Bird in Hand : A Play in One Act : by Laurence Housman Samuel French: Publisher 28 -30 West Thirty-eighth Street : New York LONDON Samuel French, Ltd. 26 Southampton Stkebt, Strand PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. Bird in Hand : A Play in One Act : by Laurence Housman Samuel French: Publisher 28 -30 West Thirty-eighth Street : New York LONDON Samuel French, Ltd. 26 Southampton Street, Strand .^' CoPTEIcnT, lOlG, By LAURENCE HOUSMAJf CAUTION. — Amateurs and Professionals are hereby v»arned that "BIRD IN HAND," being fully protected under the copyriglit laws of the United States, is subject to royalty, and any one presenting the play without the consent of the author or his authorized agent, will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Application for the right to produce "BIRD IN HAND" must be made to Samtjel French, 28-30 \Vest 38th Street, New York City. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ^ QCJ 181915 BIRD IN HAND. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. Professor Braintree A famous scientist Miss Tuckey His secretary} Dr. Locum His medical attendant Elfrida His granddaughter Bird-in-Hand A thing to be explained Scene: — You are looking into the study of a Scientist — a large room lined with books and specimen cases. At the back are two upright windozus, through which one sees a green bozvery garden, suggestive of quiet and seclu- sion. In one zvindozv stands a case of stuffed birds, in the other a microscope. Near the center of the room is a ponderous zvriting-tahlc, above zvhich hangs an adjustable light, presided over by a large green shade. Adjoining the zvriting-table is a smaller one, on zvhich stands a typezvriter. All about the room, on tables and elsewhere, are books, papers, and portfolios, systematically arranged, and suggestive of the strict order imposed by a meticidous mind. There is one door to right, another to left, the latter leading to an inner chamber. On the zvrit- ing-table lie papers and a portable speaking- tube. A telephone, a zvaste-paper basket, and a revolving bookstand are zvithin easy reach of the Professor's chair, zvhile behind it is a screen partly covering the door leading to the inner chamber. On the opposite side, betzveen the other door and the zvindozv, stands a large chest. It is morning, and through half-lozvered green blinds sunlight streams over the replete and comfortable interior, touching to brightness the polished metal of the microscope, and the plumage of the stuffed birds. At the smaller table, on a chair less com- fortable than the one at the zvriting-desk sits an 6 BIRD IN HAND. old gentleman in an affluent dressing-goivn of deep rich tones, dividing his attention hetzveen a bozvl of " Benger's Food " and the typewriter, at which he clicks with portentous gravity and oc- casional pauses in the fingering. He is evi- dently inexpert, perhaps through short-sighted- ness; hut the typewriter helps him to feel, even in his study, that his words are destined for print and the laying-dozvn of the scientific lazv for the generations to come after. The clock on the chimney-piece, a skeleton of severe design, zvith the zvor kings of its metal bozuels immodestly exposed, strikes eleven. This seems to he a signal to a mind methodically trained. The Professor consults his watch, starts, looks reproachfully at the clock, then quits the typezvriter, picks up his bowl of Benger, and spooning from it on the way goes to the speaking-tube, zvhich having unstopped, he breathes into. The exertion sets him cough- ing ; but he does this, like most other things, patiently and methodically. After listening at the tube he speaks down it, and you hear a bisected conversation. Professor Braintree. Is that you, Miss Tuckey? — Yes, I'm ready for you — I'm ready, I say — If you will, please. -Yes. (He starts to put on the stopper agani; then, as an after-thougJtt) — Oh! Miss Tuckey — Are you there ? — Tut ! Tut ! Why does the woman hurry so? (He gets up a little testily to remove his Benger bowl to a side-table, and progressing zvith very short steps places it un- securely on a projecting hook zvhence it falls and breaks. He accepts the fact philosophically so far as infirmity zvill allozv; but there is a gentle queru- lousness in his tone as he says — ) There, there ! Oh dear! — (And leaz'ing the fragments to lie, re- turns to Jiis place. There he stands for a moment, BIRD IN HAND. 7 and looking back reproachfully, removes from his eyes the highly magnifying reading-glasses zvhich zvere the cause of the misliap. He replaces them by another pair which permit a zvider range of vision. Through these he is able to contemplate the en- trance of Miss Tuckey, a subdued machine of a woman, zvlio accepts, zvithout kick of any kind, the mould she has been poured into) Miss Tuckey. Good-morning, Sir. {Like a zvell-fed fish catching at a fly from mere habit, the Professor engulfs and returns the salutation by an inaudible movement of the lips.) Professor. Miss Tuckey, there is something broken over there, will you please see it removed? And will you kindly make a note to write to Messrs Spink and Wedge, and say that these new glasses don't suit me — I find them very trying to the — (About to say " temper," he substitutes) — to the eyes. And I must ask you to fetch those proofs which came yesterday. I tried to catch you just now, but you had gone. {In this statement there is a note of rebuke for a too precipitate obedience to summons. But by the foresight of Miss Tuckey, the proofs are there; she deposits them in front of him.) Professor. Oh, very well. Thank you. Any letters? {Those also she deposits, in two heaps, tJie business ones opened, the private and personal untouched) When did these come? Miss Tuckey. Most of them last night, sir, after you had gone to bed. {The Professor, tentatively inspecting them, re- members that he must change his glasses again. The magnifying lens proves informative.) a BIRD IN HAND. Professor. Ah! here is one from Miss Elfrida, I see. Miss Tuckey. (As she collects and removes the fragments of the Benger's food bowl) That only came this morning. Professor. Wasn't she to be back to-day ? Miss Tuckey. Yes. They are expecting her quite soon. About twelve, I believe. (The Pro- fessor looks at his zvatch, and then remembers that he has fault to find zvith the clock, and inci- dentally zvith her) Professor. That clock is three quarters of a mmute slow, Miss Tuckey. (Miss Tuckey at once goes to correct it) It should now be at four and a quarter minutes past. A clock that loses time is so disturbing — especially when it strikes. It puts me out of my stride for the rest of the day. (He begins looking at his correspondence) And now, if ycL' will attend to me! (Miss Tukey is already standing meekly to attention) You have your note- book? Miss Tuqkey. Yes, sir. Professor. Take this, then ! (He consults once more the letter zvhich he has picked up from his opened correspondence) — " Mr. James Pomeroy." (I think it is Pomeroy) — He writes on good note- paper with a crest ; I suppose I must answer him. * Dear Sir " — Oh !- while I think of it, make a note that the extra plates for the new edition of " Ob- jective Science " have not come through as ad- vised ; and they must not go to press till I have passed them. What have you got? Miss Tuckey. " Mr. James Pomeroy, Dear Sir." Professor. No, better make it " Sir." These parasitic correspondents ought not to be encouraged. " I beg to acknowledge receipt " — no, " I have to acknowledge " — have — " the receipt of your letter " — date so and so. " With the proposition therein set forth, I cannot find myself in agreement. The limits BIRD IN HAND. 9 of sensory receptivity are patent to every scientist." Miss Tuckey. The limits of what? — I beg par- don. Professor. " Sen-sory re-ceptivity " — in other w^ords, the receptivity of the senses. " That fact, however, does not provide any legitimate ground for a belief in those magical or supernatural occurrences through which, as I apprehend, you seek to counter- balance the deductions of science. I find no reason to doubt that however much still lies beyond the ap- prehension of our senses, it must all nevertheless be within the range of a scientific explanation. I am, Sir, yours faithfully " — {He takes up another letter) Oh, that is from Messrs. Moody & Prose. Just say " received," and have made a note. This is to take the chair at the International Science Conference for the discussion on the " Homology of the Invertebrates." Say I accept the honor and am their obedient servant — That is, no. That is " no" — {He hands letters) That impertinence you need not answer — And now, take this — " Mrs. Daph- nephoria Brown — the Seminary, Brunswickville, Connecticut " — " My Dear Madam, Your very flat- tering proposal to arrange a compendium from my various studies in Objective Science, entitled * Suf- ficient unto the Day,' and intended to provide a basis for the accurate biological training of the very young, gives gratifying evidence of the interest you take in and the value which you attach to my literary labors. I am inclined, however, to think that the terminological exactitude so necessary to scientific statement could not be accommodated to the range of the child-mind without a certain damage to the content " — Of course, that means to the scientific content, not to the child's mind. (No, no, don't take that! That was only commentary) — " Should I, on later consideration, see any possible adjust- ment of my works to your proposed scheme I shall not fail to communicate with you further in the lo BIRD IN HAND. matter. I am, dear Madam, yours very truly "— That you can destroy, and the address you need not keep. (He hands over the letter to Miss Tuckey) And I tliink that is all — Oh, will you fetch me the file of Professor Lake Jones' articles on the " Rudi- ments of Corpuscular Gravity" which appeared in last year's Science Journal." You will lind it in the Press Bureau, I think, under " R." (Miss Tuckey goes to look for the file in the small inner chamber, from ivhich, as she opens the door, comes a brighter light of day than enters the study through the tempering greeii blinds) And now for Elfrida. (He opens letter) Well, well, well! What is she sending me this botanical specimen for, I wonder? It looks like a leaf of the Hornbeam — Carpinus Betulus, if I am not mistaken. (He examines the leaf, then lays it doivn and returns to the letter) Dear me 1 The child has such a hand-writing that I can't read a word of it. Miss Tuckey, your eyes are better than mine, will you kindly read me this letter ? (Miss Tuckey has returned with the required file. She puis it doivn and takes up the letter.) Miss Tuckey. " Dearest Grandpapa " Professor. Yes, yes, I read that. Miss Tuckey. " I am coming back to-morrow — I have had a lovely time. So did Benjy: we went everywhere together, but he always would go into the water, and I had to stay out " Professor. Benjy is the dog, I believe. Miss Tuckey. " That was wrong of him, wasn't it? — To-day in the wood I saw a tree full of fairies, it was wonderful. But when I came they all climbed up and hid behind the leaves, so I wasn't able to catch one. But I send you a leaf ofif the tree, so as to show it was a real one, and not what you call my ' magination ' " BIRD IN HAND. ii Professor. Oh, so that's what the botanical specimen is for, is it ? — Yes ? Miss Tuckey. " Please keep it till I come, then I will tell you all about it " Professor. Miss Tuckey, I wish you would not leave that door open ! There's a dreadful draught at my back. Miss Tuckey. It isn't open, sir. Professor. Well, there's a draught somewhere — Quite a wind ! It seemed to come all of a sudden ; and there! it has blown away Miss Elfrida's leaf that was here a moment ago. (He friggles and moves his head uneasily, as though the draught still afflicted him) You had better re-arrange that screen. Well, is that all the letter? Miss Tuckey. Yes, sir, except she sends her love. (She goes and re-arranges the screen) Professor. Very well. That is all, thank you, for the present. Just draw down those blinds be- fore you go. The light is too strong, it tries my eyes. (Miss Tuckey lozvers the blinds) I should be glad to have that article for Hibberd's copied be- fore post-time. Miss Tuckey. Certainly, sir. Professor. And when Miss Elfrida comes will you send her up to me? ]\Iiss Tuckey. Yes, sir. {She collects her papers and goes out, and the Professor settles to his zvriting. Putting aside Elfrida's letter, conspicuous by reason of its being zvritten on pink paper, reminds him of the vanished leaf. He gives a momentary look for it to right and left: but the thing is unim- portant, and dismissing it, he gets to work. This so entirely absorbs him that he is unazvare of being looked at. Above the top of the zvrit- ing-table a pair of strange eyes gradually em- erge. Dark and insect-like, they stare at him 12 BIRD IN HAND. out of a small green face, sharp, queer, and sug- gestive of a brain with a vivacious but detached standpoint. Out of the head sprout long Jiorns or antennae; the creature ts a curious mixture of beetle, bird, and grasshopper. Its color from head to foot is bright green. Fixing on the Professor a stare of uninformed and quite unintelligent interrogation, it moves slozvly round the writing-table till it stands opposite to him. Presently it smacks its lips, and begins a soft jabber to itself, not much louder than the whip of leaves on a zuindow-pane.) Bird-in-Hand. Quit-a-quit! Quit-a-quit! Quit- a-quit ! (The Professor, thinking he hears something, looks up through his reading-glasses, and cannot be- lieve his eyes. At once his grievance is against the optician.) Professor. Really ! — these glasses ! — How they do strain one's eyes! (He takes them off, and puts on his distance-glasses; but the apparition remains, vibrating up and dozvn on its toes as though rather pleased with itself. The Professor considers it from a variety of attitudes, and with a growing apprehension that he really is seeing something) Dear, me, now ! ■ This is most extraordinary ! — It almost makes me believe my eyes. (He en- deavors to reconstruct his thoughts on scientific lines) — Now, let me think, let me think ! How many cups of green-tea did I have this morning? Bird-in-Hand. Sik-sik-sik-sik-sik-sik-sik ! Professor. Six, I believe it was ! — Did that thing speak? (A Pause) Bird-in-Hand. (With a slow, meditative, rather plaintive intonation) Chwee-e-weet ! Professor. But, but — this is an hallucination ! BIRD IN HAND. 13 Bird-in-Hand. Chich-a-wee ! Professor. An hallucination, I say ! Bird-in-Hand. Chich-a-wee ! Professor. (Trying to reject the evidence of his senses) No, no, no! — I must be ill! — Over- work ! Bird-in-Hand. Chip-chip-chip-chip-chewee-e-e ! Professor. What — Am I going out of my senses ? (He makes a dive for the telephone) Station 1228, please — yes ! i double 2, 8 ! Bird-in-Hand. Two-eight! Two-eight! — Eight! eight ! eight ! eight ! eight ! eight ! (The note is still low and plaintive, but the Pro- fessor gets more and more frightened.) Professor. I can't bear this; I can't bear it!—? My nerves won't stand it ! Bird-in-Hand. Chip it ! — Chip it ! (The 'phone calls him.) Professor. Is Doctor Locum — ? Oh, Doctor, is that you? — Will you, please, come and see me at once? — Braintree — Professor Braintree. Yes — most urgent — I'm afraid I've, I've — broken down. Bird-in-Hand. What? What? What? What? What? Professor. No, no, not a blood-vessel ! — But do come immediately ! — Yes. Don't lose a moment, I beg — Good-bye Bird-in-Hand. Sh-sh-sh-wee ! Sh-sh-sh-wee ! —Oh, why?— Oh, why?— Oh, why ?— Spit-it-out ! Spit-it-out ! (The Professor with a gorgonised stare has been trying to rule the thing out; now by a firm ef- fort of will he seeks to distniss it from hi^ mind.) 14 BIRD IN HAND. Professor. No, no, it's not there! I don't see it, I don't see it, I don't see it. I (But he does see it; that's the trouble. It advances its head slotvly toivards him, tJien draivs it back again, and with a more chcerfid note than be- fore, as if to encourage him, remarks:) Bird-in-Hand. Che-wit! {At this the Professor shuts his eyes, and con- tinues to exercise his wdl-pozver, under condi- tions wJiich make the assertion more tenable.) Professor. I don't see it and I won't see it! — I won't see it! — I — I dismiss it entirely from my mind. It isn't there! (While he is ifius tackling the problem the creature shifts its position, and now standing at his back, vieivs him from a fresh stand- point with the same blank stare of a curiosity that comprehends nothing. The Professor opens his eyes again. Will-p07ver has apparently prevailed. He no longer sees the object of his aversion) That's better! (He begins cautiously to turn his head first to right then to left. It gives him a great start to find the green Jiorned creature close behind him. This is too much like having a caterpillar dozvn his hack for equanimity. Irrespressibly he jumps up) Professor. Get out ! Bird-in-Hand. Che-wee — che-wee — chewee — chewee — chewee ! (The creature flies off crying like a startled black-bird. The Professor, seeing that it responds to voice and gesture, tries driving it) Professor. Shoo! Shoo, get out with you! Scat! But no, no, I mustn't do that! If I do that, I shall end by making myself think it exists. No, I must endeavor to dismiss it from my mind. There I There ! Now it's gone. BIRD IN HAND. 15 (Leaning his head on his hand, he sits zvith munch- ing mouth, wriggling nervously in his seat. Meantime the creature, sliding alongside tJie table, and touching things tentatively zvith its clazv-like fingers, lights on the typezvriter. As the click of the instrtwnent catches its fancy, it makes a scrambling attack upon the keys zvith acompanying noises curiously resembling the zvell-knozvn sazv: " Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper corns." That, hozvever, is merely coincidence — the sounds it emits being merely a running commentary on the letter P-) Bird-in-Hand. Peet-a-pipe ! — Pick-a-peck ! — Pick-a-peppa-kum ! — E-peet-a-pipe — a pick-a-pick — a-pick-a-pepp a-kiim. Wees-a-peck, a pick-a-peppa- kum. Peet-a-pipe-a-pick ! {At this outburst of oratory the Professor, after sitting spellbound for a moment, makes a vicious flick zvith his handkerchief, and the green imp ducks and disappears.) Professor. Well — I — hope I'm better! (This hope is almost at once put to rout. The Professor apprehensively snatches back his feet from the knee- hole of the zvriting-table, and his brain is once more seized by panic) Oh! I felt it! I felt it — I'm out of all my senses now! — If this keeps on much longer, I shall go stark staring mad ! (But nozv the creature's interest is diverted else- zvhere. Rising and pirouetting across the room, it comes suddenly upon the case of stuffed birds, and stands transfi.ved zvith astonishment. These frozen bits of bird-life seem to baffle its zvits. It taps tJie glass-case, and after a close scrutiny i6 BIRD IN HAND. tries ivith sounds and a flapping motion of the hands to coax the occupants back to life.) Bird-in-Hand. Chich-a-wee ! Chich-a-wee! — Tweet, tweet ! Wee-wee-wee ! Chick-a-wake ! — Oh, why? — Tickle 'em up! Too-to-weet ! Too-to- weet ! — Eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat ! Quick, quick ! Josophat ! Josophat ! Whit-a-woo ? — Drink-and- eat ! Tr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r ! Professor. Oh ! But this is horrible ! — It's true ! It really exists! {He sits petrified) Bird-in-Hand. Tr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! Professor. And / don't ! — I don't! — I don't! Bird-in-Hand. Cheer-up! Cheer-up! Cheer- up! — Oh, why? (Petrifaction gives ivay to fury) Professor. Stop it ! Stop it, I say ! {He picks •up a pamphlet and throws it ivith random aim. This hit-or-miss has little effect. A deep sadness at its failure to rouse the birds has taken the tree-imp. Crying in a lozv plaintive note it turns towards him) Bird-in-Hand. Wee-wee! wee-wee-wee! {It advances slozuly towards him. The Professor makes a grab at the speaking-tube, and blows, then speaks down it.) Professor. Miss Tuckey, are you there! Miss Tuckey ! Bird-in-Hand. {Halting for a moment) Tuckey, tuckey, tuckey — Tuck ! — tuck ! — tuck ! Professor. Would you come up, please, for one moment ! Bird-in-Hand. (Secretively) Sh — sh — wee! (As if on a tour of exploration, it disappears behind the screen at his back) Professor. Now I shall know whether I am mad or not. Yes, I shall know! — (Enter Miss Tuckey. The Professor faces her in some confusion. The relief of her presence lets him down and it is hard BIRD IN HAND. 17 for him to collect his ivits) I — I — I want you to see that those proofs go, Miss Tuckey — by the first post. Miss Tuckey. Yes, sir — {She looks a little sur- prised and nonplussed) Did you want anything else, sir? Professor. Oh, well, and if you would kindly rearrange that screen ? I still feel rather a draught. (Miss Tuckey goes and readjusts the screen. It is evident that, as she goes behind it, no appari- tion confronts her; she emerges as machine-like as ever, calm and collected.) Miss Tuckey. Will that be as you wish? Professor. Thank you. Miss Tuckey. Is that all, sir? Professor. Yes, that is all. {He looks cautiously round, and as she goes out gets up and looks behind the screen himself. Nothing is there) But this is horrible ! I saw it ! Oh 1 if I didn't see it, I'm going mad! {Almost immediately in another part of the room the apparition re-appears.) Bird-in-Hand. Peweet, peweet! Chus-luk-a- mee ! Chus-luk-a-mee ! {With this, the spring cry of the peewit, sounding so much like "Just look ai me!" it displays a hitherto unsuspected power of levitation in a series of surprising bounds into air, as though its feet went up from spring-boards.) Professor. Ah! Now then! Now! {From a corner rack behind him the Professor snatches a large green butter-fly net, and for a fezv moments you have the degrading spectacle i8 BIRD IN HAND. of an eminent scientist, pursuing on the material plane something zvhich he does not really believe to exist. But the pursuit soon ends. The imp is too agile, the pace is too killing, and the Professor in his stumbling course has knocked over a number of things that he did not iiitend to. Exhausted, he sits dotvn again to breathe. Once more the creature has disappeared. Thus momentarily relieved, he perceives the disarray info which the chamber has been throzvn, and proceeds to pick things up. Apparently from its place of concealment the creature is watch- ing him, for almost immediately he hears its voice. ) Bird-in-Hand. Pick-it-up ! Pick-it-up ! (To be thus ordered about by an apparition is trying to the Professor's temper. He slaps down his gleanings on the table, and makes a second grab for the butterfly net.) Professor. No — no, I mustn't do that : it's no good. I must think ! Bird-in-PIand. Think — think — think — think — think ! Professor. I will just go on with my writing Bird-in-Hand. Do it ! — do it ! — do it ! Professor. — as if nothing had happened at all — Perhaps it hasn't"! (But again the creature has re- appeared) Oh, do get away ! Bird-in-Hand. Chich-a-wee! Che-wee! (Real- ising it is not zvanted, it roams off and begins once more to inspect the room. Before long it runs its finger down a pile of papers high up on a shelf, and the papers tip over and fly out across the floor. Fleeing before them) Che-wee — Che- wee — Che- wee, Che-wee — Che-wee ! BIRD IN HAND. 19 (The Professor is now so angry that he has left off being frightened. He jumps up to rescue his papers. ) Professor. Hallucination, you are a perfect nuisance ! Bird-in-Hand. (Coaxingly) Che-wee-wee? (The Professor collects the strewn papers from the floor; and as he goes about gathering them up, the creature follows him, zvith round inquisitive eyes at all he does. He opens chest and begins to deposit the papers inside. Curious to spy into this new interior, the creature stretches out a hand.) Professor. (Very irritably) Why can't you let things alone? Bird-in-Hand. (Derisively) Chich-e-wee! (With a sportive dive it plunges into the chest, tossing up the loosely arranged papers into fresh confusion. On this last bit of exasperating frivolity the Professor slams down the lid, and locks it; and the tree imp is boxed up zvithin. It takes him a moment or tzvo to realise his triumph. It is a little difficult, indeed, to knozu on zvhat lines to take it. Has the locking of the chest, zvith the hallucination inside, disposed of the hallucination? His doubt is solved almost at once, for from the inside of the chest the hallucination o)tce more becomes audible) What? What? What?— I say! Let it out ! Let it out ! Quick ! Quick ! — Oh, why ?—(A pause. The Professor stands considering ; he has the key. He retreats tozvard the table, and lays it dozmi. The chest continues to give forth sound. A tapping begins upon the lid, and in a gradual diminuendo the chattering goes on. The Professor dips a pen, and tries to resume his writing, but his interest is still held) I say ! I say ! I say ! Pick it 20 BIRD IN HAND. out! Pick it cut! What? What?— What? What? —What? What? What? What? What? What? — Tweet-weet ! wee, wee, wee, wee ! Oh, why ? — What?— Oh, why?— What?— Oh, why? (The sound is now so faint that the Professor can scarcely hear. He again dips his pen and resolutely starts zvritiug. There comes another " Oh, tvhy " which he does not hear. His nerves are recovering somezvhat, encouraged by the ensuing silence; but he gives a sharp start zvhen the zvhisfle of the speaking-tube blozvs. He un- stops it and listens.) Professor. Oh, yes. Will you ask him to wait one moment? (He gets up and goes cautiously to- ward the chest, stoops and listens at it for q, moment, with apprehension that turns to a sort of doubtful relief) Nohing, nothing there, at all ! {Neverthe- less, he gives a last look of suspicion, and pauses one last second before again applying his month to the speaking-tube) Ask Dr. Locum to come up. {Catching sight of the butterfly-net, he goes to put it away, and has just done so zvhen the Doctor enters) Doctor. How are you, Professor? Nothing very serious, I hope {The Professor holds himself in. He is nozv feel- ing a little aggrieved at the shock he has ex- perienced.) Professor. Doctor, I — I want you to examine me, before I — before I say anything. Doctor. Examine you ? — in what way ? Professor. Just find out my symptoms — my state of health, generally. Doctor. Well, Professor, let's see the tongue! Then I'll take your temperature — Sleep well? BIRD IN HAND. 21 Professor. Much, as usual. Doctor. Appetite good ? Professor. Yes — fairly. (At this moment in goes the thennotneter, and the Professor becomes temporarily speechless. The Doctor feels his pulse, looking at his ivatch meanzvhile) Doctor. Hours ? — Have you been keeping late hours ? Professor. M-m! (Assisted by gestures this sound stands for " no ") Doctor. Everything quite regular — as usual? Professor. M-m! . (This time it means "yes") Doctor. Yes : the pulse is a little bit agitated. Have you been putting yourself to any unusual ex- ertion lately? Professor. M-m! (This melancholy moan of affirmation is emphasised by a motion of tJie head. And the Professor's eyes turn tozvard the chest) Doctor. Ah ! but you shouldn't do that ! you must take more care of yourself. Your heart isn't what it was. Mustn't expect it at your age. Now then, let's see! (Withdraws and examines thermometer) Professor. Circumstances, over which I had no control, caused me to exert myself. Doctor. Well, you know, there's not much wrong. Temperature about normal. Professor. Doctor, a most extraordinary thing has just happened. I must tell you about it. Doctor. H'm — h'm? (He sits doivn) Professor. I was sitting here at my work — I was writing — there! as you see. Does that in anyway look — agitated? (Shozvs him a paper) Doctor. I should not say so. Professor. Does it make sense? Doctor. " When all the objective data presented to sense-receptivity are compared, and the dif- ferentiations of their varying incentives and re- actions properly allowed for — " Well, I should say so — not that I altogether understand it. 22 BIRD IN HAND. Professor. No, but it is constructive ? — Would you say that the man who wrote that was out of his senses ? Doctor. Alost certainly not ! Professor. I only wish to show that I was in the full possession of my faculties, my ordinary work-a- day mind. Doctor. Very well, Professor, I accept that. Professor. Well — Suddenly I glanced up, and there I saw a horrid little green thing looking at me — with eyes ! Doctor. Yes : it would have eyes, if it was look- ing at you. Professor. Very curious eyes, Doctor, — like a young bird's ; and it had horns also — And — well, there it was, you know ! — At first I didn't believe it, I thought it was green tea — I tried to dismiss it from my mind altogether. But — it wouldn't let me. Before I knew where I was, it — it spoke to me. Doctor. Did you speak to it? Professor. Yes, I did. Doctor. Fatal thing to do, Professor. Of course in that way you encouraged the — the phantasy. Professor. Ah, but it was not / who spoke first — At least I was only talking to myself. And suddenly it said — " Six, six, six, six, six," — just like that! Doctor. Was that in answer to anything? Professor. Well, in a sort of way, yes — I had just said to myself : " Now, how many cups of green tea did I have this morning ? " — And then it made the remark. Doctor. And six zvas the number. Professor. There, or thereabouts. Doctor. Very well. Professor. Now, better not think any more about it. I'll make you up a prescrip- tion. And you had better quite knock off that green tea for a little while. Professor. But that's not all. Doctor. Doctor. Do you think you need tell me any more ? BIRD IN HAND. 23 Professor. Yes. You don't how real it seemed. Doctor. It would give you that impression. Professor. But even now. Doctor. Yes, yes. But there will be a reaction. That will pass. Professor. But— Doctor— I m— not satished. Doctor. You will be. Don't dwell on it ! You'll get all right again. Don't work too much at night, and don't sit up late. Professor. I go to bed regularly every night at a quarter to ten. Doctor. Good ! Then just for the present make it half-past nine. . Professor. Doctor, I want to explain— At first, of course, I took the view that you take. I did not for a moment believe that such a thing could exist. I regarded it as an hallucination. But later on, it— well I came to think otherwise— It did such a lot of things— that I could not myself have con- ceived—and once it actually touched me. That was a great shock. Doctor. Yes, it would be, naturally. But you were indulging the Professor. No, no, Doctor, I was not. I— Well, now what I want to tell you is this. When I began to think that there was something real about it after all, I— then, I'm sorry to say, I let myself go, and I pursued it— all over the room. Doctor. Any good ? Professor. None whatever. I knocked over a few things, that's all. I was picking them up just before you came in. Doctor. Well, and then ? (The Professor's eye travels toward the chest; but he is unable to confess himself quite honestly.) Professor. Then— it disappeared. ^ Doctor. And you haven't seen it since ? 24 BIRD IN HAND. Professor. No. DocTok. Nor heard it? Professor. I have not — . That is, no. Doctor. Well, then, that's all right. Professor. I hope so. Doctor, I haven't quite explained to you the shock it was to me. It was that terrible moment when I thought that, afer all, there might be something in it ! At that moment I saw all my life's work disappear. All my science, all my philosophy — gone ! Everything I had written — worth nothing ! Doctor. Well, well, but don't dwell on it! Professor. It was terrible! Doctor. But it wasn't true. Professor. No — But for a moment it seemed true. That is really what — what gave me such a shock. Doctor. Well, it's over. Now, don't think any more of it. That is the best cure. You say you haven't been sleepless? Professor. No — but I shall be. Doctor. Oh, no. We'll se to that ! I'll send you the right thing. To-night you'll sleep like a top. (He gels up to go) Professor. Thank you. Good-bye. (The Doctor think that I'm really going ofif my head, do you? Doctor. No, no! Nerves a little bit upset, that's all ! — a little too much work, a little too much sitting still, a little too much indoors — and a little too much green tea. Many a little makes a mickle. Professor. I don't want it to occur again. Doctor. Doctor. It shan't, sir, it shan't! Now, good- bye ; I must be off ! Professor. Thank you. Go^d-bye. ( The Doctor goes out. The Professor stands looking at the chest) And to think hov/ I saw it go in there ! (He goes and stands by the chest ; listens for a long time, then taps) Is anyone — ? — Is anything there? — Ah! That's all right, then! — I hope. (He goes BIRD IN HAND. 25 back to his seat. Then his eye falls on the key; he takes hold of it, and is about to get up again. With an effort he sits back, letting the key go) No, I will not ! — But suppose — suppose it were there after all ! No, no, no — No. It wouldn't do at all. Every- oody v;ould think that I was mad — Well, well, I must — I must try to get on with my work. (He composes himself to write. Presently there enters an attractive little figure in a knitted cap, jersey, and skirt of bright green. This is Elfrida. She ad- vances very quietly, zvith a roguish smile, stops at the table and stands looking at him. Suddenly, with the tail of his eye, the Professor catches sight of her. It gives him a dreadful start; but a look at her over the top of his glasses reassures him) Effie ! Why, Effie, my dear, what a start you gave me ! Elfrida. {Getting nearer the truth than she knozus) You thought I was a fairy. Professor. No, I didn't think you were a fairy. I thought you were an hallucination ! Elfrida. What's that ? Professor. Something that's not real, my dear. (Elfrida Jias sidled round to the back of his chair; and now, from behind, she gives him an affec- tionate hug.) Elfrida. I'm real. Professor. Thank God for that! — Well? Elfrida. Oh, Grandpapa, I've had such a lovely time ! You got my letter ? Professor. Yes, my dear — Oh, by the way, you've come just too late. Elfrida. What for? Professor. The Doctor, my dear. I wanted him to see you. Elfrida. Why ? Professor. To tell me how you are. Elfrida. But I'm quite well — ever so well ! 26 BIRD IN HAND. Professor. I hope so, my dear, but one never knows. Elfrida. / do! And Grandpapa, you got my present, didn't you? Professor. Your present? Elfrida. In my letter — What came off the tree that had fairies in it. Professor. Oh, yes, yes. It's somewhere about here. {He starts to search, then remembers) Oh, no ! It blew away : — it's on the floor somewhere. Elfrida. And you do believe what I told you — don't you, Grandpapa ? Professor. Well — I've thought about it. Elfrida. It was true — I saw them ! You must believe that ! Professor. Well, I don't know — One isn't sure. So you've had a good time, eh ? Elfrida. Grandpapa — If you could only make people kno2i' there were fairies, wouldn't it be wonderful ? Professor. I suppose it would be, my dear. Elfrida. But no one believes in them now, do they ? Professor. No, not usually. Elfrida. Grandpapa, if you were ever able to find one — wouldn't it be grand? Professor. Would it, my dear? Elfrida. Did you ever try? Professor. Once I did, for a short time. But if I were to, no one would believe me. Elfrida. Oh, but if you found it and showed it to them, they'd have to. Professor. Yes, I suppose they would, my dear. Elfrida. And then you'd be ever such a great person — much greater than you are now ! Professor. But my dear, you — you don't under- stand. If people were told that Professor Braintree believed in f ai-ies — why, they would laugh ! BIRD IN HAND. 27 Elfrida. You'd laugh, too— but you could laugh longer than they would. Professor. Eh? . , • Elfrida. Why, it would be like a miracle! People would begin to love fairies again, then. Professor. Well— perhaps. Green isn't my favorite color. , t-, r • Elfrida. It's funny your saymg that ! I he fairy / saw was green. Professor. Was it? Elfrida. And it had long horns, and its mouth and eyes were just like a young bird's. ( This almost startles the Professor out of his skin. Blinking and munching, he sits staring, while Elfrida continues to deal her devastating blozvs) And it ran round be- hind the tree, and when I got there, it was gone. If you'd been there, Grandpapa, to run round the other way Professor. Run round? Elfrida. And if you'd had your butterfly net— (This gives the Professor a fresh jerk) Why, we could have caught it ! Professor. Well, I'm not so sure—? Perhaps. Elfrida. But, Grandpapa, you are believing what I tell you, aren't you ?— I saw k— really I did ! Professor. I would like to believe it, my dear- It would make a great difference to my state of health. When you saw it, didn't it upset you ? Elfrida. No! Professor. It didn't frighten you? Elfrida, No! Why? Professor. Not even when you ran after it ? Elfrida. Why.no! Of course it ran, too. But it was quite nice about it. Professor. Was it, indeed? Elfrida. It made a noise at me— just like a bird — a nice bird. • 1 :» >. Professor. Did it say " Sick, sick, sick, sick .'' 28 BIRD IN HAND. Elfrida. No ; it only went " Chewee ! Chewee ! " — just like that ! PKOi-ESSOR. Then I'm not mad after all! Elfrida. Grandpapa, what's the matter? Professor. My dear — you would really like to see that — that thing again? pLFRiDA. Why, yes ! Professor. Green, and with horns, and eyes? — Hear it again ? Elfrida. Yes. Professor. Run after it again ? — with a butterfly net? Elfrida. And catch it ? Oh, yes ! Professor. Well, my dear, there's — there's no accounting for tastes. But I begin to think that I'm not so mad as I thought 1 was. Elfrida. I never thought you were mad. Grand- papa. Professor. Thank you, my dear. I'm glad of that — Now, look here, you see that chest? This is the key to it — Now, will you go and open it? And don't be afraid of anything you find in it — It's all right. (Elfrida goes and opens fJie chest. And while she stands for a moment looking in, nonplussed, there is much more excitement in the Profes- sor's demeanor than in hers.) Elfrida. But, Grandpapa, there's nothing! Oh! {At this cry of discovery the strain on the Profes- sor's feelings grows intense. Elfrida stoops and picks up something) Why, it's the leaf! — The leaf of that tree what I sent you ! — Oh ! Professor. The leaf, you say ? — Bring it here. Elfrida. And it's all quite withered and dead ! {Sh.e brings it across to him, and the Professor looks at it with curious eyes) Professor. So it is, to be sure ! — Quite withered BIRD IN HAND. 29 and dead. Well, there! Put it down, my dear, leave it alone! — And now you had better run away. I must get on with my work. Elfrida. What shall I do with it, Grandpapa ? Professor. Put it in the watse-paper basket, my dear !— That's right. Now, run away ! {And so the dead leaf drops to its repose on a bed of scrapped science shiftings. From that fairy- funeral Elfrida turns, dozvn-cast and sad, and with head bent and hands straight as though under some deep disgrace, goes softly out of the room. As the door closes behind her the Professor gives a look into the waste-paper basket, then heaves a sigh of relief, and goes on with his work.) CURTAIN. THE WORLD'S BEST PLAYS By Celebrated European Authors A NEW SERIES OF AMATEUR PLAYS BY THE BEST AUTHORS, ANCIENT AND MODERN, ESPECIALLY TRANSLATED WITH HISTORICAL NOTES, SUG- GESTIONS FOR STAGING, Etc., FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS, COLLEGES, AND DRAMATIC CLUBS BARRETT H. CLARK General Edil*r ITH the immensely Increased demand for new plays for purposes of production by amateurs W comes a correspondingly great demand for a care- ful selection of those plays which can be easily and well presented by clubs and colleges. The plays in the present series have been chosen with regard to their intrinsic value as drama and liter- ature, and at the same time to their adaptability to the needs and limitations of such organizations. The Series, under the personal supervision of Mr. Barrett H. Clark, Instructor In the department of Dramatic Literature at Ob&utauaua. New York, assistant stage manager and actor with lifB. Jb'iskelseason iyiv-iyi3), now comprises 44 titles, more will maie their appearance during the year. Eventually there will be plays from ancient Greece and Rome, Italy, Spain, France, Russia, Germany, and the Scandinavian countries, representative of some of the best dram « of all ages and lands. Each Play is prefaced by a concise historical note by Mr, Clark and With a few suggestions for staging. Plays No>v Ready INDIAN SUMMER, a comedy In one act by Meilhac and Halevy. This little play, by two of the most famous writers of comedy of the last century, has been played at the Com^die Fran- caise at Paris for upwards of forty years, and remains one of the brightest and most popular works of the period. Pbice 25 Cents. ROSAL.IB, by Max Mattrey. A " Grand Gulgnol " comedy in one act, full of verve and clever dialogue. Rosalie, the stubborn maid, leads her none too amiable master and mistress Into uncomfortable complications by refusing to open the front door to a supposed guest of wealth and influence. Pkice 25 Cents. MODESTT. by Patjl Hervibu. A delightful trifle by one of the most celebrated of living dramatists. Price 25 Cents. THE ART OF BEING BORED, (.Le Monde, ou Von s'Ennuic), a comedy In three acts by Edouard Paillebon. Probably the best- known and most frequently acted comedy of manners in the realm of nineteenth century French drama. It is replete with wit and comic situations. For nearly forty years it has held the stage, while countless Imitators have endeavored to reproduce its fresh- ness and charm. Price 25 Cents. A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL, by Anton Tchekhoff, a comedy in one act, by one of the greatest of modern Russian writers. This little farce is very popular in Russia, and satirizes the peasants of that country in an amusing manner. Price 25 Cents. THE GREEN COAT, by Alfred de Musset and Emile Attgier. A slight and comic character sketch of the life of Bohemian artists In Paris, written by one of France's greatest poets and one of her best-known dramatists. Price 25 Cents. THE "WAGER, by Giuseppe Giacosa. This one act poetic comedy, written by the most celebrated dramatist of modern Italy, was the author's first work. It treats of a wager made by a proud young page, who risks his life on the outcome of a game of chess- Price 25 Cents. THE LITTLE SHEPHERDESS, a poetic comedy In one aeln by Andbe Bivoirb. A charming pastoral sketch by a well-knova French poet and dramatist. Played with success at the Ckunddle Francaise. Prick 25 Osirxs. PHORMIO. a Latin comedy by Terbnoe. An up-to-date version of the famous comedy. One of the masterpieces of Latin drama: the story of a father who returns to find that his son has married a slave girl. Phormio. the parasite-Tlllain who causes the numerous comic complications, succeeds In unravellnff the difficulties, and all ends happily. Price K Cents. THE TWINS, a Latin farce by PiiAUiirs, upon which Shak«> speare founded his Comedy of Errors. Price 25 Oshts. THE BOOIR, by Anton Tohskoff. A well-known farce by the celebrated Russian master; It is concerned with Russian peasants, and portrays with masterly skill the comic side of country life. Price 25 Cents. THE BLACK PEARL, by Victorikn Sardou. One of Sardou'S most famous comedies of Intrigue. A house has, it Is thought, been robbed. But through skilful Investigation It Is found that th« havoc wrought has been done by lUrhtnlng. Price 25 Obntb. CHARMING LEANDRE. by Theodore de Banvilus. Th« author of " Grlngoire " is here seen In a poetic vein, yet the French* man's innate sense of humor recalls, in this satirical little play, the genius of Molitre. . Price 26 Cents. THE POST-SCRIPTUM. by Euilb Auoibb. Of this one-act comedy Processor Brander Matthews writes: "... one of the brightest and most brilliant little one-act comedies In any language, and to be warmly recommended to Amerlcaui readers.** Price 25 Cents. THE HOUSE OF FOURCHAMBACLT. by EmLB AUGIBB. One of the greatest of recent French family dramas. Although tha play is serious In tone, it contains touches which entitle it to a position amonir the best comedies of manners of the times. Paio Vi Cents. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 493 373 4 ■*