When the Homeland Calls BY LINSEY BARBEE. PRICE 25 CENTS Eldridge Entertainment House Franklin, Ohio Denver, Colo. CET THIS NEW PATRIOTIC MONOLOG "THE STARS AND STRIPES IN FLANDERS" By SEYMOUR S. TiBBALS HERE is a ten minute dramatic reading with a climax that will cause a thrill. Suitable for a male or female reader and a number that will strengthen any program. We recommend it for any patriotic celebra- tion, commencement, alumni or civic banquet. The story deals with the manner in which the news of Americans entrance into the war was received in a dugout in Belgium. A col- onel of artillery, a priest and an Irish-Ameri- can are the leading characters. You will like it. PRICE 25 CENTS THE ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE FRANKLIN, OHIO ■ ■ ■ ■ DENVER, COLO. When the Home Land Calls I ^ By Lindsey Barbee. ! Coprnght, 1918. EUdridge Entertaiamcnt How*. -PUBLISHED BY- ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE, FRANKIIN, - OHIO DEWTR, COLO. CHARACTERS BARBARA BENTON— An American girl who does her bit. ' ^ ^ ^ CHRISTINE HUNTER— A spy. . <^^^kj CELIA >^ .MSSBiW^Si KATE I /^ ' 4 PEGGY i. Red Cross enthusiasts EDITH GLADYS HERMAN VON ELTZ— Pro-German in thought and action. KARL VON ELTZ— His younger brother. CAPTAIN WARD LIEUT. EGBERTS ' °^ ^^^ ^"""'^ ^*^*'' ^"^^^ SCENE — America and France. TIME— The present. TIME OF PLAYING— About an hour and a half. ACT I.— A Red Cross Benefit. ACT II. — Near the firing line in France. SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAM ACT I. Among various means of swelling the Red Cross treasury, the gipsy camp proves most effective; and beneath the shadow of its miniature tent, a double identity is revealed, a pro-German scheme discussed, a decision reached and a passport lost. ACT II. The unexpected sight of a jagged scar helps Barbara to solve the mystery of the altered messages; and the sudden appearance of Karl proves that the Amer- ican spirit outweighs the German tradition when the home land calls. OEC 12 ISI8 @CLD 50844 • » etc Aa-O CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES BARBARA — Hi^h-spirited, vivacious, radiating effi- ciency. In Act I, she wears a gipsy costume; in Act II, the uniform of a wireless operator. CHRISTINE — Clever, shrewd, of a winning personal- ity. In Act I, she wears a gipsy costume; in Act 11. the uniform of a wireless operator, with disguise of wig and other make-up. EDITH. PEGGY. KATE, GLADYS, CELIA— Bright, lively, up-to-date girls. They all wear pretty evening dresses. HERMAN — A typical man of the world; polished and conventional. He wears evening clothes. Slightly gray about the temples. KARL — Impulsive, enthusiastic and courageous. In Act I, he wears a business suit; in Act II, a German uni- form. CAPTAIN WARD and LIEUTENANT ROBERTS— Typical military men in conventional uniform. PROPERTIES ACT I. Gipsy tent with pillows. Small table with punch bowl and cups. Two booths, one with fancy arti- cles (including a sachet, a boudoir cap, a knitting bag and a pr.ir of worsted slippers) and a box for money ; the othor with candy in boxes and plates. Settee. Flags of America and allied nations. Tambourine, hand bag, en- velope for Barbara. Banjo for Christine. Hand bag and money fcr Celia. Chocolate cream.s for Edith. Tray of small nosegays for Gladys. Boutonniere and bills for Herman. ACT II. Cot with coverings. Table with papers, lamp, matches and telephone. Two chairs. Flashlights for Barbara and Miss Hall. Papers for Karl. Glass of water for Barbara. STAGE DIRECTIONS R. means right of stage; C, center; R. C, right center; L. left; U. E., upper entrance; D. F., door in flat or scene running across the back of the stage; up stage, away from foct-lights; down stage, near foot-lights. The ac- tor is supposed to be facing the audience. When the Home Land Calls. ACT I. Scene — A room given over to a Red Cross Benefit Fete, Wide archway R. of C. in F, revealing wainscot drop. Entrance down R, Gipsy tent R. 2E. Table with punch bowl L. of C. in F. Table or booth L, U. E. bear- ing all kinds of fancy articles. Table or booth L. 2E. at which candy — in boxes or plates — is temptingly dis- played. Settee down L. of C. American and allied flags everywhere. Stage well illuminated. At rise, Barbara, attired as a gipsy, is seated within the opening of the gipsy tent counting money in her tam- bourine. Christine, in similar garb, is seated R. of tent opening, idly strumming a banjo. Peggy is back of the booth at L. U. E. Edith is arranging boxes on the booth at L. 2E. Celia is standing R. of punch bowl and Kate is serving her. Celia — Punch without a punch! Ugh! (Makes grimace) I can't conscientiously recommend your wares, Kate. Kate — Who asks you for a recommendation? All we want, my dear Celia, is your money. Celia — (Handing Kate the cup) Take it away. (As Kaie pours the contents of k.h cup into the punch boivl.) Kate! Kate — Miraculous pitcher up to date! (Waves cup) Behold a practical demonstration of why it is inexhaust- ible! Celia — (Aghast,) You don't mean to say that this is your method of keeping it filled? Kate — Why not? The more material we save, the more money we make. Accordingly, I gather up the fragments. Celia — But the fragments may be full of germs. Kate — They probably are. The only germ in which we refuse to specialize is the germ out of Germany. When the Home Land Calls 5 P^QQl) — And you can't even be sure of escaping that, these days. For all you know, Kate may be a death- distributing spy. Celia — Not with that watered lemonade, Peggy. P^Uiiy — (Beckoning.) Come hither I Celia — Not a step farther into this den of thieves. Peggy — (CoaxingUj.) Patronize home industry. Celia — (Advancing to her.) _ What, for example? Peggy — (Waving a sachet.) A sachet with an inde- scribable and evasive perfume. Celia — (Sniffing) It's evasive all right. Peggy — Have you no power of imagination? Celia — It isn't strong enough to detect the impos- sible. Peggy — I'll put it in your hand bag. (Opens bag.) Celia — I don't want it. Peggy — But the Red Cross wants your money. (Takes a bill front Celia's bag and drops it in her money box.) All change abandon ye who enter here ! Celia — But — Peggy — (Airily tossi7ig a boudoir cap on her head.) Isn't this the duckiest thing you've ever seen? Celia — (Resentfully.) I look like a fright in a bou- doir cap. Peggy — That's the very reason you should wear one. Even vanity should be disciplined during war times. (Throws knitting bag over her arm.) Here's a knit- ting bag. Celia — But I have three already. Peggy — Then this will make the perfect number. How fortunate that I can supply you ! Edith — (Crossing to them from L. 2E.) It isn't fair to spend all your money before you get to me. My candy is the real stuff — no camouflage. Here I'll donate a chocolate and you may judge for yourself. (Places a chocolate cream in Celia's mouth.) Kate — (Joining them.) Donate one in this direc- tion, Edith, and I'll sweeten the latest scandal for you. (As Edith places candy in her mouth. j There I I knew that would turn the trick. 6 When the Home Land Calls Edith — And there really isn't any story? Kate — Of course there is. Haven't you heard that — • (lowers her voice and the four chat eagerly together.) Barbara — Twenty dollars! Pretty good for two hours' work, isn't it? Christine — Can't we raise it to twenty-five? Barbara — Impossible, I'm afraid. We'll get only a few stragglers now that it's time for the dancing. Ev- erybody is gravitating toward the ball room. Christine — Revealing the future has been fun. Barbara — (Laughing.) Especially when one hardly knows the life line from the heart line. Oh, that doesn't apply to you, only to stupid me. Christine — I've invented most of my charming con- fidences, also. Barbara — But you've done it eifectively. Being the strange and mysterious Miss Hunter has brought you clients. Christine — Mysterious! Absurd. I'm very com- monplace. Barbara — But not so commonplace as Barbara Ben- ton, who has lived here all her life. Christine — And by this time I'm no stranger. My six weeks in your pretty little city have made me almost a fellow citizen. Barbara — How did you happen to choose our quiet little college? Christine — On account of its quiet — and because it promised me high standards — scholastically and other- wise. Barbara — That's quite a tribute, isn't it? We're glad you made this particular choice. Christine — So am I. For you and your friends have included me so generously in your festivities. Barbara — In flippant phrase, my dear gipsy, the pleasure is all ours. Can you reach me my bag? It's hanging just inside the tent flap and I think it's better to deposit some of this wealth before we waylay further victims. (As Christine reaches for the bag, her sleeve falls back revealing a vivid jagged scar.) Oh, my dear, When the Home Land Calls 7 how did you hurt your arm? (As she takes the bag from Christine she grasps her arm and looks at the scar close- lyj Christine — (Attempting to pull away her arm.) It's an old scar. Barbara — (Still retaining Christine's arm.) But an interesting one. Almost in the shape of an M. If this were palmistry, I'd say you were destined for money in abundance. Christine — (Laughing nervously.) But it isn't palmistry, unfortunately. (Loosing herself and pulling her sleeve over the arm.) Ugh! Let's hide the ugly thing — I'm sensitive about it. (Nods toward Celia, 7vho with Peggy and Edith are approaching.) Can't we per- suade Miss Wilson to try her luck? (Kate returns to punch bowl.) Barbara — (Risiyig and catching vp pillow upon which she has been seated.) Let us tell vour fortune, Celia. Celia — (Sinking on settee.) I have no fortune — only misfortune. Barbara — (flinging pillow in front of Celia and seat- ing herself.) Cross my palm with silver, pretty lady. (Edith and Peggy stand back of settee) Celia — I'll do nothing of the kind. In the first place, I've been robbed of all my silver; in the second place, you can't tell me anything that I don't already know. Christine — (Standing by tent) Five dollars would be such a help ! Celia — Five dollars! At the present moment, I could just as easily present you with five hundred. Barbara — But you're our last hope. Celia — Oh, no, I'm not. Herman von Eltz is in the other room and he has the purse of Fortunatus. Barbara — fSighiyig.) Heaven send him our way! Christiyie — Herman von Eltz. What a very German name! P^Ogy — Nevertheless, it belongs to a very American man. Christine — German born ? 8 When the Home Land Calls Peggy — Yes, but partly educated here. Edith — While his younger brother is all American. Isn't he Barbara? Barbara — So much so that he is fairly entwined with the Stars and Stripes. Christine — But this love for the Fatherland — does it ever quite loosen its hold? Kate — Perhaps not — sentimentally considered. Christine — (Reflectively.) I wonder — Peggy — If you mean that the von Eltz brothers are pro-German — Christine — (Hastily.) I don't mean anything. I'm simply moralizing. Edith — Pro-German ! Why the two have been fairly reeking with patriotism ever since the war began. Kate — When does Karl arrive? Barbara — Tonight. Kate — How do you happen to know? Barbara — By means of that second sight which en- ables me to pierce the veil of the future. Peggy — That means you've had a letter from him. Barbara — (Mockingly.) "Oh, wise young judge!'* Edith — Where has he been all this time? Barbara — Washington — on business. Celia — (Scornfully) Business! Don't you get sick of that elastic excuse? It's the most aggravating word in the masculine vocabulary. Barbara — Aggravating, my dear, only because there is such a thing as feminine curiosity. Kate — Is he in the service? Barbara — If he isn't, he will be. Christine — This Karl seems to be an interesting per- son. Kate — (Mischievously.) Ask Barbara. Christine — (Suggestively.) Oh — I — see. Barbara — You girls make so much out of nothing. Why, I've known Karl all my life. Celia — And so well, that the veil of the future on which you seem to have so much of a monopoly is likely to prove a wedding veil. Whe7i the Home Land Calls 9 Barbara — That's where you all guess wrong, and I can prove it. The immediate job which the future pre- sents me is that of a wireless operator. (Takes envelope from hag.) Here's my passport — and soon I'll be off to France. Celia — Barbara ! Kate — You're too young. P^flfjy — Why didn't you tell us? Edith — How I env\^ you ! Christine — When do you start? (Enter Herman with Gladys from R. Barbara hast- ily returns pass-port to bag.) Herman — (At right of C.) Is this the Tower of Babel — or merely a rosebud garden of girls? Gladys — (Who carries a large basket containing small nosegays.) Isn't his flowery language delightful? It comes on account of patronizing me. Herman — (Pointing to his bidton hole.) And look what I've drawn from the collection. Merely a bachelor's button. Gladys — Truth hurts sometimes doesn't it? Why don't you reform in such a way as to eliminate bachelors' buttons ? Herman — Who'll help me? Edith — What a perfectly reckless question to ask. Suppose we should all volunteer. Herman — That wouldn't do me a particle of good. I couldn't possibly make a choice. Gladys — In exchange for that pretty bouquet of yours, you shall have another of mine without extra charge. (As she pins flower upon him.i How will a bleeding heart offset that bachelor's button? (Turns to others.) As to the rest of you, no such generosity pre- vails. I'm here to sell — and sell I will. (As she calls each one by name site tosses a nosegay to her.) Here's a rose with a little thorn — just like you, Barbara; pansies for thoughts. Kate, you need 'em; sv/eet peas for you, Peggy — all on account of the first letter of \^our name; a beautiful, appropriate snap dragon for Celia; a bit of 10 When the Home Land Calls sage for Edith — a tribute to your intelligence, my dear; (Pauses,) Now what shall I bestow upon you, Miss Hunter? How would this little tight-shut rosebud do? It refuses to open its leaves and reveal its heart. Christine — How very unflattering if you mean that I fail to respond to all your lovely courtesy and hospit- ality. Gladys — Not a bit of it. I'm merely saying in my poetical way that you're a stranger. Herman — (Glancing about.) What hasn't been sold? Edith — My biggest box of candy. (Holds it out.) Going — going — Herman — Gone! (Takes it and slips bill in her hand) Peggy — (Glancing at the bill which has changed hands.) Oh, you extravagant thing! Slip me one for these beauties. (Rushes to booth at L. U. E. and holds up a pair of bright knitted slippers.) Herman — (Following her.) The very thing for the trenches ! (Tucks them under his arm and hands her a bill.) And keep the change! Kate — (Seizing his arm.) The Spring of Eternal Youth is over here. (Pushes him toward punch bowl.) Herman — Not so fast, young lady, not so fast. You can drive me to that punch bowl but you can't make me drink. Kate — I don't want you to drink — merely to pay for it. (Music starts off stage.) Herman — (Sighing.) Here goes then. (Hands her bill) Gladys — Listen! The dancing is about to begin. (Catches Kate's hand and turns to Herman.) You don't mind if we go? (As he shakes his head, they laugh- ingly hurry through archway.) Herman — (As Peggy, Edith and Celia move toward the archway.) Is everybody determined to desert? Edith — Why not? Business is over — here. Peggy — And partners are waiting — (Points.) — there. Celia — So — do you blame us? When the Home Land Calls 11 (Exeunt Edith, Peggy and Celia at archivay.) Barbara — But business isn't entirely over — here. You haven't as yet extended to us the financial hand of friendship. (Rises and holds pillow.) Herman — (Crossing to C.) Meaning — Barbara — That we lack five dollars of bringing our fund to twenty-five — and for that muchly desired five we'll give you a huge slice of the future. (Tosses pilloiu to him.) Herman — (As he catches it.) A huge slice of the future! That's worth more than five dollars to the man of today. Which one of you is to do the fatal deed? Barbara — Oh, I'll pass it on to Miss Hunter. Every- body wants her. Christine — (Smiling.) That isn't so at all. (Seats herself by tent opening.) Barbara — Oh, but it is. She looks like the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. Christine — The only one in captivity. (To HeV' man.) Won't you be seated? (Herman throws down pillow, sits opposite her and she gravely inspects his hand.) Herman — (Laying bill npoyi it.) Must the palm be crossed with silver only? Christine — This does just as well — and better. Even gipsy etiquette is subject to change. Barbara — (Peering over Herman's shoulder and ab- stracting the bill. That looks good to me — so I'll add it to the fund. (Slips it in bag.) Will you place this in- side the tent, Miss Hunter? (Hands bag to Christine, tvho thrusts it inside the tent.) Christine — (As she looks closely at his hand) A tortuous life line. Barbara — She's told that to everybody. Nobody knows what it means — and is ashamed to ask — so it makes a hit. Christine — A strong head line. Barbara — /'Peering over Herman's shoulder.) I can't see the faintest resemblance to one. 12 When the Home Land Calls Herman — Look here ,you prattlesome gipsy, who is attending to this fortune? Barbara — (Hurrying to C) Not I, kind sir. I'm hunting my own — in the other room. Herman — You don't need to hunt it; you carry it with you, I'm thinking. Barbara — Prettily said. Give him his money's worth, Miss Hunter. (Waves her hand and disappears through the archway,) Christine — (with bent head,) This is the palm of a man who dares great things in order that a great cause may triumph. It reveals manifold plans which are far- reaching — Herman — (Softly) And which will succeed. Christine — (After a pause,) Which will succeed. (In a lower tone,) Are we quite alone? Herman — (After a hasty survey,) Quite. Christine — Please keep your eyes lowered and follow my words as if I were reading your palm. There is al- ways the possibility of a sudden entrance. Herman — (As she pauses.) Well? Christine — In the role of a conscientious and pains- taking collegian, I have at last discovered the vulnerable member of the faculty. Through a network of under- standing students, the seeds of unrest and dissatisfac- tion are being scattered. This is a part of the propa- ganda, I believe? Herman — Assuredly. Go on. Christine — A strike is imminent in the munition fac- tory. Herman — Have you been instrumental in bringing this about? Christine — Partly. It has not been difficult to fan the flame of discontent among the wives of the workers. Herman — You've been able to do this without bring- ing suspicion upon yourself? Christine — What reason have you to doubt my clev- erness? With a dual personality and a box of make-up I can work wonders. When the Home Land Calls 13 Herman — But these are minor issues. What of the greater task? Christine — Fischer will undertake it. •Herman — Are you sure of him? Christine — Absolutely. He is entirely at our mercy. Herman — And his price? Christine — Is great. Herman — That need not be considered an obstacle. Christine — So I have surmised. Herman — And his venture? Christine — Is for tomorrow night. He can easily gain access to the factory — and after that it is simple. A light to the fuse — a quick get-away — and destruction follows. Herman — Is there to be a signal? Christine — From you. Three flashes from the bridge. Herman — (Excitedly.) From vie? Have you dared to reveal my identity — or to drop a hint as to my part in this matter ? Christine — (Ironically) Don't excite yourself. Your identity as you call it, has been kept quite in the back- ground. There isn't the slightest danger of the charit- able and patriotic Mr. von Eltz being suspected of pro- German sentiments and pro-German schemes. Herman — I don't like the sneer in your tone. Christine — Far be it from me to criticize the part you have chosen to play. But at least, I have enough conscience left to realize how despicable is my own role. I have neither German name nor tradition to excuse it. (After a moment.) What I meant to convey, Mr. von Eltz, is that you are responsible for the signal. Herman — Naturally. At the present moment I feel that I am also responsible for you. Christine — ( Quickly. )W\\^i do you mean? Herman — That you have been traced to this very town. Christine — Impossible. Herman — Unfortunately — quite possible. Christine — But I left no clue. IJi. When the Home Land Calls Herman — You must have left a clue — some slip in your schedule, some careless move — Christine — (Angrily,) Careless move! When I sacrificed — this — in your interests. (Holds up arm with scar) Even money can not pay for some things. Herman — All of this is not to the point. What you must consider is immediate escape. Christine — Immediate escape. Where? Herman — Your cleverness will decide. (Anxiously) If there had only been time for a pass-port! A ship leaves tomorrow morning — and you could have crossed in safety. Christine — (Suddenly) A pass^port. Herman — Of course it is out of the question. Christine — But it isn't out of the question. (Rises) I am Miss Benton's height, coloring, style — am I not? (Seizes hag.) Well here is a pass-port — for her — why not for me? (Takes envelope from bag and thrusts it in her gown.) Herman — (Rising.) Would you dare? Christine — (Laughing.) .Dare? What would my vocabulary be without this word? (Enter Karl at archway.) Karl — Herman — old fellow ! Herman — (meeting him at C.) Why, boy, I didn't expect you until later. Karl — Made an earlier train — and followed you here. Barbara told me where to find you. (With a glance at Christine.) I hope I am not intruding. Herman — You are merely interrupting the recital of a very brilliant future which Miss Hunter finds in my hand. (Turns.) Miss Hunter, my brother, Karl. Karl — (As he takes her hand. )Wi\\ my interruption in any way hinder the realization of the fortune? Christine — (Laughing.) I think not. You see, it's been well paid for. (Starts toward archway,) Karl — Please don't hurry away. Christine — But I must be true to my role. You see, I deal with the past — and future — not the present. And what you and your brother have to say to each other after When the Home Land Calls 15 your separation must obviously be an affair of the pres- ent. Acordingly — I would be de trap. : — Herman — But we'll see you later? Christine — (Turning at archway and speaking to Herman suggestively.) You'll see me — later. (Exit.) Herman — (Seating himself on settee.) Now tell me about this sudden and mysterious trip of yours. Karl — (Sitting at Herman's right.) Mysterious? How absurd! It was a business trij^ — pure and simple. Herman — Surely you have entered into no business proposition without my consent and approbation. Karl — (Laughing.) You forget that I have reached an age which warrants my deciding for myself. (As Herman winces.) Oh ,1 didn't mean it that way, old fellow — I really didn't. Herman — Are you in any trouble? Karl — So that's what is bothering you. Not a bit of it. I said goodbye to scrapes when I left college. Herman — (Impatiently.) Then tell me — why have you been to Washington? Karl — (Thoughtfully) Has it ever occurred to you that I have a future to consider? Herman — I have thought of little else. You must remember, Karl, that your welfare is my very life. Karl — Forgive me again for my awkward way of trying to explain. I can't think of a future without you, Herman, but if I am to be any sort of a citizen I must hew out my own path. Herman — Then you have reached a definite decision? Karl — I have. I am going in to the service. Herman — Whose service? Karl — How can you ask? My country's Herman — Under what flag? Karl — (Glancing at the Ainerican flag) Is there any other flag — for a good American? Herman — But you are not an American. Karl — I am of German name but of American spirit — and of distinctly American outlook. Herman — (Dryly > Rather an impossible statement, my dear brother, when you stop to realize that our father 16 When the Home Land Calls has returned to Germany and is a loyal adherent of the German government; that our sisters have married Ger- man officers; that every drop of blood in us is German blood. You should feel the power of this blood drawing your sympathies and loyalty to Germany. Karl — But I don't. Notwithstanding the affection I have for those in Germany, there isn't an atom in me which isn't for America first, last and all the time. Herman— And you call this loyalty to your family and to your fatherland ! Karl— Fsiced by a world crisis, the lesser loyalty to- ward family or tribe should not interfere with the larger loyalty toward the country which has brought us pro- tection, happiness and success. Herman — (Rising) You talk madly. (Walks to L. of stage.) Karl — And there are times when one must renounce blood relations in order to be true to the principles of justice and liberty on which America is founded. Herman— (Turning) Rather than hear you voice such sentiments, I would wish you in your grave. Karl— (Rising) Rather than to realize what is gradually being forced upon me— that you are a traitor to the land of your adoption— I would wish that no tie of brotherhood existed between us. (Stands R. of C.) Herman— (Stepping forward) What right have you to speak like this ? Karl — The right given to every American citizen to- protest against treachery and subterfuge. Herman — Exactly what do you mean? Karl — That your words have betrayed you. (Leans forward) Herman, are you working against America— for Germany? Herman — That is not the question under discussion* Rather, what are you going to do ? Karl — (Resting on arm of settee) As I said before — I am going into the service. Herman — (In a conciliating tone) Why not show the proper deference to family tradition by being- neutral ? When the Home Land Calls 17 Karl — It isn't a time for neutrality, Either we must become mere expatriates, or we must stand firm, strong and unyielding for American government and American democracy. Herman — But surely the American government ex- pects no more than a passive loyalty from a citizen of alien birth. Karl — There is no such thing as passive loyalty. If the German-American can not fearlessly choose to stand for America in return for the privilege of full American citizenship, he had better return to that land to which he is bound by ties of sentiment and clannishness. (Seats himself by Herman. 1 Herman — You dispose of a big question in a few sweeping terms. Karl — It is a big question — this Americanizing of alien elements, this transforming of Russian, Pole, Ir- ishman, Jew and Italian Into beings infused with the American spirit — the spirit of freedom and individualism. Herman — It is a question not likely to be solved. Karl — Again I differ. For the country which gen- erously and hospitably opens its doors to all nations without thought of self interest, which has been the melting pot for diverse elements will realize her dreams of a great and universal Americanism just as surely as she will play a noble and a triumphant part in making the world safe for democracy. Herman — You are the victim of anti-German prop- aganda. Karl — (Rising and speaking excitedly.) What of the pro-German propaganda which insidiously eats its way into the heart of our country, which aims to check this assimilation of aliens into American citizenship, which strikes at the heart of American institutions and American democracy? (Coynes down stage.) Herman — (After a pause) Can't you realize, Karl, how all of this — hurts — me? Karl — (turning) Forgive me, old fellow. (Comes to him.) I can realize and I'm sorry — I honestly am. We're the onlv members of the family here fn this coun- 18 When the Home Land Calls try; I want to stand with you — and yet — (impulsively) Oh, Herman, you know I'd do anything for you! Herman — (Rising) Then keep out of the army. Karl — I can't — I wouldn't. And if I wished to do so — what of the draft? Herman — (Eagerly) I could arrange it. I have influence — Karl — (Quietly.) Let's not talk about it. Herman — Then if you must fight — fight with the fatherland. Karl — (After a pause) Can you say that to me, Her- man, after what you've heard? Herman — I say it — because you don't understand, because you're young, because there must be some way to hold your allegiance. Will you promise me one thing? Karl — If it is within my power. Herman — See father before you make your final de- cision. It is his right. I can get you safely across — safely to the lines — and then it will be easy to reach him. Karl — But my mind is made up. Herman — Don't say that until you do what I wish — what you owe to father. Karl — (After a moment* s thought.) I'll promise. Herman — And not a word to anyone. (As they grasp hands, Barbara enters at archway.) Barbara — Dear me! Have you been holding hands all this time? I never before heard of such brotherly devotion. Herman — (Laughingly) Holding hands has been something of a specialty with you all the afternoon. Barbara — But it's my profession — that makes all the difference in the world. Herman — (Nodding toward tent) Did you come back to open shop? Barbara — No — only to tell Karl's fortune. He's pin- ing for it and it would be downright cruel to let him take another careless step without warning him of the pitfalls along his path. Karl — ^You sound like the real thing. Whc7i the Home Land Calls 19 Barbara — I am. Amid a cloud of camouflage I shine forth a serene and steady light. Herman — Where's your companion in prevarication? Barbara — Gone home with a headache — so there's no escape for Karl. Her mail — I imagine he isn't seeking any escape. Barbara — Why seek the impossible? Herman — Well, I won't delay matters. Don't make his fortune too alluring or he'll prove obstreperous. (Exit at RJ Barbara — (Seating herself at tent door) Come, kind gentleman — the fates are waiting. Karl — (Sitting by her) Do you think I intend to let you waste time on this nonsense when I haven't seen you for six weeks? (Seizes both her hands.) Barbara — How can I shape your future when you do the hand holding? Karl — Do you want me to tell you just how you can shape it? Barbara — (Drawing away her hands) No, I don't Tell me about the trip instead. Karl — There's nothing to tell. Barbara — (Mockingly) Six weeks away — and noth- ing to tell ! Karl — Nothing that would interest you. Barbara — Wasn't it a success? Karl — It was. Barbara — And did you accomplish what you wished to accomplish. Karl— I did. Barbara — Oh, what snippy answers! You deserve to be quizzed. Karl — Quiz away. Barbara — Well, what was the business? Kai'l — How do you know there was any business? Barbara — Business trips usually have to do with business, don't they? Or have I been misinformed? Karl — Come now — talk about vourself. Whv in 20 When the Home Land Calls thunderation should I want to discuss my trip when I can discuss you? Barbara — But can you? Karl — I can and I will. Barbara — Then I claim the right to hurl a few more questions at you. Why aren't you in khaki? Karl — Give me time. Barbara — To answer the question or to don the uni- form? Karl— Both. Barbara — Or perhaps khaki isn't becoming to your German name. Karl — What's in a German name if the man behind it is a good American? Barbara — I was just joking, you silly. Of course you're a good American and of course you'll do your bit. Karl — Let's hope that Fate will put a fairly good bit in my way. Barbara — Life's changed for all of us — hasn't it? I might characterize my own case as The Awakening of Barbara Benton. Karl — How would this do for me — The American- izing of Karl von Eltz? Barbara — How can anyone who is already American be Americanized? Karl — Do you feel that way about it? Barbara — How queerly you talk! Why shouldn't I feel that way about it? Karl — (Earnestly) Barbara, I want you to believe that when the home land calls, I'm listening and answer- ing. Barbara — (Dreamily) When the home land calls— Karl — (Softly) And before I go — I want you to promise — Barbara — (Checking him) Wait, Karl. Don't ask me to promise anything until — after the war. Karl — But you remember what you told me that night? Barbara — I remember; but oh, so much has hap- When the Home Land Calls 21 pened since then — and it was the time when I was living in the Land of Romance. Karl — Isn't it still the Land of Romance? Barbara — {Whimsically j Let's call it No Man's Land until — after the war. Do you understand? Karl — (After a pause) I understand. Barbara — For I, too, am listening when the home land calls — and I'm going to France! Karl — Barbara ! Barbara — To France! IMy dream of being a wireless operator has been realized — and — (reaching for the bag) already I have my passport — here. (She fumbles in the bag, removing the various ar- ticles. As she searches, her expression becomes puzzled, then frightened, and in great consternation she rises and turns to Karl.) Barbara — It's gone Karl, gone! My passport! What does it mean — what can it mean? (Karl rises i7i be- wilderment.) CURTAIN ACT II. Scene — A room in a deserted house "somewhere in France" used as headquarters. Practical doors down R. and L. French window L. of C. in F. Cot R. of C. in F. Table at C. with telephone, lamp, matches and papers. Chair on either side of table. Stage is only partly illum- inated since it is late afternoon. At rise. Captain Ward is seated at L. of table cfnd Lieutenant Roberts is stayiding R. of table. Captain — I don't understand the situation. Lieutenant — Nor do I. And yet — (hesiitates) Captain — flnwatienthi ) Yps? Lieutenant — There seems but one inference when the purport of two wireless messages is deliberately changed. 22 When the Home Land Calls Captain — Carelessness on the part of the one who receives the communication? Lieutenant — Hardly. He is one of the best and most reliable operators in the service. Captain — Then — something is wrong at this end of the line. (Leans forward) You say that the message is verbatim save for the omission or change of one or two words? Lieutenant — Exactly. Captain — For example? Lieutenant — The message, "Do not send scouting party tonight," was received "Send scouting party to- night." As a result our detachment was almost annihi- lated. Captain — Go on. Lieutenant — The same with the ammunition car. A negative command became an affirmative — and we lost our ammunition. Captain — I could never question Miss Benton's lionor. Lieutenant — Nor I. (Abruptly) When does she re- turn? Captain — Tomorrow. The girl has certainly needed her week's rest. Lieutenant — Who has been her substitute? Captain — Miss Hall. She has been most efficient and came with the highest recommendations. (After a pause) I am positive that the inaccuracy does not or- iginate with our station. Lieutenant — It is the popular supposition that some- thing of critical importance is brewing within the ene- my's lines. Captain — (Rising and pacing back and forth) Which brings to mind for the thousandth time that our messen- ger has not reported. Lieutenant — You mean — Captain — (Excitedly) Don't say his name — here. For I'm beginning to believe that the very walls have ears. He was due some days ago ; the delay can mean but one thing — When the Home Land Calls 23 Lieutenant — His failure? Captain — His capture. His life wouldn't be worth a copper cent if the enemy should discover. Lieutenafit — Dare-devil fellow ! Captain — The most splendid courage I've ever seen. The boy doesn't hesitate at any obstacle; and what he has brought to our lines has been of inestimal)le value. Lieutenant — I'm sorry. Captain — But there may be a chance after all. What would this sort of life mean — without hope? (Knock sounds at R.i Lieutenant — (hi a whisper) Perhaps it is a direct answer to — prayer, shall I say? Captain — Hardly that. He doesn't usually herald his approach. Lieutenant — Shall I investigate? (Captain nods and Lieutenant opens the door. Barbara crosses the thresh- old.) Captain — (In surprise) Miss Benton! Barbara — I'm a bit ahead of time. Do I need to apologize? Captain — Hardly that. But you should have rested until the very last minute of your furlough. Barbara — I couldn't. I just had to come — tonight. Captain — And why? Bai'bara — You'll think me silly, of course; but I had a presentiment that I would be needed. Captain — Presentiments are often trustworthy — es- pecially in times of military stress. Lieutenant — Shall I be needed further, Captain Ward? Captain — Not until later when you will report upon the matters under discussion. Lieutenant — V'ery well. (Salutes Captain and bows formally to Barbara. Goes out at R.) Captain — (Drawing out chair R. of table for Bar- bara) Now, suppose you explain the presentiment. (Seats himself L. of table.) Barbara — One cannot explain a presentiment. I -^i When the Home Land Calls simply could not shake off the feeling that I could be of use. Captain — ^Your being of use, Miss Benton, has been undoubtedly proved. Indeed, your work has been of the very highest quality. Barbara — It pleases me to hear you say that. I had a wonderful instructor and I want to be a credit to him. Captain — Where did you study? Barbara — In New York. Captain — And your home? Barbara — Is near by, Lester. Captain — (Thoughtfully) Lester. I seem to have lieard of it. Barbara — We have had three claims to notoriety — a college, a munition factory and a spy. Captain — The last mentioned is hardly a distinc- tion nowadays. The breed infests every spot on the map. Barbara — This particular spy roused my personal animosity — that is why she lingers especially in my mem- ory. Captain — How did she come into contact with you? Barbara — Abstracted my passport, made her escape by means of it and caused me a great deal of inconven- ience. That's all. Captain — Have you ever traced her? Barbara — Never. She is too clever to be traced. I only infer that she is — over here. Captain — Now I know why I remember Lester. Once upon a time I had business transactions with a certain Herman von Eltz. Barbara — ^The name von Eltz is not popular in Les- ter at present. Captain — Too German? Barbara — Too traitorous. Herman von Eltz, after being suspected of directing an explosion at the muni- tion factory, left suddenly for regions unknown. (With ill-concealed bitterness) Karl von Eltz — ^the younger brother — is fighting on the German side. Captain — Karl von Eltz? Are you sure of this? Whcji the Home Laud Calls 25 Barbara — Sure? Why shouldn't I be sure? His ac- tion is all the more contemptible because he posed as a loyal American. Captaiii — The ties and traditions of the home land proved too strong, I suppose. Barbara — It depends upon what one calls the home land. In my opinion, the home land is the country which protects, educates and gives the best of its spirit and its life to the one within its gates — not the far-off region which is merely a mass of tradition, sentimentality and false ideas of loyalty. Captain — America is, after all, a vast crucible into which have been cast the elements of many alien races. If she can fuse these elements into the white heat of Amer- ican patriotism and American nationalism, she will cre- ate a mighty force which can not be overcome. Barbara — She will do it, Captain Ward, she will do it; and it would be a wonderful inspiration, a wonderful triumph, in these days of stress and turmoil, if a young German, bound by every tie to the fatherland, should shake off the fetters which restrict soul and mind and spirit, and should stand out in fervor of transformation — a true American! Captain — (After a pause.) It may be given you to see this very thing, Miss Benton. Barbara — (Laughing) In my ecstatic vision of the future, I have rather overstepped my limits and have di- gressed from my prime object in coming here. As a mat- ter of fact. Captain Ward, has everything gone smoothly and do you need me tonight? Captain — Everything — apparently — has gone smoothly. Barbara — What do you mean? Captain — That no thought of inefficiency entered our minds until something of serious moment was brought to our attention. Barbara — Is it out of my province to ask what it is? Captain — I have intended to tell you. Two messages, supposedly sent from our station, have been transmitted 26 When the Home Land Calls in such a way that the original command has been changed and perverted with disastrous results. Barbara — Could the fault lie with the receiving station ? Captain — Hardly. Barbara — Then — may I ask about Miss Hall? Captain — I know little, save that she came with prop- er credentials and that she has been quiet, efficient and satisfactory. Barbara — It might have been carelessness. Captain — But we don't deal with might be's. The facts are right with us and we must discover the whys and wherefores of these distorted communications im- mediately. We have already paid too high a price. Barbara — (After a pause) Is it too presumptions in me to make a suggestion ? Captain — I should not have told you the circum- stances had I not expected you to express yourself. Barbara — Then may I see Miss Hall — for a moment? I know it is unkind to suspect a person who may be inno- cent, but on the other hand, there is no harm in submit- ting a test. Captain — And what test have you in mind? Barbara — A simple one. Call her in on some pretext — either to meet me or to tell her of my return tomor- row; let her know that you have business elsewhere and that I, too, am going ; then let fall carelessly some remark in regard to important military movements pending ; and if she is involved in this trouble she will soon transmit such information. Captain — But, even in that case — Barbara — Wait. I shall return — she won't suspect — and I promise to watch her, follow her and do my best to solve the mystery. (Pauses, The captain makes no reply) You don't quite countenance it, do you? Captain — I don't quite see — but have it your own way. It can do no harm and Lieutenant Roberts is on the trail anyway. (Suddenly) Only this — don't risk anything that savors of danger. Barbara — (Excitedly) I won't — I promise. Whc7i the Home Land Calls 27 Captain — And I, myself, will return shortly. Barbara — Now — call her, please. (Captain Ward rises and opens door at L.) Captain — (Calling upstairs) Miss Hall? Miss Hall — (Off stage) Yes, Captain Ward. Captain — Here — just a moment, please. (Returns and stands L. of table.) (Enter Miss Hall at L.) Captain — (Turning) Miss Hall, I want you to meet Miss Benton whose place you have so admirably filled; also to know that Miss Benton will resume her duties tomorrow. Barbara — (Rising as Miss Hall comes to C.) I feel that I owe all my good rest to your capability. Miss Hall. I have heard nothing but praise of your efficiency. (Takes her hand.) Miss Hall — It has not been easy to fill your place. Miss Benton. You leave your successor too high a stan- dard to reach. Barbara — (Laughing) Aren't we nice to each other with all our pretty speeches? I wish I might talk- to you a little longer even at the risk of trespassing on your office hours — but I must be off. Captain — And I. If you will permit me, Miss Ilen- ton, I will escort you as far as the cross road<. (B-irhara nods assent I And I'll be summoning you soon. Miss Hall — for important communications (Nodanig toward table) — will mean conferences over the wire. Miss Hall — (Quietly) Yes, Captain Ward. (Moves toward L.) Captain — Are you ready, Miss Benton? '^ys'^es and opens door at R.) Barbara — Quite ready. _ (Crosses to door and nods to Miss Hall ) Goodbye. Miss Hall — Goodbye. (Exit at L. as Captain and Barbara go out at R.) 28 When the Home Land Calls (As the act progresses, the stage becomes gradually darker until at this point there is almost complete dark' ness. -Stage is clear for a few moments then a slight noise is heard. The French window is opened and by the aid of a flashlight Barbara is revealed. She makes her ivay to the cot and seats herself. In few moments the door at L. opens. Miss Hall, also with a flashlight ap- pears and goes directly to table. Using the flash light, she searches hastily and nervously through the papers; then ivith an ejaculation of impatience, she lights the lamp. Again the search, and for greater ease she hast- ily turns back the cuffs of her sleeves. In the light of the lamp, a vivid, jagged scar on her arm is revealed. Suddenly she stops shortly and stands listening.) Miss Hall — Who's there? Barbara — (Advancing into the lamp light) Only I. I left my handkerchief and came back for it, (turning and pointing) through the window. I hope I didn't startle you. Miss Hall — Not at all. I, too, was looking for some property, a memorandum — but I evidently did not leave ^ it here. Barbara — (Who has been gazing in fascination at the scar) What a strange scar ! I have seen only one like it. Miss Hall — (Carelessly) I flattered myself I had the only one in existence. Shall I leave the light — or have you found what you were looking for? Barbara — (Quietly) I have found what I was looking for. Miss Hall — Well — good night again. (Exit at L.) (Barbara follows her to the door, listens, then thoughtfully crosses back to table and lowers light As she does so, there is a sound at the window. She shrinks back, the window slowly swings open, and Karl von Eltz in a German uniform, arm in a sling, staggers into the room.) Karl — (Making his way with difficulty to the cot When the Home Land Calls 29 and sulking upon it.) I'm safe — safe — (SigJiS and falls back in exhaustion.) (Barbara turns up the light, he opens Iiis eyes, sees her standing there, and, murmuring her name, attempts to rise.) Barbara — (In an agony of fright) Karl! ^KarU Do you know where you are? Karl — Out of my mind, I think. Is it really you, Barbara, or just one of those fancies which have been tormenting my mind for so long? Barbara — You don't realize what has happened. Karl — But I realize that it is you and that's enough reward for all that I've suffered — all I've gone through. Barbara — (Kneeling by himj Karl! Listen. You don't understand and you've made a terrible mistake. You're inside the American lines. Karl — That's where I want to be. Barbara — In that uniform? Karl — In this uniform. Barbara — Oh, why did you come here — why — (Rises) Come. I'll help you to get away — I'll find you some other clothes — I'll — Karl — Don't worry, Barbara. I'll be drawing a khaki uniform of my own before long. Barbara — What do you mean? Karl — Just this; I've deserted. Barbara — Deserted! Karl — For good. From this time forward, I fight openly under the Stars and Stripes. Barbara — You don't know what you're saying. (Moves to L.I Karl — Oh, yes I do. I'm speaking the truth and be- ing myself for the first time in months. Barbara — You can't be yourself — you — Karl — I'm through with the Germans — through, I say. I've seen enough of their brutality, their efficiency, their kultur. I've been one of their infernal machines too long — and I'm through with it all. Barbara — A deserter! Oh, the shame of it! 30 When the Home Land Calls Karl — (Weakly) Vm. faint! Water — water — (Barbara hastens to door at L., goes out and returns with glass of water which she holds to his lips.) Karl — Ten days in swamps and forests — with raw vegetables and bitter roots — and — But that's all over now and I'm here — safe. Barbara — Listen, Karl, and try to understand. You're not safe — you're in the utmost danger — and if any American officer were to enter now — it would be ruin to you. Let me help you escape. There must be some chance — and then you can find your way back to your own lines. Karl — I can't. I'm wounded — ^here. (Touches nnkle.) Barbara — Oh, what can I do! Captain Ward may t)e here at any moment. (Crosses to table and places ^lass upon it.) Karl — Captain Ward ! Better still. Just let me rest ' — quietly — and I'll be all right. I've come back — ^to America. Barbara — (Angrily) But why should America -want you? Why should she trust her safety to you? A man who is a traitor to one country is easily traitor to another. Karl — But if I say that America has been my first, last and only thought? Barbara — I do not believe you — I can't. Once upon a time you told me with a fervor which I couid not doubt that you would answer the call of the home land. (Iron- ically) Perhaps you did — and I was merely mistaken in the home land. Karl — Listen. Barbara — I listened — then — and believx3d. And in less than a week you sailed away without a word or sign, io take your place under the standard of my country'^ ■enemy. Karl — Won't you have faith, Barbara? Barbara — Where there is no respect, there can be no faith. WJicn the Home Land Calls 31 Karl — Then won't you let me say that the story is not ended? There is something yet — to follow? Barbara — A late allegiance to America will not wipe out the disgrace of your desertion in the time of need. Karl — f Faintly) Sometime you'll uiulerstand. (Mi^^ Hall enters at L. i/nseen by them and starids in'th her back af/ain-' When the home land rallRl CURTAIN "^if' THE BIG SUCCESS OF LAST SEASON "Somewhere in France" By SEYMOUR S. TIBBALS /n STIRRING patriotic drama of the World \^ War in 3 acts. 4 male, 3 female char- acters. All strong parts. One interior scene. This play has been rewritten and elaborated to play a full evening. Last season it achieved an instantanteous hit with amateur players, being produced with great success. The action takes place in the home of Pierre Graudet, a few miles from the trenches and graphically shows why America went into the war. Two sons have been killed in battle and Jean, the youngest son, is blinded by a shell. Mary Dale, an American Red Cross nurse, is attached to a base hospital near the home of the Graudets and her personal care of Jean has ripened into love for the brave young Frenchman who has won his Medal of Honor. The capture of a German aviator, who is com- pelled to land near the home, furnishes a thrilling and dramatic climax at the end of the second act. The dialog is intensely patriotic and one critic has termed the play **a classic." A splendid play for a Red Cross benefit, or to raise money for any war activity. Our most popular play last season. I PRICE 25 CENTS ||^ THE ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE FRANKLIN, OHIO also '""KSidL,s DENVER, COLO. 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