As seen by a performer on the stage facing the audience, R., means
right-hand; L., left-hand; C., center of stage; D. R., door at right;
D. L., door at left; D. C., door at center. Up means toward back of
stage; Down, toward footlights.
THE
SEWING CIRCLE MEETS
AT MRS. MARTIN’S
SCENE.—_Sitting-room in MRS. MARTIN’S home. Afternoon of April First.
Doors at C. R. and L. Window Up R. Sofa Up L. Cushions on sofa, also
a novel. Piano in any convenient place. The room is arranged in
preparation for a number of ladies to gather around and sew. DISCOVERED
MRS. MARTIN, setting things to rights while waiting for the members to
appear._
MRS. MARTIN (_going to D. L._). Come! Come! Eliza, aren’t those dishes
washed yet? What in the world are you doing out there? Don’t you know
the Sewing Circle meets here this afternoon? Make haste with the dishes,
then come and dust this sitting-room just as quick as ever you can.
Mrs. Smith will be here before we can turn around and _she_ would see it
if there was a speck of dust _under_ the carpet. As soon as you finish
dusting make up a couple of pans of cookies and sweet biscuits. I
suppose I shall have to give them a cup of tea. Dear, dear, I wish there
was no such thing in the world as a Sewing Circle.
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA, with plate and dish-towel in her hands._
ELIZA. So do I, mum. What with the ironing not done, and the dishes to
finish up, and the baking to do, and the dusting to be done before them
interferin’ women gets here, and fresh flowers to put out, and the
verandy to wash off—all in the twinkle of an eyelash, how am I ever to
get done, I’d like to know. I suppose you couldn’t bake them cookies
yourself, mum?
MRS. MARTIN. Why, Eliza! How could I? I must get ready to receive those
women. You are very inconsiderate, Eliza, what do you suppose I am
paying _you_ for?
[_EXIT D. R._
ELIZA. For doin’ the work of three women in this blessed house, and I
ain’t paid reglar, either. Dash them sewin’ women! Why can’t they come
any other day but ironin’ day, and me with the whole house to clean up.
(_Catches sight of a novel MRS. MARTIN has been reading and has left on
the sofa, sits down and takes a peep into it. Reads aloud stumblingly_)
“Dear heart, you are the one woman in the world for me, I dream of you
by day and by night, you are the centre of my thought, my lodestar and
my joy.” My stars! if Tom Green would only talk that way to me——
MRS. MARTIN (_off R., calling_). Eliza! What in the world are you doing
in there?
ELIZA (_jumps up hastily, thrusts plate under the sofa and book under
cushion and begins to dust with the dish-towel_) Dustin’, mum, this
place is awful dirty.
_ENTER D. R. MRS. MARTIN, hurriedly._
MRS. MARTIN. Don’t you see Mrs. Smith coming up the walk? For heaven’s
sake keep her at the door for a minute until I get the table dusted.
(_ELIZA hurries out D. L., returns with a vase of flowers which she
places on the table, spilling the water as she does so. Rushes out
D. C., nearly overturning a chair in her haste_) Awkward young nuisance!
Dear knows what she will do before the meeting is over. Why didn’t I
leave that book alone and get ready before three o’clock. (_ENTER D. C.
MRS. SMITH_) My dear Mrs. Smith, how lovely of you to come so early.
Isn’t this a beautiful day, so mild and balmy for the first of April?
(_Places chair for MRS. SMITH_) I am so glad it is my turn to have the
Sewing Circle to-day. I do so enjoy the meetings, and to think that we
are doing so much good, making clothes for those poor, ignorant, heathen
creatures, who never know the value of a good flannel petticoat until we
make it for them. A true Christian woman, I often say, will sacrifice
anything to send her poor heathen sister a flannel shirt—petticoat, I
mean. Do sit down, dear Mrs. Smith, and make yourself at home.
MRS. SMITH (_sits on sofa, discovers book under cushion, gazes at it in
horror and reads the title aloud_). “Love’s Bonds”! Mrs. Martin, is it
possible that you read this wretched stuff, you, a member of the
Christian church?
MRS. MARTIN. That dreadful Eliza must have left that book there. Really,
Mrs. Smith, you cannot know what a trial that girl is to me. I send her
to Sunday School and I allow her to go to church once a fortnight, but
it does seem to me that strive as we may for some people’s souls, we
never win them. I must speak to her once more about those wretched
books.
MRS. SMITH (_removes her bonnet, places it on top of the piano, folds
her gloves neatly, opens work-bag and draws out a huge pink flannel
nightgown_) Where is your work, my dear? We should not waste one moment
of these precious hours. (_Spreads the garment over her knee and gazes
at it admiringly_)
MRS. MARTIN. Just a moment, and I’ll bring mine. (_EXIT D. R., MRS.
SMITH, drops her work, looks under the table then under the couch,
discovers plate, shakes her head mournfully and replaces plate; runs her
finger over the piano and looks at it in disgust, does the same to the
chair rungs and utters a scornful_ “humph!” _Is back in her seat sewing
for dear life when MRS. MARTIN. RE-ENTERS D. R. with her work-basket and
sewing_) I hope, Mrs. Smith, we shall one day know the result of our
efforts to clothe the naked and to reap the reward of our toil.
(_Threads her needle, and shakes out a red flannel petticoat_) I am
making a petticoat for some poor wanderer from the fold. I am afraid
this is not a very good fitting pattern (_Holding garment around her_)
but then it doesn’t matter what sort of a fit a heathen has, does it?
What a splendid nightgown you are making.
MRS. SMITH (_holding nightgown at arm’s length_). Beautiful shade of
pink, isn’t it? I have always thought that even though they be poor
heathen, we women who work for them should arouse in the objects of our
pity a sense of the aesthetic, a love for the beautiful. I selected this
lovely pink thinking it would contrast charmingly with the skin of some
black woman.
MRS. MARTIN. Why, then, my red flannel petticoat will be just the thing,
but I wasn’t clever enough to choose it designedly.
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA, hands covered with flour._
ELIZA. Please, mum, Mrs. Bunce and Mrs. Timmins are coming up the walk,
will I let them in? (_MRS. SMITH looks over her spectacles at ELIZA,
letting her work drop_)
MRS. MARTIN. Eliza! What do you mean? Let them in, of course.
ELIZA. Me hands is all flour, mum. (_Whispers loudly_) I’m bakin’ the
cookies.
[_EXIT D. L., followed by MRS. MARTIN._
MRS. MARTIN (_off stage, heard scolding_). You great stupid, how often
have I told you how to answer a door properly.
ELIZA (_off stage, grumbling_). Well, mum, how am I to do forty things
at once, I’d like to know. If I had half a dozen hands I might be more
nimble, and remember more, but seein’s I’ve only got two you’ll just
have to be a bit more patient.
_ENTER MRS. MARTIN D. L., crosses to D. C. and admits MRS. BUNCE and
MRS. TIMMINS._
MRS. SMITH. I was so afraid you were not coming. Did you meet any of the
other ladies?
MRS. BUNCE. We left Mrs. Spruce, Mrs. Dodge and Miss Spooner at the
milliner’s. Really, those women are the vainest creatures, every one of
them trying on the new spring hats, and threatening to buy one before
they come to the meeting. I suppose they want to come and crow over
those of us who have no new hats.
MRS. TIMMINS. For my part, I think the first of April is altogether too
early to think of new hats. I wouldn’t dream of buying my spring hat
until the first of June.
MRS. SMITH (_looking scornfully at MRS. TIMMINS’ shabby hat_). What
June did you buy that one in, 1905?
MRS. TIMMINS (_laughs nervously_). What a joker you are, Mrs. Smith. If
I did not know you had worn your own hat four summers I would really
think you were in earnest. Oh, you did manage to use up that awful
flannellette, did you? I remember seeing you buy it at the fire sale,
but how in the world did you manage about the holes burned in it and the
scorched places? You are the most skillful creature. I wish I could do
as much with as little money as you spend. (_MRS. SMITH glares at her
but goes on sewing_)
MRS. BUNCE (_anxious to change the subject_). My dear Mrs. Martin, where
did you get that maid of yours? Why, my dear, she actually held out her
hand and asked us for our tickets.
MRS. MARTIN. She is the most awful specimen. I imported her direct and
I have tried _so_ hard to teach her, her duties. Sometimes I think she
will be the death of me, but you know what servants are nowadays.
MRS. BUNCE. I know to my sorrow, I had to discharge mine last week. She
couldn’t cook at all and when I found her frying doughnuts in
goose-grease, rather than waste it, I thought it was time for a change.
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA._
ELIZA. Mrs. Martin, here comes the minister’s wife and her sister, will
I let them in?
MRS. MARTIN. How often have I to tell you— (_Rises, goes D. C. and
returns with MRS. BADGER and MISS PETERS_) We are all so glad to have
you with us to-day, Mrs. Badger; you know you missed the last meeting,
and you, too, Miss Peters. Beautiful day, isn’t it. Did you meet any of
the other ladies?
MISS PETERS. We saw what I think are three new hats, with women
attached, moving this way, but they were so busy admiring themselves in
every window they passed, we did not wait for them. My dears, when you
see Miss Spooner’s new hat you will turn green with envy. It looks like
the nightmare of a dipsomaniac.
MRS. BADGER. Ella, my dear, you shouldn’t talk that way.
MISS PETERS. And Mrs. Spruce has one that would look young on her baby,
but Mrs. Dodge is a howling swell. (_Looks out of the window_) Oh, here
they come, the three graces. Faith and hope I see, but which of the
three is charity. Look at them, oh, look at them. (_ALL look out window
and hurriedly draw back_)
MRS. BADGER. Ella, my dear, you shouldn’t talk that way. How would you
like to have people make fun of your new hat?
MISS PETERS. Well, when I am idiot enough to buy a hat like that, I
shall expect to have somebody make fun of it.
_ENTER D. C. MRS. DODGE, MISS SPOONER and MRS. SPRUCE._
MISS SPOONER. I know we are rather late, dear Mrs. Martin, but the
spring hats are so fascinating we could not resist going to the
millinery openings and trying them all on. (_MRS. SPRUCE takes off her
hat and eyes it with great satisfaction. The ladies all try on the hats
as the newcomers remove them_)
MRS. SPRUCE. I really think it is the most becoming hat I ever had. But
then most of them were becoming—to _me_. This one is simple, so, so
dis-ting-ay, don’t you know. But, my dears, the price—Ruination! (_ALL
seat themselves, the newcomers unfolding their work, chattering all the
time_)
MISS SPOONER. Well, I’m going to try to get this everlasting sewing
finished to-day. Dear me, we don’t get much done in one afternoon.
MRS. SPRUCE (_spreading out a hideous apron on her knee, as she bastes
it together_). I wonder if heathen women _wear_ aprons.
MISS PETERS. I’m sure they will wear that one. I think that is all they
do wear.
MRS. TIMMINS. Then why are we making nightgowns and petticoats for them?
MRS. BADGER. My dear Mrs. Timmins, the first step towards Christianizing
is civilizing.
MISS PETERS. And no person is truly civilized who does not wear a
garment made by this sewing circle. And as no civilized woman is without
a kimona, why, I am making a kimona.
MRS. BUNCE. Well, by the time our bale reaches them, I am sure we shall
have to our credit a well-dressed detachment of the heathen.
MRS. SMITH (_ponderously_). It is man that looketh upon the outward
appearance.
MISS PETERS. Why, I always thought it was woman.
MRS. DODGE. While we are all here together, wouldn’t it be a good time
to talk about our church fair?
MRS. MARTIN. Capital idea, if we have really decided to have a fair.
MRS. SMITH (_decidedly_). Of course we shall have a fair. Since my
earliest childhood I have annually attended the church fair. I cannot
imagine a Christian church without an annual fair.
MRS. DODGE. I suppose we must have them, but they are such a worry and
nuisance.
MRS. SMITH (_reprovingly_). A nuisance! Surely not that, Mrs. Dodge.
Think of our love and devotion in the sacrifice we make to send
salvation to the heathen.
MISS PETERS. Well, for my part, I believe if we sent the money we spend
on labor and material, it would do far more good.
MRS. SMITH. Perhaps it would be as well, Miss Peters, to leave these
things to older and _wiser_ heads. (_Tremendous clatter heard in
kitchen. MRS. MARTIN rises and hurries to the kitchen_) That dreadful
girl, what _has_ she done now? Such servants we have inflicted on us,
and for the wages we pay them, it is too bad.
MRS. SMITH. The wages _she_ pays them, takes a home girl, my dears, and
pays her three or four dollars a month; wages! Humph! (_Smash heard in
the kitchen and MRS. MARTIN scolding_)
_ENTER D. L. MRS. MARTIN, who resumes sewing, followed by ELIZA._
ELIZA. I forgot to tell you, mum, Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Smithers came a
while back and I didn’t let them in.
MRS. MARTIN. You didn’t let them in! You dreadful girl, why didn’t you
let them in?
ELIZA. You told me anybody as was a lady had a ticket and they didn’t
have no ticket, so I gave them their walkin’ ticket, mum.
[_EXIT D. L. ELIZA._
MRS. MARTIN (_tearfully_). What shall I do with her? Now Mrs. Jones and
Mrs. Smithers will be mad enough to leave the church and nothing _I_ can
say will satisfy _Mrs. Smithers_.
MRS. BADGER. Don’t fret, my dear, Eliza is certainly amusing. I should
think she would keep things lively, at any rate. (_Crash heard from the
kitchen_)
MRS. MARTIN. I suppose that is another Crown Derby cup, that will be the
third this week.
MRS. SMITH (_aside_). Crown Derby! Ironstone, more likely.
MRS. TIMMINS. I thought we were going to discuss this church fair.
MRS. SPRUCE. Yes, now that spring is here, the fair must be our first
consideration. We always hold it shortly after Easter. I wonder if our
efforts will be appreciated _this_ time. The last time we got up a fair
there were decided hints from the pulpit about entertainments for
raising money.
MRS. BADGER. I don’t think Mr. Badger said anything about that.
MRS. SPRUCE. Oh, we could read between the lines, Mrs. Badger. Of
course, Mr. Badger must voice his convictions, but considering what we
do towards raising his salary, I really don’t think—(_Shakes her head
dubiously_)
MRS. TIMMINS. I don’t think Mr. Badger really objects to our working
for the church.
MRS. SPRUCE. Well, I’m of the opinion that the congregation in general,
yes, and the minister, too, do not appreciate the way we work for this
parish. I shudder when I look back to the days when there were no
flowers on the altar, none of the little refinements of worship _we_
have introduced.
MRS. MARTIN. Yes, I fear that Mr. Badger himself does not realize what
we have done since he came to the parish. You must not mind my saying
so, dear Mrs. Badger, it is no reflection on Mr. Badger, personally, but
on the men of the church as a whole, they are so careless, so
indifferent to our little innovations.
MRS. SMITH. Since I first became a member of the Christian church I have
noticed that all reforms, all improvements, have been introduced by the
_ladies_ of the congregation. Not a man would _go_ to church if he were
not dragged there by some woman, and _I_ see that Mr. Smith goes
regularly.
MISS PETERS. Oh now, Mrs. Smith, there are always plenty of _young_ men
there.
MRS. SMITH. Do you think _you_ are the attraction, Miss Peters?
MISS PETERS (_thoughtfully_). No, I was just wondering why marriage
removed their inclination to go to church.
MRS. BUNCE. Oh, they’d go to every service if they got something to eat.
MISS PETERS. Well, perhaps the way to a man’s _soul_ lies through his
stomach.
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA._
ELIZA. Please, mum, the caretaker of the church is at the door, and he
wants to know if the ladies are going to give him a hand with the
cleaning this week. He says the floor is all covered with peanut shells
that Mrs. Bunce’s little boys left there when they came with their
mother to the missionary meeting, and _he_ ain’t going to sweep them up.
MRS. BUNCE. The impudent old man! What do we pay him for, I’d like to
know.
ELIZA. He says there’s too much work for the salary he gets. And the
flower vases is leakin’ all over the church and it’s Mrs. Dodge’s week
to look after them.
MRS. DODGE. It wouldn’t hurt him to empty them for me after the evening
service, and you can just tell him so, Eliza.
ELIZA. And he says some of the ladies must have took his dusters, mum,
he can’t find them all over the church. And Mrs. Timmins’s daughter has
been practising on the organ and mussed the place all up, and _he_ ain’t
going to clean it.
MRS. MARTIN. Tell him we are very busy, Eliza, and the ladies will
straighten things out on Saturday afternoon.
ELIZA. He says it’s got to be done before Saturday, mum, ’cause that
don’t give him no chance to clean up for Sunday with the ladies all
fussing about.
[_EXIT D. L. ELIZA._
MRS. SMITH. And that is the way our work is appreciated, it has been the
same ever since I joined the church.
MRS. MARTIN. Yes, I would like to see every woman in this parish drop
her church work for just one month, and see what would happen.
MRS. TIMMINS. Oh, do let us; wouldn’t it be lovely not to have it to do?
MRS. SMITH. Mrs. Timmins, is it possible that I hear aright?
MRS. TIMMINS. Well, I would like a rest for awhile. If it isn’t one
thing it’s another. If it isn’t Mission Band it’s the Young Folks’
Union, or the choir suppers, or the Tennis Club or choir practice, and
both my girls in everything I don’t take a hand in myself, the Sewing
Circle and the Flower Guild, or the Willing Workers, and a collection or
a baking every other day in the week, and I think it’s time to drop
something.
MRS. SMITH. Be not weary in well-doing, Mrs. Timmins, not weary.
MRS. TIMMINS. Well, if I could only be sure it _was_ well-doing.
MRS. BADGER. You think you have a hard time, my dear, if you were the
minister’s wife.
MRS. SMITH. We’ve got enough to be thankful for without that. Not but
what _you_ do your duty as far as you know, Mrs. Badger.
MRS. TIMMINS. Well, I suppose it has to be done, any way. But this is
not discussing the fair, is it. Now that so many of us are here together
it would be a good time to discuss it, as Mrs. Dodge said. I suppose it
will be the same old tune and sixpence, aprons, and dolls, and candy,
and fancy work, and refreshments.
MRS. BUNCE (_eagerly_). Oh, let me have the doll booth this time, I do
love dolls.
MRS. BADGER (_meekly_). I always have had the doll table.
MRS. BUNCE. Oh, I know you won’t insist on it this time, I do want it so
badly.
MRS. SPRUCE (_aside_). Less trouble than anything else, that’s why.
MISS SPOONER. Mrs. Badger is the minister’s wife and I think she ought
to have the doll booth if she wants it.
MRS. BADGER (_plaintively_). I always have had it at the other fairs.
MRS. SMITH. Well, if Mrs. Badger wants dolls, let her have dolls. Now
what about the handkerchief and apron stall?
MRS. MARTIN. I will have Eliza bring in the tea while we discuss
matters.
[_EXIT D. L. and RE-ENTERS after a short delay._
MISS PETERS. Let Mrs. Bunce have the aprons, she seems to have a
fondness for aprons.
MRS. BUNCE. I simply hate selling aprons. I move that Miss Peters takes
the aprons and I will take the candy booth.
MRS. SMITH. Miss Peters has always had the candy booth, she likes to
have the young men around it, but I think we really must have a change
this time.
MISS PETERS. If we had you there in that pink nightgown, you _would_ be
an attraction.
MRS. BADGER. Ella, my dear, you must not talk that way. We must be
unselfish and helpful, give in gracefully, my dear.
MISS PETERS. I didn’t notice you giving in about the dolls.
MRS. MARTIN. I am sure, if we take a little time, we can settle
everything satisfactorily. I always think it is well to make careful
preparation for _everything_ beforehand, I don’t believe in leaving
things until the last moment——
ELIZA (_at D. L._). If you please, mum, there’s no sugar.
MRS. MARTIN. You stupid girl, telephone for some, and tell them to
hurry. (_Turns hurriedly to members who are trying to repress their
smiles_) What a beautiful sermon Mr. Badger preached on Sunday night, I
was quite affected by it.
MRS. SMITH. In what way? I hope the seed took root, Mrs. Martin.
MRS. MARTIN. He didn’t preach on seed, but on fruit. I didn’t notice you
at church, Mrs. Spruce.
MRS. SPRUCE. I couldn’t go, I didn’t have my new hat, but I’ll be there
next Sunday all right.
MRS. TIMMINS. Mrs. Jones had on the most frightful looking suit last
Sunday, did you notice it, Mrs. Smith?
MRS. SMITH. I noticed it, where does she get the money to buy such
clothes. Depend upon it, my dear, Jones never earns the money for these
expensive suits of hers, and a new one every season.
ELIZA (_at D. L._). Please, mum, the laundryman wants the boss’s shirts
and collars, and I can’t find them.
MRS. MARTIN. Why, Eliza, I left them all ready in the laundry bag.
ELIZA. Well, I thought those were the right ones, and I gave him the
bag, but he says he ain’t going to carry no such looking thing as that
through the streets, if that’s the right one. [_EXIT D. L. grumbling._
MRS. MARTIN. Well, we are not getting much farther ahead with the fair,
are we? Mrs. Dodge, you are the treasurer, how much money have we on
hand?
MRS. DODGE (_takes little book out of her hand-bag and runs over a
column of figures, lead pencil in her mouth, announces result
triumphantly_). Forty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents.
MRS. SMITH (_looking over her glasses_). How much?
MRS. DODGE. Forty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents.
MRS. SMITH. I thought we had more money than that.
MRS. DODGE. Oh, no, you forgot what we spent on materials and supplies
and the freight on the last bale we sent out.
MRS. SMITH. I can’t understand where it all went to, we _must_ have more
than that in the treasury.
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA._
ELIZA. If you please, mum, the grocer’s boy is here, will I let him in?
MRS. MARTIN. Why, of course, Eliza, let the boy in, what is he there
for?
ELIZA. You told me, mum, not to let any person in that had a bill, and
the boy has the bill for the sugar, mum. (_EXIT D. L. MRS. MARTIN,
scolding all the way to the kitchen_)
MRS. SMITH (_to MRS. SPRUCE_). Murder will out, I haven’t enjoyed a
sewing meeting so much in a long time.
MRS. SPRUCE. Well, for my part, I’m sorry for Mrs. Martin. That girl is
a specimen, to be sure.
MRS. BADGER. Hired girls are such a trial, but I suppose they are a
necessary evil.
MRS. SMITH. No such thing, if people would do their own work they
wouldn’t be bothered with hired girls. In my day we all did our own work
and were none the worse for it, but nowadays people are too genteel to
be seen hanging out their own washings.
MRS. BADGER. But some of us are not able to do it, Mrs. Smith.
MRS. SMITH. Stuff and nonsense, I’ve always noticed that those people
who are too delicate to do their own work can go to two teas and a
bridge every day, and keep it up week in and week out. But they’d faint
dead away if their husbands asked them to sew a button on their Sunday
trousers, so they give the mending out.
_ENTER D. L. MRS. MARTIN._
MRS. MARTIN. Now, ladies, if you will put your sewing away, Eliza will
bring in a cup of tea and we can go on making arrangements for the fair.
(_ALL begin to lay their work aside_)
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA, bringing in tea service, etc., spreads tea cloth
over table. MISS PETERS tries a new waltz on the piano, members all
chatting together as they move their chairs and make ready to enjoy
the cup of tea. ELIZA EXITS D. L. and RE-ENTERS immediately carrying a
huge hat box._
ELIZA. The boy just left this hat box at the door, mum.
MRS. MARTIN. I didn’t order a new hat, it can’t be for me.
MISS PETERS. Oh, let us see it, any way. (_Opens hat box and takes out
a stylish spring hat. Ladies all exclaim and try it on before the
mirror, ELIZA, meanwhile completing arrangements for the afternoon tea_)
MRS. MARTIN (_taking bill out of the box_). Twenty-two dollars, that
settles it, ladies, it certainly is not for me. Eliza, where is that
boy, is he gone? Just take this hat back to him and tell him there must
be some mistake.
ELIZA (_grinning_). If you please, mum, he’s sorry he made a mistake, he
says the boss ordered the hat yesterday, but it was to go to Miss
Primrose down the street. (_EXIT D. L. MRS. MARTIN, covered with
confusion, followed by ELIZA_)
MRS. SMITH. I knew it, I knew it, with his mealy-mouthed ways, and his
poor wife with a hat she has worn five summers. The beast!
_ENTER D. L. MRS. MARTIN._
MRS. MARTIN. All a mistake, my dears, these errand boys are so stupid.
MRS. SMITH (_sotto voce_). And hired girls. (_MRS. MARTIN sits at table
and commences to pour the tea_)
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA._
ELIZA (_in loud whisper_). There ain’t enough cream to go round this
crowd, mum, and the cat’s been at what there is.
[_EXIT D. L._
MRS. MARTIN. Well, bring the milk, then. Ladies, you will excuse the
lack of cream under the circumstances.
MRS. SPRUCE (_to her neighbor_). Depend upon it, there was no cream in
the first place. (_ALL assist in passing the filled cups, sugar, etc.
MRS. MARTIN passes the cookies. ALL take one, taste them and lay them
down on their plates. MRS. MARTIN, observing, looks closely at the
cookies, then rings the bell_)
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA._
MRS. MARTIN. Eliza, these cookies are very badly burned.
ELIZA. Well, mum, what with trying to watch the cat and do the ironing
and bake two pans of cookies and scrub the kitchen and clean the stove
and dust up-stairs, all in the twinkle of an eyelash, I ain’t surprised
the cookies is burned.
MRS. MARTIN. Take them away, and bring in the sweet biscuits, and make
a fresh pot of tea.
[_EXIT D. L. ELIZA._
_RE-ENTER D. L. ELIZA, with teapot and plate of biscuits. Drops the
biscuits all over the floor. Sets teapot down on the floor and picks
up the biscuits, and passes them to all and EXIT D. L._
MRS. BADGER (_slipping her biscuit up her sleeve_). This is a beautiful
cup of tea, Mrs. Martin.
MISS SPOONER (_places her biscuit in the front of her dress_). Indeed
it is.
MRS. SPRUCE. Where do you get your tea, my dear? (_Covertly slips her
biscuit in bag hanging on the back of her chair_)
MRS. MARTIN (_rings bell_). I always get mine at McCollum’s.
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA._
MRS. MARTIN. Some more biscuits, Eliza. Another cup of tea, Mrs. Badger?
ELIZA (_drops empty plate on floor, picks it up and RETURNS with more
biscuits_). The boss is coming up the street, mum, will I let him in?
MRS. MARTIN. Eliza! Don’t you always let your master in?
ELIZA. Not always, mum, there was one night you told me not to let him
in.
MISS PETERS (_hastily_). I do wish we could settle this fair business.
Look at the time we are wasting.
MRS. BADGER. And there is another little matter, ladies, I wish to bring
to your attention. The vestry needs a new carpet, it is really in a
shocking condition.
MRS. BUNCE. Yes, I was looking at it last week, it is dreadful, we must
have a new carpet at once.
MRS. SMITH. Where will the money come from? There is very little in the
treasury, very little, indeed.
MRS. DODGE. And we can’t take that, that forty-nine dollars is
missionary money, remember.
MRS. SPRUCE. I am sure carpeting the vestry is missionary work, home
missions, any way. And charity begins at home, Mrs. Dodge.
MRS. DODGE. Well, if we start that sort of thing, it is apt to end at
home, too.
MRS. TIMMINS. That money was raised for the heathen, I don’t think we
ought to spend it on ourselves.
MRS. MARTIN. Not on ourselves, dear, on the church.
MRS. TIMMINS. I don’t care, I will never consent to taking that money
for a carpet. That money was earned by hard labor to spread the gospel
among the heathen. Why, I grated twenty-five bottles of horseradish
myself, and sold it too, for the poor heathen, and I will not grate
horseradish to buy carpets, now then.
MISS PETERS. I don’t care how the money is spent but I think the Ladies’
Aid ought to carpet the vestry.
MRS. SMITH. The Ladies’ Aid has enough to do, now. We’re raising the
money to have the roof of the church fixed, and we can’t do any more, we
have no money to spare for carpets. Better have something over your head
before you put something under your feet.
MRS. BADGER. Couldn’t we have a rummage sale, we might make some money
that way.
MRS. DODGE. Well, we can’t touch the missionary money.
MRS. BADGER. We haven’t had a rummage sale for a long time now.
MRS. SMITH. Do you mean to sell the old clothes and buy a carpet with
the proceeds?
MRS. BADGER (_brightly_). Yes, or give that money to the heathen and
spend what we have on the carpet.
MRS. MARTIN. I don’t think Mr. Badger would like that, would he?
MRS. SMITH. What has he got to do with it, pray?
MISS PETERS. I think he ought to know how we earn our money.
MRS. SMITH. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
MRS. BADGER. I’m sure Mr. Badger never minds what we do, if we only do
it in the right spirit.
MRS. SMITH. Well, for my part, when we do the work I think we have a
right to spend the money as we please, parson or no parson. But as for
the vestry carpet, the old one did well enough for the last twenty years
and I don’t see why it can’t stay there a while longer.
MRS. BADGER. But last week, when we had the strange minister who didn’t
know where the holes were, he caught his foot in one and nearly broke
his neck. My dears, I was _so_ ashamed.
MRS. SMITH (_gloomily_). Pity he hadn’t, any man who preaches like that
deserves a broken neck.
MRS. BUNCE. We really ought to get a carpet some way.
MISS SPOONER. Couldn’t we get up an entertainment, a minstrel show, or
a poverty social, or something like that?
MRS. TIMMINS. We can’t have too many socials and the church fair coming
off.
MRS. SPRUCE. Why can’t each one of us give a little money and buy a
carpet, socials are such a nuisance.
MRS. SMITH. Some people have more money than brains. I think the
congregation as a whole should consider this matter of a vestry carpet.
MRS. DODGE. We seem to have so little money to do anything with.
MRS. SMITH. Yes, we have very little, surprisingly little.
MRS. TIMMINS. Supposing we lay this matter over until our next meeting.
MRS. BADGER (_worriedly_). I wish we could lay the carpet.
MRS. MARTIN. I have an old carpet up in the attic that might tide over
the breach.
MRS. SMITH. Might what?
MRS. MARTIN. Might answer the purpose until we can afford a new carpet.
MRS. SMITH (_looking around the floor_). Is it one that you have
discarded, Mrs. Martin?
MRS. MARTIN (_who has not seen the look_). Yes, one I took off this room
some time ago.
MRS. SMITH. Oh!
MISS PETERS. Well, that matter is disposed of. But I do wish we could
get something done about this fair. What sort of refreshments will we
have this time, and will it be a sit-down supper or a hand out?
MRS. BADGER. You shouldn’t talk that way, Ella.
MRS. SPRUCE. Do let us have something new. I am so tired of ham
sandwiches and layer cake and bread and butter and coffee.
MRS. MARTIN. I think, myself, we might vary the refreshments a little
this time.
MRS. SMITH (_witheringly_). Yes, let us have quail on toast, or roast
turkey, or oysters on the half, or any little inexpensive delicacy. Vary
the refreshments by all means. (_MRS. MARTIN touches bell_)
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA._
MRS. MARTIN. Remove these things, Eliza. (_ELIZA carries out tray and
RETURNS immediately_)
ELIZA. If you please, mum, what shall we have for supper? There ain’t
no meat.
MRS. MARTIN. No meat! What about the cold roast?
ELIZA (_gloomily_). The cat got that, mum, while I was up-stairs. There
ain’t no handle on the refrigerator door, mum, and I can’t hold it shut
and do my work up-stairs at the same time. And the baker hasn’t come
to-day, mum, and there ain’t no bread.
MRS. SPRUCE. Do what I do when he forgets to come, make a pan of
biscuits.
ELIZA. There ain’t no flour, it all went into them blessed cookies.
MRS. MARTIN. Well, for goodness sake, telephone for some more flour at
once.
ELIZA. He said when I sent for the sugar, mum, that we couldn’t have no
more goods without the money.
[_EXIT D. L._
MRS. BADGER (_hastily_). I have just thought of the loveliest thing for
the fair. Let us have a refreshment counter and make everybody pay extra
for what they eat. We could make heaps of money that way.
MRS. DODGE. Why, so we could. One loaf of bread would make a lot of
sandwiches and if we sold them at ten cents each just think of the
profit we could make on a loaf.
MRS. SPRUCE. Oh, how lovely! Mrs. Badger, you are _so_ clever. I am sure
no one else would ever have thought of such a splendid scheme.
MRS. TIMMINS. Isn’t that what you call a hold-up?
MRS. SMITH. Not a bit of it, the public expects to be held up at a
church fair.
MISS PETERS. And they’re not disappointed. I still have three match
scratchers, five calendars and six pairs of sleeve protectors that I was
compelled to buy at the last fair.
MISS SPOONER. To spread the gospel, my dear Miss Peters, we must use
every means at our disposal.
MRS. BUNCE. Oh, dear me, when I think of the work and worry and
confusion, my heart fails me.
MRS. SMITH. Mrs. Timmins, surely _you_ are eager to make some sacrifice
to better the condition of the poor benighted heathen who bows down to
wood and stone.
MRS. TIMMINS. Oh, it’s all very well for you to talk, Mrs. Smith. If you
had six children and a husband to look after you would not be so anxious
for a fair. I sometimes think we are all wrong about this church work.
MRS. MARTIN. Why, Mrs. Timmins; you surely do not mean that? How could
the Christian church exist without we women and our work? What would the
poor ministers do? Think of a church without a Ladies’ Aid, or a
Missionary Society, or a Glee Club!
MRS. TIMMINS. I often do think of it, I think it would be heaven itself.
MRS. SMITH. Mrs. Timmins, do you expect to go to heaven?
MRS. TIMMINS. I don’t much care sometimes whether I go or not. If there
are no church socials there I believe I’d as lief go to the other place.
(_Begins to cry nervously_) I’m just sick and tired of everything, fairs
and socials, and sewing meetings, packing bales for the heathen who are
far more comfortable _without_ our old clothes—sweeping out the church
because nobody else will, washing dishes and stuffing cake and
sandwiches into the kids who swarm around every time we have an
entertainment— I tell you, ladies, I’m sick of it all, and I won’t have
anything to do with the old fair. (_Members sit in dazed astonishment
while MRS. TIMMINS, still sobbing, rolls up her work, puts it into her
bag and hurries out D. C._)
MRS. SMITH (_sepulchrally_). Lost! eternally lost! Little did I ever
think to live to see a member of the Christian church sink so low.
MRS. MARTIN. I don’t know but what Mrs. Timmins is right in some
respects. After all, what do we accomplish?
MRS. BADGER. I never saw in the Bible that women worked for the church
this way, but I don’t see how we are to get along without it.
MISS PETERS. Well, perhaps if we practised more real Christianity we
_would_ get along better, and do more good.
MRS. SMITH. Real Christianity! Isn’t it real Christianity we have been
practising here this afternoon?
MRS. SPRUCE. Well, this church work is a problem. For my own part, I
can’t see that I am doing much good running around to church socials and
letting the hired girl feed my family on half cooked victuals while I’m
gone.
MRS. SMITH. You may have the root of the matter but not its spirit, Mrs.
Spruce. What does it matter if your pampered husband does have to put up
with one poor meal, when, by meeting together weekly, we can make and
provide for the poor heathen, garments such as these. (_Holding up the
nightgown_)
MRS. DODGE. It is so hard to get along as it is, and we have only
forty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents in the treasury.
MRS. SMITH. We all know we have _only_ that amount, Mrs. Dodge.
MISS SPOONER (_thoughtfully to her neighbor_). _Real_ Christianity!
MRS. MARTIN. Well, ladies, life is short and we must do what we can
while we are on this mortal sphere. But supposing we postpone the
discussion of the fair until our next meeting.
MRS. BUNCE (_folding up her work_). Remember you meet at _my_ house next
week. (_ALL make preparations to leave, folding up their work, putting
on wraps, etc._)
MRS. MARTIN. I am so glad to have had you here to-day. This little
discussion will do us all good.
MRS. BADGER. I think, perhaps, if we had a meeting at the parsonage some
evening soon we might complete the arrangements about the stalls and
booths. You know I have _always_ had the doll table, and Ella always has
the candy booth but there are so many other things to arrange.
MRS. DODGE (_rising in agitation_). Ladies, I beg to resign from the
treasureship of this _MISSIONARY SOCIETY_. I have not said much to-day
but I will not sit at another meeting and be accused of stealing the
missionary money.
MRS. MARTIN. My dear Mrs. Dodge, whoever thought of such a thing?
MRS. DODGE. I mention no names, but I am not altogether an idiot, Mrs.
Martin. Here is the book and I shall send the bank book over by one of
the children in the morning. You will find every cent accounted for
there, _every cent_. Perhaps you had better let Mrs. Smith look over it,
it may convince her that I have not pocketed the money. I’ll never hold
office in this society again.
[_EXIT D. C., hurriedly and sobbing._
MRS. BADGER. You _were_ rather uncharitable, Mrs. Smith, and I’m sure a
better little woman than Mrs. Dodge never lived.
MRS. SMITH (_indignantly_). Well, I’m sure! _Me_ uncharitable! I’ve been
connected with the Christian church since my childhood and no person
ever called _me_ uncharitable before. Good afternoon, ladies. Mrs.
Badger, when you see fit to withdraw _your_ uncharitable remarks I shall
again attend the sewing meetings.
[_EXIT haughtily D. C._
MISS PETERS. Recall them at your peril, Margaret Badger. The church
would be much more of a Christian church without her.
MRS. BADGER. Ella, my dear, you should not talk that way. Good-bye, Mrs.
Martin. I feel dreadfully upset.
MRS. MARTIN. I am so sorry this has occurred, it has spoiled everything.
Good-bye, Mrs. Badger, good-bye, Miss Peters.
[_EXEUNT D. C. MRS. BADGER and MISS PETERS._
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA._
ELIZA. If you please, mum, Mrs. Bunce’s little boy is at the door and he
wants to know if his mother isn’t soon coming home. The fire’s out and
there’s no supper ready for them.
[_EXIT D. L._
MRS. BUNCE. Oh, dear, I must hurry away home. I forgot it was nearly
supper time. Good-bye everybody.
[_EXIT D. C._
MISS SPOONER. Come, Mrs. Spruce, you go my way, it is high time I was
getting home, too.
MRS. SPRUCE. Good-bye, dear Mrs. Martin. We have had such a lovely
afternoon. I wish the Sewing Circle met at your house every week.
[_EXEUNT D. C. MRS. SPRUCE and MISS SPOONER._
_ENTER D. L. ELIZA._
ELIZA. Now, mum, all the old cats are gone and we can think about the
supper.
MRS. MARTIN (_setting things to rights in the room_). Oh, Eliza! You
dreadful girl, you have given me such a day. I was so mortified, all the
afternoon. Whatever am I going to do with you?
ELIZA. Well, mum, you might pay me my wages. There’s three months coming
to be now, mum.
MRS. MARTIN. You ungrateful girl, how is it you are always thinking
about money? You have a good home, and if I do say it, Eliza, a good
mistress. What more do you want?
ELIZA. The money’s coming to me, mum, and you shouldn’t grudge me what
I’ve earned, and three months is too long to wait, Mrs. Martin. I want
to pay for my new hat.
MRS. MARTIN. Your new hat? What new hat?
ELIZA (_grinning broadly_). Sure, mum, you didn’t think I was meaning it
when I said the boss sent a hat to Miss Primrose. Why, bless your heart,
mum, that was a bit of an April Fool I sprung on you; that was me new
spring hat.