENTER with SCHNELL._

LAND. Quietly! There’s a man asleep there.

SCHNELL. Oh, dis vas a touble room alretty?

LAND. Yes.

SCHNELL. (_Looking round._) Mit single petts. Lantlort, vas dot man safe?

LAND. Perfectly safe.

SCHNELL. Vel, I mean vas I safe? I know he was safe, alretty.

LAND. Why, he’s the peacefulest man in the town. (_Impressively._) He’s a

littery chap.

SCHNELL. (_Puzzled._) Littery man! Vat was dot?

LAND. He writes books.

SCHNELL. Oh, ya, a pookkeeper.

LAND. No, he writes for the magazines.

SCHNELL. (_Still puzzled, scratches head._) Mackaseens! Ya, powter

mackaseens. Ya, ya, dot bin all right. I kess, he wont plow up.

LAND. (_Ready to go._) Your name is Schnell, I believe.

SCHNELL. Ya! Gus Schnell, of Schnell oont Augenblick.

LAND. Line sauerkraut?

SCHNELL. Sauerkraut oont weinerwurst.

LAND. Any call?

SCHNELL. Ya, by de Cherman saloons.

LAND. I mean shall I call you in the morning?

SCHNELL. Yoost leaf me alone till I shleeps out. (_Exit LANDLORD R._)

SCHNELL. (_Taking off shoes._) Dot man was a goot shleeper, alretty. I

hope he ton’t shnore sometimes. Dot man shleep like one little papy.

(_Takes off coat, feels bed._) Dunder! dot pett vas warm alretty. Dere

moost pe a furnace oonter dot pett. (_Looks, feels._) I feels vint. Dot

was strange, der room colt, mit vint plowin, oont der pett varm. Dere

vas no planket py dot pett. Gott in himmel! vy vas dot pet varm! meppe

dot wasn’t a mystery. I yoost shleep in my clodings, I take no shances

mit dot preeze plowin. (_Gets in bed._) Ach, I forcot to put dot candle

out. I plieve I can reach him. (_Reaches out toward candle in chair and

losing balance falls out of bed with a crash, extinguishing candle and

overturning chair._)

LEGGATT. (_Starting._) What’s that? Where’s my pistol?

SCHNELL. Gott in himmel, ton’t shoot.

LEGGATT. (_Crossly._) Well, what ails you now?

SCHNELL. Nodings. I yoost fell out py de pett.

LEGGATT. (_Half awake._) You have disturbed me again! Why in thunder

can’t you go to sleep?

SCHNELL. (_Angry._) Vel, vy tont you gif me some dime alretty? I yoost

cot in mine pett, two tree minutes foreby. (_Gets in bed._)

LEGGATT. (_Starting up, wide awake._) That’s a strange voice.

Bulger—(_Pause._) Bulger—Great heavens! has Bulger been murdered? (_Tries

to strike matches, several go out._) This comes of putting strangers in

the same room. What ails the infernal matches! (_Lights candle; SCHNELL

is all covered up except his face, LEG. peers at him for a moment._) That

isn’t Bulger. Where can Bulger be! That’s a burglar, I’ll bet. (_Gets

pistol quietly from drawer, sitting up in bed._) I’ll have a crack at him

if he resists. (_Sharply to SCHNELL._) Hello there, you!

SCHNELL. Vas?

LEGGATT. A Dutchman! Heh, you fellow! Sit up or I’ll shoot.

SCHNELL. (_Bounding out of bed and badly scared._) Mine Gott, meester

ton’t shoot! Vat in himmel you want alretty yet?

LEGGATT. Who are you? Where is Bulger?

SCHNELL. Pulcher! I ton’t know Pulcher. Gott in himmel, put away dot

pistol down.

LEGGATT. Who are you?

SCHNELL. Put dot bistol town. It goes off meppe.

LEGGATT. What are you doing here?

SCHNELL. Shleeping.

LEGGATT. Well, why in the dickens don’t you sleep then? Another man in

my room! The landlord is drunk again. He’ll have the whole town in here

before morning. (_SCHNELL standing middle of room._) Why don’t you go to

bed?

SCHNELL. Ya, I coes right away. (_Pause._) Mine frent.

LEGGATT. Well?

SCHNELL. Dot lantlort sait you vas a beaceful chentleman. I vas beaceful

too oont I vants no more misdakes apout purglars oont bistols. My name

vas _Schnell_, of Schnell oont Augenblick, wholesalers mit sauerkraut.

Dat’s my cart. (_Gives LEGGATT card._)

LEGGATT. (_Throws card away._) Confound it man, will you go to bed?

SCHNELL. Ya! Ya! (_Gets into bed._) He vas not a pit sociable.

LEGGATT. And look here, Mr. Wagonblock—

SCHNELL. Nine, Schnell! of te firm—

LEGGATT. Well, Snell then; you’d better keep pretty quiet. If this racket

continues much longer I’ll miss my four o’clock sleeping spell. Now I

_wont_ be disturbed. (_Lies down._)

SCHNELL. Ya! Ya! (_Pause fifteen seconds, then loud caterwauling

outside, ad lib._) Oh, dem cats! (_Softly._) I was afraid of dot beaceful

littery chap. He might shoot if he hears dem cats. (_Rolls over._) Vell,

I ton’t schleep, dot’s sure, alretty. (_Glances at L.’S cot._) Dot man

was tangerous. I yoost dries to ket a nap by der office. (_Rises, softly

stealing toward door, R., LEG. rolls over. SCHNELL, alarmed, darts out._)

LEGGATT. (_Sleepily yawns._) More noise, somewhere, and I was just

going—(_settles down and drops to sleep, short loud caterwauling, then

all quiet._)

_BULGER steals in R. with candle._

BULGER. This night will be worse on me than a week’s sickness. I’ll have

to take another liver pill. (_Takes pill._) If I had a keg of powder

under this old hotel I’d blow it to Kingdom-come, landlord, cats and all.

But I mustn’t wake that author or he’ll want to read Squibbs’ novel to

me. He’s had a good sleep. I’ve caught cold in that hall. It was like the

Cave of the Winds. (_Feels bed. Surprised._) Why, that bed is warm yet.

That’s very strange! The room is as cold as a barn. There’s no blanket

here either. I left that in the hall. If I close that window may be I

can get along. I’ll wake everybody in the house probably. (_Goes softly

to window, tugs at it, steals glance at LEGGATT, gives a quick tug, down

comes window on the run and breaks a pane of glass._)

LEGGATT. (_Starting up, sitting posture._) What’s that? Who’s there?

(_BULGER crawls behind the curtains._) Hey there! Say! (_Pause._)

It’s that Dutchman again! He’s worse than Bulger was. Fallen out of

that rickety old bed again, I suppose. If he’d only break his neck!

(_Scratching matches, lights candle._) Why, he isn’t there. Now, that’s

odd! Both gone! A good riddance. I may catch my four o’clock turn yet.

(_Starts._) My watch! I’ll bet that Dutchman was a thief in disguise.

(_Feels in vest pocket._) No, it is there all right. I have nothing else

to steal. I’m an author. He wouldn’t take Squibbs’ novel. No, nobody

would run away with Squibbs. (_Looks at watch again._) 2:45! It’s just

time for Bulger’s train. (_B. behind curtain_, “Confound it.”) What’s

that? I surely heard a voice. Some one _is_ concealed somewhere. I’ll

call the landlord. No bell. I’ll catch cold if I get up to throw a pop

bottle. I guess I’ll just fire the pistol. (_B. in alarm dodges closer

to wall. Pistol shot._) There! I guess that’ll fetch him. I’ll give

him a piece of my mind. When I took this room I gave him the privilege

of putting in a quiet party occasionally. Quiet! This has been a

delightfully quiet night.

_ENTER LANDLORD, R., excitedly followed by SCHNELL._

LAND. Great heavens! Where was that shot?

SCHNELL. Himmel! He sound like a cannon. I joomp out o’ my schleep ten

feet alretty.

LAND. (_Excitedly._) Where was it? The house will be in an uproar.

Leggatt, why don’t you speak?

LEGGATT. (_Coolly._) I _will_ speak. Landlord, it is my deliberate

opinion that you keep the worst hotel that I ever saw.

LAND. That’s a slander, strictly first-class! But the shot?

LEGGATT. In the absence of a bell the shot was simply to call you.

LAND. (_Angrily._) Why, you don’t mean to say—

LEGGATT. That’s just what I mean to say. You were to put only quiet

people in here.

LAND. Bulger is all right. Best man on the road.

LEGGATT. He has softening of the brain.

LAND. Impossible! Bulger is one of the best salesmen on the road.

LEGGATT. I’ve had enough of him. I think he’s crazy. (_B. angry gesture

from behind curtain._)

LAND. Nonsense! His head is as level as—as mine.

LEGGATT. I wont dispute _that_!

LAND. And you mean you fired a pistol and alarmed the whole house just to

tell me this.

LEGGATT. I’m not done yet. Next thing you bring in an idiotic Dutchman—

SCHNELL. Vy, you rascal! dot is me.

LEGGATT. (_With wave of hand._) Allow me, Wagonblock. I’m talking to the

landlord.

LAND. Let up and go to sleep. You’ll be all right in the morning. Where

is Bulger? It’s train time.

LEGGATT. Bulger! What do I know about Bulger? Get out now and leave me

alone.

LAND. But Bulger—(_LEG. lies down._) Say, Leggatt!

SCHNELL. I tink dot littery chap haf kilt Pulcher.

LAND. (_Starting._) What? (_Seizes LEGGATT by arm and jerks him to

sitting posture._) Produce Bulger. The shot—Bulger. Have you murdered him?

LEGGATT. (_Throwing him off._) I’m ready to murder somebody. (_Seizes

cane._)

LAND. (_Retreating._) Where is Bulger?

BULGER. Here he is! (_Strides down angrily. LAND. and SCHNELL start

back._) And let me add to what that literary man says. I thought he could

use words better in such a case than a plain drummer, but he isn’t in

it. Of all the noisy, windy, ill-kept, bad-smelling, disreputable (_gets

emphatic as he speaks_), disorderly, rag-tag-and-bob-tail hotels in

creation—

SCHNELL. Mine Gott!

LAND. Hold on, sir. You’re going too far.

BULGER. I’ll go farther next trip. I’ll go to the next town. (_Getting

valise and things._)

LAND. Your bill is ready.

BULGER. (_Snorting._) Bill! bill!

LAND. (_Decidedly._) I said _bill_.

LEGGATT. Bulger, you’ll miss your train if you stand there quarreling.

Now clear out, all of you, or I’ll miss my 4 o’clock sleep. I almost feel

as if I should miss it after this. (_LANDLORD takes B.’S valise and is

going R. followed by B. SCHNELL stands undecided._) Hi there, landlord,

don’t leave that Dutchman here. (_LANDLORD pays no attention, exeunt._)

SCHNELL. (_Angrily._) Tutchman! dat was me—Mine frent, I was no Tutchman,

I was Cherman oont—

LEGGATT. Get out before I commit murder. A first-class quiet hotel! Oh!

(_Reaches for pistol. SCHNELL goes flying out R._)

QUICK CURTAIN.

MADAM PRINCETON’S

TEMPLE OF BEAUTY

A FARCE

BY T. S. DENISON

_Author of_

Odds with the Enemy, Initiating a Granger, Wanted, a Correspondent, A

Family Strike, Seth Greenback, Louva, the Pauper, Hans Von Smash,

Borrowing Trouble, Two Ghosts in White, The Pull-Back, Country Justice,

The Assessor, The Sparkling Cup, Our Country, Irish Linen

Peddler, The School Ma’am, Kansas Immigrants, An Only Daughter,

Too Much of a Good Thing, Under the Laurels, Hard Cider,

The Danger Signal, Wide Enough for Two, Pets of Society,

Is the Editor In? The New Woman, Patsy O’Wang, Rejected,

Only Cold Tea, Madam P’s Beauty Parlors, Topp’s

Twins, A First-Class Hotel, It’s all in the Pay-Streak,

The Cobbler, A Dude in a Cyclone, Friday Dialogues.

_Also the Novels,

The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc._

CHICAGO:

T. S. DENISON, PUBLISHER,

163 RANDOLPH STREET.

MADAME PRINCETON’S TEMPLE OF BEAUTY.

CHARACTERS.

MADAME PRINCETON, Proprietor of Temple of Beauty.

MRS. COMPTON, very stout, wants to be reduced.

MISS DICKIE BIRD, who wants to be bleached.

MISS TERWILLIGER, who is in search of a complexion.

MISS McFADDEN, a suspicious enquirer.

SUSAN, an assistant of Madame P.’s.

_Time of playing, twenty minutes._

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

_R._ means right of the stage; _C._, center; _R. C._, right center; _L._

left; _1 E._, first entrance; _U. E._, upper entrance, etc.; _D. F._ door

in flat or back of the stage. The actor is supposed to be facing the

audience.

NOTE—To present this piece properly, the ladies must make up as directed.

But young ladies as a rule greatly dislike putting anything disfiguring

on their faces. Miss Terwilliger should use make-up paints, one side of

face fiery red, the other very brown, freckled. But she may get along

very well by bandaging one side and splotching the other freely with

court plaster, reddened with carmine ink. It is best to select a lady

naturally stout, with a keen sense of humor, for Mrs. Compton. Full

instructions maybe found in a good “make-up” book.

MADAME PRINCETON’S TEMPLE OF BEAUTY.

SCENE—_Entrance R. and L. in 1. D. F., L. C.; shelves for

“goods” against flat R. C., sofa near wall up L., chair between

that and door R., table with books and flowers down L. C.,

operating chair (barber’s) R. C.; other chairs and little

accessories to taste, but do not crowd stage. May be played in

any room having two doors._

SUSAN. (_Discovered as curtain rises examining toilet articles on

shelves._) The skin food is nearly out. Skin food! Mutton fat and

bergamot, cost, ten cents a jar. China jar and gilt label twenty cents

more, total thirty cents, sells for five dollars. Well I guess there’s

more money in skin food than there is in stomach food or brain food, for

that matter. (_Takes up another bottle._) Anti-fat! Vinegar and water,

three dollars a bottle. Anti grandmother! (_Laughs._) Why, I’m talking

about my relatives. What fools these women are. I’ll start a Beauty

Parlor I guess. (_Coquettishly._) I am a sample of Madame Princeton’s

work myself. Humph! I never did a blessed thing for my beauty. I wouldn’t

put her skin food on a mangy dog. That fat old Compton thing goes

waddling round taking anti-fat and jerking the pulleys in the gymnasium.

My, she makes me laugh. She gets fatter every day.

_ENTER briskly MADAME P., R._

MAD. P. Susan, have you opened up the gymnasium to air it?

SUSAN. Yes’m!

MAD. P. Where is Mary?

SUSAN. In the stock room.

MAD. P. Have we plenty of everything? There’s going to be a run on Madame

Princeton’s Toilet Articles. The World’s Fair medal is a great card.

SUSAN. I suppose we’ll get that medal before the next Fair opens?

MAD. P. The delay is so annoying. But we’ll do as the others do—say we

have it already.

SUSAN. The skin food is low.

MAD. P. Did you telephone the commission man to hurry up that mutton

tallow?

SUSAN. Yes, he sent it by mistake to Madame La Duke’s Parlors.

MAD. P. Madame La Duke’s, indeed! I’ll sue her for damages if she steals

any more of my secrets.

SUSAN. I guess Madame La Duke knows mutton fat from goose grease.

MAD. P. She is an ignorant imposter. Every idea she has she stole from

me. Tell Mary to set the girls making a gross of skin food immediately.

(_Exit SUSAN, L._)

_ENTER MRS. COMPTON, R., puffing._

MAD. P. (_Running to meet her._) Why, how charming you look, Mrs. Compton.

MRS. C. (_Dropping in chair._) I’m nearly starved to death. I haven’t

eaten a bite of meat for three days.

MAD. P. Abstinence and Madame Princeton’s Anti-fat will do the business.

Take a dose now, (_pours out wine glass full_). That will revive you.

It operates on the fat glands and allays their abnormal activity. It is

excitement of the fat glands which causes excessive flesh. Do you feel

better? You’ve lost, I should say, fifteen pounds the last week.

MRS. C. Madame Princeton, I just feel completely gone. Why, when the

girl brought in Mr. Compton’s breakfast this morning, I felt like a wild

animal. I just wanted to grab his steak and tear it with my fingers and

teeth.

MAD. P. But you must not indulge your appetite.

MRS. C. I dare not or Mr. Compton would suspect. Heaven forgive me the

lies I’ve told that man. And I a church member, too. Told him one day I

had no appetite, and the next a headache, and the next that I had lunched

hastily down town. Dear me, what can I tell him next!

MAD. P. Does he suspect you?

MRS. C. I’m afraid so. He said this morning if I didn’t eat pretty soon

he’d send for the doctor.

MAD. P. Keep it up three days more and then we’ll surprise him. You will

have lost at least thirty pounds by that time. Your husband will be

delighted at your improved appearance.

MRS. C. I don’t know about that. He’s a queer man. When I first met him

I weighed only ninety pounds. It didn’t seem to matter to him when I

weighed twice that.

MAD. P. But it does matter. He is deceiving you. Men prefer willowly

women.

MRS. C. Maybe, but I’ve heard him say that Mrs. Smith was as thin as

the last run o’ June shad. Couldn’t you fatten that woman? It would be

a relief to her neighbors if you could, and it would prove that you can

perform miracles.

MAD. P. Yes, get her to come in. I’ll give you a commission. It’s very

simple. If she’d only take my Anti-lean. All she needs is to have the fat

glands stimulated. Anti-lean is the greatest discovery of the age.

MRS. C. Would you mind telling me what it is; in confidence, you know.

MAD. P. Oh, goodness, that is a professional secret.

MRS. C. I’ll tell her about it, but, good land, what ye’re doin’ to me

would kill her. I couldn’t stand it if I wasn’t as strong as an ox.

MAD. P. You are doing bravely. What did you eat for breakfast?

MRS. C. Three oatmeal crackers and a cup of coffee.

MAD. P. You have broken the rules. I limited you to two crackers.

MRS. C. It was Mr. Compton’s fault. He insisted I should eat.

MAD. P. Any cream in the coffee?

MRS. C. Only a spoonful.

MAD. P. You must obey me if you expect good results. I’ll give you a

double dose of Anti-fat. And you shall lunch here to-day. One small white

cracker, one large pickle and a double portion of Anti-fat.

MRS. C. Mayn’t I have a chalk crayon to nibble at. I’ll eat the wax

candles next thing.

MAD. P. Oh, you may have all the chalk you want. Now go to the gymnasium.

First the rowing apparatus, then the dumb bells and lastly, the swinging

rings. That’ll fetch you round.

MRS. C. If it doesn’t kill me. (_Exit D. F._)

_ENTER SUSAN, L._

SUSAN. The mutton fat—

MAD. P. Hist! (_Whispers in SUSAN’S ear and gives meaning look toward D.

F._)

_ENTER MISS TERWILLIGER, R._

MAD. P. How do you do, Miss Terwilliger? You are very punctual. Some

women have no notion what an engagement means.

MISS T. (_Heavily veiled._) Madame Princeton, my face pains terribly. I

am really alarmed.

MAD. P. (_Coldly._) I told you there would be some pain. Let me see your

face. Removing freckles is rather a painful operation, if done by the

quick method. (_MISS T. removes veil, discloses bandage covering the

whole of one side of the face. MAD. P. removes bandage, shows one side of

face very red the other brown._) It is working beautifully.

MISS T. (_Goes to glass, shrieks._) Oh, horrors! What a fright! Oh, oh!

MAD. P. Be cool, my dear.

_ENTER MRS. C. from D. F._

MRS. C. Goodness, what a start you gave me! (_Sees MISS T._) Why what on

earth are you doing to that girl? Poor child! One side of her face is red

as a beet and the other brown as a berry.

MAD. P. Really, Mrs. Compton, there is nothing the matter. That is the

way it always works, Miss Terwilliger.

MISS T. But my face is on fire, oh! oh! And I read in the paper that a

young lady died here undergoing treatment.

MAD. P. That was all a lie! I’ll never let another newspaper reporter

interview me as long as I live. Come this way for treatment. (_Going L._)

Madame Compton, go back to your exercises. (_Exeunt MAD. P. and MISS T.,

L._)

MRS. C. Well, I’m glad I haven’t freckles or warts or whiskers. I never

could stand it to be skinned alive, I know. I’m so hungry I could eat a

jar of that skin food.

_ENTER SUSAN L. Exit MRS. C., D. F._

SUSAN. Silly little goose. She’s going to be a bridesmaid and is willing

to be skinned in order to look pretty.

_ENTER DICKIE BIRD._

DICKIE B. Are you the young lady I spoke to yesterday?

SUSAN. You are Miss Dickie Bird?

DICKIE. I am. I have an appointment at this hour.

SUSAN. I operate on the hair. Take this seat. (_DICKIE seated facing L.

so audience can have side view of hair and face; lets down DICKIE’S hair,

which must be dark and beautiful._) Oh, what beautiful hair! If I had

that hair I wouldn’t dye it for the world.

DICKIE. But blondes are so fashionable! They are all the rage, you know.

(_SUSAN tucking the barber’s apron closely round DICKIE._) Does it cause

any inconvenience?

SUSAN. Not the least! You can not appear anywhere for several days.

(_Scream from MISS T. heard off L._)

DICKIE. (_Bounding from chair._) Goodness! What is that?

SUSAN. Oh, nothing. They are skinning a girl in there.

DICKIE. Mercy sakes! Skinning a girl! That is horrible.

SUSAN. (_Laughs._) You misunderstand. It is the complexion treatment. It

takes off the old skin, and I think they took it off that girl pretty

deep. It burns like fire at first. (_Another scream._)

_MRS. C. runs out D. F._

MRS. C. My nerves just wont stand that!

DICKIE. I’m very glad I don’t have to be skinned. Ugh! it makes me

shudder. (_Gets in chair._)

MRS. C. And what are you going to have done?

DICKIE. I’m going to be bleached!

MRS. C. What color?

DICKIE. Why, blonde, of course.

MRS. C. Well, if I had that head of hair I wouldn’t bleach it for the

world. What lovely hair, and Mr. Compton does so admire hair.

DICKIE. (_Coquettishly._) They all do. (_Susan getting bottles and

brushes._)

SUSAN. Are you ready, Miss Bird?

DICKIE. Quite ready.

MRS. C. (_Going D. F._) Bird! That must be Dickie Bird. Giddy thing!

She’s the worst flirt in town. Oh dear, I could eat a raw frog! (_Exit D.

F. Noise of pulleys going furiously._)

DICKIE. What is that fat old thing doing here?

SUSAN. Improving her shape. She’s on Anti-fat.

DICKIE. (_Sarcastically._) You couldn’t reduce her waist with one of

those what do you call ’em machines. She’s had her day. Why doesn’t she

stay at home with her old man.

SUSAN. Neither age nor condition is beyond the aid of Madame Princeton.

That woman can work miracles. (_DICKIE is now swathed in apron and towels

till she looks like a mummy._)

DICKIE. Why are you so very particular about wrapping me up, Susan?

SUSAN. The stuff is very powerful. I musn’t let a single drop get on your

skin.

DICKIE. Oh dear, I am nervous. (_Tries to move._) Mercy, I can’t move

hand or foot. (_Screams._)

_ENTER, hastily, MAD. P., L._

MAD. P. What is the matter, Miss Bird?

DICKIE. I am afraid!

MAD. P. My dear, there isn’t the slightest pain or danger. Go on, Susan.

(_Aside to SUSAN._) You’ve been talking again. Why can’t you keep your

customers quiet like mine. (_Scream from MISS T. who runs in, one side of

face in great red blotches._)

MISS T. Madame Princeton, you will kill me! Oh, how my face smarts!

MAD. P. It can’t hurt much.

MISS T. It’s on fire! Oh, oh!

MAD. P. Only a temporary twinge, Miss Terwilliger. (_Gets between

DICKIE’S chair and MISS T., turns latter away, nods to SUSAN who busies

herself with DICKIE._) To-day I will apply my great discovery, Pastilla

di Pasta and to-morrow you will have the complexion of a baby. (_Rushes

MISS T. out L., shuts door._) Some people make a great fuss about nothing.

_ENTER MRS. C., with played-out look, D. F._

MRS. C. Madame Princeton, haven’t I exercised enough to-day?

MAD. P. (_Severely._) Not half enough!

MRS. C. (_Puffing._) Well, I shall die, that’s what I’ll do!

MAD. P. (_Impatiently._) I wouldn’t if I were you, Mrs. Compton.

MRS. C. Madame Princeton, you are positively cruel! I believe you

actually enjoy our sufferings.

MAD. P. That’s right, excite yourself! Your heart is strong and

excitement reduces flesh. It stimulates the lean glands, just as repose

invigorates the fat glands.

MRS. C. But s’pose I die right here in your place. Think of the

consequences. One woman did die.

MAD. P. No, she didn’t.

DICKIE. Goodness, that woman makes me nervous. Talks of dying in the

place. I can’t stand this any longer. (_Tries to rise._)

SUSAN. (_Restraining her._) Be careful, you’ll make me spill it and then—

MAD. P. Susan, hold your tongue.

DICKIE. I am afraid. (_Manages to stand up, swathed like a mummy, MAD.

and SUSAN support her._)

MAD. P. Sit down, Miss Bird. The remedy is as harmless as water.

DICKIE. I am _so_ nervous, let me go home. I read of the girl that nearly

died here.

MAD. P. (_Indignantly._) No such thing ever happened, I tell you. She

only fainted.

DICKIE. But papa doesn’t know what I’m doing. He wouldn’t approve at all.

And if anything more should happen and _my_ name get in the papers—

MAD. P. Nothing can happen. How absurd. (_They get DICKIE back in chair._)

MRS. C. _I_ am nervous, too. If Mr. Compton ever caught me here, oh dear.

MAD. P. Mrs. Compton, I beg you will act rationally. Go back to your

pulleys! It is against the rules for one patient to enter the room where

another is being operated on.

MRS. C. Humph! I can hear the racket of all of ’em. I’ll break that old

machine. (_Exit D. F., noise of pulleys violently._)

_ENTER MISS McFADDEN, R._

MISS McF. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Madame Princeton?

MAD. P. (_Bows._) You do. Won’t you come into the reception room? It’s a

mistake of the girl to show you in here. Your name?

MISS McF. Miss McFadden. Since we are here I think we can manage. I have

but a moment.

MAD. P. Did you wish to enquire about treatment, Miss McFadden?

MISS McF. Yes, if you please.

MAD. P. Complexion, perhaps?

MISS McF. Exactly! My skin feels rather harsh at times.

MAD. P. You need my crowning discovery, the wonderful skin food, followed

by Pastilla di Pasta.

MISS McF. I had thought of trying something of the kind. (_MAD. P.

showing vase of “food.”_) How much?

MAD. P. Five dollars a jar.

MISS McF. Isn’t that rather expensive?

MAD. P. Excuse me, it is worth twice the money. I ought to charge ten

dollars. The materials are very costly, and the secret is invaluable.

MISS McF. I’ll take a jar! (_Gives money._)

MAD. P. (_Smiling._) Anything else?

MISS McF. No, that is, yes, my sister has a wart on her nose, which

disfigures her slightly!

MAD. P. That can easily be removed.

MISS McF. Will it leave a scar?

MAD. P. Oh dear, no! I never leave a blemish! In fact I improve on nature

in her happiest moods, to such a state of perfection has my art attained.

MISS McF. (_Has been writing in note book._) Will it be a painful

operation?

MAD. P. Not at all! My customers actually enjoy the various processes,

just as they say men enjoy being shaved and having their heads rubbed.

MISS McF. My sister may come in—(_Loud screams L._) What is that?

(_Terrific crash back of flat. SUSAN drops bottle._)

MAD. P. Mercy! What has happened?

DICKIE. (_Jumping up from chair._) There! you’ve spilled some on my hand!

(_Struggles free from wraps, throwing them right and left._)

MAD. P. (_Throwing up hands._) Miss Bird! Miss Bird! Do be careful!

DICKIE. It is black as ink. This is disgraceful, Madame Princeton.

MAD. P. Oh dear, Susan! Wash it off quick with the stain remover!

_ENTER MISS TERWILLIGER, L._

MISS T. (_Indignantly._) Madame Princeton, I wont stand this any longer!

(_One side of her face covered by a thick plaster the other shockingly

red._) My face is on fire.

MAD. P. But, Miss Terwilliger, patience. You will look like a baby when I

am done with you.

_ENTER MRS. C. puffing, D. F._

MISS T. I’m burning up. (_Hands to face._)

MRS. C. Throw water on her, she’s afire!

MAD. P. Water, indeed!

MRS. C. She looks like a boiled lobster now! Did you ever see such a face?

MISS McF. But the process is painless?

MAD. P. Quite so, her nerves are unstrung, poor thing. (_MISS McF.

writing in note book._) What are you writing there?

MISS McF. Only your address.

MISS T. (_Rubbing face._) Oh, my face! Will it ever look right again?

MAD. P. Don’t rub it!

MISS T. But I can’t help it!

MAD. P. My dear, you will look like a June rose.

DICKIE. And my hand, look at the great horrid black spot. (_Exposes

hand._)

MAD. P. It’ll all come off in a month.

DICKIE. A month, did you say! Oh, I can’t endure it that long.

MRS. C. Humph, I’ve been starving that long. Some people make a great

fuss about nothing!

DICKIE. But I must go to the charity ball next week!

MAD. P. Mrs. Compton, you have thirty minutes yet. The rings are next.

MRS. C. Oh sugar! Maybe you think I’m a fool! I’m done with your old

machine. I smashed it with the Indian clubs.

MAD. P. Smashed the machine! You shall pay for it. Indeed, you shall.

MRS. C. Oh, I’ll pay. And what’s more, I’ll eat if I have to weigh 300

pounds.

MAD. P. That’s what you will weigh.

MRS. C. (_Spiritedly._) Well, I wont get fat to please you. I am not

going to eat if I die for it.

DICKIE. Oh, that stain! It’ll never come off I know.

MISS T. Oh, my face!

MRS. C. Oh, my stomach!

MAD. P. (_Emphatically._) Oh, my patience!

MISS McF. Yes, your patients. (_Writes._) Quite an interesting lot.

MAD. P. (_Sternly._) Young woman, what _are_ you writing?

MISS McF. Just a little item. I am a reporter for the “Daily Fudge.”

ALL. A reporter! (_Excitement_, “oh’s” and “dear me’s.”)

DICKIE. My name in the papers! Papa will never forgive me! (_Darts out

R., MISS T. darts out L._)

MRS. C. Mr. Compton will be furious. To think! Our names in the paper.

MAD. P. (_Glaring._) Do it if you dare, young woman. She doesn’t dare.

I’ll sue the “Fudge” for damages.

MRS. C. (_To MISS McF._) I’m as weak as a cat, or I’d choke you, you

horrid thing! Yes I would. (_Glares at MISS McF. who stands coolly

writing._) My name in the “Daily Fudge!” And that horrid Anti-fat!

MAD. P. After all ladies like their names in the papers. It wont hurt

anything. It advertises business.

TABLEAU.

_R._ _C._ _L._

MISS McF., SUSAN, MRS. C., MAD. P.

QUICK CURTAIN.

[Illustration: MADAME PRINCETON’S TEMPLE OF BEAUTY.]

A DUDE IN A CYCLONE

A FARCE

BY T. S. DENISON

_Author of_

Odds with the Enemy, Initiating a Granger, Wanted, a Correspondent, A

Family Strike, Seth Greenback, Louva, the Pauper, Hans Von Smash,

Borrowing Trouble, Two Ghosts in White, The Pull-Back, Country Justice,

The Assessor, The Sparkling Cup, Our Country, Irish Linen

Peddler, The School Ma’am, Kansas Immigrants, An Only Daughter,

Too Much of a Good Thing, Under the Laurels, Hard Cider,

The Danger Signal, Wide Enough for Two, Pets of Society,

Is the Editor In? The New Woman, Patsy O’Wang, Rejected,

Only Cold Tea, Madam P’s Beauty Parlors, Topp’s

Twins, A First-Class Hotel, It’s all in the Pay-Streak,

The Cobbler, A Dude in a Cyclone, Friday Dialogues.

_Also the Novels,

The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc._

CHICAGO:

T. S. DENISON, PUBLISHER,

163 RANDOLPH STREET.

A DUDE IN A CYCLONE.

CHARACTERS.

MAJOR TOWNSLEY, Proprietor of hotel.

JIM FUNK, a “wild and wooly” Texan.

SOLOMON ISAACSTEIN, insurance agent and “bromoter.”

ADOLPHUS PUTERBAUGH, from the Manhattan Club, New Yawk.

MRS. TOWNSLEY.

PATTIE BAGGS.

JACK AND TOOTSIE.

_Time of playing, twenty minutes._

NOTE—The only difficult part in this play is that of Sol. Isaacstein. He

is a Jew of the extreme type. The best study is that of the typical Jew

traveling man who is not native born. Isaacstein’s dialect is of course

exaggerated, as all dialect must necessarily be in farce. One useful hint

may be given, i. e., try to get an easy swing to it. To pronounce _der_

gombany with nicety of precision spoils the effect entirely. _Der_ is not

plain _dare_ in English. It is more indistinct so that the _d_ may be

nearly a _t_. The same remarks apply to the dialect of Adolphus.

A DUDE IN A CYCLONE.

SCENE—_Cyclone cellar in Texas. One door R., blank walls, bench

back, all characters discovered, as curtain rises, in state of

confusion, some holding lighted candles; footlights out, stage

dark._

DOLLIE. (_Hearing._) Oh, what did they say?