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THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATES
by Rea Woodman
Price 35 cents
Eldridge Entertainment House
Franklin, Ohio
also
Denver, Colorado
844 South Logan St.
THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATES
A FARCE
In Three Acts and an Epilogue
BY REA WOODMAN, M.A.
Author of "She Organized a Club," "The Master's Birthday,"
and "The Professor."
Copyright, 1902, by Rea Woodman.
Eldridge Entertainment House
FRANKLIN, OHIO
To My Own Boys and Girls, The Class of 1902
SYNOPSIS
ACT. I.
Sitting Room of the De Smythe Home.
Wednesday Morning at 10 o'clock.
"We'll have the prettiest frock if it breaks the R. I. P. R. R.!"
ACT. II.
Sitting Room of the De Smythe Home.
Thursday afternoon at 3 o'clock.
"Deep, deep are the meanings of life."
ACT. III.
Hallway of the De Smythe Home.
Friday Morning at 9 o'clock.
"Mr. Bulbus, the lilies are lovely."
EPILOGUE.
Dining Room in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Jack Hamilton.
A Friday Morning in May, 1905.
"Therefore, Valeria squints."
CHARACTERS
Miss Maude De Smythe, The Sweet Girl,
Secretary of the Class of 1902.
Mrs. De Smythe, Her Mother,
Who is threatened with nervous prostration.
Mr. De Symthe, Her Father,
President of the R. I. P. Railroad.
Mr. Jack Hamilton, Her Beau,
President of the Class of 1902.
Miss Matilda Hoppenhoer, Her Aunt,
Who never graduated, thank Heaven!
Miss Valeria Reynolds, Her Dearest Friend,
Whom she loves very much.
_Madam_ Sateene, Her Dressmaker.
_Madam_ Rantum, Her Elocution Teacher, (late of the Boston School.)
Professor Grindem, Principal of the High School.
Mr. Chinese Bulbus, The Florist.
_Katherine_, The Maid.
ACT I.
(Sitting-room of the DeSmythe home; "confusion worse confounded;"
everything topsy-turvy. Mrs. DeSmythe on couch; Madam Sateene and she
looking over lace samples, of which they have a great number. Madam in
"swell" street costume.)
_Mrs. De S._ (tossing samples in a heap). There's positively nothing
like it! Nothing anywhere near it!
_Madam_ No, and nothing that can be used.
_Mrs. De S._ (snatching a bit of lace from the heap). There! That's a
lover's knot pattern. Why, it--
_Madam_ No, that's a sailor's knot. There is a great difference.
_Mrs. De S._ (vaguely). I don't see it.
_Madam_ (patiently). You see the loop in this bends down and in this, it
bends--goes up. Every difference in the world, my dear Mrs. De
Smythe.
_Mrs. De S._ (meekly, but convinced). Wouldn't it do? All bunched up?
_Madam_ But it is not to be bunched up!
_Mrs. De S._ (with a profound sigh). What can we do? And I threatened
with an attack!
_Madam_ I don't know! (rises, sits down, then groans). I am at my wit's
end. Let me think.
_Mrs. De S._ (with an inspiration). Take the lace off!
_Madam_ (crushingly). My dear Mrs. De Smythe, the gown is modelled for
lace.
_Mrs. De S._ (helplessly). Oh!
(Madam sits in brown study, tapping her forehead.)
_Madam_ Let me see; Wednesday morning. (looks at watch). Ten o'clock. It
might be done. Practically two days. (sits staring at wall). No, it
couldn't! We might use chiffon.
_Mrs. De S._ Maude hates chiffon.
_Madam_ (with professional coldness). Chiffon is a very artistic
trimming.
_Mrs. De S._ (wearily). It may be--it may be, but you know Maude.
(Enter Miss Hoppenhoer.)
_Miss H._ (looks around; sniffs at the untidiness). Jennie, you look
ready to faint!
_Mrs. De S._ Sit down. Don't stand there like--a--wooden Indian!
_Miss H._ They don't keel over every few minutes, anyhow! (sits with a
thud). You look ready to faint!
_Mrs. De S._ I feel ready to faint; the lace has given out.
_Miss H._ (picking up things). The lace--?
_Mrs. De S._ (with infinite patience). The lace, you know, for Maude's
dress.
_Miss H._ (blankly). Eh--what dress?
_Madam_ (in polite surprise). Why, Miss Hoppenhoer, what dress?
_Mrs. De S._ (shrilly). What dress,--oh, Matilda!
_Miss H._ (commencing to "straighten" room in earnest). Oh, is that all?
I thought the President had been assassinated!
_Mrs. De S._ Matilda! I must say you don't seem much interested. I
should think you would,--your own niece, too!
_Miss H._ (tragically). Look at this room,--look at this room! It is a
disgrace to a Christian community! Think of the breakfast we had--or
rather, that we didn't have! And yesterday! And now you down
sick--down sick! Does it take a month to graduate? (dusts an
upholstered chair vigorously). It's such (bang) such non-(bang)
nonsense!
_Mrs. De S._ Nonsense to graduate! Matilda Hoppenhoer! Do stop
thrashing about! Ugh, that dust! (coughs weakly). Katherine will do
that.
_Miss H._ (pounding sofa cushions). Katherine is busy; she has ten miles
of flutin' to flute!
_Mrs. De S._ (coughing). Well, stop, anyway! My nerves are bad today.
_Miss H._ You are worn out. We're all as cross as bears!
_Madam_ (emerging from a brown study). What shall I do? And only a yard
needed! I think chiffon--
_Miss H._ (straightening out a rug). Use ribbon.
_Madam_ (with dignity). They used ribbon last year.
_Miss H._ Fringe, then,--fringe is very dressy.
_Madam_ They used fringe two years ago.
_Miss H._ (snapping her up). Well, what's the idea? To use something
that hasn't never been used?
(Maude comes in, breathless.)
_Maude_ (sitting down hard). Goodness, I'm tired! Auntie, your grammar
is bad--very bad. What are you doing?
_Miss H._ (sarcastically). Getting you ready to graduate.
_Maude_ (peeling off her gloves). Well sir, I've just been racing
around! O, Valeria's going to have chiffon.
_Madam_ (dramatically). Chiffon!
_Maude_ (tossing her hat on the floor). Yes, and it's awfully pretty.
_Madam_ Chiffon! Is she? (Sits, from sheer weakness.)
_Maude_ (beginning to undo sundry packages). Yes, and--why, what's the
matter?
_Madam_ (gasping). Chiffon!
_Maude_ (a light dawning). Am I? Am I?
_Miss H._ (winding yarn into a ball). Am you what? Sit down, child, sit
down, you look like a statute!
_Maude_ Am I to have chiffon?
_Mrs. De S._ (firmly). You are.
_Maude_ We can't both have chiffon! I won't be a copy-tale! I won't!
_Mrs. De S._ (sitting erect and speaking with authority). Listen,
dearie. The lace has given out.
_Maude_ (stamping her foot). Get more!
_Mrs. De S._ We can't.
_Madam_ And the gown is so modelled that we can use nothing else.
_Maude_ I won't have chiffon! I won't--I won't--I won't.
_Mrs. De S._ (warningly). Do not let Madame Sateene see you in a
passion.
_Maude_ Madam would be in a passion herself! She knows how I feel! O
dear! (begins to sob). Everything is going wrong! I w-w-won't
graduate, so there now!
_Miss H._ (mounting a chair to straighten a picture). That's sensible!
You needn't. I never did.
_Mrs. De S._ Matilda, do not encourage the child! Of course she must
graduate. Everybody does.
_Miss H._ (sarcastically). If everybody stood on their heads, I suppose
we'd have to!
_Mrs. De S._ You cannot judge in such matters, Matilda. You are very
old-fashioned.
_Miss H._ (upsetting contents of work basket in lap). Maybe so, maybe
so, but I am alive, and that child'll be dead if--
_Mrs. De S._ (holds her head). Matilda, for heaven's sake, stop!
_Maude_ I'll telephone Valeria. May be she--
_Mrs. De S._ (with decision). Maude, sit down! You will do nothing of
the sort. Mrs. Reynolds is such a talker! The whole town would know it
in ten minutes. Besides, at the Tuesday Club she cut me--actually
cut me! I will not permit it.
_Maude_ I don't think that ought to count, now. I suppose I have to have
something to wear.
_Madam_ What do you say to a Paris muslin?
_Maude_ (listlessly). What is a Paris muslin?
_Madam_ A sort of fine organdie.
_Maude_ Swell?
_Mrs. De S._ Maudie! Would Madam Sateene propose anything else? She
doesn't want you to look like a fright. Now, I think,--(pauses,
listening). Why there is papa's voice!
_Maude_ Papa, bless his old bones! Papa, come in here, quick! Hurry up!
(Mr. De Smythe comes in hastily.)
_Mr. De S._ What is it--what is it? Is Mamma worse?
_Maude_ (in tragic attitude). I can't graduate!
_Mr. De S._ (with profound astonishment). Can't graduate? Can't
graduate? Didn't you pass?
_Maude_ (scornfully). Pass! That doesn't matter! My dress, my dress, my
dress!
_Mr. De S._ (immensely relieved). Oh, your dress! Isn't it fine enough?
_Madam_ Why, you see, Mr. De Smythe, the--
_Maude_ (sobbing and clinging to his neck). I got to have chiffon, ugly,
limp, old chiffon! It is so--so--d--drabbled!
_Mr. De S._ Well, never mind! Hus-s-h! You'll make Mamma worse. You
needn't graduate! Never mind.
_Maude_ Oh, oh!
_Mr. De S._ Never mind, little girl, you needn't graduate! Never mind!
_Maude_ Oh, I--I must. The presents are coming in.
_Miss H._ (shortly). Return 'em.
_Maude_ You wouldn't, if they were yours! You know you wouldn't! Oh,
you're all so mean!
_Madam_ (soothingly). Let's have Paris muslin. It'll be lovely.
_Mrs. De S._ It's too stiff.
_Miss H._ And sounds too furrin! Haven't we got any American muslin? I'd
rather wear gunny sack.
_Mr. De S._ Hurrah for Matilda! A female Patrick Henry!
_Mrs. De S._ Papa, don't speak so loud!
_Mr. De S._ (contritely). I beg your pardon, Mamma,--your poor head!
_Maude_ I want something pretty! Not--not just--just any old thing!
_Madam_ (with awful dignity). Paris muslin is beautiful.
_Maude_ The other girls have silk.
_Mr. De S._ Then you must have silk, too,--decidedly. Mustn't she,
Mamma?
_Mrs. De S._ (sighing). I do not know, Papa, I do not know. This is a
dreadful time,--a dreadful time. I fear I shall not live to see her
graduate! (sighs dismally). But you will all enjoy it. Matilda, will
you heat the salt bags?
(Miss Hoppenhoer bounces out.)
_Maude_ (flies to couch). O, you precious, precious Mamma! Don't you
dare get sick and die!
(Katherine opens the door.)
_Katherine_ Miss Reynolds and Mr. Hamilton.
_Maude_ Hello, Valeria, how you vas? Jack, did you get 'em?
_Jack_ (bows to ladies, shakes hands with Mr. De Smythe). Couldn't
_Maude_, nothing but red.
_Maude_ Red! I can't wear red! Madam Sateene, can I?
_Madam_ (after due deliberation). Yes, you can. You will need a touch
of color.
_Valeria_ Why don't you carry pink ones?
_Jack_ Pink roses are lovely. You carried pink ones at the Junior
Banquet, didn't you, Val?
_Valeria_ (thoughtfully). Did I? Yes, I did! Bridesmaid, I think they
were.
_Maude_ I hate pink roses!
_Mrs. De S._ Maudie, Maudie, do not be so vehement!
_Mr. De S._ Never mind about the roses. They are a side issue. The
question is, "Wherewithal shall you be clothed!" I must be off to earn
your daily cake. Let's decide.
_Maude_ (pensively). Jack, do you like Paris muslin?
_Jack_ Is it anything like Plaster of Paris?
_Maude_ Jack, behave! I am so worried! (signs of tears.)
_Valeria_ She's just tired, poor dear; don't tease her, Jack.
_Maude_ (with dignity). I am not tired. He can't tease me, thank you,
_Valeria_. I think, Madam, I will have Paris muslin. Silk is so common.
_Jack_ Why don't you have bobinet?
_Valeria_ Why, Jack, bobinet is--
_Jack_ I know what bobinet is; heavy and kind of corded,--dead swell.
_Maude_ That's pique!
_Mr. De S._ Well, children, defer that discussion until the Fourth of
July. Is there time for a whole new rig?
_Madam_ Y-e-s,--I think so.
_Mr. De S._ Cheer up, everybody! We'll have the prettiest frock in the
outfit, if it breaks the R.I.P. Railroad! We are the people! I must go
hunt those papers--things are stirred up so! Good-bye, Mamma, don't
worry! Madam Sateene will save us! (goes).
_Madam_ (rising with alacrity). I shall go look at Paris muslins.
Shall I bring you samples?
_Mrs. De S._ No, I am not able to decide. We trust to you absolutely,
_Madam_ Sateene, absolutely. (groans). I believe I am going to have an
attack! Oh, dear, my nerves! They actually twitch! I wish Matilda were
of some use in such matters. Because she never graduated, she thinks
_Maude_ shouldn't! Jack, do you see my smelling salts?
(Jack hunts for the salts. Girls talk apart. Madam makes memoranda.)
_Madam_ Miss Maude, how would you like ribbon, very narrow satin ribbon?
_Maude_ Kate Saunders had that in--let me see,--oh, in 1900.
_Valeria_ And that French Girl,--Giggre--wore it last year.
_Madam_ O dear! (grimly). Anybody ever use rope?
_Jack_ (grinning). Only men--for neck-ties mostly. I can't find it, Mrs.
De Smythe.
_Mrs. De S._ Then Matilda has put it in the medicine chest. She is so
neat! I can't help it--I don't want to have an attack! What shall I
do? But I am afraid I--I am going to have one!
_Maude_ (with signs of tears). O, Mamma, don't have an attack! What
shall I do? No roses, no dress, no nothing!
_Madam_ (resolutely). Well, you shall have a dress, about noon, to give
you (with a tragic sweep of hand) if it is my last effort! Mrs. De
Smythe, I'll drop in and report! (Goes hastily.)
_Valeria_ I must go. I stopped for a list of my committee.
_Maude_ (absently). Don't go. What committee?
_Valeria_ Committee on Decorations.
_Maude_ (vaguely). Committee on--?
_Valeria_ Decorations. Wake up!
_Maude_ (goes to desk). O yes! (rummages). This desk is disgraceful!
Here it is! (Reads crumpled paper.) "Be it resolved--" goodness,
that's about poor Ned Woodruff! Jack, who was on that committee?
_Jack_ (smoothing Valeria's gloves on his knee). Miss Secretary, I do
not keep the minutes.
_Maude_ Well, you were presiding! (rummaging). Here it is,--six,--is
that enough? Five, rather,--Hal Taylor won't serve.
_Valeria_ (taking the list). O yes, he will.
_Maude_ Said he wouldn't! Told Mabel Hopeland so last night.
_Valeria_ (calmly). Yes, he will.
_Maude_ Well, he said he wouldn't.
_Valeria_ (pocketing the list, unmoved). He will if I ask him.
_Maude_ (shutting desk with a bang). Oh!
(Enter Miss Hoppenhoer, with shawls, salt bags, etc.)
_Miss H._ Jennie, you'd better go to bed.
_Mrs. De S._ (sadly). I will. I hope I shall not have an attack.
_Miss H._ Attack! We'll all have an attack before Friday night! (She
busies herself about the couch. Valeria and Maude go out.)
_Miss H._ Now, can you walk, do you think? I'd better call Katherine,
hadn't I? Katherine! Be careful of that bag--it's hot--awful hot! Lean
on me--(they go out, but Miss Hoppenhoer runs back to pick up things).
_Jack_ Can't I help you! A fellow never knows what to do
when--when--anybody has an attack.
(Maude returns.)
_Jack_ Come on, Maude, I've got an old tandem out there. Let's take a
spin.
_Miss H._ (dropping a shawl and two bottles). Got a what?
_Jack_ Go get ready, Maude. A tandem.
(Maude goes.)
_Miss H._ (moveless with astonishment). You ride it?
_Jack_ (respectfully). Yes, ma'am.
_Miss H._ (aghast). Ride it?
_Jack_ (fascinated). Yessum. (earnestly). Yes, ma'am.
_Miss H._ Ride a tantrum! Well, such goings on! And all of it comes from
graduating! Thank Heaven, I never graduated!
(Commences to pick up things. Curtain.)