T. S. DENISON & COMPANY PUBLISHERS CHICAGO J V, DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS. 4 Partial List of Successful and Popular Plays. Lar^e CataIo({ue Free. Price 15 Gents Each, Postpaid: Unless Different Price is Given. DRAMAS. COMEDIES. ENTER- TAINMENTS. Etc. M, F. After the Game, 2 acts, 1J4 hrs (25c) 1 9 All a Mistake, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 4 4 All That Glitters Is Not Gold, 2 acts, 2 hrs 6 3 Altar of Riches, 4 acts, 25^ hrs. (25c) 15 5 Americrn Hustler, 4 acts, 2J/^ hrs (25c) 7 4 Arabian Nights, 3 acts, 2 hrs. . . 4 5 Bank Cashier, 4 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 8 4 Black Heifer, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 9 3 Bonnybell, 1 hr (25c).Optnl. Brookdale Farm, 4 acts, 2J'^ hrs. (25c) 7 3 Brother Josiah, 3 acts, 2 h.(25c) 7 4 Busy Liar, 3 acts, 254 hrs. (25c) 7 4 Caste, 3 acts, 2i/^ hrs 5 3 Corner Drug Store, 1 hr. (25c) 17 14 Cricket on the Hearth, 3 acts, 1 34 hrs 7 8 Danger Signal, 2 acts, 2 hrs... 7 4 Daughter of the Desert, 4 acts, 2j4 hrs (25c) 6 4 Down u: Dixie, 4 acts, 2>2 hrs. (25c) ...8 4 East Lynne, 5 acts, 2 54 hrs 8 7 Editor-in-Chief. 1 hr (25c) 10 Elma, 154 hrs (25c) Optnl. Enchanted Wood, 1^ h. (35c) Optnl. Eulalia, 1^ hrs (25c) Optnl. Face at the Window, 3 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 4 4 From Sumter to Appomattox, 4 acts, 2y2 hrs. (25c) 6 2 Fun on the Podunk Limited, VA hrs.. (25c) 9 14 Handy Andy(Irish),2acts,l^ h. 8 2 Heiress of Hoetown, 3 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 8 4 High School Freshman, 3 acts, 2 h (25c) 12 Home, 3 acts, 2 hrs 4 3 Honor of a Cowboy, 4 acts, 2 A hrs (25c) 13 4 Iron Hand, 4 acts, 2 hrs. . (25c) 5 4 It's All in the Pay Streak, 3 acts, 154 hrs r2Sc) 4 3 Jayville Junction, 1^ hrs. (25c) 14 17 Tedediah Tudkins, J. P., 4 acts, 2J^ hrs (25c) 7 5 Kingdom of Heart's Content, 3 acts, 214 hrs (25c) 6 12 Light Brigade, 40 min (25c) 10 Little Buckshot, 3 acts, 2^ hrs. (25c) 7 4 Lodge of Kye Tyes, 1 hr.(25c)13 Lonelyville Social Club, 3 acts, UA hrs (25c) 10 M. F. Louva, the Pauper, 5 acts, 2h.. 9 4 Man from Borneo, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) .5 2 Man from Nevada, 4 acts, 2J4 hrs (25c) 9 5 Mirandy's Minstrels (25c) Optnl. New Woman, 3 acts, 1 hr 3 6 Not Such a Fool as He Looks, 3 acts, 2 hrs 5 3 Odds with the Enemy, 4 acts, 1 54 hrs 7 4 Old Maid's Club, I/2 hrs. (25c) 2 16 Old School at Hick'ry Holler, 1^ hrs (25c) 12 9 Only Daughter, 3 acts, 1 14 hrs. 5 2 On the Little Big Horn, 4 acts, 2y2 hrs (25c) 10 4 Our Boys, 3 acts, 2 hrs 6 4 Out in the Streets, 3 acts, 1 hr. 6 4 Pet of Parson's Ranch, 5 acts, 2 h. 9 2 School Ma'am, 4 acts, 1^4 hrs., 6 5 Scrap of Paper, 3 acts, 2 hrs.. 6 6 Seth Greenback, 4 acts, 1^ hrs. 7 3 Soldier of Fortune, 5 acts, 2i/4 h. 8 3 Solon Shingle, 2 acts, 1^ hrs.. 7 2 Sweethearts, 2 acts, 35 min...-. 2 2 Ten Nights in a Barroom, 5 acts, 2 hrs 7 4 Third Degree, 40 min (25c) 12 Those Dreadful Twins, 3 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 6 4 Ticket-of -Leave Man, 4 acts, 2 J4 hrs 8 3 Tony, The Convict, 5 acts, 214 hrs. (25c) 7 4 Topp's Twins, 4 acts, 2 h. .(25c) 6 4 Trip to Storyland, 1^ hrs. (25c) 17 23 Uncle Josh, 4 acts, 2^ hrs.(25c) 8 3 Under the Laurels, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 6 4 Under the Spell, 4 acts, 2^4 h! s (25c) 7 3 Yankee Detective, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 8 3 FARCES. COMEDIETTAS. Etc. April Fools, 30 min 3 Assessor, The, 10 min 3 2 Aunt Matilda's Birthday Party, 35 min I' Baby Show at Pineville, 20 min. 19 Bad Job, 30 min 3 2 Betsy Baker, 45 min 2 2 Billy's Chorus Girl, 25 min 2 3 Billy's Mishap, 20 min 2 3 Borrowed Luncheon, 20 min.. 5 Borrowing Trouble, 20 min.... 3 5 Box and Cox, 35 min 2 1 Cabman No. 93, 40 min 2 2 Case Against Casey, 40 min... 23 Convention of Papas, 25 min. . . 7 Country Justice, 15 min 8 Cow that Kicked Chicago, 20 m. 3 2 T. S. DEMSON £i COMPANY, 154 W. Randolph St., Chicago A REHEARSAL AT TEN A BACK OF THE FOOTLIGHTS COMEDY BY HARRY L. NEWTON AUTHOR OF "Breakfast Food for Two.'' "A Bundle of Burnt Cork Comedy,'* "The Coming Champion," "The^ Coontown Thirteen Club," "The Corner Drue Store," "The Counterfeit Bills," "A Dutch Cocktail." "Five Minutes from Yell Collese," " The Heiress of Hoetown," " The Little Red School House," " Laughland, Via the Ha Ha Route," "Marriage and After,'' "Oshkosh Next Week," "The Pooh Bah of Peacetown," "The Rest Cure," " Si and I,'' "A Sunny Son of Italy," " The Troubles of Roztnski," " Two Jay Detectives," "Uncle Bill at the Vaude- ville" and "When the Circus Came to Town," CHICAGO T. S. DENISON & COMPANY Publishers A REHEARSAL AT TEN CHARACTERS. Hiram Cheep The Theatrical Manager Willie Jump ''Props'' Percy Penn The Author Alexander The Colored Chauffeur Herman Von E. String The Musician Simon Saw The Stage Carpenter John Draw Knott The Leading Man Charles Olden Grey The Character Man Mrs. Sippi The Scrub Lady ToTTiE Twinkletoes The Soubrette Madame Whereami The Leading Lady Jane Gabb *. . The Character Woman YuRA GooDE WoNN The Ingenue Mrs. Ima Pest The Aspiring Mother Camile Pest The Aspiring Daughter Eddie Offkee y Seldum Herd: LusTiE Tenner Willie Discord Harold Johnnie Gerald Bobbie Davie Freddie Myrtle ' Babe Maudie Pansy Peaches Gracie Scene- The Quartette The Chorus Gentlemen The Chorus Ladies -Stage qfjthe Popidar Theatre. Time — This Morning. Time of Playing— Ow^ Hour and Thirty Minutes. Notice.— Production of this play is free to amateurs, but the sole professional rights are reserved by the Publishers. COPYRIGHT, 1913, by EBEN H. NORRIS. C\ .D 34077 •it t > A REHEARSAL AT TEN. '3 STORY OF THE PLAY. The manager of the Popular Theater has called a re- hearsal at 10 a. m. Due to nonpayment of salaries, some of the older performers have left the company and new ones have been engaged. Hence everything is in a chaotic condition in consequence, and the manager is far from being in a cheerful mood. The important and interfering author soon gets upon the manager's nerves and he has him put out. They start to rehearse this play but it proves to be so poor that it is discarded. A performance has been advertised and the. manager decides to present a vaudeville bill instead and insists on everyone doing a specialty, from the stage car- penter to the leading man and the rehearsal at last really begins. At first there is much discord and jealousy among the folks but it disappears as lunch time arrives. A heavy rain comes up and they pair ofif, each pair exeunt carrying an umbrella. At the beginning of the rehearsal the old Ger- man musical director was broken-hearted because the mana- ger refused to allow him to play his newest composition, the character woman finding him in tears, plead with the mana- ger and he was given opportunity to render it. The old fellow was very grateful and after all but he and she had left, he told her of his love and together under an old umbrella they left the theater and "A Rehearsal at Ten" was over. HINTS FOR THE PRODUCER. • You will find, perhaps, in "A Rehearsal at Ten" the easi- est of entertainments to stage, and yet it is unlimited in opportunities and possibilities. It is a combination of drama and musical comedy, with snappy dialogue, bright novel scenes and contains plenty of comedy situations. The number of characters and chorus people may be increased or diminished at your option or to fit the talent available without endangering the success of the play. The perform- ance should move with dash and snap and the people should be thoroughly up on their lines and absolutely familiar with all their stage business. Hiram Cheep has more lines to 4 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. learn and has more to do than any of the other characters. The entire action of the piece revolves about him and he should have his part perfectly. To avoid any hesitancy or stumbling in his speeches I would suggest that a copy of the play be placed within the property manuscrip,t which he carries. He can easily refer to it at any time without attract- ing the attention of the audience and also, if necessary, prompt the other characters. If it is impossible to procure a violinist to play the part of H-erman, a pianist may be sub- stituted. Particular attention is Called to the unusual and novel finish of this entertainment. This bit of sentiment is in such striking contrast to the comedy element that it is sure to prove an immense hit if worked out thoroughly at the rehearsals. The Author. CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES. Hiram Cheep — About 35 years of age, somewhat flashy in dress. Dynamic in manner and quick in speech. A typi- cal, modern stage director. Willie Jump — A youth of about 22 or 2Z. 'A droll, slangy character. Dresses in overalls, bill-poster's cap, etc. On leading the song number near finish he appears in white flannel suit, which he wears until finale. , Percy Penn — Youth of about 24 ; nervous in manner, yet always has an air of great confidence. Dresses in ordinary sack suit, black flowing bow tie, soft hat and carries a cane. Alexander — A droll acting colored individual, age 25. Wears chaufifeur's uniform throughout. Herman Von E. String — A quaint old German of 55, on the order of Warfield's "Music Master." Wears long black coat, light colored trousers ; white turned down collar and black flowing bow tie; face smooth shaven and of healthy color. Simon Saw— Age 30. Slow talker, thinker and walker ; wears flashy striped blouse and overalls. Mrs. Sippi— Irish and "proud of it." About 30 years of age. Wears scrub woman's clothing first appearance and "dress-up" clothes upon leaving for lunch. A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 5 ToTTiE TwiNKLETOES — About 18 ycars old. Pretty and brimful of life. Wears street clothes first entrance, then changes to fancy costume for song number. John Draw Knott — Age about 30. Decidedly English in speech, action and dress. Wears a monocle and is g^iven to surveying everything and everybody through it. Smooth shaven except for a rather insipid mustache. Madame Whereami — Age about 30. Handsome and very dignified. Wears elegant motoring costume first ap- pearance, then changes to fancy costume before enacting the dramatfc scene. Charles Olden Grey — Man of about 45 ; an actor of the "old school." Very pompous ; speaks in deep, precise tones. Wears long-haired, black wig ; smooth shaven, ruddy com- plexion. Wears cutaway or frock coat, light colored trou- sers and high hat. Jane Gabb — A sweet, loveable maiden lady of about 35. Upon first appearance wears ordinary street gown, but may change later if desired. Yura Goode Wonn — About 2Z or 24 years of age anci very pretty. Dresses in quiet taste for first appearance. Changes to fancy costume for song number. Mrs. Ima Pest — Matronly woman of 40. Wears a hand- some gown. Dignified in manner and very much affected in speech and actions. Camile Pest — Young, decidedly pretty, bubbling over with animal spirits and stage aspirations. Wears handsome clothes and knows how to wear them. ^ Chorus Men and Women — First appearance in ordi- nary street clothing, later making appropriate changes of costumes for the different song numbers. PROPERTIES. Two rolls of manuscripts for Penn and Hiram. Violin for Herman. Five ordinary umbrellas and one large green one. Scrubbing brush and pail for Mrs. Sippi. A REHEARSAL AT TEN. STAGE SETTING. Wood Wing Interior Wing Wood Wing Brick Wall Kitchen Chair O EI] O Cha Table In terior Wing Wood Wing ir In terior Wing STAGE DIRECTIONS. R. means right of the stage ; C, center ; R. C, right cen- ter; L. left; R. D., right door; L. D., left door, etc.; 1 E., first entrance ; U. E., upper entrance, etc. ; D. F., door in flat or scene running across the back of the stage ',\G., first groove, etc. The actor is supposed to be facing the audi- ence. , A REHEARSAL AT TEN Scene : Full stage, shoiving brick wall at hack and wood and interior wings set in haphazard fashion R. and L., making three entrances on each side. A quantity of furni- ture is piled at hack, while other stage properties, etc., are scattered ahout in confusion. At L. C, opposite L. 2 E., are an ordinary kitchen tahle and tzvo cJiairs. The entire effect must he that of an unset stage, at the hour of lo a m.. the hour when first rehearsals of new productions are called. Lights dim at rise, then on full at cue. See Scene Plot for stage setting. Hiram Cheep enters hriskly R. 2 E., tvith a roll of manu- script in his right hand; as he reaches C, turns and calls sharply : Hiram. Props — oh, Props! Willie (off R., in lazy, drawling voice). Well, what's the trouble — what's the trouble? Hiram. Turn on those lights! Willie (off). Say, what's the matter with the electri- cian? Ain't he allowed to do some work no more? / Hiram {impatiently) . Come, come; turn 'em on. I can^t wait for him. Willie. Say, Fm liable to get a shock, ain't I? Hiram. Yes, and so am I if I ever catch you working. Willie {off, sulkily). Oh, all right. There you be. Lights full on. Enter Willie Jump R. 1 E. His hands arc thrust in his "jumper" pockets, walks with shuffling feet. Hiram {goes to table, on zvhich he lays manuscript, takes 7 8 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. out his watch and looks at it, frowning). Ten o'clock and nobody here. Willie. Well, that's what you git for callin' rehearsals for the middle of the night. Hiram (viciously snapping watch shut, pocketing it, then pulls out a cigar; and lights it while speaking). This is ten a. m., Mr. Jump. Ten a. m., see? Willie. Well, ain't that the middle of the night? And another thing, Mr. Cheep. I want you to understand that I am a union man. I belong to the union and I'm workin' sixteen hours a day. Hiram. Eight hours. Willie. I say sixteen hours. I work sixteen hours a day. Hiram. Then you're not a good union man. Union men only work eight hours a day. Willie. Well, I belong to two unions. Hiram. Props, you're a bright youth, but somehow you never seem to get anywhere. Willie. Yes, I know. I used to think I was some noise, but it looks like I am merely a squeak. Hiram. Never mind. Props. Don't get discouraged. Once in a while you act nearly human. Maybe you can give me an idea now. WILLIE. Go ahead. I'll be the goat. Hiram (tapping manuscript) . In this new thing called a play by the author, the heroine is lost in a snow storm and attacked by wolves. Now what are we going to do about howls ? Willie. Oh, don't worry. After the first act the audi- ence won't do a thing but howl. Hiram. That'll be enough from you. I don't wish you any bad luck or nothing, but I only wish that some day you're a manager with a lot of bum actors to handle and no money to work with. That's all. Willie. Oh, is that so? What's the matter with the actor folks? Hiram. The old ones all quit because they didn't get any salary, and this morning I have a choice collection of near ones coming. (Sighs) You know you can't get good people for nothing. A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 9 Willie. Well, I'd hand in my resignation myself right now, if it wasn't for one thing. Hiram. And what's the one thing? Willie. I'd be afraid I'd lose my job. (Exit L. 1 E.) Hiram (laughs, then). Props is getting worse every day — sometimes twice a day. Enter Herman Von E. String R. 2 E., with a violin under arm. Herman {smiling szveetly and speaking with marked German dialect). Goot morning, Mr. Cheep. You make for me a call for rehearsal, yes? Hiram (impatiently) . No. I've told you a half a dozen times I wouldn't need you for at least a week yet. One week, Herman. Herman (sadly). Ach, Gott! I am much displeased. I got much moosic composed und nobody vants to make a listen. (Eagerly.) Maybe you got time now to make a listen — yes ? Hiram (shortly). No. Nothing doing, Herman. Herman (turning sadly azvay and going L.). Ach, Gott! I got me bootiful moosic und I can't make it for nobody. (Exit slowly and sadly shaking head, L. 2 E.) Enter Percy Penn, briskly, R. 2 E., tvith a roll of manuscript. Penn (cheerily). Ah, good morning, Mr. Cheep. Hope I'm not late. (Looking at ivatch.) Hiram (half sitting on table and puffing hard on cigar). Late? You? What for? Penn. Why, for the rehearsal, of course. Hiram (in seeming surprise). You didn't come for the rehearsal, did you? Penn. Certainly I did. Hiram. Why, you haven't anything to rehearse. Penn (aghast). Why, I'm — I'm the — author. Hiram (putting one finger on lips and glancing cautiously all about). Hush! Not so loud. Somebody might hear you. Penn. Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of, I'm sure. I flatter myself I have written a rather neat play here (tap- 10 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. ping manuscript) . And I'm proud of it, sir — not ashamed ! Hiram. Young man, you have much to learn. One thing is that there are more men immensely wealthy from not writing plays than by writing them. Penn (stiffly). Oh, well, money isn't everything. There's a certain amount of self respect, glory, et cetera, which counts for something in this old world. Furthermore, this thing (again tapping manuscript) is merely a beginning. I am now engaged in writing a play for (name some very prominent manager) . Hiram (sarcastically). Um! I wonder what he'll say when he finds it out? (Loud shout of warning from off stage and then a piece of scenery falls. Penn jumps just in time to escape it.) Penn (to Hiram, excitedly). By Jove! Did you see that? That fellow is beastly careless ! Hiram (dryly). I should say he is. If he can't hit you the next time, I'll fire him. (Picks up fallen '■scenery and sets it to one side.) Many voices heard off stage and amid much confusion, bustle, chattering, laughing, etc., the following characters enter from all the different entrances R. Tottie Twinkle- toes, Charles Olden Grey, Jane Gabb, Yura Goode WoNN, John Draw Knott, Eddie Offkee, Seldum Herd, LusTiE Tenner, Willie Discord and the chorus men and women. Hiram. Say, where you folks been, anyway? Do you think this is a sewing society, that it doesn't make any dif- ference what time you show up ? I've a good notion to fine every blessed one of you! Grey (stepping forward majestically, speaking in a deep tone of voice and with perfect pronunciation) . Speaking for myself, sir, and after a most minute scrutiny of my most trusty timepiece, I beg leave to say that I — Hiram (interrupting). Oh, cut it. I say you are late and that goes as it lays. Knott. What's the difference? A mere matter of a minute or two, y' know. A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 11 Hiram. And the same goes for you, Mr. John Draw Knott. YuRA (stepping forward and smiling sweetly. To Hiram). Oh, Mr. Cheep, I hope you are not angry with me. I couldn't help being late, you know. Hiram (smilingly). You? Angry at you? Nothing like it. Besides yon were not late. Miss Yura. (Beaming at her. At this there is a general murmur, exclamations and one or two laugh loudly. Hiram frozvns, glances severely around; they subside and group aboiit stage.) Enter Willie L. 2 E. Penn (going to C). Mr. Cheep, now that the company are all here, I suggest that rehearsals start immediately. Hiram (sarcastically) . Oh, you do, eh? Penn. Yes, sir. I have an engagement to lunch with a young lady at twelve sharp. Hiram. Oh, she'll wait for you. Penn. How do you know? Hiram. Why, she waited for me. (All laugh at the thrust. ) Penn (to Hiram). But, I say, Mr. Cheep — Hiram. Young man, rehearsals in this theatre start when / say, not you. Penn (to Hiram, haughtily). You forget that I am the author, sir. Hiram. No, I don't. You won't let me forget. But to make certain that I won't forget that you are the author, I shall have you removed. (To Willie) Props, be kind enough to throw this rising young author down the nearest stairway, so that he will be convinced that he has ample opportunity to rise again. (During Hiram's speech Willie takes position beside Penn.) Willie (grabbing Penn by coat collar and seat of trousers). Here is where I don't have to show a union card. (Runs Penn off R. 2 E., then noise of falling body is heard. All exclaim and laugh.) Hiram. Now, then, we can begin. (Addressing the Quartette, chorus girls and boys.) You folks haven't anything to do for a while, so you may go. 12 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. Offkee (stepping forward). The quartette has a song in the first act, haven't we ? Hiram. Yes, I beHeve so. I'll tell you what you could do, tho', you can sing where the wolves chase the heroine and it'll sound near enough like wolves howling to fool the audience. (Offkee looks indignantly at Hiram and the quartette, chorus boys and girls exeunt L. 2 E.) Grey {to Hiram). Speaking for myself, sir- — Hiram. Oh, you're always speaking for yourself — Grey. I merely wanted to inquire if there is to be. real food on the table in the banquet scene ? Hiram. Certainly. Real food. Grey. Then I object, sir. Hiram. You object? Why, the rest of the company are delighted at the idea of having real food. Grey. Yes ; but my part requires me to rise from the table after a couple of mouthfuls, and say: {very dramatic- ally) 'T cannot eat tonight. A strange dread comes over me ; I will seek the quiet of yonder conservatory for a time." {All laugh.) Hiram. Well, that's the fault of the author. Now, folks, we'll get busy with Act One. Jane {to Hiram). Pardon me, Mr. Cheep, but do I "do" characters in this ? Hiram. Say, what do you expect to do with a face like yours? Entice men from home? Jane {sighing). Well, I did think I might get something more in my "type" this time — more girlish, you know. Hiram {sarcastically) . Some performers are born, some are made and some have a lot of nerve. I've got your num- ber. {Picking up manuscript.) Here is the bunch of trouble, folks. {Surveying it, dubiously.) ToTTiE {to Hiram). Say, Mr. Cheep, I haven't said a word yet. Hiram {resignedly) . Well, Miss Twinkletoes ; what's on your mind. I suppose you've got some kick coming, too. Maybe you'd like real champagne in the banquet scene and an automobile to call for and deliver you after every per- formance. ToTTiE {sweetly). Oh, no, sir. I was merely wondering A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 13 how we were going on with rehearsal without Madame Whereami. Hiram (startled and looking about quickly). By jinks! Bless my soul! Say, I never missed her. (Chuckles.) Knott (to Hiram). Mr. Cheep, just a word. Could you give me some idea as to what wardrobe I shall require for this thing? My word! (Business with monocle.) Hiram (scanning manuscript). Oh, yes; here we are. For the first scene you will need just some informal clothes and a little later some shooting tweeds — Norfolk jacket, knickerbockers, you know. Second act, frock coat, silk hat and the like of that. A little later, regulation evening dress clothes. Last of act two, a complete motor outfit and — Knott (interrupting). Hold on. Who did you say wrote this bally play? Hiram. Percy Penn. Knott. I'll bet he didn't y' know. I know who wrote that play — it was the (name some local tailoring establish- ment). My word! Enter Madame Whereami R. 2 E. She is follozved by Alexander, carrying her motor coat on arm. Madame. Good morning, Mr. Cheep. Have I kept you waiting? (She nods a greeting to the others.) * YliRKM ^(dryly) . Oh, no, Madame; not at all. You are only a half hour late. Madame (haughtily). Mr. Cheep, I want you to under- stand that I am a lady. Hiram (impressively). Madame, I shall never betray your secret. Have a chair. (Shoves a chair forward. She sits, Alexander standing behind her.) Enter Herman R. 2 E., zvith violin. He takes off hat and makes a szveeping bozv to all. Herman. My friends, believe me much indeed; I am glad to see you. Hiram. Say, Herman, for the love of suffering actors, will you please go play hide and seek with yourself ? Herman (sadly). Ach, Gott! If dere vould be some- 14 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. days a manager mit moosic in his soul. (Sighs.) I make moosic and I can't do it. {Turns away.) Jane {to Hiram). Oh, Mr. Cheep, please permit Mr. Von E. String to play something for us. I know we shall all feel more like work afterwards. Hiram. What! Stop my rehearsal to listen to a Dutch fiddler? Madame. Oh, let him, Mr. Cheep, please. {Exclama- tions from all of "Yes, go ahead; let him!') Hiram {glancing impatiently at watch, then grudgingly). All right. {To Herman) Go ahead, limberger. Spiel! {Violin specialty by Herman. After solo, with a sweep- ing bow of thanks for their applause, retires R. 2 E.) Enter Penn R. 1 E. His hair is disheveled and one shirt cuff is blackened. Penn {appealingly to Hiram). Mr. Cheep, I protest. I protest, sir. • Hiram. That's two protests. Penn. I have two coming. I protest against being thrown down stairs and again I protest against that Dutchman play- ing his fiddle and interrupting this rehearsal. (Willie moves R. of Penn.) « Hiram. Anything else ? Penn {showing soiled cuff). Yes, look at that cuff. Clean this very morning, sir. Hiram. You should have thought of dire things to hap- pen when you wrote this play. Props, throw the young author down stairs again. Willie {seizing Penn. To Hiram). Down the same stairs ? Hiram. Certainly. Use no other — and beware of imita- tions. Willie {to Penn). Come on. {Runs Penn off R. 2 E. Noise of falling body, followed by loud crash of broken glass. As Willie runs Penn off all turn and look after him, showing delight at Penn's ejection.) Hiram. He's discovered a new route this trip. Madame (turning to Hiram). Has that young man ever done you any wrong? A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 15 .Hiram. He has. He wrote this. (Referring to manu- script.) Knott. I say, Mr. Cheep, what's this play about, anyway? Hiram. Well, it's about the worst I ever read. But if you will all gather about me, I'll try and give you a brief outline of it. (They all form a half circle about him as he sits on table, manuscript in hand, preparing to read.) Enter Mrs. Sippi L. 2 E. She has a pail in one hand and a scrubbing brush in other. The pail may contain fine salt instead of zvater if desired. She moz'es zvithin easy distance of the circle and throzvs out a quantity of water (or salt) on floor, supposedly on their feet, then she drops dozun on knees and vigorously begins to scrub floor. The persons struck with zvater, jump and exclaim angrily. She con- tinues to ply brush, until — Hiram (angrily). Here, here, Mrs. Sippi! What do you think you're doing? Mrs. S. (looking up innocently, speaking with marked Irish brogue). What do I think I'm doin'? B'gorry, I know what I'm doin' — an' that's more than the crazy loikes of yez do. i Hiram. Well, you can't scrub now. Mrs. S. Oh, can't I? Watch me. (Vigorously plys brush.) Madame (indignantly). This is an outrage. My gown will be utterly ruined. Hiram (to Mrs. S., soothingly). There, there, my good woman — Mrs. S. (stops scrubbing and looks up at Hiram). I'm not your good woman and ye know it. The first thing ye know ye'll be after makin' these folks think yez are me affinity. Hiram. Well, I apologize. (Coaxingly.) Now please go. We have a rehearsal. Mrs. S. Yes, an' I have a scrubbin'. Hiram. VW^y. yon. (Calls sharply.) Props! Oh, Props! Enter Willie R. 2 E. Willie. Well, now what's the trouble? 16 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. Hiram (pointing to Mrs. S.). Please remove this Irish person. Willie (looking at Mrs. S., grinning. She gets to her feet, rolls up sleeves and assumes a belligerent attitude). What! Throw her out? The Hne is busy. Hang up your receiver. Mrs. S. Yes, come on an' start somethin', you little un- cooked shrimp. Hiram (to Willie). See! She called you an uncooked shrimp. Willie. I don't care. I'm anythin' she says I am and a couple of things besides. I throw out authors, but draw the line at the likes of her. Madame (stepping forward. To Mrs. S.). My dear, please retire. Our rehearsal must go on. Mrs. S. (smiling sweetly at Madame). Oh, if yez ask as one lady to another, I couldn't very well refuse. Grey (stepping forward. To Mrs. S.). It must be hard to occupy the position in life you do. Wouldn't you like to be an actor? Mrs. S. (to Grey, quickly). Yes — wouldn't you? (Gen- eral laugh.) But, b'gorry, I ain't so worse as a actress. Want to see me act up a bit ? Hiram. Not on your Irish life ! YuRA. Oh, let her. We'll never be rid of her otherwise. Hiram (sitting on table). Then go ahead and have it over with. Introduce specialty by Mrs. S. The chorus boys and girls enter on chorus of song and ''back up'' the number, which may be a rollicking Irish one. Chorus may be dressed as Irish lads and lassies. Mrs. S. and chorus exit at finish of specialty, L.2 E. Hiram (with a sigh of relief, picking up manuscript). Ladies and gentlemen, the title of this thing the author has the effrontery to call a play is, "The Lighthouse by the Sea." Knott. My word ! A beastly title ! Grey. Speaking for myself, I don't care for the title. Hiram. What's wrong with it? Grey. Speaking for myself, and much to my sublime A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 17 sorrow, I have seen too many "light houses" in my career. Madame. Mr. Grey would much rather play Hamlet. Grey. Ah, you have guessed it, Madame. (Pompously.) I am positively the best Hamlet I ever saw. (They laugh and he shows indignation.) Hiram. Enough. Let's get busy. First act calls for an interior set. Practical door and window at back and door right and left. {Calls sharply.) Simon! I say, Simon! Simon (off L.). Well? Hiram. Come here. Enter Simon L. 2 E. He is dressed in overalls and slouches on with lazy walk and a bored air. Hiram (to Simon). Give us an interior. Practical door and window back and door right and left — quick! Simon (sarcastically) . Say, you don't want much quick, do you? Wouldn't care for a couple of practical broiled lobsters and a case of champagne right and left, would you — quick f Hiram. Don't get sarcastic. Hurry up. The ladies and gentlemen are waiting. Simon. Let 'em wait. They're better waiters than act- ors, anyhow. Hiram (impatiently). Come, come; do we get the set or not? Simon. You do — not! I don't get paid any salary around this place, and you don't get somethin' from me till I do. Will you let me have two dollars till Saturday ? Hiram. I will not. Simon. Why? Hiram. Because you are not a-going to be here till Sat- urday. Simon. Good night. (Exit L. 2 E., whistling mourn- fully.) Hiram. Good riddance! (To Jane, looking at manu- script.) Miss Gabb, you are "discovered" at window, back, gazing sadly at the ocean. Jane. What? Me looking at the ocean? I never, never can do it, Mr. Cheep. HiRiVM. Why not? 18 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. Jane. I shall never forget the last time I gazed at the ocean. It was from the deck of a sailing vessel and I most surely did some sad gazing. Hiram (testily). Well, it's in your part and you'll have to gaze, that's all. Knott. I say, Mr. Cheep, y'know, bah Jove, you have no comedian in this play. Hiram. Oh, yes, we have. (Looking at Knott from head to foot.) You're the funniest thing I ever saw. Knott. My word! I'm no bally comedian. Hiram. Oh, yes, you are — but you don't know it. (Knott stares at him through monocle and the others titter. ) Madame (to Hiram, impatiently). Mr. Cheep, please give me some idea of my part, costumes, et cetera. Hiram (turning page of manuscript) . Oh, yes, here we are. (Reading.) '^Gladys Dashleigh." (To Madame.) Your first entrance is in a riding habit. The habit is in- tended to show your figure to every advantage. Knott. Bah Jove! I'd call that a deuced bad habit, y'know. Madame (coldly). I suggest, Mr. Cheep, that Mr. Knott be muzzled. Hiram. And / suggest that this is getting to be a fine morning for a murder. (Referring to manuscript.) ''Gladys Dashleigh dashes down the street on her coal black steed—" Madame (interrupting, to Hiram). Mr. Cheep, I never rode a horse in my life, coal black or any other color. Be- sides, black is not my color. I detest it! Hiram. I can't help it. The author places you on b. horse, and — Madame. How dare the author put me on a horse! I have never been introduced to him. Why can't I dash down the street in my motor car? Hiram (testily). Suffering actors! I didn't write this thing. Besides, Madame, the horse is supposed to run away and throw you sixteen ways for Sunday. Madame (springing to her feet with a half shriek). What! I? Madame Whereami, seven seasons with (name A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 19 prominent theatrical manager), thrown from a horse? Never! Never! I hand in my notice on the spot, sir! Hiram (soothingly). There, there, Madame. You are not actually thrown, you know — merely in the play, that's all. Then you are picked up and carried into the cottage. Madame (still ruffled). I am, am I? Picked up and carried, am I ? And who picks me up and carries me, may I ask? Hiram. What difference does it make? You don't know it. Madame. And why don't I know it? Hiram. You are unconscious. Madame. Oh, I'm unconscious, am I ? I don't know what I'm doing when I make my first entrance. Is that it? Hiram. You don't know what you're doing most of the time anyhow. Madame. I want you to understand that I can do much better than I am doing here. Do you know what I was offered by (name of some prominent manager) ? Hiram. Yes. Just half of what you're going to say. But we'll never get anywdiere at this rate. (To Yura.) Miss Goode Wonn, you haven't much to do in the first act except look pretty. Yura (smilingly). Isn't that splendid! I won't need to make up, then, will I ? Hiram (dryly). No — nothing except your face. (She exhibits anger at his thrust.) There appears to be a vast amount of "much ado about nothing" in this so-called play, and the only way I know is for everyone to get off the stage while I try and whip it into shape. You must all do a specialty, to liven up things, and — Madame (rising zvith outraged air). Mr. Cheep! You forget yourself ! First you ask me to dash down the street on a horse, be thrown from it, be carried on the stage, and now to cap the awful climax, you intimate that / do a song and dance. Never ! I hand in my notice on the spot, sir! Hiram (to Madame). Don't get "up stage" with me. I 20 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. don't care a rap whether you do a song and dance or bal- loon ascension, but you've got to do something or there ain't a-going to be no show. Now clear the stage — every- body! When I want you, listen for your cue — that's all. I'll see Simon about this next set. Shoo! (Hiram shoos them off R. as he would a Hock of chickens, and he follows, leaving Alexander on, who all this time has been standing back of Madame's chair enjoying the incidents and occa- sionally grinning broadly.) Alexander {hangs Madame^s coat over back of chair and comes down C.). Here's mah chance. {Looks all about to make sure he is alone. Monologue may be omit- ted if desired and song only introduced.) Here's where I^ go on de stage and be a actor mahself. I'll herewith pro- ceed to monologue mahself until I'm black in de face. {Monologue.) You know, mah father didn't want me to become a actor. He said they sometimes threw eggs at actors. He said he would never forget the time he was hit by a cowardly ^gg. You-all know what a cowardly tgg is. A cowardly ^gg is one that hits you and then runs. Mah father didn't 'want me to go on' the stage. He was mos' bitterly opposed to it. But I tole him I would be a actor an' nothin' but a actor. After I got a job on de stage mah father came to see me one night, an' after de per- formance I asked him if he was still opposed to my bein' a actor. He said he wasn't, 'cause I was no actor and from what he saw I never would be. But mah father was a most peculiar man. He used to hang up his stockin' every Christmas Eve. Last Christmas Eve he hung it up as usual — an' de Board of Health made him take it down. Last summer father went to a summer resort for a change and rest. The hotel got his change and the waiters got the rest. Father was always a great man to borrow money. He'd go out and borrow money from somebody whether he needed it or not. I remember he went out one dark night — father would always go out on dark nights — an' he asked a man tp lend him some money. But the man re- A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 21 fused. Three times mah father asked the man to loan him money an' each time the man refused. So finally my father had to knock de man down an' take it away from him. Then I remember another night after we had all gone to bed we heard somebody movin' about down stairs. Father told me to get up an' go down stairs and find de burglar. But I said I wouldn't. I hadn't lost no burglar. Finally father got up, jumped out of a second story win- dow an' run two miles to de police station an' told de captain of police dat deer was thieves in his house. De police captain says, "Go on back home. I knew dat two years ago. Another peculiar thing about father was his head. Folks used to ask him about his bald head. Father didn't have a hair on his, head, an' folks would ask him if it didn't bother him an' if he didn't feel the cold in de winter time. Father said he didn't mind dat so much ; his main bother was when he was washin' himself — unless he kept his hat on he didn't know where his face stopped. You know, dey say dat a woman's hair lasts longer than a man's. Well, it ought to. A man wears his all de time. I will now sing yo' a pathetic little ballad entitled, "What's the Use of Working When There's So Much Love in the World." (Introduce any comic song and exit R. 1 E.) Enter Hiram, Simon and Willie, R. 2 E., and go to C. They are arguing as they come on. Hiram (betzveen them). If I knew as much about stage business as you two fellows, I'd go down to the river. Simon. Yes, and if I knew as much as you think you do, I'd jump in. Willie (to Hiram). Say, are you tryin' to kid us or just tryin' to give us a good time? Hiram. Nothing like it. Nothing like it. Simon. Well, what's this stuff you're handin' us about goin' on in this show an' doin' a cross-fire talkin' act? Willie. Yes. What's a cross-fire an' does it come in powder or liquid form? Hiram. Say, cross-fire talk is great stuff — when it's 22 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. done right. You know, you get a lot of jokes, quick jokes, and spring them at each otlier. See? (To Willie.) For instance you say to Simon: ''I went by your house last night." And he says: "I'm much obliged." See? (Laughs.) Simon (blank expression). Yes? But what's the rest of it? Willie. And does anybody laugh at that? Hiram. Say, I'll tell it again. Maybe you'll get it this time. (To Simon.) Props says to you: "I went by your house last night." And you answer quick : "I'm much obliged.^" Now you see it? (Laughs and slaps them on shoulders.) Simon (stares at Hiram anxiously). Say, you ain't off your noodle or anythin', are you? Hiram (quickly stops laughing). Certainly not. Simon (relieved). Oh, all right. Don't throw any more fits then. Willie ( to Hiram ) . But suppose nobody laughs at that wheeze? I wouldn't myself. Hiram. You must have a lot of them in a string. They're bound to "get" one once in a while. Now go out and dig up a bunch of short jokes — and hurry up about it. (Takes them by the shoulders and pushes them tozvard R. 1 E. Knock is heard off R. They pause and listen. Knock is repeated.) Willie. Somebody's knockin'. Hiram. That's nothing. Somebody's always knocking around a theater. Go see who it is. (Shoves them off R. 2 E.) Between one thing and another, I'm having the time of my young life. Enter Willie R. 2 E. Willie. There's a couple of dames outside who desire to hold a personal gabfest with your royal highness. Hiram (impatiently). Haven't time. Tell 'em I'm — say, what do they look like? Willie. Oh, smooth faces, wear skirts, an' — Hiram. Quit your kiddin'. What do they look like? Willie. They look like the deuce, if you're askin' me. Want to see 'em? A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 23 Hiram {wearily). Oh, I suppose so. Show 'em in. Willie {calls off R.). Say, you — this way! Enter Simon, Mrs. Pest and Camille R. 2 E. Simon {pointing at Hiram). There's the guy. Help yourself. Mrs. Pest {to Hiram). I understand there's an open- ing in this theatre for an actress. Hiram. Yes, madam. There are several openings. One just behind you. Please don't slam the door as you go out. Camile. Oh, you don't understand, sir. My mother means that I am desirous of going on the stage. Mrs. Pest. Yes, Mr. Cheep — you are Mr. Cheep, I take it — my daughter has talent and I am extremely anxious to have it developed. I have plenty of money and I will spend it to further her ambition. (Hiram zvhirls about as she mentions money', faints and falls into the arms of Willie and Simon. The women stare in amazement.) Willie {to Mrs. Pest). Now you've done it. Mrs. Pest. Why, what's the trouble with the poor gen- tleman ? Simon. He heard you say "money" and the blow al- most killed him. Hiram {slowly recovering and half supported by Simon and Willie). I suppose it's time to get up, but I would like to sleep another hour or two. {Yawns and stretches.) Willie {slapping Hiram on back). Come on. Where do you think you are, anyhow? Hiram {nozv recovered, to Mrs. Pest). Did you just come in or on your way out? Willie {aside to Hiram). Nix! She's the lady with money. Hiram {excitedly). Money? {To Simon and Willie.) Get a seat for the ladies. No, get two seats — and a pair of handcuffs. (Hiram, Willie and Simon dash madly to the pile of furniture, get a couple of easy chairs, rush down C, dust them off vigorously with their caps and handkerchiefs and then bow lozv as the ivomen sit dozvn.) 24 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. Simon (aside to Hiram). Shall I dash out and get a sociable can of beer? Hiram (horrified). Great Scott, no! (To Willie and Simon.) You fellows run along and spin your tops. (Simon and Willie exeunt R. 2 E, looking over their shoulders and grinning as they exit.) Mrs. Pest (to Hiram). Now may I speak freely? (De- cided accent on "freely!') Hiram. I should say not. I need the money. Mrs. Pest. You see, my daughter is crazy to go on the stage. Hiram. Well, she must be to want to go on the stage. Mrs. Pest. Sir! Hiram (quickly). I meant to say, she looks the part. (Aside.) Oh, Lord, that's still worse. Camile (to Hiram). Do you think I'd do well if I went on the stage? Hiram. I don't know — ^but I think Fd do well before you went on. Mrs. Pest (to Hiram). Oh, I almost forgot to mention my name to you. I am Mrs. Pest, and this — this is my daughter, Camile. You can judge she has talent by her name. Camile! (Sighs profoundly.) Did you ever see Camile die, Mr. Cheep? Hiram (seemingly startled). No. Does she die often? MRb. Pest. Oh, you misunderstand me. I was referring to Camile in the play of the same name. Hiram. Oh, I get you now. You say your daughter has talent? Mrs. Pest. Yes, splendid talent. Camile. Yes, artistic, natural, undeveloped talent. Hiram (to Camile). Did you bring it with you? (She stares. ) Mrs. Pest. And I — I have the money. Hiram (eagerly). And did you bring it with you?? Mrs. Pest. Most assuredly. (Toys with bag.) How much would you require to place my daughter on the stage ? Hiram (dubiously). I don't know. How much have you got? Mrs. Pest. I brought a thousand dollars with me, and — A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 25 Hiram (interrupting quickly). Strange. Exactly the amount I was about to name. Mrs. Pest (taking out a roll of bills and handing it to Hiram, with a sigh). That's a lot of money, sir. Hiram (taking bills). It is for a fact. I never knew there was that much in the world before. Camile (to Hiram). And what is my salary to be, Mr. Cheep ? Hiram (carelessly). Oh, five hundred per. Camile (excitedly). What! Five hundred per week? Hiram. No. Five hundred perhaps. Mrs. Pest (to Camile). We will leave salary to Mr. Cheep, dear. Hiram. Sure. Leave it to me. (Aside.) You might as well. I'll get it anyway. (To Camile.) And whatever made you think you ought to go on the stage? Camile. Well, the folks down home told me I ought to be all right on the stage. They couldn't see where I was good for anything else. (Hiram laughs.) Mrs. Pest. You know how some folks talk, Mr. Cheep. Hiram. Sure. But don't mind the "knockers." No- body throws sticks in a tree unless there are apples to throw at. Mrs. Pest and Camile (in chorus). What a splendid epitaph! (They look admiringly at him.) Hiram (briskly). Now we'll have to get down to brass tacks, ladies. I have a rehearsal on now and the young lady is just in time t^ get a part. (IV omen rise to feet.) Camile (eagerly). And what do I do, Mr. Cheep? Hiram (with a loving glance at the roll of bills as he puts it into his pocket). You won't "do" me, that's a cinch — oh, you mean in the play? I beg your pardon. What is the best thing you do besides eat? Camile. I sing and recite. Hiram. Any other bad habits? Mrs. Pest. Sir! Hiram. No harm intended, ma'am. Absent minded at times, you know. (To Camile.) Would you mind recit- ing something? Camile. Not at all, if you care to have me. 26 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. Hiram. Go ahead. The pleasure is all yours. Camile takes C, while Hiram draws chairs R. and sits, first bowing Mrs. Pest into a seat beside him. Camile in stumbling, burlesque manner recites the first lines of some old and familiar recitation. Then enter Simon R. 2 E. He has a hammer, nails and two or three pieces of boards which he throws on stage, making as much noise as pos- sible. Camile stops, turns and glares at Simon, who^ grins cheerfidly at her, then she begins the recitatian again. As she reaches the third or fourth line, Simon commences to nail two pieces of boards together. Camile raises her voice and tries to drown the noise, but he only hammers the louder. At last, in despair, she stops and turns to Hiram. Simon stops hammering and surveys his work critically, Camile {to Hiram). Mr. Cheep, you said I could re- cite. Hiram {grinning). No, I didn't. You said you could. I had my doubts all along. Mrs. Pest {to Hiram). She is referring to that awful man and his hammering. (Simon whistles a cheerful tune.) Camile {to Hiram). Shall I finish the recitation? Hiram {hastily). No, never mind. I can see its finish, now. Mrs. Pest. Perhaps you'd like to hear her sing. I sent her clear to Paris to study. Hiram. You should have sent her further than that, ma'am. Mrs. Pest. Where to? Hiram. I refuse to answer. Camile {runs a vocal scale, trilling, etc., in burlesque manner and Simon again starts to hammer. She finally stops and turns to Hiram.) What would you call my voice? Hiram. I wouldn't call it. I'd let it sleep. Camile introduces a song number {not a burlesque) backed by full chorus in appropriate costumes. Hiram, Mrs. Pest and Simon exeunt R. 2 E. as she starts song. Camile and chorus exeunt at finish of specialty. A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 27 Enter Willie and Tottie, arm in arm, L. 2 E., and stand near entrance. He kisses her. ToTTiE. Don't do that, Willie. Willie. All right, I won't. (Kisses her again.) You know, kid, it ain't so much the way you can hand out this love talk; it's the zvay you do it. ToTTiE. And what first gave you the idea that you'd like to sit opposite me at the breakfast table and watch me pour your coffee? Willie. Well, it was this way : I seen a furniture sign in a street car that said : "A^ou furnish the girl and we'll furnish the home." That made a big hit with me, so I began to cast me eyes about for the girl. Pretty soon I see you, an' I says to meself, you know, so's I couldn't hear meself say it: Gee, there's the girl all right, all right. So I asked meself if I loved you, and I said, right back quick, to meself, I do, very much indeed! And that's the way it happened, kid. ToTTiE (rapturously). Ain't that just grand! (Sighs.) I never read of anything quite so romantic in all my life. (Lays her head on his shoulder.) Willie. You know, I seen other guys get "mushy" an' I laughed right out. But, say, when you get it yourself it ain't nothin' to laugh at. (Sighs.) ToTTiE. Yes, indeed. Ain't love a dreadful thing, though? (Sighs.) Willie. Awful! (Sighs.) They stand in loving attitude, then enter Madame and Knott, L. 3 E., who stand near entrance, unaware of the other couple's presence. Madam (tenderly, after a deep sigh). Ah, this is so sudden ! Knott. Yaas, I must admit it is, y'know. But, bah Jove, when that beastly thing called love comes along, there's no bloomin' use in tryin' to dodge, it! My word! (Takes her hands in his.) Madame (submitting to his caresses). And when did you first discover that you — you loved me, dear? Knott. Ah, bah Jove! I weally don't remember the 28 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. exact moment. But I rather think it was about the pre- cise instant that I learned you had money, y'know. Madam (chidingly). And would you marry me for my money, dear? Knott. Well, I'd have to have some reason, y'know. They also take the same loving attitude as Willie and ToTTiE, when enter Grey and Yura, R. 3 E., who stand near entrance and are entirely unaware of the other two couples' presence. Grey. Speaking for myself, my dear; love — true love, is no" respecter of ages. As the great Shakespeare said, "Love is" — well, I don't remember just what he said, but it's just the same today as when he said it. YuRA. Never mind, dear. I know you mean it, and that's enough. And do you think you will be happy after we are married? Grey. Yes, my dear. I shall be very happy. You know I won't be home much of the time. Same business as others, when enter Mrs. Sippi and Simon, L. 1 E. They apparently do not see the other couples. , Mrs. S. B'gorry, an' if yez ain't kiddin' 'me, I don't mind sayin' that I'm after likin' yez a bit. I sure like the looks of ye, fer a fact. Simon, My darlin', I'm so glad you do. Mrs. S. Yes, sirree. Yez ain't what might be called a thing of beauty and a joy forever, maybe, but ye are better to me on that account. I ain't runnin' so much chance of havin' ye stole away from me by some other female woman. Now put your arms around me an' plant a kiss on me ruby lips. Simon {trying to drazv away). Do I have to — to kiss you? Mrs. S. {decidedly). Ye bet ye do! What do ye sup- pose they ever invented love for? {Puckers up her lips.) Simon. Say, I'd like to kind o' think this thing over first. Mrs. S. There ain't a chance in the world. Come to A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 29 4 yer tootsie-wootsie. {Grabs him and kisses him several times. ) Enter Jane, R. 1 E., zvho takes in the scene of love mak- ing with astonishment. Then off stage can be Jieard Her- man on his violin playing a soft, plaintive air. Just a fezv bars and the music ceases. Jane looks around again, puts handkerchief to her eyes and exits R. 1 E. Enter Hiram, Penn and Herman, R. 1 E. Penn and Hiram are arguing and all three start back in astonishment as they discover the love, making couples. Hiram. Suffering cats! What is this? (local name) Park on a busy night? (The couples pay no attention but stand silent and motionless.) Penn. I protest. I didn't write this scene. You are blue-penciHng my stuff*. Herman. Ach Gott ! BeHeve me much or not, but I could make me some love myself if I had like dem some opportunities — yes ? Hiram (to the lovers, sharply). Hey, you! Clear the stage! Do you think I'm running a matrimonial bureau here ? Simultaneously the four couples raise their heads and gaze at Hiram but apparently without seeing him. In pantomime each pair seem to converse in loving terms, then lock arms, turn and exeunt at nearest exit. Penn. Mr. Cheep, this has gone far enough. Hiram. Too far I should call it. But you haven't gone far enough to please me. (Calls sharply.) Props, oh props ! Penn (pleadingly). Mr. Cheep, please don't. I can't stand it much longer. This getting thrown down a flight of stairs every few minutes is terribly wearing on the nerves, to say nothing of the clothes. Look! Look at my coat! (Turns back and exhibits his coat, split from collar* to tail.) Herman (to Hiram). Mr. Cheep, I am likewise mak- ing me a protest. I make me some bootiful moosic und you refuse to make a listen. Ach, Gott! Hiram. Shut up— both of you. (To Penn.) If I 30 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. choose to have you thrown down stairs, that's my privi- lege. I've got to have some pleasure in this life. Penn. I refuse to furnish that horrid property man with my anatomy to throw down stairs. That's final, sir! Hiram {to Penn). What did you want to cause so much trouble for in compelling me to furnish a man to throw you down stairs? Be a good fellow now and throw your- self down. What? Penn {astounded). What! I? I throw myself down stairs. Hiram. Certainly. Easiest thing yet. Grab yourself and run. When you get to the top of the stairs, put forth all your strength and throw yourself down. Penn. Say, that wouldn't be a bad idea — come to think it over. I believe I'll do it. Hiram {putting out his hand). Shake! {They shake hands.) You're a decent sort of a chap, after all. Herman {to Hiram). Now maybe yet ven he goes you make a listen tp me — yes ? Hiram {to Penn). This Dutchman here has some fine music. Suppose you make him your traveling companion. Penn. Splendid! I'll do it. {Grabs Herman and runs him off R. 2 E.) Hiram {calling after them). Let me know how you enjoy your trip. , Noise of falling body on stairs, followed shortly by the sound of a second falling. Hiram exits R. 1 E. The quartette enter R. 1 E., introduce a specialty and 'exit. Then enter Willie and Simon i^. 1 E., each carry- ing a tightly folded newspaper, and do a burlesque rapid- fire talking act such as is frequently seen in vaudeville. Willie. Now the idea is this:I spring a gag and then soak you on the head with this paper. See? {Swinging paper.) Simon. What's the idea of said soak on said head with said paper? Willie. To make the audience laugh. Simon. Don't they laugh at the jokes? Willie. No. Far be it from so and so. No self-re- A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 31 specting audience ever laugh at the jokes in a rapid-fire talking act. They laugh when one guy soaks the other on the cocoa. Simon. But why? Willie. Search me. Nobody knows. Now we'll com- mence. (Simon hits Willie a resounding zvJiack with his paper.) Say, hold on; what's the idea. {Rubs head.) Simon. Didn't you say commence? Willie. Yes, but spring a joke first. We picked out a lot of jokes out of that almanac. Simon. Oh, I got you. I hear your sister is married again. Willie. Yes. Second time for her. Simon. Did her first husband die? ^ Willie. No, he resigned. (Simon hits Willie with paper.) Hold on. You don't soak me. I soak you. The guy that springs the joke does the soaking, see? Simon. All right, Willie. Now you tell one. Willie. What kind of powder does your girl use? Simon (mentions name of some well advertised face poivder.) What kind does your girl use? Willie. Seidlitz. {Hits Simon with paper.) Say, have you got a dollar for a week, old man. Simon. Sure. Where is the weak old man. {Hits Wil- lie.) Willie. My brother fell down stairs last night with six bottles of beer and he never broke a bottle. Simon. How was that? Willie. Because they were all inside of him. {Hits Simon.) Simon. Hold on. What's the rest of the joke? Willie. Why, that's all. He fell down stairs with six bottles of beer and never broke a bottle. It was all inside of him. See? Simon {scratching head). No. How could he get six bottles of beer in him? Willie. Oh, you're a mutt. He drank six bottles of beer, then fell down stairs. The bottles weren't inside of my brother — just the beer. Simon {hits Willie with paper, then laughs uproari- 32 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. ously.) Oh, gee, that's a beaut, Willie. That's some joke. (Swings at Willie with paper, hut Willie ducks in time to avoid blow.) Willie. Don't get so gay with that paper. I hear your brother had a lot of trouble with his eyes. Simon. Yes, my brother had a lot of trouble with his eyes. He went to see an optician. Willie. Do him any good? Simon. Yes. Now he can see his finish. Willie {springs jokes and answers before Simon has time to make reply, each point of joke being driven home by whacking Simon with paper. Delivered as rapidly as possible, with scarcely a pause between jokes.) What gives more milk than a cow? A milk wagon. {Whacks Simon with paper.) What is worse than a giraffe with a sore throat? A centipede with corns. {Paper business.) If the man in the moon had a baby, would the sky rocket? {Paper.) Is.your girl a blonde or brunette? I don't know. I haven't seen her since yesterday. {Paper.) What's the best way to keep a dog from going mad in August? Shoot him in July. {Paper.) The people in Philadelphia never eat snails. Why? Because they're not fast enough to catch them. {Paper.) Did you give the goldfish fresh water to- day? No. Why not? Because they didn't drink what I gave them yesterday. {Paper.) They claim they have the lowest death rate in {local town) of any town in the state. I guess that's right. I wouldn't be found dead there myself. {Paper.) Why can't a girl catch a baseball as good as a man? Because a man is larger and easier to catch. {Pa- per.) I went into a drug store to get some pills. Drug clerk says: ''Shall I put 'em in a box?" I says: "Sure. Did you suppose I want to roll 'em home?" {Paper.) Simon {has winced each time he has been hit and towards the last has become groggy. He now manages to find voice enough to make a protest.) Stop! Wait a moment! Wait! Willie. What's the matter? Want to "crab" the act? Simon. Act ? Say, do you call that an "act" ? Willie. Certainly. What did you think it was? Simon. I thought it was a fly swatting contest. {Feels of his head, zvith rueful countenance.) A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 33 Willie. That stuff will be a big hit in the show, won*t it? Let's rehearse some more. {Draws back paper.) Simon (backing away). Nix! That's enough. Besides I know my part now. Enter Alexander R. 1 E., tmfh an umbrella, crosses to chair, picks up the Madam e''s coat and starts towards R. to exit. Willie (calling to Alexander). Oh, Alexander! Alexander (stops, turns and faces Willie). Eh? Willie. Alexander, would you like to be an actor? Alexander (coming to Willie). Would I like to be a — say, man ; lead me to it. Willie. All right; just a minute. I'll fix it. (Willie goes close to Simon; aside, so that Alexander cannot hear.) Simon, I've got an idea. We'll have some fun with this colored gent. You get a bottle of seltzer water, bring it back, tell him a funny story and I'll drown him. Get me? Simon. Sure. You're on. (Makes quick exit R. 1 E. for seltzer bottle; charged.) Willie (to Alexander). Have you any funny stories concealed about you, Alexander? Alexander. I don't know. Sometimes I think they're funny, an' den agin, I ain't so 'positive. Willie. Well, Mr. Cheep wants you to tell some funny stories. Now, I don't know any myself, but Simon does. He's got the funniest story you ever heard. Enter Simon R. 1 E. with seltzer bottle concealed behind his back. ^ Alexander (to Willie). I sure do like funny stories, Mr. Man. Willie. Well, this is sure funny. (To Simon.) Simon, tell Alexander that funny story you told me a while ago. (Simon stands R. of Alexander and Willie L.) Simon (to Alexander). Say, this is a pippin. A boy went into a drug store — (looks at Wiliie, zvinking signifi- cantly, and Willie nods head for him to continue). A boy went into' a drug store one day in June — Alexander (to Simon). Excuse me; but is dis de same boy you had in de drug store a while ago? 34 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. Simon. Sure. Same boy. Alexander. An' de same drug store? Simon. Certainly. Now pay attention. A boy went into a drug store one day in June and said to the clerk — (again pauses and looks at Willie). The boy said to the clerk — Alexander. Be sure an' tell me when yo-all gets to de funny part, won't yo? Willie (significantly). Oh, you'll know it all right. You'll just laugh your fool head off. Simon. Sure, you'll know it all right. (Business with bottle.) Now the boy said to the clerk: "Mister, my father bought a porous plaster here last winter, and he's worn it ever since, but it hasn't done him a bit of good. He wants to know if you can exchange it for some moth balls ?" Willie (grabbing Alexander by one arm and whirling him about so they are face to face,) Ha, ha! ha! Ain't that a regular joke? (As Alexander starts to whirl around he opens his umbrella and holds it protectingly between him and Simon. Simon spurts the seltzer water at Alexander and hits only the raised umbrella. Alexander steps quickly to one side and the seltzer spray strikes Willie squarely in the face. Alexander grins, then strolls nonchalantly off R. 2 E., tzvirling umbrella on shoulder. Willie finally gasps, rubs water from eyes and runs madly off L. 2 E.) Simon (running after Willie, spraying him with seltzer and yelling) You will soak me with a 'paper, will you? I'll show you what a real soak is. Enter Camile and Knott R. 3 E. Knott. And so you are to become one of us ? My word ! Camile. Oh, yes. (Proudly.) I am now an actress. Isn't it wonderful? Just a few moments ago I was a mere no- body, and now I am an actress. Knott. Umph! (Surveying her through monocle.) What prominent man did you shoot? Camile. I ? I shoot a man ? I most certainly did not. The very idea! Knott. No? Well, they don't make actresses in a few moments, y'know. And you say you didn't shoot someone? Camile. No, sir ; I certainly did not. A REHEARSAL AT TEN. 35 Knott (dubiously surveying her for an' instant). Ah, bah Jove, I have it ! You divorced your husband, then ? Camile {indignantly). I did nothing of the kind, sir. I never was married. Knott {bewildered). Bah Jove — rweally, I cwant under- stand it at all, y'know. You bewilder me, I'm sure. Camile. Perhaps I can enlighten you. I became an ac- tress because I had money. Knott. Ah, yes, to be sure. I understand now. Quite right. Some become actresses because they have money and some because they need the money. My word ! Camile {grozving confidential). You know, Mr. Knott, Fve heard it said that actresses and society women smoke cigarettes. Do they? Knott. Well, society women do, perhaps, but an actress nowadays has to be very careful what she does, y'know. Enter Madame, Grey, Yura and Jane from R. 2 E. and R. 3 E. The six may present a scene from some familiar play, or one or two of them may enact a scene, or any one of the six give an imitation of some actor or actress. What- ever is introduced sJiotdd not take more than six to ten minutes. Then clear stage and enter Willie R. 1 E. and ToTTiE L. 1 E., who introduce a verse and chorus of some song and dance. Enter chorus and "back up" Willie and ToTTiE. Stage clear at finish of number. Enter Penn R. 2 E. and Hiram L. 2 E. They meet in C, stand and gaze at each other for an instant without speak- ing. Penn appears more battered and disarranged than at last entrance. Hiram {scozvling). Mr. Penn, you present a decidedly untidy appearance. Penn {plaintively). Well, whose fault is it, I should like to ask ? Is it mine ? No. Is it yours ? Yes. Then why chide me? Hiram. I didn't chide you. Penn. But you gave me a mean look. HirXm. You've got a mean look, but I didn't give it to you. 36 A REHEARSAL AT TEN. ^ Penn. I've been thrown out of here several times, haven't I? Hiram. You have. Penn (as if struck with a sudden thought). I have it. By George, I have it ! Hiram. I know it — and you'll get it again in a minute. Penn. Strange it never occurred to me before till now. (Impressively.) The reason you have thrown me out is this: You don't want me here. (For an instant Hiram stares at him in amazement, then bursts into a loud shout of laughter. Penn waits till Hiram stops laughing.) I am convinced, sir, that you don't want me in here and I shall go. Good day, sir. Good day. (Stalks majestically off R. and exit R. 1 E.) Hiram (laughs heartily and then calls after him). Good day— and look out for the stairs. (Chuckles.) Poor fenn! It took a whole lot to convince him. (Calls sharply.) Oh, folks ! You can all go to lunch now. Be back for afternoon rehearsal promptly at two. (Voices off answer: "All right, sir:') Enter Camile and Mrs. Pest R. 2 E. Each have a folded umbrella. Mrs. Pest (to Hiram).. It's raining quite hard, Mr. Cheep. Camile and I are each supplied with an umbrella. Could I offer you the loan of one? Hiram. I wouldn't care to deprive you of yours, madam. Camile (to Hiram). You needn't deprive her of hers. She can keep hers and you — you may share mine with me. (Smiles sweetly. Mrs. Pest frowns.) Hiram (gallantly). I shall gladly avail myself of your offer, Miss Pest, and permit your mother to have an um- brella all to herself. (Goes to Camile_, takes her hand and places it within his arm and they exeunt.R. 2 E., smiling and chatting. ) Mrs. Pest (disgustedly). Umph! (Stalks indignantly after them and exits.) Enter Grey L. 2 E., umbrella under one arm, followed by YuRA. They come to C, then he stops, turns, smiles and A REHEARSAL AT TEN. • 37 offers her his arm, then they cross to R., smiling and chat- ting and exeunt R. 2 E. Enter Willie and Tottie L. 2 E. He has a rain coat on one arm. They tak^ C. Willie, Kid, it's sure doin' some real rainin' outside. I ain't got no umbrella, but I got a rain coat. {Holds it up for her to don.) Tottie (drawing away). Why, Willie, I can't take your coat. It wouldn't be right. Willie You take the coat, kid. (Significantly.) I'm used to gettin' wet. (Willie holds his coat, she puts it on and he draws her to him and kisses her, then gives her his arm and they cross to R., smiling lovingly into each other's faces they exeunt R. 2 E.) Enter KNoxt and Madame L. 2 E. * Madame.' It's raining very hard, dear, but Alexander has my limousine at the door. Knott. My word ! But how jolly well glad I am that we decided to fall in love with each other before this beastly rain, don't y'know. (He gives her his arm and they cross R., with faces thrust cosely together as they exeunt R.2 E.) Enter AIrs. Sippi and Simon L. 2 E. She has a* large cotton umbrella (green if possible) and hands it to him as they reach C. Mrs. Sippi (as she gives it). Darlin', there's me best um- brella. Don't get separated from it or ye'll lose me fond true love. SixMON (taking it). I heard a joke once about a woman and an umbrella, but I'm afraid to spring it. You can shut up an umbrella, but you can't a — come on, dear. I love you too much to tell it. (They link arms and cross to R. Exeunt R. 2 E.) Enter Jane L. 2 E. She crosses quickly to R. 2 E., looks off and then returns to C. Jane (sadly). It's raining cats and dogs and I have no umbrella. What am I to do? (Moves thoughtftdly and slozvly to table L., sits. Sadly.) Nobody loves me. No- 38 * A REHEARSAL AT TEN. body cares whether I have an umbrella or not. (Bows head on arm and sobs.) Enter Herman L. 2 E., carrying umbrella under one arm and his violin under the other. He is about to cross to R. when he discovers Jane at table, turns slowly and goes to her. Herman {sweetly and laying hand on her shoulder). Miss Gabb — Jane, vy do you veep und all by yourself — yes ? Jane {raising head, brokenly). It's — it's raining. No- body loves me — and — and I have no umbrella. Herman. Ach Gott! Believe me much, you should not veep. I think maybe I know somebody vat loves you— und who has got it a umbrella. Jane {eagerly). Yes — you do? Herman. Sure. Look! See, here is de umbrella. yHolds it up.) Und here — here {taps his hrebst) here is somebody vat loves you. Jane {rising). Oh, Herman! I felt it — felt it all along. When you were near I was almost overcome by a strange emotion. I can't describe it, but — Herman. Sure, I know. Shoost like ven it is rough on de oc^ean — yes ? Jane. Good gracious, no! {Shyly.) But tell me, Her- man dear, why you — you love me? Herman. Vy? Vy I love you? Ach, you ask me dot? I make de bootiful moosic, und dey would not make me listen. Den you came und say: "Please let poor Herman play." IJnd dey did. Und now you ask me vy I love you? Ach, mein liebchen, so it is de reason. Jane {happily). And you love no one else but me, Her- man dear? Herman. Yaas. No one but you and my old fiddle. Come, mein liebchen — come! {He puts out his arm, she clasps it with both hands and they start tozvards R., smiling happily into each other's faces. As they reach R. C. the curtain slowly begins to descend, and is timed to strike just as they reach R. 2 E.) CURTAIN. Lexington By E. J. WHISLER. Price, 25 Cents Drama of the Revolutionary war, 4 acts; 9 males, 4 females. Time, 2^4 hours. Scenes: 2 interiors, 1 exterior. Characters: Paul Revere, a patriot. Leslie, his friend. Cottrell an innkeeper Curtis, a blacksmith. Snaggsby, the village toper. Willoughby' Fairfield and Ogline, British soldiers. Remus, a darky servant' Dorothy, Paul's betrothed. Mrs. Maddern, her mother. Pollv, Dorothy's friend. Matilda, a colored servant. SYNOPSIS. Act I. — Snaggsby is refused liquor at the ale house. Dorothy learns a new song. Snaggsby sells the secret of the powder Paul and Dorothy quarrel. Curtis refuses to serve the British. "I'll show you whether you will shoe my horse or not!" Paul to his assistance. "If you harm one hair of her head, I'll kill you!" Act II. — "Polly, take care of my girl." Paul discovers Snaggs- by's treachery. "I could kill you." Paul plans to checkmate the British. "If I can prevent it you will not take that ride." Act III. — Scene I: The ambush. "Take Revere, dead or alive." The signal. "In the king's name, surrender." Fairfield is killed. "The war is on!" The pursuit. Act III. — Scene II: A call in the night. "To arms, minute men!" Paul is pursued by the British. The knock at the door. "Let me save you." The discoverj-. "Oh, you have killed him!" Dorothy plans for Revere's escape. Leslie to the rescue. "I am going to finish Revere's side and save him!" Act IV. — Curtis is wounded. Paul and Dorothy are reconciled. "I love you more than my own soul!" The death of Curtis. "An- other martyr." Willoughby attempts Revere's life. "You are a prisoner of war." "We gave 'Lexington' to the largest house ever seen here, Washington's Birthday. It is great." — .1. B. Roberts, Greenback, Tenn. The Fatal Necklace By JOSEPH U. HARRIS and HAROLD B. ALLEN. Price, 25 Cents. A burlesque melodrama; 3 males, 2 females. Time, 25 minutes. Characters: The Villain, "Curse Him." The Hero, "Unhand her, coward." The Heroine, "I am innocent." The Countess, "Sixteen years ago." The Villainess, "Strike her." A full evening melo- drama of thrills burlesqued and boiled down to a half hour of solid laughter. Can be produced on any platform. When the Worm Turned By KATHARINE KAVANAUGH. Price, 25 Cents. Comedy; 2 males, 1 female. Time, 25 minutes. Jenkins, a con- vival chap, somewhat under the weather, returns home at a late hour and by m.istake gets into Peck's house, wiiich adjoins his own and falls asleep on the couch. Later he is discovered by Peck, a meek little fellow whose wife is domineering and unrea- sonably jealous. He sizes up the situation and decides to teach her a lesson, hence the worm turn ed with ludicrous results. T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers ' 154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO v^r. 11 Indian Days Book and Lyrics by T. L. SAPPINGTON and Music by HENRY B. VINCENT. A IVIUSICAL COiVIEDY. Price, 50 Cents 5 Males, 2 females and chorus of Braves and Indian girls. Time, 1 hour. One exterior scene. Characters: Pocahontas McGuigan McGuire, .an Irish widow and an Indian Queen. Singing Bird, a pretty Indian Princess. Frozen Face, a medicine man with a liking for Pocahontas. Eagle Plume and Purring Panther, war chiefs, both in love with Singing Bird. Two Warriors. Contains eight songs, both humorous and sen- timental: "Canoe Song," "Pretty Forest Girl," "Pocahontas McGuigan McGuire," "The South Wind," "Tell Me," "The Medicine Man," "Whist, Little Injun," and "Finale." The plot is clever and brimful of comedy. The lyrics are particularly well written and the music varied and lilting. "Tell Me," sung by Singing Bird, will fairly carry one to the wildwood among the brooks and the forest birds, and its melody will long linger in one's memory. Complete directions for staging, costumes, etc. Nothing better of its nature published and sure to please. iTMNISOIfiCOMPANYil PUBUSHERS CHKMiO In Plum Valley By CHARLES ULRICH. Price, 25 Cents Rural comedy drama, 4 acts; 6 males, 4 females. Time, 2^4 hours. Scenes: Easy to set. 1 interior, 2 exteriors. Characters: Uncle Jared Wilkins, a down-east farmer. Dr. Arthur Markham, a young physician. Hugh Elkins. an adventurer. Bill Stouter, who can't stand high altitudes. Charlie Scott, a Plum Valley rus- tic. Ted Simpkins. a village constable. Hazel Wilkins, daughter of Uncle Jared. Aunt Lucinda Wilkins, wife of Uncle Jared. Sal- lie Brown, a romantic farm maid. Grace Stollard, a woman with a past. SYNOPSIS. Act I. — Scott declares his love for Sallie. "I'm going to marry a Count." Elkins discloses his plans to Stouter. Jared and the calf. An awful cuss word. The accusation. Hazel spurns El- kins. The blow. "You're true blue, by gravy!" Act Il.^-Jared tells the news. Elkins plays his trump card. Scott overhears conversation. 'The advertisement incriminating Markham. Hazel confesses to her father. Markham tells his story. The arrest. Act III. — The picnic. The jollification. Markham's innocence es- tablished. Grace meets Elkins. A cowardly blow. Jared's an- swer to Elkins. "Go plumb to Jericho!" Act IV. — The letter. Grace acquitted. Her story of Elkin's per- fidy. Jared defies dyspepsia. Elkins steals Hazel's jewels. Stouter on the water wagon. Course of true love runs smoothly. T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS. Price 15 Cents Each, Postpaid, Unless Different Price is Given. M. F. Documentary Evidence, 25 min. 1 1 Dude in a Cyclone, 20 min.... 4 2 Family Strike, 20 min; 3 3 First-Class Hotel, 20 min 4 For Love and Honor, 20 min.. 2 1 Fudge and a Burglar, 15 min.. 5 Fun in a Photograph Gallery, 30 min 6 10 Great Doughnut Corporation, 30 min 3 5 Great Medical Dispensary, 30 m. 6