SCENE.—_Lawn of the “High Up Farmhouse.” Day later. A few
chairs and benches scattered about. Churn near side of
house. Sign: “Cow for sale” on tree._
_Enter_ PERCY HEARTACHE, L.
PERCY (_perplexed_). Well, this is a great state of affairs. I don’t
know how I am to get out of the mess I am in. Who would ever have
dreamed of such a thing as that girl I corresponded with through the
foolish matrimonial advertisement would be here? Why, I never saw
her, and I only answered her letters for fun. The idea of her going
so far as to come here to board! It is ridiculous. But to make
matters worse (_shaking his head sadly_) Helen sends me an invitation
to come over this afternoon and get acquainted with her parents. The
two letters arrived at the same time, and both bear the same
initials. (_Takes letters from pocket and again shakes his head._)
Well (_bracing up_), I made up my mind to come here and make a clean
breast of it to Helen, and I came an hour earlier, so I might learn
my fate as soon as possible. I wish I could see her without going to
the house. Ah! here she comes now, as I live!
_Enter_ HEL., R. _Hurries to the churn and starts churning._
HEL. Oh, dear! I wish the butter would come. (_Churns vigorously._)
I won’t have time to dress before Percy gets here. The dear fellow.
I know he will surely come.
(PERCY _brightens up and steps softly toward her_. HEL. _has
her back to him and has not seen him_.)
PERCY. Ahem!
HEL. (_stops churning and turns_). Oh! is it you, Mr. Heartache?
PERCY. Yes, Miss Rodney. I came over a little early, because I have
something to say to you. It is of a rather serious nature, and has
been worrying me ever since I went to the post-office last night.
(_Walks to_ L.)
HEL. (_aside_). Gracious! It can’t be that he is going to propose.
(_Walks toward_ PERCY.) What is it, Mr. Heartache? Perhaps I might
be able to advise you.
PERCY (_brightening up_). I am sure you can, Helen—I mean Miss
Rodney. I surely am in a bad fix. But sit down here and I’ll tell
you all about it.
(_They sit upon bench near_ C.)
HEL. Go on and tell me. I am sure your troubles cannot be very
great.
PERCY. Wait until you have heard. Helen—excuse me for calling you
Helen——
HEL. Certainly. To be even with you, I shall call you Percy.
PERCY. I like that. But let me tell my story. Perhaps after you
have heard it you won’t want to ever see me again.
HEL. Is it so serious as all that?
PERCY. It surely is. Helen, a month or so ago I was foolish enough
to answer an advertisement in a matrimonial paper. I did it just
for the fun of the thing, you know.
HEL. I did the same thing once. A bachelor, whose chief drawing
points were that he was bald-headed and had a fortune, advertised
that he wished to correspond with a charming country girl who was
matrimonially inclined, and I wrote to him.
PERCY. Ah! is that so?
HEL. Yes; but there was no harm in it, was there?
PERCY. Certainly not. How many letters did you write to him?
HEL. Only one. I did not answer the one I received in reply, for it
seemed as though he meant business, and what did I want of an old
bald-headed man, even if he was rich?
PERCY. Of course you didn’t want him. But to be real serious,
Helen. The fix I am in at present is all through answering an
advertisement in a matrimonial paper. I wrote to the young lady
twice, and it seems that she took it altogether too seriously. The
fact is, Helen, that she is here, and she has invited me to call at
your father’s house this afternoon.
HEL. (_rising excitedly_). What do you mean?
PERCY. Just what I say. Haven’t you a young lady stopping here?
HEL. Why—er—yes. But——
PERCY. Isn’t her name Hattie Renwick?
HEL. (_completely amazed_). Yes, that is her name.
PERCY. Read this note and you will understand it all. (_Hands her_
HATTIE’S _note_.) I hope you will forgive me, Helen. I will never
do such a foolish thing again as long as I live.
HEL. (_reading note aloud_). Well, I declare! If this isn’t a
remarkable coincidence. Why, she must have sent this to the
post-office with Bill when I sent mine yesterday.
PERCY. I received the two invitations at the same time. Imagine my
surprise, and my feelings, too, when I read them.
HEL. Well, I am not a bit jealous of her, Percy. I consider this a
great joke, indeed I do.
PERCY. Oh, do you? You are not angry, then?
HEL. Angry? No. But say, Percy, if you could only get some one to
come here and represent himself to be Percy Heartache, what a joke
it would be! Miss Renwick is an old maid, and the way she paints
her face is disgusting. Imagine her wanting to marry a handsome
young artist! Why, she is artist enough herself.
(_Laughs lightly, and_ PERCY, _much relieved, joins in_.)
PERCY. I wish I knew how to get out of this. Your suggestion is
a good one, but who could I get to represent himself to be me? I
suppose I might go back to the village and find some one, though.
HEL. (_eagerly_). Do it, Percy. You can find somebody who would do
it just for the fun of it. I will tell mother about it. Here she
comes now.
_Enter_ SUSAN, R.
SUSAN. Why, Helen, have you given up the churning? Oh! you have a
visitor, I see. (_Smiles and approaches._)
HEL. Yes, mother, let me introduce you to Mr. Heartache. He is the
young man I spoke to you about—the artist, you know.
SUSAN. So he is the painter, eh? How do you do, Mr. Heartache?
PERCY. Quite well, thank you. (_Bows, and then_ SUSAN _extends
hand_. PERCY _accepts it and they shake cordially_.) You have a
beautiful place here, Mrs. Rodney. High Up Farm is well named.
The land is very high and level here and the pure air is simply
delightful. The scenery is grand, too, and I mean to make some
sketches of it, if I receive permission to do so.
SUSAN. You mean to paint pictures of the trees and such.
PERCY. Yes, that is it.
HEL. Mother, what do you think Hattie Renwick came to board with us
for?
SUSAN (_surprised_). Why, I don’t know, unless it was to get away
from the city for a while and enjoy herself in the fresh country
air. What do you mean, Helen?
HEL. Well, I’ll tell you, mother. She came here so she could
get acquainted with Mr. Heartache. It seems that he answered a
matrimonial advertisement she inserted in some paper, and when she
answered him he wrote again, giving his address at the village. She
discovered that our farm was right near the village, so she came
here. Percy—I mean Mr. Heartache—never saw Miss Renwick, and he
cares nothing for her, whatever. She had the audacity to——
SUSAN. Why, Helen, what do you mean?
HEL. Listen, mother. Let me finish. She had the audacity to send
Mr. Heartache a note, inviting him here to-day. I invited him, too,
as you are aware. Now, he does not want to let the brazen old maid
know who he is, and we were just talking and trying to think of
some way to play a joke on her.
SUSAN. Well, if that is why she came to High Up Farm I think she
ought to have a joke played on her. I have a notion to go right now
and tell her what I think of her.
HEL. Don’t do it, mother. She is getting along in years, and she no
doubt wants to get a husband so badly that she can be excused. What
we want you to do is to help us in this. It will only be a little
harmless fun, and Percy will be spared the scene that would surely
follow if she met him, thinking he had come here for the purpose of
meeting her. Percy is going to the village and will try to get some
one to impersonate him. Of course it will not be a good-looking
young man he will get, either, and there is where the fun will come
in. Now, mother, do help us out, won’t you?
SUSAN (_shaking her head, as though in doubt_). I don’t like this
kind of business, Helen. But since Mr. Heartache seems to be such a
nice young man, an’ he is a painter, besides, I’ll do as you want
me to. The idea of Miss Renwick comin’ here for the purpose of
tryin’ to catch a husband!
HEL. Oh, mother, I am so glad. Now, then, if a man comes here and
is introduced as Mr. Percy Heartache, you will know what to do.
SUSAN. Yes; I’ll call Miss Renwick right away.
_Enter_ TROTWELL ROAMER, L.
ROAM. Is this the High Up Farm?
SUSAN. Yes; what do you want?
ROAM. (_setting down paint pots and brushes_). I’m the painter.
SUSAN (_looking at_ PERCY). The painter?
ROAM. Yes, my boss sent me over here to paint a boat for Mr. Rodney.
SUSAN }
} (_in unison_). Oh!
HEL. }
PERCY (_smiling at the two_). I think this man might fill the bill.
Shall I ask him?
HEL. (_eagerly_). Yes, ask him, Percy. I am sure he would be just
the one. He is a painter, too. Think of it! (_Laughs._)
ROAM. Well, maybe I am an artist, then. Does that sound any better?
HEL. Much better, sir. You’ll surely do.
ROAM. Oh! I’ll paint the boat, all right. Where is she?
HEL. In the house. But you don’t want to see her yet. Wait until
you understand what we want you to do.
(SUSAN _goes to churn and begins churning_.)
ROAM. (_looking at_ PERCY). What’s all this, anyhow? You ain’t
tryin’ to jolly me, are you?
PERCY. Not a bit, my friend. See here! Do you want to earn five
dollars?
ROAM. Do I? Don’t I look as though I did? Why, I’ve been trampin’
for three weeks without findin’ a job. I hit the village over here
last night an’ happened to land with Styles, the boss painter. This
morning he found out that I was all right, so he sent me over here
to paint a boat. But I didn’t think the boat was in the house.
(_Looks at_ HEL.)
HEL. The boat isn’t in the house. Percy, go on and tell him.
PERCY. Mr. What’s-Your-Name——
ROAM. Trotwell Roamer is my name, boss.
PERCY. Well, Mr. Trotwell Roamer, there is a young lady in the
house who is expecting a call from a young man she has never seen.
She is looking for a husband, and she will no doubt be dead struck
on you, if you take the part.
ROAM. (_looking at his overalls and ragged coat and laughing_).
Well, I don’t know why she wouldn’t be, boss. But go ahead with
your game. Let me see the color of that five-spot first. Then I’ll
feel more like listenin’ to you.
PERCY (_producing a five-dollar bill_). There you are. Now, then,
is it a go?
ROAM. You bet it is. But say! there ain’t no danger of a breach of
promise suit in this, is there?
PERCY (_laughing_). I hardly think so. Now, to be brief about it,
all you have got to do is to say that you are Percy Heartache, the
artist. You can say it to any one you meet, for that matter. But
the young lady—Hattie Renwick is her name—is the party the joke
is to be on. She has been corresponding with you, you know, and has
thrown out her net to catch you for a husband. Do you understand?
ROAM. (_shaking his head_). Putty well, boss. I’m Percy Heartache,
the artist, an’ she’s tryin’ to nail me for a husband. Yes, that’s
all right.
PERCY. Well, take this note, then. It will help you out, I think.
(_Hands him_ HAT.’S _note_. ROAM. _reads it and nods
approvingly_.)
ROAM. I guess I can fill the bill, boss. Leave it to me. I’ll bet
that young lady won’t want no artist for a husband after she’s
talked to me a while. I’ll settle her matrimonial aspirations, all
right. Give me that five-spot, an’ the thing will be done in fine
shape.
PERCY (_handing him the five-dollar bill_). I am sure you’ll do it
right, Mr. Roamer.
ROAM. (_strutting about_). Mr. Percy Heartache, please. There’s
my name, sir! (_Holds out envelope that is addressed to_ PERCY.)
I’m Percy Heartache, the artist, an’ here’s my paints an’ brushes.
Artist, eh? Well, I guess!
SUSAN (_ceasing her churning_). Come, Helen, help me take the churn
in the kitchen.
HEL. All right, mother.
(_Smiles at_ PERCY _and exits_ R., _with her mother, carrying
churn_.)
PERCY. Now, my friend, I’ll take a stroll around and leave you
here. The chances are that the young lady will soon appear. If she
does not, go and knock at the door and inquire for her. I will be
near at hand to see and hear the fun. If you carry it through right
I’ll give you another five.
ROAM. Gee! You bet I’ll do it right, boss. Another five, eh? Why, I
certainly am in luck. [_Exit_ PERCY, C.
_Enter_ BILL, _carrying empty pail and blowing on harmonica_.
_Bill_. Hello! You’re ther man what’s come over to paint the boat,
ain’t yer? (_Looks at paint cans._)
ROAM. (_haughtily_). I am Percy Heartache, the artist.
BILL (_laughing loudly and wiping harmonica on sleeve and putting
in pocket_). You ain’t ther painter, then?
ROAM. No, I am the artist. Can you tell me where I can find Miss
Hattie Renwick?
BILL (_ignoring the question and pointing to paint cans_). Who does
ther paint an’ brushes belong to?
ROAM. The painter, I suppose. He was here a little while ago. But
see here, you thick-head! Where is the young lady who wrote this
letter to me?
BILL. Which one? There is two of ’em. So you’re ther artist, eh?
Well, I took two letters to ther post-office that was addressed
to Percy Heartache. I know I did, ’cause I kin read, an’ I read
’em over a dozen times. One was from Helen an’ ther other was from
Daisy.
ROAM. Who is Daisy?
BILL. Hattie Renwick is her right name. But I call her Daisy—or
Peach, ’cause she don’t like Daisy so well. I tell yer, Mr.
Artist! she’s a daisy an’ a peach, too. But I didn’t think no sech
scarecrow as you was the one she wrote to.
ROAM. (_angrily_). What do you mean by calling me a scarecrow? Just
because I have my working clothes on have I got to be insulted?
BILL (_stepping back in a frightened way_). Never mind, Mr. Artist.
Don’t hit me. I didn’t mean nothin’. If you want me to call Miss
Renwick I’ll do it for you.
ROAM. All right. Do so. But don’t let any one else in the house
know that the artist is here. You fetch Miss Renwick out, an’ when
I get some change I’ll give you a quarter.
(_Shows_ BILL _the five-dollar bill Percy gave him_.)
BILL (_starting for house_). My! He’s got money, all right. But
blamed if I kin understand what Helen an’ Daisy wrote letters to
him for. Why, he looks like a regular tramp.
ROAM. (_menacingly_). What’s that?
BILL. Nothin’, Mr. Artist. I’ll have the peach out here in a jiffy.
(_Exit_ BILL, R. ROAM. _sits on bench, crosses legs and
removes hat. Brushes hair with his hand._)
ROAM. Well, this is funny business, an’ no mistake. What am I up
against, anyhow? But it’s all right. I’ve got one five-spot, an’
there is another one comin’, if I do ther job right. You bet I’m
ther one who kin do it, too. I ought to be an actor, instead of a
tramp painter. (_Starts._) Hello! here comes the girl, I suppose.
That thick-headed boy has found her, all right. Now to paralyze
her. (_Enter_ BILL _and_ HAT., R. ROAM. _rises and bows_.) How are
you, sweetness?
HAT. (_in dismay_). Who are you, sir?
ROAM. Percy Heartache, the artist, at your service, my own love.
BILL (_laughing uproariously_). That’s who he is, Peach. Ain’t he a
reg’lar dude?
HAT. (_clasping her hands_). Well, I never!
BILL. Neither did I, Peach. But here he is. You sent for him, he
says, so it ain’t none of my business. (_To_ ROAM., _sotto voce_.)
Don’t forgit that quarter when you git that bill changed.
ROAM. (_striking an attitude_). Avaunt! Quit my sight, thou silly
buffoon! Leave me alone in the presence of my adored one. [_Exit_
BILL, L.
HAT. Oh, oh, oh!
ROAM. (_dropping on knees before her_). Fear not, fair one. You
surely have not forgotten the words of love and devotion that have
passed between us in correspondence. Listen! I am not what I am!
Once I have cast aside my working clothes and appear in the costly
raiment that fits so well my youthful form you would not know me.
I am in disguise, my darling Hattie! Oh! come to my arms, my loved
one! Who would have dreamed that such bliss could exist upon this
mundane sphere? (_Rises._)
HAT. (_stepping back and facing audience_). Can it be that he has
donned this disguise simply to try me? It must be. I will listen
to him, for he speaks as no other man has ever done to me. (_To_
ROAM.) My dear Mr. Heartache, though I am somewhat surprised to
meet you in such attire, I will frankly say that I like your
manner of speech. You have undoubtedly disguised yourself as
a common laborer or tramp for the purpose of learning the true
depths of my affection for you. It is all right, Percy. Proceed
with your lovely words of conversation. I can see that you would
really be a handsome young man if you donned your proper attire
and—and—treated yourself to a bath.
ROAM. (_aside_). Great Scott! This business ain’t working the way
I thought it would. The first thing I know I’ll be in a breach of
promise suit, sure. But maybe that would be a better suit than the
one I am now wearing, so I’ll see it through if I bust!
_Enter_ LUC., _at_ L. _Sees_ HAT. _and_ ROAM., _and steps
back to watch and listen_. BILL _appears at_ C., _and does
the same_.
HAT. (_smiling_). Sit down on the bench, Mr. Heartache.
LUC. (_aside_). Mr. Heartache! Why, that must be the artist Helen
is infatuated with. Well, what is the girl thinking about? Why,
that fellow is nothing but a tramp. They say listeners never hear
any good of themselves, but I am going to hear this through, or
know the reason why.
ROAM. (_sitting down_). Well, what do you want me to do now?
HAT. Talk like you did a little while ago.
(_Sits down beside him._)
ROAM. An’ call you darlin’, an’ all that?
HAT. Yes, please.
BILL (_hardly able to restrain himself, going through all sorts of
motions_). If this ain’t a circus there never was one.
ROAM. Well, darlin’, how have yer been since I saw you last?
HAT. Since you saw me last? Why, you never saw me before.
ROAM. I mean how have you been since you heard from me last?
HAT. Oh, fine.
ROAM. So have I. I am sorry I put on my working clothes, for I
would like to give you a good hug.
(_Stretches out his arms as though to embrace her, but she
gets up and out of his way._)
HAT. No such liberties yet, Percy.
ROAM. Well, if I go back an’ put on my good clothes will it be all
right?
HAT. It might. But don’t go yet.
ROAM. (_looking at audience despairingly_). All right, my love.
HAT. There! That sounds real nice.
ROAM. What does?
HAT. What you just said.
ROAM. Does it, darling?
HAT. Oh, my! I really wish you had not worn your working clothes,
Percy.
ROAM. (_looking at his overalls and shaking his head_). Well, what
was I going to do? I can take these off, though.
(_Jumps up and hurriedly takes off overalls and tosses them
alongside the paint cans near_ C. HAT. _backs half-way
to_ R. _during the operation, holding up her hands_. LUC.
_seems almost on the verge of fainting, while_ BILL _stuffs
a handkerchief in his mouth to keep from exploding_.)
HAT. Oh! you look much better already, Percy.
ROAM. Yes; I borrowed these trousers of my boss—I mean I loaned a
good pair of trousers to a man I have working for me.
HAT. Oh! I see.
ROAM. I’m a reg’lar dude when I’m fixed up, dear. Shall I give you
a good hug now?
HAT. Not yet, please. But say! you must paint lovely pictures.
ROAM. I do, dearest.
HAT. I should like to have you paint me some time.
ROAM. I’ll be pleased to. Who did the job for you to-day?
HAT. (_sharply_). What is that, sir?
ROAM. A bum artist did the job, I’m sure. Too much vermilion.
HAT. What are you talking about?
ROAM. I was thinking of a picture a rival of mine painted. I must
have expressed my thoughts aloud.
HAT. Oh! is that it?
ROAM. Yes, dearest. Now, if you’ll only name the happy day I’ll
hurry back to my hotel and get togged out a little. I can be back
in an hour. (_Rises._) Shall I leave word at the preacher’s and
tell him we’ll soon be there?
HAT. What are you talking about?
ROAM. Getting married. I’m ready right now.
HAT. I shall have to know more about you before I think of taking
such a serious step as that.
ROAM. Didn’t you advertise for a husband?
HAT. Well, I—er—suppose I did.
ROAM. (_striking an attitude_). Well, here he is. If you want me
for better or worse, just say the word. I’ll surely die, though, if
you say no.
(_Edges toward_ C., _to take a hasty departure_.)
HAT. (_divining his intention_). Hold on, Percy Heartache! You
cannot trifle with me this way. If you think you are having a joke
with me, I tell you plainly that you have gone too far. You have
proposed to me, and I shall hold you to it. My answer to your
proposal is that I must have a short time to think.
ROAM. (_starting toward overalls and paint cans_). I guess I had
better get away from here.
HAT. (_springing forward and catching with both hands_). You
proposed to me, and you shall not go until I have given my answer.
ROAM. Let go, girl. This is only a joke.
LUC. (_rushing toward him, brandishing parasol_). Joke, eh? Well,
I will appear as a witness against you. You are a rascal to trifle
with a poor girl like that. I heard all your conversation, sir.
BILL (_appearing_). Me, too! Don’t marry that man, Peach. He ain’t
nothin’ more than a tramp.
(ROAM. _succeeds in freeing himself, and runs off_ C.,
_leaving paint cans and overalls behind_. LUC. _and_ BILL
_run after them_.)
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