TOWNSLEY. Is everybody in? (_Closing doo_Lively plays for live people

MRS. T. Oh John, I’m afraid they’re not all in. Jack are you there, an’

Tootsie?

JACK. I’m O.K. maw, Tootsie, too.

SOL. I. Boot me down O.K. (_O gay_) too. I set my ziglone alarm, greatest

invention of the age. Wendt off an hour ago. Macher, I’ll sell you some

stock; 50 per zent down, balance—

MRS. T. Where’s Pattie Baggs?

MRS. B. I’m here, Mrs. Townsley. And I’m dyin’ o’ fright. Oh, I wish John

was here!

MRS. T. Do you want him here to be blown to fiddle-strings in the cyclone?

MRS. B. But he’s on the cyars and it may blow the train off the track.

SOL. I. Tear laty, regomment him to my ziglone ogsident bolicy!

MRS. B. Oh, I shall faint if you go on that way.

ADOLPH. Deah me, is the stom so vewy violent as that?

JIM F. Well, I should say, Puterbaugh! Last cyclone there was an old

goose on a nest under the barn. It blew those goose eggs, would you

believe it, right through the brick chimney. Holes in the brickwork

looked as if there had been a cannonade.

ADOLPH. Dweadful! I’m sowwy (_sorry_) I evah left New Yawk!

SOL. I. Mine frent, Nye Yorick vas a great blace, but it ish not in it

gombared to Dexas.

JIM F. That’s what, Isaacstein. A cyclone’s not bad. It’s a little

exciting, but rather enjoyable when you get used to it.

ADOLPH. Weally, you don’t say! It must be vewy twyin’ on the nerves.

MRS. T. Townsley, is the door barred securely?

TOWN. Yes, my dear.

MRS. T. John, put something more against it. (_A pause._) You men lean

against it.

TOWN. Let the door alone, can’t you!

MRS. B. Oh my nerves, they’re twitchin’ forty ways for Sunday.

MRS. T. Pattie Baggs, can’t you keep still? This is a serious time.

SOL. I. Mine frent, vat becomes of dot goose?

JIM F. Oh the goose, that was the strangest thing ever heard of. The

cyclone blew that barn all to fliggets and scattered it over half the

county and it actooally left that old goose settin’ on the same spot with

not a feather on her, an’ nary an egg under her.

ADOLPH. Did you evah heah the like?

MRS. T. (_To PATTIE._) Jim Funk couldn’t stop tellin’ stories if old Nick

was at the back door; he had ought to be ashamed of himself.

SOL. I. (_Taking out note book to write._) Dot was a stranche (_strange_)

phenomenon. I will write dem insurance gombanies to stop wridin’ bolicies

on parns oont wride dem on gooses. Der gombany safes monies oont I get a

gommission.

JIM F. A capital idea! Why, it blew so hard last time—

MRS. T. (_Petulantly._) Major Townsley, can’t you men stop talkin’. It’s

a solemn occasion.

TOWN. Madam, I haven’t said a word.

MRS. T. But Dizzie Jim an’ that Jew—

TOWN. My dear, they are guests of the hotel. I can’t tell ’em what to

say. Jim Funk, this is a serious matter.

JIM F. You bet it is, major.

MRS. B. Oh my nerves—is it comin’? (_Bright flash of lightning._)

TOWN. (_Peeps at crack in door._) Dark as Egypt and roarin’ like Tophet.

MRS. B. Oh! oh! I shall smother.

MRS. T. Pattie Baggs, keep quiet. Hollerin’ aint goin’ to stop it. My

land, where’s Bridget an’ Susan. (_Looks round._) They aint in; Townsley,

do go an’ fetch them.

TOWN. It’s too late now. I guess they have run out the back way and got

in Smith’s cellar.

MRS. T. But maybe they haven’t an’ they’ll be killed sure.

MRS. B. Oh goodness! If you talk of killing, you’ll kill me dead, and

John—

TOWN. (_Severely._) Mrs. Townsley, who is talking now?

MRS. T. But you don’t do anything. You just stand there as unconcerned.

TOWN. What can I do?

MRS. T. I wish I was a man.

ADOLPH. This is puffickly dwedful!

SOL. I. If you blease, macher, a little petter light. (_Getting closer to

candle._) I wrides dem ogsident gombanies to put a goupon on der bolicy,

“Not good unless der barty vas in der zellar.” Dem gombanies safes monies

oont I get a gommission.

MRS. T. (_Suddenly._) Where’s Tootsie?

TOOTSIE. I’m here all right, maw.

JACK T. Yes, I fetched her, you bet. (_JACK goes to door to peep out.

Lightning and fierce crash of thunder. MRS. T. and MRS. B. scream in

concert. ADOLPH starts and stumbles, falling, drops candle._)

JIM F. Hello there, Puterbaugh. (_Helps him up._) Lightning strike you?

ADOLPH. Weally I cawn’t say. I feel so shook up. (_Feels his arms._)

JIM F. You’re all right. That ain’t a marker to what we’ll get. Why, last

cyclone the lightning fell in great balls, as big as your head, that

danced round the ground among the hailstones and melted away slowly—them

that didn’t explode. (_Lightning and another crash of thunder._) I saw a

chunk of it in the chimley corner next day.

ADOLPH. (_Jumping._) Weally, I cawn’t stand that, don’t you know. I wish

I’d nevah left New Yawk.

SOL. I. Mine frent, you was nerfous. Haf you an ogsident bolicy? I’ll

write you up. You vas a goot risk, seein’ you was in der zellar.

ADOLPH. Weally, my fwend, you aw impawtunate. I have me insurance, don’t

you know, always cawy it same as me cane.

SOL. I. Dot Nye Yorick insurance vas no goot in Dexas. It hasn’t got der

ziglone goupon.

JACK. (_Going to door._) Oh Tootsie, come an’ look. It’s just splendid.

Black as ink, an’ way off yellow as can be. (_TOOTSIE runs to door._)

TOOTSIE. Aint that just tip top?

MRS. T. (_Severely._) Major Townsley, do you see those children?

TOWN. My dear, I see them.

MRS. T. Do you want them killed?

TOWN. Fiddlesticks! Keep still, can’t you.

MRS. T. Send them away from that door—if anything happens!

TOWN. (_Goes to door._) Go, my dears, back to the far corner! (_Looks

out._) Something will happen! It’s a grand sight! It’s coming like a

race-horse!

MRS. B. Oh, Major Townsley, do you want to frighten us all to death!

MRS. T. (_Sarcastically._) It’s no use trying to keep men still.

JIM F. I hope it wont blow this cyclone cellar out of root. (_Fearful

hissing of wind with lightning._)

ADOLPH. Gwacious! do you think it’ll do that?

JIM F. No tellin’! Last cyclone—

MRS. T. (_Severely._) Jim Funk, can’t you keep still?

JIM F. Why yes, if it is the wish of the company. (_Sits on bench back._)

ADOLPH. _I cawn’t_ keep still, I say now!

SOL. I. Dot gomes from hafin no insurance! Bedder dake a ziglone bolicy.

Dot helps der nerfs bedder.

ADOLPH. (_Scornfully._) Go away, fellah, weally you annoy me. I’m used to

pwivacy.

SOL. I. (_Puts up note book._) Zome beoples always stands in der vay

of der own lidght. (_Taking out book suddenly._) Say, lantlort! (_No

reply._) Macher Downsley, dis zellar vas boorly lidghted, vy ton’t you

but in elegdrick lidghts? (_Increased roaring of wind._) He toesn’t hear.

(_Goes to T. who is near door, speaks very loud in his ear._) Macher

Downsley!

TOWN. What are you yelling about?

SOL. I. I’ll dake a gondract to lidght dis zellar from basement to addig

mit elegdrick lidghts. (_Aside._) I can get a small gommission from der

gompany. (_Clap of thunder._) He gan’t hear. It vas a drifle noisy for

peesness.

TOWN. Isaacstein, you had better sit down. (I. _sits on bench back._)

MRS. T. Townsley, how does it look outside?

TOWN. Roaring like all the fiends. The roof of the hotel will go in a

minute. There goes the chimneys now!

JACK. (_Runs to door._) Oh paw, let me see!

TOOTSIE. An’ me, too! (_Going._)

JACK. Go back, Tootsie! (_Pushes her away._) It aint fur girls.

TOOTSIE. (_Pushing._) Paw, Jack’s pushin’ me.

MRS. T. (_Severely._) Come here, both of you. Major Townsley, do you see

those children? And at such a time! Humph, you aint fit to be the father

of a family! No more government than a cat—(_clap of thunder._) Oh! oh!

MRS. B. Save me! save me!

MRS. T. I guess ye aint gone yet.

TOWN. (_To children._) Run back dears, to the far corner. (_They go L.,

holding hands._)

TOOTSIE. Jack, I’m afraid.

JACK. Don’t be skart, Tootsie. Paw an’ me’s here.

ADOLPH. (_Who will not sit down, suddenly._) Oh, I say, majah, say, don’t

you know! (_Goes to TOWN._) He cawn’t heah. Majah!

TOWN. Speak louder!

ADOLPH. (_Shouting in T.’S ear_) Me twunk!

TOWN. (_Gruffly._) What’s the matter now?

ADOLPH. I fohgot me twunk, don’t you know.

TOWN. Trunk! What on earth do you want with your trunk?

ADOLPH. It contains all me linen and things. Let me out! I must have it!

(_Looks at watch._) It’s the houah to change me tie.

TOWN. (_Restraining him._) Mr. Puterbaugh, you can’t go out in that

storm. Hear the roaring. (_Groaning of the wind loudly._)

ADOLPH. But I change me linen twice a day, don’t you know.

JIM F. (_Jumping up._) I’ll loan you a shirt!

ADOLPH. Thanks awfully, but I nevah weah flannel, besides what would you

do, I say now?

JIM F. Do you think I have only _one_ shirt!

SOL. I. (_Jumping up._) Mine frent, my vardrobe vas limited, but it is at

your disbosal.

ADOLPH. Thanks, awfully, but I cawn’t weah percale, it’s two dweadful!

(_To TOWN._) Don’t you think I could dwag me twunk into this cave? (_At

door._)

TOWN. (_Pushing him away._) Why, you lunatic! you wouldn’t risk your life

for a trunk would you?

ADOLPH. (_Hopping round._) I’m dwedfully nervous! I haven’t been so

excited since the day I thweatened to cane Gawge Bowkah in the Manhattan

Club. Insulted me, the cad! They had to westwain me, and all that.

Adolphus Putehbaugh was the hero of the houah. Got hauled up befoah the

diwectahs and all that. Made me a weputation as a dangewous man, don’t

you know—(_Clap of thunder._) Gwacious! that’s comin’ it stwong!

SOL. I. (_Rushes forward._) Mine frent, vil you dake dot bolicy now?

No dime like der bresent. Telay is tangerous. I tell you vot I’ll

do. (_Whispers in his ear._) Half der gommission! (_Begins writing._)

Gristian name Adolphus—Age?

TOWN. (_At door._) There goes the roof! (_All jump up._)

MRS. B. Land sakes, I’m goin’, too!

MRS. T. (_Jerking her back on seat._) No you aint! Patty Baggs, don’t be

a fool.

MRS. B. Oh, if John were only here!

SOL. I. My tear laty, in dis case distance vas der pest bolicy—exzepting

always der ziglone bolicy.

MRS. T. If the roof is gone how will we manage for dinner, I’d like to

know?

TOWN. (_Snorting._) Dinner! That’s like a woman.

MRS. T. Yes, and it’s like a man to say nothing till he’s hungry as a

wolf, and then he expects it in two minutes.

JIM F. Never mind, Mrs. Townsley, we’ll get along somehow.

MRS. T. Humph! There aint a man in the county that has a better appetite

than you have.

JACK. Maw al’ays said ’at Dizzy Jim was a dandy to eat!

TOWN. Boy, keep still there.

SOL. I. (_Peering out._) Macher Downsley, dot roof was gone sure enough.

Say, I’ll dake a gondragt to repuild dot hotel on a scale of magnifizence

suitable to dis greadt state of Dexas.

TOWN. You a contractor, too? I thought your line was insurance.

SOL. I. Haf you not my gardt alretty? (_Gets card._) Read dot gardt.

“Solomon Isaacstein, Bromoter.” I bromotes eferyding from ziglone

bolicies to hodels oont shtock gombanies. Wherefer dere was gommissions

dere was Isaacstein retty for peesness.

TOWN. Wait till we find out the damages.

SOL. I. Mine frent, der bresent is der only dime. Der bast was brotested

oont der future disgounted. I’ll figger on dot gondragt now oont have

an esdimate ven der ziglone subsites. (_ADOLPH drops his candle._) Dem

gandles vasn’t equal to such an occasion as der bresent. Macher, haf you

consiteret dot broposition for elegdrick lights in dis ziglone zellar?

(_Tremendous flash and splitting thunder._)

ADOLPH. (_Who was nervously trying to light his candle drops it panic

stricken._) I say now this is gettin’ to be a beastly boah.

SOL. I. Frent Puterbaugh, allow me. (_Lights match._) You vas standin’ in

your own lighdt, my tear sir.

ADOLPH. I should say that I’m standing in me own dark. (_Laughs._) Aw,

wathaw good joke that, best I’ve made since I left New Yawk. You cawn’t

make a good joke in this blawsted country. Climate so vewy depwessing.

We’re an awfully witty lot of chaps in the Manhattan Club.

JIM F. (_At door._) How is it outside, major? (_JIM and T. look out

intently._)

SOL. I. (_Lighting A.’S candle after some trouble._) Der glimate vas hart

on matches in Dexas. Mine frent, a goot shoke is ter best donic for te

nerfs excebt a ziglone bolicy—

ADOLPH. I say now Mistah—ah, I cawn’t quite wecall youah name.

SOL. I. Solomon Isaacstein, Bromoter, Nye Yorick oont San Franzisco.

(_Confidentially._) Let me make a broposition, der macher vas a little

slow.

ADOLPH. He keeps a beastly place heah, don’t you know.

SOL. I. (_Enthusiastically with the Jew gestures of the comic papers._)

Ogzactly, ogzactly, but petter oxpressed dan I could oxpress it. Dis

blace vas not up mit der dimes even for Dexas. It needs elegdrick lights

(_suddenly struck by idea_) oont, py chorge, (_slaps A.’S shoulder till

latter staggers_) vat you say to pilliarts in dis zellar?

ADOLPH. By Jove! Good idea, don’t you know.

SOL. I. Sugchest it to Macher Downsley. My prudder Abe Isaacstein makes

pilliart dables. He gives a tiscount of dwenty per zent to der drade, put

I makes Abe gif me sefenty-fife per zent. I’ll tifide dot gommission.

(_Crash of thunder, lightning._) Himmel, vat a noise.

MRS. B. I know we’ll all be killed.

MRS. T. Pattie Baggs, are you hankering to be killed?

MRS. B. Oh Mrs. Townsley, how can you talk so?

MRS. T. Keep still, then. (_Aside._) That poor dude’s nearly scared to

death already.

JIM F. (_At door._) There she goes.

MRS. T. The hotel?

JIM F. No, the stable. (_Enthusiastically._) Look at that!

CHORUS. What is it?

JACK. (_Runs._) Lemme see.

TOWN. Sit down, will you, boy.

JIM F. Aint that great! Aint it?

MRS. B. Do tell us, Jim. (_Pause._)

JIM F. Why, that old brindle mule. When the stable went it riled him so

he’s got his grit up an’, dumme, if he aint just kickin’ the cyclone to

strings right an’ left; he’s splittin’ it wide open.

ADOLPH. Gwacious me!

JIM F. But it’ll git the better of ’im, I ’low. He’s gittin old an’

short-winded an’ that cyclone holds a full hand. There goes a cabin. Look

at it, major. Why, I’ll be shot if there aint three coon skins nailed on

the door an’ a nigger smokin’ a pipe, as cool as patent ice.

ADOLPH. Gwacious, my twunk!

SOL. I. Oont no inzurance? No? I’ll write an emerchency bolicy for fifty

per zent extra.

TOWN. Jim, you’ve a good eye to see coon skins in that light.

JIM F. (_Looks again._) Hanged, if I wasn’t mistaken. It’s fox skins.

Might a knowed that by the rings on the tails. Old Brindle’s knocked out!

No, he isn’t. He’s taken a hitch round an apple tree with his tail. There

goes the tree, roots an’ all, an’ the mule holdin’ on by his tail. The

cabin’s out o’ sight now.

MRS. B. Mercy me, Jim, d’ye see any cyars? John’s in the cyars.

JIM F. No, Mrs. Baggs, I don’t see no cyars, but if there doesn’t go half

a mile o’ track sailin’ along over the tree tops.

MRS. B. Mercy on us! I’ll bet the cyars is wrecked an’ John’s hurt. Oh

Jim—

JIM. Don’t be skeared, mom! The cyars didn’t get into the cyclone, only

the locomotive. It’s still runnin’ nateral as life. The fireman’s heavin’

in coal.

ADOLPH. I weally cawn’t get back to New Yawk without me twunk.

SOL. I. Ton’t co pack py Nye Yorick yet, mine frent. You haf not seen

half ter peauties of dis great gountry alretty.

JIM. T. There it’s about over now. Major Townsley, I’ll bet three to one

that old mule doesn’t get back inside three days. It took him two days

last time an’ he’s gittin’ old an’ stiff. (_Gets lighter._)

SOL. I. (_To ADOLPH._) Mine frent, dot was a coot pet. We’ll make up a

little zindigate oont dry it. Jim, I dakes ten tollars vort of dot pet,

hants town. (_Gets daylight again._)

MRS. T. Townsley, is the hotel gone?

TOWN. (_Unbarring door._) No, only the roof and the chimneys. Jim has

been exaggerating slightly.

SOL. I. I suspected oxacheration. I’ve pin dere pefore. (_Struck with

idea._) Py cracious, I’ll ket up an oxacheration bolicy for dis gountry.

It would be a vortune broperly hantled. (_T. opens door._)

MRS. T. (_Going toward door._) Roof gone and dinner ruined.

ADOLPH. And my twunk gone to the bow wows, an’ it’s half an howah pawst

the time to change me linen. (_All going R., SOL. last, making notes._)

SOL. I. (_Calls._) Mr. Bewterpaugh! Mr. Bewterpaugh! (_OVERTAKES A._)

I’ll find dot drunk for a slighdt atvance, cash town.

QUICK CURTAIN.

It’s All in the Pay-Streak

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

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.

IT’S ALL IN THE PAY STREAK.

CHARACTERS.

JOHN LAWTON.

FLOSSIE, his young daughter.

HERBERT, his son, an outcast.

HARVEY VANCE, Flossie’s accepted lover.

JIM ROGERS, alias “Pay Streak,” a rustler.

MOLLIE BAKER, alias “The Rocky Mountain Grouse.”

RACHEL, old family servant of Lawton’s.

_Time of playing, one hour, forty minutes._

PROPERTIES.

Ring for Florence, money, architect’s plan, two pistols, dishes, towels,

skillet, stove for cabin, gun, card tray, card, oranges in basket, two

cots, blankets, newspaper, cartridge belt.

COSTUMES.

The costumes of this play are all “of the day” except the make-up of

ROGERS and VANCE in the mountains, Act II. These are: Brown coarse

overalls and blouse or roundabout. (Blue will answer, but is not right.)

Cartridge belt when worn is heavy and full of cartridges; slouch hats,

black or white, to taste; very heavy boots (not shoes), very dusty;

overalls may be in boot tops or not; for variety, one each way will do.

VANCE may have very long whiskers or stubble. PAY STREAK is more juvenile

and may be shaven. Face very brown. Clothing greasy and smeared with clay.

HINTS ON PRESENTATION.

This play has been written from mining life and hotel life as the author

has actually found it, except that miners employ a very energetic and

picturesque profanity which can not be reproduced in a play. One caution

is necessary in the characters of “Pay Streak” and the “Rocky Mountain

Grouse.” The man is not a _clown_ and the girl is not _coarse_. Miners

are serious people, and however ludicrous their conversation and actions

may appear to outsiders, to themselves it is earnestness. A man who will

stand up and die in defense of his claim must be an earnest man. The

other characters need no special elucidation. Great care must be taken,

in the duel scene, to use blank cartridges. Any mistake here may prove

real tragedy.

BILL OF THE PLAY.

ACT I. The outcast brother. His return. The engagement ring. The terrible

mistake.

ACT II. Cabin of ROGERS & VANCE, Gunnison county, Colorado. “There’s a

man lookin’ for pard.” The meeting. The duel. Too late.

ACT III. Hotel, Indian River, Florida. Two wanderers and a bride and

groom. The unexpected meeting. Reconciliation. “Look for the Pay Streak.”

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.

[Illustration: IT’S ALL IN THE PAY STREAK.]

IT’S ALL IN THE PAY STREAK.

SCENE—_Home of the Lawton’s, entrance R. and L. in 1. Window

in flat C., piano up L. by flat, sofa up R., table down L. C.

with chairs. Portrait of lady on flat R. of window, flowers on

mantel piece R. In this play L. always means L 1, and R., R 1.

Discovered as curtain rises, Flossie reading note. Lamp lighted

on table._

FLOSSIE. What am I to do? (_Reads._) “Meet me at eight at the old oak by

the spring.” The poor boy doesn’t know that the grove is cut down and

the whole place built up with cottages. Five years since he left, and we

thought he was dead. He must be desperate to come back like this and take

the chance of meeting father. Poor boy! Papa is so unrelenting. Snapped

Rachel up for even mentioning Herbert’s name once. And he was always

Rachel’s pet. Oh, if she doesn’t find him! I ought to have gone myself,

but I was afraid. He’ll think that I, too, never forgave him. (_Moves

nervously._) I can hardly wait till Rachel returns. If she doesn’t find

him—

_ENTER MR. LAWTON, R._

LAW. Daughter, is my paper here?

FLO. It is on the table, papa. (_LAW. seats by table._)

LAW. Rachel is very careless lately. I always want my paper in the

library. I’ve spent half the time I had to read looking for it.

FLO. I’m very sorry, papa.

LAW. Florence, you don’t hold a very firm rein. The servants run the

house. (_Reading._)

FLO. But papa, Rachel has been here ever since I can remember. Why

shouldn’t she manage? She knows everything about housekeeping much

better than I.

LAW. You are too easy, child. Your mother always allowed herself to be

imposed on through sheer good nature.

FLO. Why, papa, nobody imposes on me. Rachel is almost a mother to me.

LAW. You must be firm. It may do with Rachel, but the others—(_looks

up._) Why Flossie, bless me, what ails you? (_FLO. wipes eyes._) I didn’t

mean to scold, but really—there now, never mind. Perhaps I spoke too

sharply.

FLO. Dear father, you have always been so good, but—(_pause._)

LAW. (_Gazing at her._) But what, Flossie? Don’t mind me. I forgot that

you are scarcely more than a child.

FLO. (_With slight opposition._) I’m _not_ a child. I am eighteen. I want

to be treated as a woman.

LAW. (_Laughs._) Very well, Miss Florence Lawton, what does my young lady

want?

FLO. I want—(_nervously_) I want a great deal.

LAW. All young ladies do nowadays. A new gown, or diamonds possibly?

FLO. Can’t a woman think of anything besides dress?

LAW. Some women can’t.

FLO. If mother were living and asked you something seriously, you

wouldn’t treat her that way.

LAW. (_Rises takes her hands tenderly._) Child, there is something on

your mind, speak freely. As I see you before me, I see the image of your

dear mother. Flossie, when you ask, you ask for _two_.

FLO. Then, dearest papa, may I ask a very—very great favor? So great

that—I’m afraid to ask it.

LAW. (_Seriously._) Why, my child, what is the matter?

FLO. (_Looks at him intently._) Nothing much. (_With feeling._) Dear papa—

LAW. Speak out. Am I such an ogre as to frighten my own child. Why make

so much ado about it? (_Pause._) Florence, why don’t you speak? Has Mr.

Vance been disagreeable?

FLO. (_With down-cast eyes._) It isn’t Harvey—how absurd—(_nervously_) Oh

papa, do you think that—brother Herbert—

LAW. (_Hardening, short pause, then with effort._) Daughter, why do you

wring my heart like this? That name is forbidden in this house.

FLO. But Herbert is your son and my brother.

LAW. No, I have no son and you have no brother. He disgraced us and then

robbed us. He sent your mother to her grave. (_With feeling._) He is dead.

FLO. But if he were not dead?

LAW. I know what you mean. But he is dead to us. I had some months ago

a letter from him which I burned unopened. I’ve heard enough of his

pretended repentance.

FLO. Oh papa—

LAW. Has he written to you?

FLO. He only begs forgiveness. He does not ask for money.

LAW. Florence, I forbid you to communicate with him or speak his name. If

he comes back here the prison is ready for him. Flossie, no disobedience,

remember.

FLO. Where are you going, papa?

LAW. To the lodge. Good-bye. (_Exit LAW, R._)

FLO. What can I do? My duty is to a poor, needy, erring brother as well

as to my father. And papa is _so_ hard on that point.

_ENTER RACHEL, L._

FLO. (_Breathlessly._) Did you find him, Rachel?

RACH. Yes, the poor boy was that glad to see me, he fairly hugged me.

FLO. Where is he?

RACH. He came with me.

FLO. That is dangerous, he may be seen here.

RACH. He would come. He must see you.

FLO. I wonder if I’d know him?

RACH. I’m afraid not, Miss Flossie.

FLO. Is he so changed?

RACH. He looks thin an’ tired like.

FLO. Poor Herbert! Did he ask about me or papa?

RACH. You first! The poor child was wanderin’ round like a stray sheep.

He didn’t know that the old place was sold for lots. It seemed to make

him sad.

FLO. Rachel, what shall we do?

RACH. Did you speak to Mr. Lawton?

FLO. Yes, and papa frightened me. He seemed so bitter—and so hurt.

RACH. I’ll tell him I think he is too harsh.

FLO. No, Rachel, leave that to me.

RACH. Then Herbie will have to wait. If you don’t mind my sayin’ it, he

did act pretty bad.

FLO. But we must forgive, always, Rachel.

RACH. Land, haven’t I cried for him many’s the time. Your mother and I

often spoke of him between ourselves.

FLO. Where is he now?

RACH. In the kitchen.

FLO. I’ll see him here. He shall never say that his only sister received

him in the kitchen.

RACH. But the risk, Miss Florence.

FLO. Papa is at the lodge, and I expect no one this evening. How does he

look, Rachel? Do you think I’ll know him?

RACH. I guess not. In fact, he’s desprit shabby.

FLO. Then we must give him some clothes. Papa has plenty, and I think

they are about of a size.

RACH. Yes, I think they be. Shall I fix him up a little?

FLO. Yes, get papa’s last year’s gray suit. I’ll be there in a minute.

I’ll see what money I have. (_Takes out purse. Exit RACH. L._) Dear

me! I’ve only a pitiful two dollars and some silver. I’ve been too

extravagant.

_ENTER HARVEY VANCE, R._

VANCE. Good evening, Flossie.

FLO. (_Drops purse._) Oh, Mr. Vance, you startled me.

VANCE. (_Gallantly picks up pocket-book._) _Mister Vance!_ You are very

formal. I used to be Harvey.

FLO. (_Embarrassed._) But I didn’t expect you.

VANCE. Of course not. I thought I’d surprise you. (_Notices her._) Why,

Flossie, are you ill? You are trembling like a leaf. (_Be seated, offers

to help her to a seat; she gently repulses him._)

FLO. (_Hesitates._) I didn’t expect you.

VANCE. I don’t see why my sudden appearance should affect you that way,

since we are to be married in a month.

FLO. Pardon me, Harvey. I—I think I—

VANCE. (_Anxiously._) My dear, you are ill! Do sit down. (_She refuses as

before._)

FLO. I am not ill—only—(_with effort_) I am cross to-night.

VANCE. (_Laughs lightly._) If that is all I’ll talk you into a good

humor. I have the plan of our new house here. It will be the finest on

the hill. I’ve had that staircase changed. I wish to see if it meets your

approval. It must go to the contractors by to-night’s mail; that’s why I

came.

_ENTER RACHEL, door L., then about to withdraw suddenly._

FLO. Rachel!

RACH. Miss Florence? (_Putting in head again._)

FLO. I’ll give the orders later.

RACH. Yes, Miss! (_Exit._)

VANCE. (_Sits at table._) Sit down, Flossie. This plan has been altered

since—

FLO. Harvey, please—I cannot look at the plan to-night!

VANCE. Why not?

FLO. I am not in the mood. Excuse me please.

VANCE. But it must go immediately!

FLO. Send it! I don’t care about the changes!

VANCE. But you did care.

FLO. I don’t care now.

VANCE (_Anxiously._) Don’t care now? Our own house? Why, Florence!

FLO. I mean I can’t look at it now.

VANCE. (_Rises._) Florence, don’t you think you are just a little bit

capricious sometimes?

FLO. (_Nervously._) Perhaps! Why not? Must a woman smile always?

VANCE. Flossie, you don’t want to see me to-night, that is plain.

FLO. Harvey, you men are so exacting. There are times when one wants

to—to be let alone.

VANCE. There now! We’ll not quarrel. We have never quarreled yet. I

thought you’d like to see me—I mean the plan. But you don’t.

FLO. Why don’t you show it to papa? He’s at the lodge. Go and meet him.

VANCE. I don’t think he is interested in it very much. But I guess I’ll

try it.

FLO. (_Pleased._) Oh, do Harvey.

VANCE. Florence, excuse my thoughtlessness. I have intruded. I beg

pardon. I see there are times when even a man’s sweetheart isn’t

interested in his plans.

FLO. (_Coaxingly._) Harvey, don’t be absurd.

VANCE. I am not absurd. I’ve only been thoughtless, that’s all. (_Going

R._) Good night.

FLO. Good night. (_Goes to door with him._) I’m so sorry. (_Exit VANCE,

R._) There’s a narrow escape and what _will_ Harvey think of me. I have

actually been rude. Why, he left his plan after all! (_Goes L., calls

RACHEL._)

_ENTER RACHEL, L._

FLO. The coast is clear, Rachel, I actually feel guilty. If papa should

return—

RACH. Shall I bring him in?

FLO. Yes, be quick. (_Exit RACHEL, L._) I must get him away. To think

that he must be driven like a tramp from his own home.

_ENTER HERBERT, L. He advances and then stands with down-cast look._

FLO. Oh Herbert, dear brother! (_Advances toward him._) Why, Herbie,

can’t you speak to me?

HERB. (_Advances._) Little Flossie!

FLO. Not so little now! (_Grasping both his hands, hesitates._) I thought

you might kiss your sister.

HERB. Flossie, can you forgive me? (_Kisses her._)

FLO. Am I not your sister?

HERB. (_Admiring her._) How you have grown! and how pretty you are!

Just the image of mother. (_Starts, wipes away tear._) Dare I ask her

forgiveness, too? I cannot look her in the face.

FLO. Oh Herbert!

HERB. What is it, Flossie? How strange you look! Where is mother?

FLO. (_Takes him gently by the hand and leads him to portrait._) There!

HERB. (_Looks at picture then at FLO., staggers to chair._) Dead! God

forgive me, I killed her. (_Buries his face in his hands._)

FLO. (_With handkerchief to eyes, in broken voice._) Herbert, we must all

die. She is happy now.

HERB. And I, miserable wretch, repaid her love with disobedience. I broke

her heart.

FLO. (_Gently takes his hand._) Brother, have you asked God to forgive

you?

HERB. Yes, but my prayers are in vain.

FLO. No, God forgives, and she has forgiven. She died with your name on

her lips.

HERB. (_Moved._) I must go now. For months I have dwelt upon the time

when I could fall on my knees at her side and ask her forgiveness. Now

there is only the hard world for me. And father—

FLO. You must not see him yet.

HERB. He is still relentless? I do not blame him, but he might have

written me that she was dead—

FLO. We thought—

HERB. (_Looks at her._) You thought I was dead, too? I wish I had died.

FLO. Herbert, you are still young, there is time yet.

HERB. Too late. I know father too well. He never will forgive me. When I

took mother’s jewels—that turned his heart to stone.

FLO. Dear brother, I will win him over if you give me time. But he must

know that you have truly repented. What are you doing now?

HERB. God knows, I am trying. I have had hard luck. I came to the door

like a tramp. And here I am in _his_ clothes. I’d sooner beg than take

them, but Rachel made me put them on.

FLO. But you have been earning something.

HERB. (_Bitterly._) Something! Yes, fifteen dollars per month in a livery

stable and sleep in the stable.

FLO. Oh Herbert!

HERB. And I lost that job three months ago. Times were so hard they

couldn’t keep me.

FLO. Have you no money?

HERB. (_Bitterly._) Money! and out of work so long! Florence, you don’t

know the world.

FLO. I’ll give you some. But I have so little, only two dollars. Take

that. (_Gives money._)

HERB. (_Smiling._) I suppose you’ll think I want to work the family for

money. That is about all I ever did.

FLO. Nonsense, Herbie. I only wish I had more. Isn’t there some friend?

HERB. Friend! (_Laughs bitterly._) _Friends!_ Mine all quit me when my

money was done.

FLO. (_Suddenly._) Oh, I know of one, he’ll help you.

HERB. I haven’t a friend in the world. Who is he, Flossie?

FLO. (_Hesitating._) A friend of—of the family. A _good_ friend.

HERB. (_Pause, he regards her._) A very good friend?

FLO. Yes, the noblest friend in the world.

HERB. (_Smiling._) I begin to see, little sister. Going to marry him?

FLO. Yes, next month.

HERB. Lucky fellow!

FLO. And then papa will be lonely and he may—I’ll try my best.

HERB. He never will, not for years any way, if ever. Who is your friend?

FLO. Harvey Vance. You don’t know him. He is a new man who started a

carriage factory here. He doesn’t even know that I have a brother.

HERB. You had better tell him, Flossie. Don’t keep anything back. He

mightn’t like it if he heard afterwards from some one else.

FLO. I don’t like to speak against you.

HERB. Then just say there is a black sheep in the family. If he wants to

know more, he’ll ask.

FLO. Oh, he is so honorable, he’d never ask; and he’ll help you.

HERB. I’d rather work my own way. I look pretty well in these clothes,

though they are not exactly a fit. The governor is stouter than he used

to be.

FLO. Papa is very well and strong.

HERB. (_Laughs._) Yes, and I imagine it wouldn’t be healthy for me if he

caught me here.

FLO. Oh no, and—I can’t tell you—but you must go. And you must leave

town, too.

HERB. I can’t leave town on two dollars unless I tramp it. And that puts

me back beyond hope. If I could only get to Chicago. Times are improving

and I might get work.

FLO. How much do you need?

HERB. I couldn’t do with less than twenty dollars.

FLO. And I’ve been such an extravagant little goose. I’ve spent all my

money. My jewels—

HERB. (_Starting._) Jewels! My God, don’t mention jewels!

FLO. Pardon me Herbie, I forgot.

HERB. Rachel always has money.

FLO. But it is all in the savings bank. She deposited to day.

HERB. I’ll wait till to-morrow.

FLO. No, no, you must not wait till to-morrow. You must go to-night.

HERB. (_Bitter feeling returning._) But why are you all so anxious to get

rid of me. I’ll go soon enough.

FLO. I can’t tell you! Papa—

HERB. (_Starting._) I remember now. (_Bitterly._) Prison! He threatened

me. No, there is no place here for me.

FLO. There is no way but the jewels. Papa gave me a necklace.

HERB. Never! I’ll never touch his money after that threat. I’ll tramp

first. Perhaps he’d like to have his son a tramp. Perhaps the people of

this town would like to see me further disgraced, curse them.

FLO. Herbert! Herbert, how can you speak so? But you must go.

HERB. Yes, I must go. Ha! ha! I’ll go. The governor will soon be back

from the lodge and he—no I can’t say anything against him for I have

wronged him too deeply. (_Pause, looks at her ring._) Florence, that ring

is worth one hundred dollars. I could easy get twenty on it.

FLO. But that is _his_ ring, my engagement ring. I couldn’t part with

that.

HERB. No, of course not, Flossie. Forgive me for suggesting such a thing.

I’ll try to get along somehow.

FLO. Go to the next town, keep quiet, and I’ll send the money.

HERB. Everybody knows me there.

_ENTER VANCE, R., unobserved, stops surprised._

FLO. Of course! I could meet you somewhere. (_Vance surprised stops._)

HERB. That might be arranged, but where?

FLO. I’m afraid I couldn’t get away to-morrow. (_Vance puzzled, moves as

if to go out._)

HERB. Dear Flossie, I’ll leave it all to you. You are my only hope.

(_Vance struck with suspicion stops, then stands like a statue._)

FLO. Herbert, I shall never give you up, no matter what happens. I think

of you night and day. (_Vance hand to head with gesture of anguish._)

Pshaw! this is no time for hesitation. (_Takes off ring._) Take this! If

_he_ misses it I’ll make some excuse. It’s easy enough to put him off.

(_They go L._)

VANCE. (_With anguish, low tone._) Oh God! _my_ ring!

FLO. (_Turns, sees V., screams._) Oh! Mr. Vance, how you startle me! Why

did you come in that way?

VANCE. (_In husky voice._) I startle you! Heaven help me! What have _you_

done to me? Stabbed me to the heart.

FLO. Oh, Mr. Vance, please—

VANCE. Save your words, false woman, traitress, shameless creature, you

drove me away to meet _him_ here. (_FLO. totters back grasping chair.

VANCE advances in a furious passion._) Oh the shame! Woman! woman! (_She

shrinks back speechless._) I could strangle such a viper. (_Drops his

hands, head falls on breast._) No, I can’t strike her for I loved her.

Traitress, farewell! (_FLO. drops senseless._)

HERB. Help! Rachel! (_Dropping on knees beside FLO., raises her head._)

Coward! Wretch! You shall answer for this.

VANCE. (_With passionate scorn and deliberation._) Yes, I’ll answer, and

I’ll kill you at sight like a dog.

QUICK CURTAIN.

ACT. II.

SCENE—_Mining camp in Rocky Mountains. Cabin set to show

interior. Door R. in 1. Rude cot near R. corner, and another in

L.; stove with skillet against rear wall, L. C.; plank cupboard

against side wall R.; window flat between stove and cot; rough

pine table down C., with seats at either side, of sawed log;

rough chair, rocks on table, gun on hooks, L.; overalls, etc.,

on floor and on nails; coffee pot, very dirty towel, etc.,

etc. PAY STREAK discovered as curtain rises, sewing buttons on

overalls, business of threading needle and tangling thread._

PAY S. That pesky thread is enough to rile ole Job, I reckon. It takes

my pard to sew on buttons. He goes at it ’sif he’d been a tailor in his

time. He’s the coolest cuss in camp anyway. Wy, when we struck it rich

in the “Little Lucy” lode what did he do? Jump round an’ holler an’ say,

“Boys, we’ve got it bigger’n an elephant?” Nary time; jest said, “I ’low

if it holds out we’re pretty well heeled.” Didn’t seem to care whether it

held out or not. Bet yer boots _I_ care. I’ve been poor as a church mouse

too long not to care. What did I do when I seen the assay went $500 to

the ton? Wy, I jist slipped over to ole man Baker’s place an’ asked the

Grouse if she’d like to hitch. I was afraid o’ that cuss from Tenderfoot

Gulch, that Lonesome Mose. He’s struck it, too. What d’ye s’pose she

said? “Pay Streak, what does she go to the ton?” “Five hundred, Mollie,”

sez I, awful anxious, fur I didn’t know what Mose’s assay showed. An

says the Grouse, “I’ll think about it, Jim.” Called me Jim instead o’

Pay Streak. I couldn’t stand that, an’ cust if I didn’t give her a smack

’at sounded like a giant cap bustin’. She didn’t git very mad, an’ then

I knowed it was good as settled. (_Pulls at thread and breaks it._) Cuss

that thread! I reckon that’ll hold till Mollie takes charge o’ my traps.

(_LAWTON raps at door, with cane, R._)

PAY S. Come in, stranger!

LAW. Is this Vance & Rogers’ place?

PAY S. It is; step right in; there ain’t no call to rap at any miner’s

door in the Rocky Mountains, but of course you don’t know that, bein’ a

tenderfoot.

LAW. Oh, yes, I know that a miner’s door is always open. Are you Rogers?

PAY S. Correct y’are! Squat. (_Wipes off chair with towel._)

LAW. This is just as good. (_Seats himself on one of logs, PAY S. on the

other._) Are you the man they call Pay Streak?

PAY S. That’s my sobriquet (_sobrikwet_), as the editor calls it. The

boys called me Pay Streak because I’ve a way o’ askin’ how wide the pay

streak is when they git to talkin’ about their claims. I al’ays look at

the pay streak first. A man’s the same as a mine; when ye’ve seen the

width of his pay streak, ye’ve got his measure.

LAW. It’s not a bad name, either.

PAY S. Becherlife it aint. Some sense in it. Now if they’d called me

Lonesome Mose as they do that inexorable cuss over in Tenderfoot Gulch

I’d a killed a few of them jist to change my luck.

LAW. I hear you boys have struck it rich.

PAY S. Bigger’n a four-hoss team an’ band wagon, stranger.

LAW. Let me see, what is your partner’s full name?

PAY S. Vance! Harvey Vance! The boys call him “Old Silence” ’cause he

says mighty little an’ don’t talk no minin’ guff about his claims.

LAW. Where does he hail from?

PAY S. Illinois.

LAW. Where is he to-day? I believe I know him.

PAY S. (_Jumping up._) What! you know my pard, stranger! Now why did ye

go beatin’ round the bush? That aint a square deal! Why didn’t ye jist

walk in an’ hang up yer hat? Take that there chair! No, but ye must.

(_Law takes chair._) We haint much hyur, but all we got belongs to any

friends o’ Old Silence. Scuse me, I mean your friend Vance.

LAW. Oh, that’s all right, no apologies.

PAY S. Stranger, I’m _cussed_ glad to see you. Shake! Wy, we’ve been hyur

two year and never a soul come along that was an _old_ friend. I’ve a

whole raft o’ kin in Missouri, but none of ’em drifts to this camp. You

kin bet yer liver, pard’ll be glad to see ye.

LAW. I hope so, it’s a good while since I saw him.

PAY S. I’ll bet my share in the Little Lucy—an’ we was offered $100,000

last week fur it—that my pardner haint any friends he’s ashamed of.

LAW. No, he isn’t that kind.

PAY S. That’s straight! ye can’t tell me nothin’ about him an’ his

outfit. Anything he says goes, on this hill. That’s ’cause he doesn’t say

much.

LAW. Where is Mr. Vance to-day?

PAY S. I was jist wonderin’ myself, when you dropped in. The gun aint

gone so I ’low he isn’t far away.

LAW. Could I have a short talk with him privately?

PAY S. Could you talk with him privately? Stranger, hain’t I jist said

this place was your’n. When he comes I’ll vamoose quick, savvy? I ’low

he’s out at the Lucy lookin’ at the truck. Pard, it’s good fur sore eyes

to look at that truck, $500 to the ton.

LAW. I might walk out and meet him, if you don’t object.

PAY S. _Ob_ject! Stranger, really ye’re not talkin’ on the square. How

could I _ob_ject. Wy, the mountain’s your’n! Everything in sight is

your’n!

LAW. Thank you, Pay Streak! By the way, what is your full name?

PAY S. Rogers, Jim Rogers. I’ll take ye to the Lucy. No, I recken you

want to see him private. (_Goes to door._) Well, foller the path straight

ahead about two hundred yards.

LAW. Thank you, Mr. Rogers. I’ll see you again.

PAY S. Krect. (_Exit LAW R._) I’ll bet he’s a financer an’ wants to buy

the Little Lucy. Well, he can’t. She has a pay streak wuth talkin’ about,

two feet wide an’ five hundred to the ton. (_Looks out._) Great guns, if

they aint ladies a comin’! Wonder if they’ll stop here fur a drink o’

water or anything? I haint been in society sence I left Missouri. I’ll be

shot if it aint the Grouse an’—an’ a strange lady. The Grouse is comin’

to take us by s’prise. This place is in a nice ruction fur company. Haint

made my bed yet. (_Runs to bed R., turns up the blankets and tries to

smooth out the pillow._) That pillar’s harder’n one o’ Lonesome Mose’s

flapjacks. (_Hammers at pillow._) Ought ter been filled at the sawmill

long ago. An’ that towel aint been washed fur a month. (_Flips towel

under the bed._) I’ll git one o’ Vance’s towels. (_Takes clean towel

out of cupboard and hangs it across chair back._) Pard’s a purty good

cook but he aint in it washin’ dishes. Them plates looks tough. (_Picks

up plates from table, drops knife, picks that up and drops plate, which

breaks._) Damn it! (_Picks up pieces, throws the whole into cupboard with

a bang, closes door._) Look at that skillet, an’ fried onions, too,

scentin’ the whole mountain. Wher’n thunder kin I put them? I guess

that’s about the place fur them. (_Tosses skillet out of window._) There,

I s’pose that’s the best I kin do on short notice. (_Sits on log and

pretends to be reading old soiled paper, rap at door._) Come in!

_ENTER GROUSE and FLO._

GROUSE. Hello, Mr. Rogers!

PAY S. Well, I’ll be—(_catches himself_) this is a s’prise, Grouse.

GROUSE. Miss Baker if you please, Mr. Rogers.

PAY S. (_Surprised._) Oh—of course! Excuse _me_. No offense I hope,

_Miss_ Baker.

GROUSE. Mr. Rogers, let me _interduce_ Miss Lawton. She’s travelin’ to

see the mountains.

PAY S. (_Bows awkwardly._) I’m awful glad to see you, Miss Lawton. _You_

take the chair. Grouse, I reckon you’ll have to squat on a log.

GROUSE. (_Sitting on table._) Jim Rogers, where’s yer manners? Nicknames

don’t go afore company.

PAY S. No, of course not. (_To FLO._) I beg pardon, Miss Lawton, but ye

see all the miners called her the Rocky Mountain Grouse, long ago when

she was a little tot.

GROUSE. (_Making face._) Long ago! I like that. I s’pose I’m old

Methusalem now.

PAY S. (_Embarrassed._) Now looky hyur, Grouse—I mean Miss Mollie Baker,

what ails ye? I didn’t mean nothin’. Ye’re techy as powder to-day. (_To

FLO._) Excuse _me_, Miss, but I’m a little off on talkin’ to ladies.

Haint been in society sence I left Joplin, Missouri, five years ago.

FLO. Oh, don’t be formal, Mr. Rogers, I like the mountain ways.

PAY S. Wy, to be sure, the mountains is best, lots of room, lots of

rocks, lots of—of everything. I say, Miss Lawton, kin I show you Little

Lucy? She’s a daisy.

FLO. (_Surprised._) Little Lucy! I don’t understand.

GROUSE. Pay Streak, you _are_ a greeny. What d’ye s’pose the lady knows

about your lingo. (_To FLO._) The Little Lucy’s a mine.

FLO. (_Laughing._) I should be delighted to see Lucy but I can not

to-day, thank you.

PAY S. Oh well, any day’ll do. Besides my pardner, I reckon he could talk

to ye. He’s a lady’s man.

FLO. (_Nervously._) Oh no! I saw the mines at Leadville. I just wanted to

say that there’s a man looking for Mr.—for your partner and—

PAY S. Yes, Miss, I told him where to find him.

FLO. (_Trying to appear calm._) You told him! Miss Baker, they musn’t

meet.

GROUSE. Now you _have_ done it, Jim. They were lookin’ fur each other.

PAY S. Holy Moses! How did I know they was lookin’ fur each other?

GROUSE. Pay Streak, have you been in the mountains five years an’ don’t

know what a man means when he says he’s _lookin’_ fur somebody? You don’t

know enough to pound sand in a rat hole.

PAY S. (_Scratching his head._) Well, I don’t, ladies, an’ that’s a fact.

Why cuss it! (_To FLO._) Excuse _me_, Miss, I may haf to actooally swear

afore this job’s over. But how could I know that that slick chap was

_lookin’_ fur pard? He only said he wanted to see him.

GROUSE. Well, he mustn’t.

FLO. Oh no, Mr. Rogers—I—I can’t tell you why, but they must not meet.

PAY S. (_Bowing awkwardly._) Bet yer life you don’t need to tell why.

When a lady says she wants a thing that’s enough fur me. I aint askin’

why. (_Admiring glance at GROUSE._)

GROUSE. Then don’t stand like a dummy. Git a gait on an’ stop ’em afore—

PAY S. Wont I, great guns! (_Gets revolver and belt from under pillow._)

I’ll stop ’em if I have to take a hand in the game myself.

FLO. (_Alarmed._) Oh no, Mr. Rogers! Please don’t do that!

PAY S. (_Surprised._) No? Then I wont. I’ll jist argy pardner out of it;

I aint much on talk, but I’m used to him.

FLO. An’ I’ll be so grateful!

PAY S. Don’t mention it, Miss. (_Struck with idea._) I’ll convince

pardner an’ then we’ll both convince tother chap if we have to pump him

full o’ lead to do it.

FLO. Oh, not that, either. You must not do anything.

PAY S. (_Puzzled._) Well, I’ll be—this _is_ a puzzler. I give it up.

GROUSE. Why don’t you go, Jim? Don’t stand there like a mud hen on a log.

PAY S. I’ll vamoose instanter, savvy? (_Exits hastily R._)

FLO. Miss Baker, you’ll think this very strange.

GROUSE. Not a bit, Miss. I’ve been there.

FLO. (_Surprised._) But I mean—

GROUSE. Never mind. Jim’ll straighten it all out. And if you don’t want

to meet Mr. Vance, you’d better skip right off, fur he’s liable to turn

up any minnit. There haint been no shootin’ yet or we’d heard it.

FLO. Oh, I’m so glad. I’ll go now and you wait to bring me word.

GROUSE. But you may meet tother one on the mountain.

FLO. I want to meet him. One word would fix it all right. (_Exit._)

GROUSE. Well, I never! These fine ladies play a big game. Keeps both on

the hooks till they git fightin’ mad an’ then goes tearin’ round tryin’

to make peace. Humph! Wants to meet tother one. Well, I s’pose _he’s_

the one an’ Vance gits left. I’m awful sorry for Vance fur he’s _white_

an’ Jim likes him awful well. (_Sits on table and swings feet._) That

comes o’ havin’ too many fellers at onct. I’ve been there, but I reckon

I shipped Lonesome Mose jist in time. Good Lord, only think o’ Pay

Streak an’ Lonesome Mose cavortin’ round the mountains lookin’ for each

other. Why, it makes Jim hot fur me even to mention Mose. There’s a good

deal worse than Mose, but I wouldn’t look at him beside Jim. I’ve been

dreamin’ o’ Jim ever since we led the ball at Cottonwood Pass two years

ago last winter. If anything ’ud happen Jim—well, the Rocky Mountain

Grouse wouldn’t fly so high, that’s all. But it wouldn’t do for me to

tell him all that. A little at a time kind o’ keeps a man lookin’ for

more an’ then Jim’s sort o’ gone on himself an’ it would make him sassy.

(_Looks out._) Why, there he comes runnin’.

_ENTER PAY S., R._

PAY S. (_Breathlessly._) Run all the way an’ back. Can’t find ’em

nowhere. Where’s she?

GROUSE. Gone. She’s a sly one.

PAY S. There yer off yer lead. She’ll run away up on assay.

GROUSE. I didn’t mean that. She’s playin’ two suckers at onct, I guess.

PAY S. I don’t b’lieve it. That woman’s no coquette (_cokwet_).

GROUSE. Why, she said so herself.

PAY S. No!

GROUSE. Fact! But she’s had a lesson. She’s run to the end of the tether

an’ she knows which ’un she’ll take.

PAY S. Then it’s my pard, sure.

GROUSE. Taint nether.

PAY S. Why, tother one is old enough to be her pap.

GROUSE. Don’t care if he is. Them city gals don’t care fur age. They jist

look at the rocks.

PAY S. Well, pardner’ll have plenty of stuff when we git the Lucy goin’

two shifts a day. Say, Grouse, why didn’t ye mention that to her an’ say

a good word fur pardner?

GROUSE. Mention that! To her! Land o’ twilight! It’s a heap you know

about women.

PAY S. (_Puts arm round her waist._) I know they are sweeter than all

creation.

GROUSE. (_Withdrawing._) Oh, you do, do you?

PAY S. (_Shoving closer to her on table._) I mean there’s one that is ole

peaches an’ honey. (_Tries to kiss her._)

GROUSE. (_Slaps him, but not very defiantly._) Pay Streak, I al’ays

thought you’d some sense.

PAY S. Bet yer boots _I_ know a good thing. Say, I’m awful sorry for

pard. I cotton to that gal.

GROUSE. Indeed! Then I’d better clear the way.

PAY S. (_Hastily._) I mean fur him. I believe she’s actooally good enough

fur him.

GROUSE. It’s no use. He is off the lead. Tother chap’s campin’ on the

claim. All ye kin do now is keep him away from tother one.

PAY S. How’ll I do it? Where the deuce is pardner, anyway? He went out

after breakfast an’ never said anything about goin’ away.

GROUSE. We’ll fix up a scheme. I’m sort o’ sorry for her. She’s awful

anxious.

PAY S. (_Enthusiastically._) Yes, I’d do anything fur her.

GROUSE. (_Looks meaningly._) Oh, indeed!

PAY S. I mean fur your sake, Mollie. Say, it’s awful nice to call you

Mollie, savvy?

GROUSE. Jim, ye’re silly. Why don’t you try to think.

PAY S. I jist can’t when you are hyur. You think.

GROUSE. Well, where do you guess Vance is?

PAY S. You didn’t meet him goin’ to town, so he must ’a gone over the

mountain to look at the Jumbo.

GROUSE. Then I’ll tell ye what to do. You take the gun an’ meet him an’

say that the jumpers are after pap’s claim again over in the basin.

PAY S. He’ll want me to go ’long then.

GROUSE. Tell him you are goin’ back to camp fur more men.

PAY S. I’ll be cust! The very thing. (_Gets gun._)

GROUSE. An’ do hurry. I’ll wait till you come back. I’m gittin’ skeered.

PAY S. Don’t you worry. Jist let any body sass you an’ I’ll—

GROUSE. Do go on, quick! (_Pushes him out._) It’s downright silly the

way men act about women, wantin’ to shoot and sayin’ they’ll die. Humph!

An’ a woman, she can’t do nothin’ but git scart an’ cry an’ carry on.

I do hope he’ll git Vance away. It serves her right, though, to git a

good scare; she’ll know how it is herself. (_Knocking at door, GROUSE

starts._) Come in!

_HERBERT at door._

HERB. Whose cabin is this?

GROUSE. It’s Rogers & Vance’s, owners of the Little Lucy.

HERB. Is Mr. Vance around?

GROUSE. He ain’t fur away, I guess. Will Rogers do? He’s jist gone. I kin

call him back, but he’s in a powerful hurry.

HERB. Don’t call him, I’ll drop in again. Could you give me a drink of

water?

GROUSE. Certingly, come in! (_HERB. steps inside, she gets dipperful of

water from pail, he drinks._)

HERB. Thank you, very much.

GROUSE. Don’t mention it. (_Looks at him._) You’re a tenderfoot, I guess!

HERB. (_Smiles._) Yes, that is, I have been in Colorado only six months.

They told me of this Vance over at Dead Man’s Gulch. (_Rests foot on

log._)

GROUSE. Did you want to see him pertickler?

HERB. Rather particular, yes.

GROUSE. If it’s business, Rogers knows.

HERB. It’s a private matter. Perhaps he is at the Lucy?

GROUSE. He’s most likely at the Jumbo. Take the trail straight up an’

it’s jist over the ridge.

HERB. Thank you, I’ll meet him perhaps. Good day. (_Exit H., R._)

GROUSE. Pr’aps ye wont. I wonder who’ll be wantin’ Vance next? He’s

peaceable, I guess. Wants to buy the mine mebbe. If he had been an old

man—(_Pause._) Great Jerusalem! I’ll bet we’re clean off the lead,

digging away in country rock. S’pose that is the feller ’at’s _lookin_

fur Vance. _That_ gal wouldn’t leave no young feller like Vance fur an

old man. An’ I’ve _told_! Well, I’m a bigger fool than I said Jim was.

(_Runs around._) _I’m_ excited now! This is a case, sure! Minds me of

the time Slim Jim shot Club Foot Pete fur cheatin’ at kyards, when pap

kep’ the tavern at Cottonwood Pass. Pap was jist reachin’ fur his gun

when Pete kind o’ staggered an’ threw up his hands like that, and says

he: “Baker, I’m done fur—I pass.” Them was his last words.

_ENTER PAY S., excitedly, R._

PAY S. I can’t find nobody nowhere!

GROUSE. Pay Streak, you’re a fool!

PAY S. (_Nettled._) S’pose I am, what’s the use o’ tellin’ me every five

minutes.

GROUSE. Cause you are, you can’t see an inch from yer nose. Wat did ye

say he was an _old_ man, fur?

PAY S. Cause he was!

GROUSE. He aint ether, an’ we might a knowed it. He’s been hyur, an’ he’s

a young feller.

PAY S. A young feller lookin’ fur my pardner?

GROUSE. Yes, lookin’ fur him pertikler.

PAY S. When it comes to that, if there’s any fly young feller ’round this

hill lookin’ fur somebody, he’ll find a man sure. Mebbe he’ll find _me_

afore he quits. If he wants a scrap, he needn’t wear out shoe leather

lookin’ fur it in Ruby Camp.

GROUSE. (_Seriously._) Pay Streak, don’t you take up nobody else’s rows

till ye haf to. You’ll find enough o’ yer own in this world. I’ve seen

more o’ these mountains than you have. Pap kep’ tavern fur years at

the Pass, an’ I’ve seen shootin’ scrapes enough. I seen Club Foot Pete

killed, an’ it’s an awful sight when it’s right afore yer eyes.

PAY S. I ain’t a lookin’ fur anybody.

GROUSE. But what’ll we do?

PAY S. I don’t know.

GROUSE. We’ve got to do somethin’.

PAY S. Well, Mollie, wat’s your idee?

GROUSE. Go down to camp right away, an’ tell pap an’ git some o’ the

miners out. Pretend it’s jumpers over in the Basin.

PAY S. Will you go ’long to camp?

GROUSE. No, I’ll wait hyur for Vance. If he comes I’ll send him to the

Basin.

PAY S. (_Going._) I’ll round ’em up.

GROUSE. An’ give that strange feller a tip that it ’ud be healthier fur

him to take the next stage back to Dead Man’s Gulch.

PAY S. Stage! Humph! walkin’s good that direction. (_Exit hurriedly R._)

GROUSE. Men’s all fools, I guess. Fightin’ about claims an’ women as if

there wasn’t plenty o’ both to go round. Women’s bigger fools to egg ’em

on. I needn’t brag, ether. S’pose I’d drawed on Lonesome Mose a little

furder, there’d been music in camp.

_ENTER VANCE, R._

VANCE. Hello, Grouse, you here!

GROUSE. I guess so, ye see me, don’t ye?

VANCE. I have that pleasure. (_She courtsies._) You are waiting to see

Jim of course. Where is that boy, anyway?

GROUSE. (_With toss of head._) Waitin’ fur Jim. I guess not. When I wait

fur a man I wait at home.

VANCE. Of course, Miss Baker, no offense.

GROUSE. Where in creation have _you_ been all mornin’?

VANCE. I felt out of sorts and I went over to the mineral spring to take

a good drink of that water.

GROUSE. I’ll bet you are the first man in Ruby Camp that ever walked two

miles fur a drink o’ water.

VANCE. I like to watch the silver bubbles boiling up from the clear

depths.

GROUSE. Well, _I_ don’t go much on them silver bubbles. The silver in

em’s too thin. Did ye meet anybody?

VANCE. (_Laughs._) Yes, Lonesome Mose going to his claim. He looks

lonesomer than ever, lately. (_Meaning look at her._)

GROUSE. Humph! Lonesome Mose! I mean, didn’t ye meet nobody at all?

VANCE. Nobody else. (_At stove._) Any one lookin’ for me? Where’s our

skillet? I want to get dinner.

GROUSE. (_Impatiently._) I don’t know nothin’ about yer ole skillet. Say,

Mr. Vance, did you know any young ladies in Illinois?

VANCE. (_Surprised._) Why, to be sure, plenty of them. (_Looking._) What

on earth has become of that skillet? I’m as hungry as a wolf.

GROUSE. That’s like a man, he’d haf to eat if he died next minnit.

VANCE. He’d die if he didn’t.

GROUSE. Dyin’ with yer boots on aint so funny.

VANCE. (_Surprised._) Why, what do you mean, Miss Baker. You seem excited.

GROUSE. (_Laughs._) I aint the kind to git excited bad. (_He looks

inquiringly._) An’ ye don’t know any _pertickler_ young lady?

VANCE. (_With serious tone._) Mollie, every man in his time has known

some _particular_ young lady. Sometimes she is too particular and

sometimes not particular enough.

GROUSE. I guess this un’s jist about right.

VANCE. (_Starting._) What do you mean, Mollie? Any lady in camp that

knows me?

GROUSE. (_Laughing._) It ’pears so. She’s been hyur.

VANCE. Here! Did she want to see me?

GROUSE. No, she _didn’t_ want to see you.

VANCE. Then why the deuce did she come here! There’s some mistake.

(_Turns to look for skillet._) I wish Jim would let the cooking outfit

alone.

GROUSE. Never mind yer ole skillet. I thought mebbe you’d meet her on the

road.

VANCE. (_At cupboard._) Jim is very careless. He has been chucking things

round again.

GROUSE. You’re a nice man to prefer a skillet to a young lady.

VANCE. (_Surprised._) Excuse me, Grouse, I thought we were good enough

friends to be informal. I’ll not look for the skillet any more.

GROUSE. I’m talkin’ about her. She was a bute.

VANCE. Since she did _not_ want to see me I hardly think I am interested

in her beauty.

GROUSE. It’s too funny that you didn’t meet anybody. They’re lookin’ fur

you all over the mountain to go to the Basin. Jim said ye must go right

off. The Leadville outfit is tryin’ to jump pap’s claim agin.

VANCE. I don’t believe that. It must be a false report.

GROUSE. But it aint! Git yer gun and take the trail. Ye kin git dinner at

Jack’s cabin.

VANCE. Why Mollie, Lonesome Mose was in the Basin yesterday and he says

the Leadville gang have all gone.

GROUSE. (_With petulance._) Lonesome Mose, indeed! As if pap didn’t know

better about his own claim. Would you put Mose Randall’s word up agin’

pap’s er a lady’s?

VANCE. Well, Mollie, I didn’t mean to contradict you. I’ll enquire as

soon as I get a bite to eat.

GROUSE. An’ yer goin’ to wait to eat?

VANCE. Yes, I’ll take a snack.

GROUSE. Some men ’ud eat if an earthquake was comin’.

VANCE. I can easily catch them before they get to Jack’s cabin.

GROUSE. An’ ye wont go now? Oh do, please, Mr. Vance.

VANCE. I don’t see the necessity of starving.

GROUSE. I do.

VANCE. Ever try it?

GROUSE. Please don’t wait, Mr. Vance.

VANCE. It won’t take fifteen minutes.

GROUSE. Well, they’s no use tryin’ to do anything with a man—or a mule.

I’ve got to do something. (_Starts hastily._)

VANCE. What’s the rush? Hold on, Miss Baker.

GROUSE. I wont! (_Exit R._)

VANCE. What on earth ails the Grouse. She always was a kitten and I’m

afraid she has a temper. Jim’ll have to hold a pretty steady rein.

(_Looking round for skillet._) I guess that skillet has taken wings.

There’s Jim’s dirty towel under the bed and my clean one on the chair

back. There has been some one here I guess. I wonder if any sneak thief

has paid us a visit? (_Looks at JIM’S pillow._) His revolver is gone.

(_Looks at his own cot._) Mine is all right. (_Puts his pistol on table._)

_HERBERT knocks at door._

VANCE. Hello stranger! Come in!

HERB. Is this Mr. Vance’s place?

VANCE. My name is Vance.

HERB. (_Advances. With meaning._) I’ve been looking for you.

VANCE. (_Surprised._) Indeed! You have found me, it seems. Your business,

if I may enquire?

HERB. I guess you know my business. A lady’s honor.

VANCE. (_Starting._) A lady’s honor! (_Recognizes him._) And _you_ seek

me? So much the better.

HERB. I come from her to demand an explanation for your language and

conduct.

VANCE. (_Slowly as if with effort._) _You_ come to me, and from her? Why,

you infamous scoundrel—

HERB. Hold! Don’t waste words, Mr. Vance. What you say of me can be

settled some other time. On her behalf—

VANCE. And you insult me with the mention of that heartless, base woman.

HERB. (_With deep, quiet indignation._) Stop or I’ll kill you on the

spot. (_Draws pistol._) Only blood can wipe out that insult.

VANCE. You are right. I have waited long for this meeting.

HERB. Are you armed?

VANCE. (_Taking up pistol._) As good a 38 as ever came to the camp. We’ll

go up into the pine woods.

HERB. Why not here in front of your cabin.

VANCE. We may be interrupted.

HERB. Exactly! I am already suspected and warned to leave camp instantly.

VANCE. Then we must use dispatch. (_Looks out._) There are people coming

now, down yonder. Here will do as well.

HERB. As you please, I am ready.

VANCE. (_Closes door, fastens it with latch._) Take your place at the

door. (_V. goes to opposite wall._) I’ll stand here. I’ll count _one_,

_two_, _three_.

HERB. Is that fair?

VANCE. Then you count.

HERB. I want no advantage. Toss for count.

VANCE. All right! (_Produces coin._) Head or tail?

HERB. Head!

VANCE. (_Tossing coin on table._) Head! (_tosses_) tail! (_tosses_) head!

You win. (_They take position._) I’ll pull exactly at three. (_At word

three, a scream is heard outside. VANCE fires but HERBERT is disconcerted

and, staggering, fires wild shot. PAY S. bursts door open. FLO. and

GROUSE in door._)

PAY S. Stop that, instantly!

VANCE. It is done! (_HERB. grasping side staggers._)

PAY S. My God, he is dying. (_Seizes HERB.’S arm and leads him to bed,

R._)

FLO. (_Clings to him at other side._) Herbert! my poor brother! Speak!

Herbert! (_Throws herself on cot, seizing his hands._)

VANCE. (_Who has stood like a statue, drops pistol mechanically, like a

man stricken._) Her brother! Oh God, too late!

TABLEAU.

_HERB. on cot; FLO. bending over him; VANCE L. with right hand on table,

head drooping; ROGERS back of table regarding him; GROUSE R. C. regarding

VANCE._

CURTAIN.

ACT III.

SCENE—_Reception room of tourist hotel, Florida; folding doors

in flat C.; piano by wall, R.; settee by wall, L., table C.

littered with old periodicals, and some oranges in basket;

R. R., and steamship advts. on the walls; chairs ad lib; big

ox horns, stuffed bird, alligator, or other familiar hotel

trapping. If not convenient to have door in flat, entrance may

be at either side, by re-arrangement of furniture. Doors always

open. FLORENCE and RACHEL discovered as curtain rises._

FLO. Rachel, how do you like your first experience down South?

RACHEL. It is all so odd.

FLO. Are you enjoying it?

RACH. Oh, so much. I always wanted to travel. I never hoped to get such a

trip as this. The trees and everything are so different.

FLO. It is much stranger still in Mexico; if you could only have seen

that.

RACH. I’ll never forget your kindness in giving me this trip.

FLO. Thank papa, Rachel, I was selfish and didn’t want any maid. It looks

foolish for a girl like me to have a maid.

RACH. It’s no harm. Mr. Lawton wants you to get strong again.

FLO. (_Rather sadly._) Rachel, don’t you think I am strong?

RACH. Oh, yes! You look much better lately.

_ENTER MR. LAW., D. F._

LAW. I’ve been looking for you, daughter. What is your programme for

to-day? A drive or a sail?

FLO. I don’t care which, papa, I enjoy everything that pleases you.

LAW. But I want you to choose for yourself. I am such an old traveler I

have seen about everything.

FLO. What do you say, Rachel?

RACH. Laws! Miss Flossie, it ain’t for me to choose.

FLO. But what do you like? Are you afraid of the water?

RACH. I don’t know. Do they get sea sick?

LAW. Not on the river. Florence, they are catching chameleons now in the

garden.

FLO. Oh, I want to see them! (_Exit D. F._)

RACH. So do I! (_Going D. F._)

LAW. Rachel!

RACH. Sir!

LAW. Come here, I want to speak to you. I have made an important

discovery.

RACH. Land sakes! none of the trunks missing?

LAW. (_Laughs._) The trunks are all right. I’ve found somebody here that

Florence knows!

RACH. Who?

LAW. That Colorado partner of—of you know whom.

RACH. Dear me! how’d he get so far?

LAW. He is here on his wedding trip. In this hotel. Do you think Flossie

would like to meet them?

RACH. I don’t know. It might worry her and—

LAW. Recall the old times! Just what I thought. But then, she might be

glad to see them. They were very kind to her. Rough people, but good as

gold. He is putting on style. Best rooms in the house!

RACH. Hadn’t we better keep clear of them for a day or two and sort of

prepare her for it?

LAW. But how can you in a hotel like this? Everybody sees everybody else.

If we weren’t fatigued already, I’d go on to Lake Worth to-day.

RACH. Then the best way is to ask her right out, whether she cares to see

them.

LAW. I know her answer. She’ll think it a duty.

RACH. The sooner the better then, I think.

LAW. Very well, I’ll go and talk to her. (_Exit D. F._)

RACH. Well aint that odder’n Dick’s hatband! The idee of meeting people

from the four quarters of the globe. These tourists seem to keep on

forever running to and fro on the earth. How can they afford it? Money

goes like water! I never dreamed o’ such expense! (_Sees oranges on

table._) And an orange here aint nothin’ more than a potato was where I

was raised. I’m going to take one! (_Takes orange._)

_ENTER HERB., suddenly, D. F.; RACHEL, surprised, looks guilty and starts

out quickly, D. F._

HERB. (_Excitedly._) Rachel!

RACH. Mr. Herbert—what is it?

HERB. Where’s Flossie? (_Lowering voice._)

RACH. In the garden.

HERB. I must find her at once! It is very important.

RACH. Yes, I know.

HERB. You know! Have you seen _him_?

RACH. Him? Who?

HERB. Why Vance, of course!

RACH. (_Startled._) Mercy me! Mr. Herbert, is he here?

HERB. Yes, and may meet her any minute!

RACH. (_Excitedly._) That might give her a relapse. She’s awfully nervous

yet.

HERB. I know it. What can we do?

RACH. We must get her away at once!

HERB. I have a different idea.

RACH. What is that?

HERB. I’ll make him explain his conduct or—

RACH. Oh Herbie, please don’t think of that! Remember what happened

before! Those miners are dreadful men! He’ll kill you, sure!

HERB. He’ll not get a chance! I’ll get the drop and he can apologize or

do worse. I’ll find him at once.

RACH. Oh Herbert, don’t. (_Grasps his arm._)

HERB. Let me go. I’ll not endure such an insult to my sister. As long as

he took me for some one else he had an excuse, but now that he knows I am

her brother, his conduct is infamous. (_Going D. F._)

RACH. (_Trying to restrain him._) But your father—speak to him first.

HERB. Father would call him to account if they met.

RACH. But he would not hurt your father. They never quarreled.

HERB. He shall answer for his conduct.

RACH. Oh, think of her—she loves him yet.

HERB. I am thinking of her. The traitor! (_Goes hurriedly D. F. pushing

RACHEL aside._)

RACH. (_Excitedly._) What shall I do? Oh, where is Mr. Lawton? Another

such shock will kill her. I must find Mr. Lawton immediately. (_Exit

RACH. rapidly as_

_ENTER ROGERS and WIFE, L., runs against R., and drops orange._)

ROG. Beg pardon, madam! (_She never stops._) Cuss it, that gal’s crazy.

MRS. R. Jim, you must quit swearin’.

ROG. I’m tryin’ my level best. Cuss it isn’t swearin’ at all. Say,

Mollie, aint this great?

MRS. R. What’s great?

ROG. Why, this country an’ everything. Oranges right on the trees till

they’re yaller as gold, an’ strawberries in February. (_Picks orange from

floor._)

MRS. R. I haint seen any strawberries, Jim. They’re not on the table.

ROG. Well no, of course not. They go north to sell. Ye couldn’t expect to

see ’em on the table.

MRS. R. Why not? What’s the use of havin’ money if it won’t buy things as

soon as other people gets ’em an’ as good?

ROG. I reckon that’s right, but ye see these Floridy people figger both

ways. The hotel makes ye pay fur the berries jist the same as if ye got

’em an’ then sells ’em fur market. Savvy?

MRS. R. I’m sick an’ tired o’ bacon an’ canned stuff. Had ’em all my life

in the Rocky Mountains.

ROG. But Mollie, jist think o’ the other curus things, the palmettos an’

the alligators—

MRS. R. We can’t eat the alligators.

ROG. But we kin take one home in a cigyar box.

MRS. R. Indeed we wont. It makes me tired to see people trottin’ round

with a lot o’ hand bags and Florida canes.

ROG. Made in New York—

MRS. R. An’ alligators in boxes, smellin’ like fury. Women doin’ it, too!

An’ fussin over chameleons an’ carryin’ green cocoanuts home. As if sich

things were of any account out o’ their right place.

ROG. There’s another thing, Mollie, ’at makes me still tireder.

MRS. R. What’s that?

ROG. Eatin’ fish. We’ve had ’em three times a day ever sence we’ve been

in Floridy. I reckon we’ll haf to eat all the fish in Injun river, an’

there’s a slew of ’em. Wy, a man told me this mornin’ ’at sometimes they

was so thick in the river that ye couldn’t row a boat. Oars jist slipped

over solid fish as if the river was greased.

MRS. R. Jim, that man took you fur a tenderfoot.

ROG. Mebbe so. As I don’t know much about Floridy I couldn’t dispute him,

but I up an’ told him about that time the mountain lions were so plenty

in the Gunnison country ’at we had to kick ’em away from round the fire

afore we could git breakfast, an’ we couldn’t tell when it thundered fur

their infernal roarin’. I put that at him as a sort of a feeler.

MRS. R. Jim, I’m sick o’ the whole business.

ROG. (_With feeling._) Say now, Mollie, ye don’t mean it. On yer weddin’

trip an’ tired of it? (_Caressing her._) Mollie, ye don’t mean _me_ too,

do you?

MRS. R. (_Smiling._) No, Jim, I don’t mean you, but I’m tired bein’

stared at an’ pointed out.

ROG. Wy Mollie, d’ye s’pose they’re onto our racket?

MRS. R. Jim, your slang is dreadful. Can’t you drop a little of it. Of

course everybody can see that we are bride and groom.

ROG. How on earth can they tell?

MRS. R. Humph! An’ you that spoony—

ROG. Then it’s me that makes ye tired, an’ my ways. (_Sadly._) Mollie,

you don’t know what you have said. Ye’re ashamed o’ me.

MRS. R. No, I am not, Jim. I am not ashamed of anything, but I am

disgusted. People talk nice to our faces and laugh at us behind our backs.

ROG. Why, cuss ’em. I could buy the whole caboodle of ’em.

MRS. R. No, ye couldn’t, Jim. These people have money, and what’s more,

they are used to it, and get the worth of their money travelin’. We don’t.

ROG. Worth o’ their money! How does that old skate git the worth o’ his

money who goes trottin’ round with what he calls a _vally de shamber_ to

put his clothes on? Mollie, I never want nobody puttin’ my clothes on me.

Why, it aint decent. When I git as wuthless as that cuss, I want ’em to

take me out an’ lynch me.

MRS. R. But when that man orders anything, the waiters get it at once.

ROG. So they do fur us. I plunk down a dollar an’ they git a gait on.

MRS. R. An’ they laugh at ye afterwards.

ROG. (_Angry._) Laugh at me! How d’ye know?

MRS. R. I’ve overheard them.

ROG. Well, there’ll be a dead nigger if they do it agin.

MRS. R. Jim, you mustn’t talk that way. We can’t blame ’em. We don’t know

how to act, I guess.

ROG. No, Mollie, I reckon we aint in it.

MRS. R. Let’s go back home!

ROG. All right. Vance is tired of it, too.

MRS. R. Vance tired? Why, he knows how to act. He’s been with the best.

ROG. He’s sick of it. Goin’ to Europe or some’ers.

MRS. R. Poor Vance! I’m awful sorry. D’ye s’pose he’ll ever git over that

shootin’ of _her_ brother.

ROG. No! Say, Mollie (_confidentially_), I s’pose I oughtn’t to tell. He

asked me not to, but that’s why he’s goin’ so sudden. He’s so restless,

he can’t stay in one place.

MRS. R. I’m awful sorry fur Vance.

ROG. You bet. If I was him I’d get onto that lead agin or burn some

powder. I never seen whiter people than them Lawtons.

MRS. R. But how could they make up after that?

ROG. Old man is A1.

MRS. R. He doesn’t want to marry the old man!

ROG. No, but I’d have an assay anyway an’ see if there wasn’t a trace.

If the button wasn’t bigger’n a pin-head I’d foller the lead. As fur the

young lady, she’s all pay streak clean through, an’ a thousand dollars to

the ton, an’ purty as a peach. If I wasn’t taken a’ready, Mollie—

MRS. R. Now Jim, don’t be silly. You do say such things an’ people hear.

ROG. Let ’em hear! who cares?

MRS. R. I s’pose he’s never seen her sence.

ROG. Seein’ her would be awful hard to do after shootin’ her brother

before her eyes!

MRS. R. But it was all a terrible mistake, nobody was to blame.

ROG. D’ye think they could ever forgit that?

MRS. R. Mebbe not, but I b’lieve both of ’em would be better fur havin’ a

talk. Vance is too good an’ true to go dodgin’ anybody.

ROG. That’s what!

MRS. R. I wish they could meet. She loves him to death.

ROG. D’ye think so, Mollie?

MRS. R. I know it. Why she nearly went out of her head after the shootin’.

ROG. Why couldn’t I tell him that?

MRS. R. (_Emphatically._) Don’t think of such a thing.

ROG. Hist, Mollie! (_He hears VANCE coming._)

_ENTER VANCE, D. F._

VANCE. Good morning, Mrs. Rogers!

MRS. R. Good morning, Mr. Vance! I am so glad to see you. I am so weary

of seein’ nobody but strangers an’ niggers day after day.

VANCE. I’m very sorry then that I have come to announce my immediate

departure.

MRS. R. So ye’re goin’ to leave us?

VANCE. (_Sadly._) Yes, I’m sorry, but I—I have changed my plans.

MRS. R. Purty sudden, aint it?

VANCE. Rather! Well, you see, Mrs. Rogers, I’m a nervous, restless sort

of chap. Always was, you know.

ROG. Pard, come back to the mountains with us.

VANCE. (_Surprised._) What! Are you going, too?

ROG. Yes, Mollie’s gittin’ tired of society.

VANCE. I don’t blame her. Such a hurly-burly, come-and-go sort of life as

this is intolerable.

MRS. R. I can’t bear it.

ROG. The Grouse is all tore up about it. Says people make fun of us. I

said let me ketch ’em at it.

MRS. R. (_Warningly._) Jim!

ROG. What do I care fur ’em? I pay as I go.

VANCE. Yes, of course.

MRS. R. Pay as you go! Just as if money did everything. They have money

an’ edication, we have nothin’ but money.

ROG. (_Vexed._) Don’t say that, Mrs. Rogers. Taint so. We have somethin’

else. We’ve horse sense. That’s more’n that old galoot with the _vally de

shamber_ kin say. An’ look at that arm. Aint that something? I’ve driv a

drill three foot into solid granite in the Lucy, an’ I kin do it agin.

An’ that old gilly an’ his _vally de shamber_ couldn’t both do that in a

week, to save their necks.

MRS. R. They don’t have to drill holes in rocks.

ROG. Well, I’ll drill a hole in the next feller ’at laughs at you,

Mollie. An’ I’ll make it big enough fur him to put in a skylight. Cuss

’em, what do I care for Floridy, an’ dudes from down East, an’ gals

dressed to kill. None of ’em as purty as you!

MRS. R. Jim Rogers!

ROG. An’ if some o’ them dudes aint a holy show, I’ll eat a live

alligater.

VANCE. I think you are oversensitive, Mrs. Rogers. You’ll get used to

this after a while and like it better.

MRS. R. Harvey Vance, why don’t you like it then? It’s your own kind.

VANCE. (_Uneasy._) Well—in fact I never was much for show and style,

and—in fact it occurred to me to see Europe while I have a chance.

(_Going._)

ROG. Goin’ to pack up?

VANCE. Yes. I want to catch the next Savannah boat. (_Exit._)

ROG. Say Mollie, le’s us pack our traps an’ the whole outfit’ll go to

Europe.

MRS. R. Good land! Jim Rogers, are you crazy? (_Servant raps at door._)

ROG. Come in.

_ENTER servant with card on tray._

ROG. (_Takes card._) Somebody callin’ on us, Mollie. Waltz ’em in.

(_Servant grins._) Say, looky hyur, are you grinnin’ at me, you cussed

Ethiopian monkey?[1] I’ll break yer neck! (_Grabs at waiter who drops

tray and flies out as ROG. throws tray after him. MRS. R. fit of

laughter._) Cyards everywhere! Instead o’ comin’ right in. I can’t stand

this foolery nether.

[1] If waiter is white, substitute: “You cussed dried-herrin’,

Floridy cracker.”

_ENTER MR. LAW and FLO._

LAW. Mr. Rogers, I believe.

ROG. That’s me! Why, how are you, Mr. Lawton. Awful glad to see you.

(_Introducing._) My wife! Used to be the Grouse, you know.

LAW. Mrs. Rogers, I’m delighted. You remember my daughter.

MRS. R. Yes, indeed!

FLO. Oh, very well. (_They kiss._) My dear friends, married! Many

congratulations.

ROG. Yes, Mollie an’ me thought we’d hitch.

MRS. R. James!

ROG. Get married I mean, an’ now we’re on our weddin’ tower.

LAW. Let me also extend my heartiest congratulations. (_To MRS. R._)

Of course you are enjoying your trip. We should never ask a bride that

question.

MRS. R. Why yes—that is—

ROG. She’s kickin’ a little. Haint got used to tippin’ everybody every

time she turns round. I ain’t carin’ fur expense.

MRS. R. James, that’s not interestin’ to other folks. (_JIM looks at her

then at MR. L._)

FLO. I’m _so_ glad to see you, Mrs. Rogers, you look so well—

ROG. Lookin’ well! I should say. Mollie, I call that neat. (_Women

aside._)

LAW. (_Laughing._) Rogers, (_in half aside_) you’re in great luck.

ROG. You bet! I’m right on the pay streak. Han’some bird and stuff to buy

the feathers.

LAW. We owe you and your wife a great deal.

ROG. Not a red! Wy, cuss it, I owe you somethin’ I can’t never pay. To

think I let them fight—it makes me sick to think of it. Am I doin’ right

to mention it?

LAW. What’s done is done.

_ENTER RACHEL, D. F., running, out of breath._

RACH. (_Excitedly._) Oh Mr. Lawton!

LAW. What is the matter, Rachel?

FLO. Rachel, speak!

RACH. I’m so out of breath (_gasps_), he’s lookin’ for him.

ROG. (_Excitedly._) Who’s lookin’ for who?

FLO. Rachel, you make me nervous.

LAW. Speak Rachel! What ails you?

RACH. I’ve run everywhere lookin’ for you. Mr. Herbert is lookin’ for

Vance.

ROG. Herbert! Wy, he’s dead!

LAW. }

} Dead!

FLO. }

ROG. Yes, the jewel (_duel_) they fit in the mountains. Is that gal crazy?

LAW. My son is not dead, he got well.

ROG. Not dead! Got well! The cussed paper said he was dead.

LAW. A reporter’s mistake.

ROG. We’ll, I’ll be—that beats _me_.

FLO. (_Soliloquy._) That is why _he_ never came. (_With anguish._) Oh!

oh! (_MRS. R. helps her to settee._)

LAW. Rachel, where are they?

RACH. I don’t know, sir. But Mr. Herbert has a pistol. Oh, they’ll shoot.

FLO. That is terrible! Do stop them please! Quick!

ROG. Lookin’ fur ’im with a gun. Cuss _me_ if that don’t mind me of

old times. I’ll take a hand I ’low. (_Changes._) Say, I haint no gun.

(_Excitedly._) Mollie, I told you we’d need a gun.

LAW. Run, you are young. Explain. Command peace.

ROG. Now, how _kin_ a man command peace with no gun. Why, he wouldn’t

have no more say than a baby.

MRS. R. Jim, do go. Speak to them.

ROG. Bet yer life I’ll try! (_Runs out D. F._)

LAW. (_Anxiously._) Daughter, have courage. It’ll be all right. What a

mistake.

FLO. But I can’t see him. Take me to my room, papa.

LAW. Yes dear. (_They start, she leaning on his arm._)

_ENTER ROG., hurriedly, D. F._

ROG. It’s _all_ right. No shootin’. Here they are.

_ENTER VANCE and HERB., D. F._

HERB. Yes, it is all right. Father, welcome Mr. Vance, _my friend_. (_L.

and V. shake hands cordially._)

ROG. Mollie, I’m so awful glad, I want to raise ole Nick!

MRS. R. Jim, be still.

ROG. Well, it’s all right, pard. (_Seizes V.’S hand._)

VANCE. No, it is _not_ all right yet. It is for the one most wronged to

say that. (_To FLO._) Miss Lawton—

FLO. Harvey!

VANCE. Can you forgive me? (_Looks at her. Pause._) Yes?

FLO. Yes. (_She extends her hand greatly overcome. They meet aside L.,

others gather R._)

ROG. (_To MOLLIE._) I told you. Say, Mr. Lawton, this is a great country

after all. It’s good enough for me.

HERB. There’s luck in it, too.

LAW. It is not bad I think.

ROG. (_Turns toward V. and F._) Pard, goin’ to Europe now?

MRS. R. (_Pulls at his arm._) Let ’em alone!

VANCE. Why yes; with Mr. Lawton’s permission.

LAW. Vance, I leave all those things to the parties interested.

VANCE. What do you say, Flossie?

FLO. Harvey—we—we’ll think it over.

ROG. That’s jist the way the Grouse talked when I asked her. It’s a go!

Mollie, git to packin’ the trunks. We’ll be in the party. (_Dress stage.

Looks at watch, suddenly changes, looks at watch._) Holy Moses! Mollie,

we’re to go a fishin’ to-day an’ the boat’s been waiting two hours at two

dollars an hour.

TABLEAU.

_R._ _L._

HERB., LAWTON, MRS. R., ROG., VANCE, FLO., RACH.

SLOW CURTAIN.

THE COBBLER

A MONOLOGUE OF HUMOR AND PATHOS

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.

THE COBBLER.

CHARACTER.

THE COBBLER, who while examining old shoes in his shop,

discourses about their various owners.

COSTUME.

The Cobbler should make up as old man, poorly dressed, gray wig,

spectacles.

THE COBBLER.

SCENE—_A cobbler’s shop. Shoemaker’s bench and kit, shelves,

empty dry goods box, two paper shoe boxes, roll of leather

leaning in corner, lasts hanging on wall, old shoes scattered

about and scraps of leather on floor, old chair with one leg

broken. Bench well down C. so cobbler can move round freely in

shop. Cobbler with apron and make-up to suit._

COBBLER. (_As curtain rises is hammering a piece of sole leather on his

lap stone._) That sole’s got to be jist right, jist so thick an’ no

thicker. It’s fur Lawyer Boyd and I ’low no more particklerer man lives

this side o’ Jordan. Always kickin’ about something. Said the last pair

o’ shoes I made him didn’t fit anywhere except on his corns. Was ashamed

of ’em every time he plead a case. Felt humiliated every time he saw ’em.

(_Plies hammer vigorously._) Plague take it! I wouldn’t hurt a lawyer’s

feelin’s fur the world, specially _his_ feelin’s. That man is downright

insultin’ in his ways. Jist because I promised him a pair o’ new shoes

last Thanksgivin’ an’ didn’t git ’em ready till Christmas he stormed

round like a house afire. Said I was worse ’n the tailor an’ _he_ don’t

never get anything ready on time. Some people thinks theirs is the only

job in town. As if a shoemaker wasn’t human an’ consekently _had_ to

fail in his promises _sometimes_. That old pettifogger actooally said if

I was responsible he’d cane me. I’d like to see ’im try it. It’s thirty

year sence anybody tried _that_ game on me. But he’s good pay an’ bin my

customer fur thirty odd year. An’ customers aint none too plenty these

days o’ factry shoes. It’s mostly patchin’ an’ people puttin’ on airs

as if they was conferrin’ favors lettin’ you patch their old shoes.

Old Boyd has a tongue, though, if he _is_ a gentleman. Said I want no

better’n a tramp printer, an’ a dozen o’ them want worth the price of a

glass o’ beer. Durn him! Cobblin’ is a better business ’n the law any

day. In my day I had the best trade in Illinois. I’ve made shoes fur

judges, an’ generals, yes, an’ fur a president, _too_. Made one pair

fur Abe Lincoln when he was up here in ’59 pleadin’ a case. He come in

an’, sez he, “I want a pair o’ kip shoes, make ’em easy!” That was all

the directions. When he come fur ’em they went on like grease, an’, sez

he, “That’s the way _I_ like ’em.” He didn’t pinch ’em an’ stomp round

the shop an’ smell the leather an’ ask if it was split. He wasn’t that

sort. He went away an’ left his old ones an’ like a fool I throwed ’em

away. I’d give a thousand dollars fur ’em this minnit. No, I wouldn’t. I

couldn’t afford to give one dollar fur ’em, but I ’low there are folks

’at would.

_Knocking at door. Goes to door and carries on conversation with one

outside. COBBLER only is heard._

Heh? Minister wants his shoes? They aint done yet. Promised yisterday.

So they was, but my old woman wasn’t well yisterday afternoon and I

had to stay at home with her. When’ll he git ’em? To-morrow. Sure?

(_Testily._) I said to-morrow. (_Comes back down grumbling._) Some people

thinks ye kin do everything at onct. The minister kin write sermons in

his slippers, cordin’ to my tell. Where are his shoes? (_Rummages._)

Plague take it. I’m gittin’ forgitfuller every day. People thinks a

shoemaker ought to carry everything in his mind. Next thing they’ll be

wantin’ me to sleep with their old shoes. (_Finds shoes._) Humph! Easy

to tell they was preacher’s shoes. He’s mighty keerful of ’em. Has to be

on his salary, an’ people not a payin’ up prompt. They’ve been blacked

an’ blacked till they aint much left but blackin’ an’ cracks. Not wuth

mendin’ nohow, but I s’pose I’ll have to doctor ’em up somehow. They

ought to be _foxed_ but that’ud cost mor ’n they’re worth.

_Throws shoes in pail of water with splash. Takes up another pair._

These are old Mrs. Green’s. Now jist see the patches! An’ she wants ’em

gone over agin. Jacob’s coat aint a circumstance to _her_ shoes. That

woman is tighter ’n a swelled bung. Last time I patched them shoes it

took half a day an’ I charged her fifty cents coz I knowed I couldn’t

git seventy-five. She said it was an outrage and cut up like a drunken

fiddler till I was ashamed of her. Said thirty-five cents was a big price

an’ she wouldn’t pay a red cent more. The old skinflint! (_Angrily._)

I jist wont fool with them shoes any more. (_Throws them aside._) I

don’t care if she does own half the town. I wouldn’t be in her shoes

for half the earth. I uster want to be rich, but sence I see how riches

has affected old Mrs. Green I’m better satisfied to be poor. (_Noise

outside._) What’s all that racket?

_COBBLER goes to door and looks out._

That’s the movin’ wagons. The landlord’s been sayin’ these fifteen year

he’d pull down this old place and build. I got sorter used to his talk

and paid no attention to the notice. (_Feels in his pockets._) Where is

that notice? I’m gittin’ more ’n more forgitful every day. (_Sits on

bench._) Thirty odd year in one place an’ then move! I hoped it wouldn’t

come in my time. (_Chin on hands._) I made old Judge Henry’s shoes here

an’ I made Gen. Bridge’s boots here, the very pair he was killed in at

Chickamaugy an’ I made Lincoln’s shoes here. They’re all dead long ago

an’ I’m here yet. Thirty year in one place. It’s jist like movin’ an’ old

tree. It’ll most likely dwindle an’ it takes more coddlin’ than a dozen

young ones an’ then if it lives it’ll never do no great things. But there

aint no use cryin’ over spilt milk. I’ll have to pack up.

_Rises, gets big dry goods box from corner and commences to sort the old

shoes._

I ’low half this old truck might as well be burned, but what a fuss

there’d be if some of these trumpery old things were lost. Old Mrs. Green

would—well, I’ll jist wrap _hers_ up safe and sound. If they got injured

I’d have to make her a new pair, nothin’ short of it, an’ then likely

she’d want damages for the trouble I caused her. (_Finishes wrapping

MRS. GREEN’S shoes and lays them up carefully on shelf. Picks up another

pair._) Great Christopher! Here’s a pair of old Mrs. Jink’s shoes and

I promised ’em to-day never thinkin’ of the movin’. There’ll be music

if she don’t git ’em. She’s the only person in town I don’t dare to

disappoint. Tried it once an’ it lasted me twenty year. Tongue! That

woman could talk down a parrot house any day. She’s a buzz saw worked by

’lectricity. The old hyena! Why, that time she wanted to go away visitin’

her sister’s an’ her shoes wasn’t quite done—such a tongue lashin’ as I

got. I don’t care much for people’s chinnin’ genally. Some I laugh at,

an’ some I humor, but I stood like a stacher before her and dasn’t open

my mouth. There must be sich things as special providences, fur old man

Jinks is deaf as a post.

_Throws some shoes into box. Takes up large pair and pauses. Looks

intently at them._

Why, if them aint Col. Sawyer’s shoes. Might a known ’em by the size,

biggest foot in the state I reckon. He never got any repairin’ done

’cause I had no other shoes in the shop big enough for his feet to change

into. Canal boats we uster call ’em. Why, the colonel’s been gone west

these ten year. An’ I’m mighty sorry the town lost him. Soul as big as

his feet—his immortal soul I mean. (_Laughs._) He did the town some good.

Always startin’ some enterprise an’ keepin’ it a goin’, too. He didn’t

set round till he took root like some people in this town. He _was_ a

customer. Two pairs of new shoes an’ one pair of boots a year at ten

dollars a pair. An’ no patchin’, ’cause he always said life was too short

to wait fur patches. An’ he never kicked either if I was a month or so

late on promise. He was a gentleman an’ never tried to browbeat poor

folks.

_Throws shoes in box. Takes up another pair._

Farmer Snooks! (_Laughs heartily._) By ginger! that was funny. (_Laughs

till he holds his sides._) Made that pair for Snooks an’ agreed to take

it in trade. Fust thing I knowed, one night when I went home, I found a

wagon load o’ turnips in the cellar. Mariar was hot but she’s one o’ them

kind ’at never says much. Says she, “Cy, what on airth did you buy so

many turnips fur?” Sez I, “I vum if I know. I told Snooks I’d take trade,

but I guess I clean forgot to say what kind o’ trade.” Mariar she never

said no more but jist cooked turnips every day fur about two months. Of

course I dasn’t say nothin’, till one day she got dreadful pained an’

sick, an’ the doctor had to come on the run. He said she was threatened

with dropisy, an’ I jist fed the rest o’ them turnips to the pigs. They

kin work their spoiled truck off on the minister an’ the editor, for they

can’t help theirselves, but they don’t work it off on me no more.

_Takes up another pair._

By jingo, there’s an old shoe of Jake Hart’s. Know it by the way he

always run ’em down. I ’low they’re not any worse run down than Jake

was. Poor feller, didn’t he go to the dogs after his mother left him

a fortune? Want a nicer woman in town than Mrs. Hart. But she died at

the right time. Poor Jake! Best hearted feller ye ever see. I made the

first pair of boots he ever had when he wasn’t higher than that. (_Holds

hand to show height._) His mother fetched him in. He spied a piece of

red morocco; he would have that fur tops in spite of her. Jake painted

everything red. Races, whiskey, bad company, an’ then shootin’ that man.

Guess the man needed shootin’, but Jake had to vamoose. I wonder where he

is now? Nobody’ll ever know I reckon. It’s always that way in this world,

we aint missed long.

_Opens an old shoe box._

What’s this? (_Brushes off dust, reads, “Nellie Blake.”_) Well I vum! I

didn’t know that any of Nellie Blake’s shoes was here yit. (_Muses._)

What’ll I do with _them_? I can’t throw _them_ away. She was the best

girl that ever lived in this town. There aint many angels anywhere on

earth, I ’low, but Nellie was one if there be any. I wonder if she would

have changed if she’d have lived? No I guess she’d be the same to-day.

Her an’ Jake Hart was good friends. Jined yards an’ played together.

Jake went among the best then. People said he liked Nellie, fur after

she died he seemed all broke up like, an’ went away with his mother to

travel. I wonder if I ought to send them shoes to her mother? I don’t

know, mebbe it would please her, seein’ Nellie was an only child. No,

I guess it might do more harm than good. (_With feeling._) I know what

that is. I have a little pair of shoes out at the toes that I dasn’t

show Mariar, though I know she has things of our little Jack hid away.

(_Gets out little shoes. Looks at them fondly, wipes his glasses with

handkerchief._) These durn specs is gittin’ so I can’t see nothin’. Our

little Jack! I kin see him now, runnin’ down the street to call me to

dinner. He was the youngest and we took to him more than to tothers.

I’ll lay away Nellie’s shoes and keep them along with Jack’s. They was

friends, too. (_Wipes glasses._) My specs seems awful dusty. (_Looks

fondly at shoes as he puts them away._) Jack is waitin’ fur Mariar an’

me. It wont be very long now till we’ll see him.

CURTAIN.

DENISON’S ACTING PLAYS.

Price 15 Cents Each, Postpaid, Unless Different Price is Given.

M. F.

COMEDIES, MELODRAMAS, Etc.

All that Glitters is not Gold, 2 acts, 2 hrs. 6 3

Aunt Dinah’s Pledge, temperance, 2 acts, 1 hr. 6 3

Beggar Venus, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. (25c) 6 4

Blow for Blow, 4 acts, 2 hrs. 5 4

Bonnybell, operetta, 1 h. (25c) 2 5

Caste, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. 5 3

Chimney Corner, 2 acts, 1 hr. 30 min. 5 2

Danger Signal, 2 acts, 2 hrs. 7 4

Diplomates, 4 acts, 3 hrs. (25c) 5 5

Down in Dixie, 4 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. (25c) 8 4

Early Vows, 2 acts, 1 hr. (25c) 4 2

East Lynne, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 8 7

Elma, The Fairy Child, 1 hr. 45 min., operetta. (25c) 9 15

Enchanted Wood (The), 1 hr. 45 min., operetta. (35c) 5 6

Eulalia, 1 h. 30 min. (25c) 3 6

From Sumter to Appomattox, 4 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. (25c) 6 2

Fruits of the Wine Cup, temperance, 3 acts, 1 hr. 6 4

Handy Andy, Irish, 2 acts, 1 hr. 30 min. 8 3

Home, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 4 3

Jedediah Judkins, J.P., 4 acts, 2 hr. 30 min. (25c) 7 5

Lady of Lyons, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. 8 4

London Assurance, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. 9 3

Lost in London, 3 acts, 1 hr. 45 min. 6 3

Louva the Pauper, 5 acts, 1 hr. 45 min. 9 4

Michael Erle, 2 acts, 1 hr. 30 m. 8 3

Mitsu-Yu-Nissi, Japanese Wedding, 1 hr. 15 min. 6 6

Money, 5 acts, 3 hrs. 9 3

My Wife’s Relations, 1 hr. 4 6

Not such a Fool as he Looks, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 5 3

Odds with the Enemy, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 7 4

Only Daughter (An), 3 acts, 1 hr. 15 min. 5 2

On the Brink, temperance, 2 acts, 2 hrs. 12 3

Our Country, 3 acts. 1 hr. 10 3

Ours, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. 6 3

Out in the Streets, temperance, 1 hr. 15 min. 6 4

Pet of Parsons’ Ranch, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 9 3

Pocahontas, musical burlesque, 2 acts, 1 hr. 10 2

Rivals, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 45 min. 8 4

School Ma’am (The), 4 acts, 1 hr. 45 min. 6 5

Sea Drift, 4 acts, 2 hrs. 6 2

Seth Greenback, 4 acts, 1 hr. 15 min. 7 3

Shadow Castle, 4 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. (25c) 5 4

Soldier of Fortune, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 20 min. 8 3

Solon Shingle 1 hr. 30 min. 7 2

Sparkling Cup, temperance, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 12 4

Ten Nights in a Barroom, temperance, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 7 4

Ticket of Leave Man, 4 acts, 2 hrs. 45 min. 8 3

Tony, the Convict, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. (25c) 7 4

Toodles, 2 acts, 1 hr. 15 min. 6 2

Uncle Josh, 4 acts, 2¼ h. (25c) 8 3

Under the Laurels, 5 acts, 1 hr. 45 min. 5 4

Under the Spell, 4 acts, 2 hrs. 30 min. (25c) 7 3

Wedding Trip (The), 2 acts, 1 hr. 3 2

Won at Last, 3 acts, 1 hr. 45 min. 7 3

Yankee Detective, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 8 3

FARCES AND SKETCHES.

Assessor, sketch, 10 min. 3 2

Babes in Wood, burlesque, 25 min. 4 3

Bad Job, 30 min. 3 2

Bardell vs. Pickwick, 25 min. 6 2

Beautiful Forever, 30 min. 2 2

Blind Margaret, musical, 30 m. 3 3

Borrowing Trouble, 25 min. 3 5

Breezy Call, 25 min. 2 1

Bumble’s Courtship, sketch, 18 min. 1 1

Cabman No. 93, 40 min. 2 2

Christmas Ship, musical, 20 m. 4 3

Circumlocution Office, 20 min. 6 0

Country Justice, 15 min. 8 0

Cow that Kicked Chicago, 20 min. 3 2

Cut off with a Shilling, 25 min. 2 1

Deception, 30 min. 3 2

Desperate Situation, 25 min. 2 3

Dutchman in Ireland, 20 min. 3 0

Fair Encounter, sketch, 20 m. 0 2

Family Strike, 20 min. 3 3

Free-Knowledge-ist, 2 acts, 25 min. 3 3

Friendly Move, sketch, 20 m. 4 0

Hans Von Smash, 30 min. 4 3

Hard Cider, temperance, 15 m. 4 2

Homœopathy, Irish, 30 min. 5 3

Ici on Parle Français, 40 m. 4 3

I’ll Stay Awhile, 20 min. 4 0

I’m not Mesilf at All, Irish, 25 min. 3 2

Initiating a Granger, 25 min. 8 0

In the Dark, 25 min. 4 2

In the Wrong House, 20 min. 4 2

Irish Linen Peddler, 40 min. 3 3

Is the Editor in? 20 min. 4 2

John Smith, 30 min. 5 3

Just My Luck, 20 min. 4 3

Kansas Immigrants, 20 min. 5 1

Kiss in the Dark, 30 min. 2 3

Larkins’ Love Letters, 50 min. 3 2

Limerick Boy, 30 min. 5 2

Love and Rain, sketch, 20 m. 1 1

Lucky Sixpence, 30 min. 4 2

Lucy’s Old Man, sketch, 15 m. 2 3

Mike Donovan, 15 min. 1 3

Misses Beers, 25 min. 3 3

Mistake in Identity, sketch, 15 min. 0 2

Model of a Wife, 25 min. 3 2

Movement Cure, 15 min. 5 0

Mrs. Gamp’s Tea, sketch, 15 m. 0 2

My Jeremiah, 20 min. 3 2

My Lord in Livery, 45 min. 4 3

My Neighbor’s Wife, 45 min. 3 3

My Turn Next, 50 min. 4 3

Narrow Escape, sketch, 15 m. 0 2

Not at Home, 15 min. 2 0

On Guard, 25 min. 4 2

Persecuted Dutchman, 35 min. 6 3

Pets of Society, 30 min. 0 7

Played and Lost, sketch, 15 m. 3 2

Pull Back, 20 min. 0 6

Quiet Family, 45 min. 4 4

Realm of Time, musical allegory, 30 min. 8 15

Regular Fix, 50 min. 6 4

Rough Diamond, 40 min. 4 3

Row in Kitchen and Politician’s Breakfast, 2 monologues 1 1

Silent Woman, 25 min. 2 1

Slasher and Crasher, 1 h. 15 m. 5 2

Squeers’ School, sketch, 18 m. 4 2

Taming a Tiger, 20 min. 3 0

That Rascal Pat, 35 min. 3 2

Too Much of a Good Thing, 50 min. 3 6

Turn Him Out, 50 min. 3 3

Twenty Minutes Under Umbrella, sketch, 20 min. 1 1

Two Bonnycastles, 45 min. 3 3

Two Gay Deceivers, 25 min. 3 0

Two Gents in a Fix, 20 min. 2 0

Two Ghosts in White, 25 min. 0 8

Two Puddifoots, 40 min. 3 3

Uncle Dick’s Mistake, 20 min. 3 2

Very Pleasant Evening, 30 m. 3 0

Wanted a Correspondent, 1 hr. 4 4

Which Will He Marry? 30 m. 2 8

White Caps (The), musical, 30 min. 0 8

Who Told The Lie? 30 min. 5 3

Wide Enough for Two, 50 min. 5 2

Women of Lowenburg, historical sketch, 5 scenes, 50 m. 10 10

Woman Hater (The), 30 min. 2 1

Wonderful Letter, 25 min. 4 1

Wooing Under Difficulties, 35 min. 4 3

Yankee Peddler, 1 hr. 7 3

ETHIOPIAN FARCES.

Academy of Stars, 15 min. 5 1

All Expenses: Or, Nobody’s Son, 10 min. 2 0

Baby Coach Parade, 20 min. 4 2

Back from Californy; Or, Old Clothes, 12 min. 3 0

Deaf, In a Horn, 12 min. 2 0

Hamlet the Dainty, 15 min. 6 1

Handy Andy, 12 min. 2 0

Haunted House, 8 min. 2 0

Joke on Squinim (The), 25 m. 4 2

Jumbo Jum, 30 min. 4 3

Mischievous Nigger (The), 20 min. 4 2

No Cure, No Pay, 10 min. 3 1

Othello and Desdemona, 12 m. 2 0

Prof. Black’s Funnygraph, 15 min. 6 0

Quarrelsome Servants, 8 min. 3 0

Rooms to Let, 15 min. 2 1

Sham Doctor (The), 15 min. 4 2

Sports on a Lark, 8 min. 3 0

Stage Struck Darky, 10 min. 2 1

Stocks Up, Stocks Down, 8 m. 2 0

Tricks, 10 min. 5 2

Two Pompeys (The), 8 min. 4 0

Uncle Jeff, 25 min. 5 2

Unhappy Pair (An), 10 min. 3 0

Villikens and His Dinah 20 m. 4 1

Wax Works at Play, 30 min. 3 1

William Tell, 15 min. 4 0

[Illustration]

The publisher believes that he can say truthfully that Denison’s list

of plays is on the whole the best selected and most successful in the

market. _New Plays_ will be added from time to time.

_Manuscripts_, not only of plays but of any books similar to those in

Denison’s catalogue, will receive careful attention and if accepted will

be paid for at current prices.

[Illustration]

T. S. DENISON, Publisher, 163 Randolph St., Chicago.

CHOICE PLAYS AND AMUSEMENT BOOKS.

Plays by T. S. DENISON.

That the plays written by T. S. Denison are, all things considered, the

best for amateurs, is attested by their very large and increasing sale.

New plays in =this type=.

ACTS. TIME. M. F.

COMEDIES.

Odds With the Enemy, 5, 2 hrs. 7—4

Seth Greenback, 4, 1 h. 15 m. 7—3

The School Ma’am, 4, 1 h. 45 m. 6—5

Only Daughter, 3, 1 h. 15 m. 5—2

Louva, the Pauper, 5, 2 hrs. 9—4

Under the Laurels, 5, 2 hrs. 5—4

Danger Signal, 2, 1 h. 45 m. 7—4

Our Country, Historical Play, 3, 1 h. 10—5

=Topp’s Twins=, 4, 2 hrs. 6—4

=It’s all in Pay Streak=, 3, 1 h. 40 m. 4—3

=The New Woman=, 3, 1 h. 3—6

FARCES.

Initiating a Granger, 25 m. 8—

Wanted, a Correspondent, 2, 45 m. 4—4

A Family Strike, 20 m. 3—3

Two Ghosts in White, 20 m. —8

The Assessor, 10 m. 3—2

Borrowing Trouble, 20 m. 3—5

Country Justice, 20 m. 8—

The Pull-Back, 20 m. —6

Hans von Smash, 2, 30 m. 4—3

Irish Linen Peddler, 2, 40 m. 3—3

Kansas Immigrants, 20 m. 5—1

Too Much of Good Thing, 45 m. 3—6

Is the Editor In? 20 m. 4—2

Pets of Society, 20 m. —7

Wide Enough for Two, 45 m. 5—2

=Patsy O’Wang=, 35 m. 4—3

=Rejected=, 40 m. 5—3

=A First-Class Hotel=, 20 m. 4—

=Mad. Princeton’s Temple of Beauty=, 20 m. —6

=Dude in Cyclone=, 20 m. 5—3

=The Cobbler=, 10 m. 1—

TEMPERANCE.

The Sparkling Cup, 5, 2 hrs. 12—4

Hard Cider, 10 m. 4—2

=Only Cold Tea=, 20 m. 3—3

☞ =Topp’s Twins= and =It’s all in the Pay Streak=, =25c.= each. All

others, =15c.= each. Postpaid.

_Large Catalogue Free._

DIALOGUES.

=Friday Afternoon Dialogues.=

Twenty-five original pieces, 25c.

=When the Lessons are Over.=

New Dialogues, New Drills. New Plays, 25c.

=Dialogues from Dickens.=

Thirteen Selections, 25c.

=All Sorts of Dialogues.=

Just out. Dialogues for youths, children, and little tots,

also pieces for special occasions, 25c.

SPEAKERS.

=Friday Afternoon Speaker.=

For pupils of all ages, 25c.

=Choice Pieces for Little People=, 25c.

=Patriotic Speaker.=

Carefully selected from best authors, 25c.

=Dialect Readings.=

Irish, Dutch, Negro, Scotch, etc., 25c.

=Sunday School Pieces=, 25c.

=Scrap-Book Recitations.=

A choice collection of pieces, pathetic, humorous,

descriptive, prose and poetry. Eleven Nos., per No. 25c.

TABLEAUX AND SHADOWS.

=Shadow Pictures, Pantomimes=,

Charades, and how to prepare them, 25c.

=School and Parlor Tableaux.=

For school, church and parlor, 25c.

=Wax Figgers of Mrs. Jarley.=

With full directions for preparing, 25c.

OPERETTAS.

Bonnybell, 25c.

Elma, the Fairy Child, 25c.

Eulalia, 25c.

Enchanted Wood, 35c

Pocahontas, 15c.

SPECIALTIES.

=Private Theatricals.=

How to select plays, form, cast, rehearsals, rain,

lightning, etc., 25c.

=Negro Minstrels.=

Just the book needed. Tells the whole thing, 25c.

=Work and Play.=

A gem of a book for children in school or church

entertainments, 25c.

=Pranks and Pastimes.=

All sorts of games, puzzles, shadow scenes, etc., for

evening parties, 25c.

=Social Card Games.=

An excellent manual of all common games, also _tricks_

and _diversions_, 35c.

=Debater’s Handbook= (cloth), 50c.

=Good Manners=, 25c.

=Everybody’s Letter-Writer=, 25c.

T. S. DENISON, Publisher, 163 Randolph St., Chicago.

SCRAP-BOOK RECITATIONS,

By HENRY M. SOPER,

_President of Soper School of Oratory, Chicago_.

Twelve Numbers, 144 pp. Each, Post Paid, 25 Cents Per Number.

=No. 1.= Contains a great range of pieces for all ages, from 10 years

upward. Also the “FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY,” an admirable exercise, arranged

for schools: Music, Recitations, Dialogues, Tableaux, etc.

“Excells anything we have ever seen for the purpose.”—_Eclectic Teacher._

=No. 2.= Contains prize oration, “Battle of Gettysburg” (in no other

publication). Also “TEMPERANCE SUPPLEMENT,” comprising some of the finest

recitations extant.

“The selections are fresh, pure and elevating.”—_Missouri Teacher._

=No. 3.= Has “The Problem of Life,” from Theodore Tilton’s master oration

(published nowhere else), “The Battle of Cannæ,” a copyrighted Historical

Poem; “CHRISTMAS SUPPLEMENT,” of Recitations and Dialogues.

“There is such a variety of prose and poetry, pathos, fun and narrative

as is not often found in the compass of one small book.”—_Practical

Teacher._

=No. 4.= Has the finest Decoration Day Poem extant.—“The Heroes and the

Flowers;” A Heroic Medley; “Battle of Mission Ridge;” A Temperance Song

Recital; Choice Humor, etc.

“Good in variety and will suit all moods and conditions.”—_Inter Ocean,

Chicago._

=No. 5.= Contains the famous “Chariot Race” from “Ben Hur;” copyrighted

selection by Bill Nye; Grady’s “New South;” Wit, Humor, Pathos, etc., in

great variety.

“Some of the best specimens of the patriotic and humorous styles.”—_N. Y.

School Journal._

=No. 6.= Has the “Ballad of Mary Jane,” a Popular School Pantomime and

Recitation, 6 characters; A Humorous Medley; Riley’s “Elf Child;” Fine

Eulogies on Grant and Logan.

=No. 7.= Has “Cupid among the Strawberries,” One Act Comedy (2 males and

3 females), “Mission of the Press,” a prize oration; Ingalls’ Eulogy on

Burns; How Blinks Named the Baby, and much of latest humor, etc.

=No. 8.= SOPER’S PATRIOTIC SPEAKER.—Washington Centennial Speeches of

Depew, Albertson, Mason, McIntyre, Gunsaulus, Hirsch, Burrows, Thurston,

Blake; also Choicest Patriotic Orations and Poems, from Cicero down to

the present day; for all occasions.

=No. 9.= Has the famous Interstate College Contest Oration,

“Individualism in Society” by M. H. Lyon; “How It Really Was,” a humorous

dialogue (4 characters); “Irish Molly,” new heroic historical poem;

“Queen of the May,” introducing several characters; appropriate songs,

recitations, etc. Several other fine selections.

=No. 10.= Contains selections for Washington’s Birthday, Thanksgiving

and other holidays. This number is largely _humorous_, pieces by Robt.

Burdette, Mark Twain, T. S. Denison, _Detroit Free Press_; Also “Auntie’s

Courtship;” “The Bicycle Girl;” “The Facial Family;” “Presentation of the

Trumpet;” etc.

“The selections are admirable.”—_Eli Perkins_ (_Melville E. Landon_).

=No. 11.= Full of new and good things; will be fully up to its

predecessors. Contains Prize Contest Orations. SUPPLEMENT OF ORIGINAL

SELECTIONS by W. H. Head, including: “He Laughed at Fire,” monologue for

a man (very funny); “The Trials of a Columbian Guard;” humorous dialect

recitation, “Dot New Song,” etc. Ready April 1, 1895.

=SOPER’S DIALECT READINGS.= Full of Fun—French, German, Negro, Scotch,

Yankee, Chinese, Hoosier, Italian, Cockney and Yorkshire Dialects, 144

pages, 25 cts.

“Just the thing for those in search of recitations in dialects.”—_Popular

Educator._

T. S. DENISON, Publisher,

163 Randolph Street, CHICAGO.

TOWNSLEY. Is everybody in? (_Closing door and barring it._)