NO PLAYS EXCHANGED. 
 
 BAKER'S 
 
 PS 635 
 .Z9 
 
 or 
 
 Edition 
 
 PL7W.3 
 
 THE REVOLVING WEDGE 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1889. BY WALTER H. BAKER 4. CO. 
 
BAKER'S DARKEY PLAYS 
 
 Edited and arranged for publication from the well-known repertoire of 
 
 " SCHOOLCRAFT AND COES " ivith all their original 
 
 "gags" and "stage business." 
 
 BY GEO. H. COES. 
 
 Price . . . . 15 cents each. 
 
 "Luke Schoolcraft" and "George Coes " are too well known to admirers of 
 Negro Minstrelsy to require comment, and the following selections troni their 
 admirable repertory of pieces have no need of other recommendation. No one 
 who has seen these artists in any of the following list of sketches needs assur- 
 ance of their humor and gocd acting quality. Twelve are now ready, and others 
 will follow as the demand arises. 
 
 Mrs. Didymus* Party. In One Scene. Two male characters. 
 
 Scene, a plain room. An immensely humorous trifle. Plays 
 
 twenty minutes. 
 Music VS. Elocution. In One Scene. Two male characters. 
 
 •Scene, a plain room. Always very popular. Plays fifteen minutes. 
 
 Mistaken Identity. In One Scene. Eight male and one female 
 
 ,, , characters. Can be played in "white face" if desired. Plays 
 
 fifteen minutes. 
 Oh, ATVell, It's No Use. In One Scene. Three male characters. 
 
 A very funny sketch, full of genuine darkey humor. Plays 
 
 twenty minutes. 
 Here She Goes, and There She Goes. In One Act. Eight 
 
 male and one female characters. An uproariously funny piece 
 
 of great popularity. Plays twenty-five minutes. 
 
 Finished Education. A Finale for the "First Part" of a 
 
 Minstrel Entertainment. Three speaking characters. No change 
 
 of scene 
 Black Blunders. In Two Scenes. Nine males and three females. 
 
 Scenery simple; costumes eccentric. Very lively and amusing. 
 
 Plays twenty-five minutes. 
 v &e Old Parson. A "First Part Finish" for a Minstrel Enter- 
 tainment. Six speaking characters. No change of scene. 
 Sublime and Ridiculous. In One Scene. Three male characters. 
 
 Scenery and costumes very simple. A sure hit for a good burlesque 
 
 comedian. Plays twenty minutes. 
 rUveryday Occurrences. A "First Part Finish "for a Minstrel 
 ■ Entertainment. Three speaking characters. No change of scene. 
 "idly Sold. In Two Scenes. Four male characters and supers. 
 
 A very funny piece. Can be played "white face" with equally 
 
 good effect. Plays twenty minutes. 
 Dur Colored Conductors. In Two Scenes. Three male char- 
 acters and ten supers. This is an uproariously funny " skit " and a 
 
 sure hit. Plays twenty minutes. 
 
 Catalogues describing the above and other popular entertainments 
 sent free on application to 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 
 
 THEATRICAL PUBLISHERS, 
 
 No. 23 Winter Street - BOSTON, MASS, 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE 
 
 3d football Romance in #ne 3lct 
 
 BY 
 
 THORNTON M. WARE and GEO. P. BAKER 
 
 &*■/< 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ^*££:/Js£jL-?*<£ 
 
 1896 
 
 
mm i^j^^rt^^pi^jnLi fj WM 
 
 gB^fi^^^^S^i 
 
 Mm^^^^ c^^aB^^y^i 
 
 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 CHARACTERS, 
 
 V 5 
 
 •t- : 
 
 Mr. Thomas Martin, a Cambridge gentleman. 
 
 Bob Martin, his son, a Harvard football player, 
 
 Mr. Edward Biddle, of Philadelphia, Martin's second cousin. 
 
 Dr. George Brown, of Cambridge, Mrs, Martin s brother. 
 
 Captain Michael Dolan, of the Cambridge police force. 
 
 Mrs. Martin, Martin's wife, 
 
 Nell Martin, his , 
 
 Norah, their servant. 
 
 Costumes modern and appropriate. 
 
 
 Ixfv 
 
 Copyright, 1896, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 
 
 Note. — For the sake of convenience, this play, as published, applies 
 to one particular college town, but, as may be seen, a mere change of 
 name, without any further alteration in the text, will make it equally 
 appropriate to any place having a local interest in football. 
 
 The Authors 
 
 TMP92-007542 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 Scene. — The Martins' parlor, comfortably furnished. Fire- 
 place with fire, l. i e., with a photograph of Bob Martin 
 among- the knick-knacks on the mantel. Two long French 
 windows, down to the floor, at back, opening upon a piazza. 
 Doors L. 3 E. and R. 3 E. Sofa back of fireplace, at right 
 angles to it. Chair and hassock, L., between fireplace and 
 front of stage. Small table with Mrs. Martin's work, 
 R. c, opposite fireplace, with chair r. of it, and Martin's 
 easy-chair L. of it, near C. Any other chairs and furnish- 
 ings that are necessary. 
 
 Enter Norah, r. 3 e., with 7iewspaper. 
 
 Norah (glancijig uneasily toward L. 3 e"). I wondher will 
 they be vvantin' anythin' at table fer awhoile ? The boss'll be 
 afther his pepper when he's done brickfust, so now's me only 
 time fer gittin' a shquint at it afore I begin helpin' Biddy wid 
 that weariful big dinner. Thanksgivin', is it ? Divil a bit o' 
 thanks does I give — it only manes more worrk fur me. Why 
 don't they go, like Christian folks, to the big futball game, 
 where iverbody ilse'll be ? — an' their own son playin', too ! 
 Wait till I see is there anythin' about it in here. (Sits in arm- 
 chair and opens paper.) Mother av Hiven ! Is there annythin' 
 that's not about it ? Will ye luk at that foorst page now ? 
 {Reads slowly.) " Pros-pec's av the Great Game. Crimson 
 Supporthers Conn " Whist! (Checking herself and listen- 
 ing.) Did they ring ? (After a moment?) No, I guess not. 
 (Reads.) " Will the Pin-Pinsylv'ia Iliven down the Hayvards ? " 
 'Dade, thin, an' they'll not, av the rist av the Hayvard fellies is 
 as good as our Misther Bob. Let's see this page. " A Close 
 Struggle Perdicted. Opinyins av the Coachers." Wusha, I'll 
 not rade thot ; don't I know as much as a lot av hackmen ? 
 What's this in here? (Opening paper more.) " Skitches av 
 the Players." Ah-h ! (As if impressed.) If there ain't Mis- 
 
 3 
 
4 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 ther Bob ! Arrah, now, to think av him havin' his picther in 
 the pepper ! {Looking at it more critically.') Bedad, though, 
 the picther's no compl'mint to'm. {Looks up suddenly, holding 
 up her hand as if listening.) Faith, I was sure I heard thim 
 call. {Returning to paper.) Who's these down here ? Augh 
 {with disgust), "The Pinsylv'ia Tame," the oogly blaygards. 
 {Sound of a small pebble thrown against the window.) Ow ! 
 {Starting up with a half -stifled scream, dropping newspaper.) 
 Fw'at's thot ? {Goes up and looks out of L. window.) Saints 
 above — -Mike Dolan — an' me lu'kin' tis way. {Drawing back, 
 but continuing to look out.) Now, what's a p'licemin cloin' aff 
 his bate at this time in the marnin', I dunno ? {Talking at Do- 
 lan.) Oh, yis, I see ye, brass buttons an' all, but I'm not comin', 
 jist the same. Oh, kape on bick'nin' ; that's it, kape on, an' see 
 what good it does. {Slowly approaching window.) Why don't 
 ye go 'way ? Don't ye see I'm not comin' ? What'll I do wid the 
 fool ? He'll shtand there all day if I don't shpake till him, an' 
 they'll be ringin' in a minute. Will, thin {Opens the win- 
 dow.) Wirra, but the wind's cowld ! (Coquettishly.) Was it 
 me ye was wishin' to shpake till, Captin Dolan? (Pauses; 
 then giggles.) Arrah, go 'way wid yer blarney ; I'm no such 
 thing, so, if 'that's all. {At each of these breaks she pauses to 
 listen to Dolan.) No, I can't come out ; I'm busy. No, no, 
 don't go 'round to the kitchen. {Aside.) Faith, I'd be very 
 likely to let him in there, an' Biddy havin' it all in a mess wid 
 the dinner. {Aloud.) Av ye've anythin' to tell me, say it here. 
 {During the foregoing speech a bell rings in the distance, L., but 
 
 she does not hear it.) Oh, will, thin, av ye can't {Begins 
 
 to close window.) What's that ? {Re-opening it.) No, thin, 
 I'm not. Yis, I know 'tis Thursday, an' be rights I ought to 
 
 hev me afthernoon out, but {The bell rings again 7nore- 
 
 sharply. She starts, and turns as if to go) The bell! But ■ 
 
 {Hesitating.) Sure they can wait a minute. {Speaking out 
 window.) Till me what 'tis ye want, quick ; they're callin'me. 
 Do I know the big futball game ? Do I know annythin' ilse 
 afther see'n' the pepper this 
 
 Martin {in the distance, L.; sharply). Norah^. 
 
 Norah {starting, closing the window and hurrying towards 
 L. 3 E.). Misther Martin ! {Calling.) Sor ? 
 
 Martin (as before). What have you got a window open for ? 
 You're cooling off the whole house ! 
 
 Norah {at the door). Plase, sor, I was ownly shcarin aff a 
 sthray puppy that was thryin' to git in the yard, but he's gone 
 now, sor. (Aside.) If he is, I'll never shpake till him again. 
 (Listens a moment more j then turns thoughtfully towards 
 window.) Will, now, what'll I do with Mike ? I can't open the 
 windy, but — (Hesitates, then goes with decision to the 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 5 
 
 window, opening it slightly to speak. During the following 
 she opens the window only two or three itiches, and closes it 
 almost entirely between her speeches.) Whist! Come in here, 
 quick ! {Beckoning.) Yes, come in here, I say ! {Beckoning 
 more vigoroicsly. Continues to beckon where implied in 
 speech.) No, thin, I'm not go'n' out there makin' a show o' 
 mesilf in me old dhress to th' folks in the sthreet. Aw, come 
 an — what are ye 'fraid av ? Yis, git over the railin' ; 'twon't 
 hurt ye. {Aside.) 'Dade, ye might know he'd bin a janithor 
 at the college afore he was put oh the foorce, he's that lazy. 
 There, now ye're an the piazzy, come an. 
 
 [Dolan, i?i policeman s uniform, appears outside the win- 
 dow, which she opens. 
 
 Dolan (bashfully). Did ye mane fer me to come in, Norah ? 
 
 Norah (pulling him in by the arm). Augh, what d'ye s'pose 
 I mane ? Come in out o' that, ye big, bowld cop ; there's no 
 bur-rglars here. [Closes window. 
 
 Dolan (looking around, apprehensively), Yis, but won't the 
 folks be comin' ? 
 
 Norah. No, but spake aisy ; an' till me what 'tis ye want, 
 quick ! 
 
 Dolan. Well, but if ye can't g'out this afternoon — are ye 
 sure ye can't go, Norah ? 
 
 Norah. Av coorse I am. Haven't I got to wait an table ahl 
 th' afthernoon ? 
 
 Dolan. Ahl the Norah, ye don't mane they're not 
 
 go'n to the futball game ! 
 
 Norah. I do thin — jist that. 
 
 Dolan (dropping into arm-chair ; astounded). Well, if that 
 don't bate iverything ! Their own son the crack player fer th' 
 Hayvards ! 
 
 Norah. 'Deed, it's little th' owld man cares fer that, or fer 
 shpilin' the day for th' others, more shame to 'im. Poor Miss 
 Nell, that knows the game as well as Misther Bob does himsilf, 
 an's bin out to see him play ivery blissed game this year — sure 
 she's wild at missin' this one ; an' the missis is ivery bit as bad, 
 though she may say less. 
 
 Dolan. But why don't they go, thin ? 
 
 Norah. Don't I tell ye it's th' owld man, him an' his Thanks- 
 giving dinner ? 
 
 Dolan. Is he that fond av atin' ? 
 
 Norah (impatiently). Naw, naw, but he's the shtiff-necked 
 kind that'll alwiz have iverything jist the same way he iver had 
 it. An' so, bekase he's had a big dinner wid all the family at 
 it ivery Thanksgivin', the divil himsilf c'u'dn't kape him from 
 havin' one this year. 
 
 Dolan (rising). But, sure, he can't kape the son to home ? 
 
6 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 Norah. No, thin, he. can't, an' it's mad enough he is for that 
 same, an' niver a wan o' th' others '11 be let go. He's asked 
 ahl the relations and ordered the biggest kind av a dinner, an' 
 be the same token, I ought be hilpin' wid it now, so till me what 
 'tis ye're afther. 
 
 Dolan {turning towards window"). Oh, it's nothin', nothin', 
 see'n's ye ain't go'n' out — — 
 
 Norah {pulling him back). Lu'k here, Mike Dolan, ye'l! not 
 g'out thot windy till ye've told me what for y'axed me did I 
 know 'bout the futball game, so shpake up. 
 
 Dolan [bashfully, twirling his helmet). Well, ye see, 
 Norah, I — did ye know that they've detailed, to kapeor-dher an 
 Soldier's Field this afthernoon, ahl — h'm — the finest min an th' 
 Cambridge foorce ? 
 
 Norah. Oh-h ! An' you're wan av thim ? 
 
 Dolan {same as before). Well — I — I— they've pit me at the 
 hid av 'm. 
 
 Norah (admiringly). Is-thot-so ? An' you an the foorce 
 only six mont's ! Sure, ye're do'n' foine, Mike. 
 
 Dolan. Middlin'. An' so, ye see, I was t'inkin' thot if a 
 irind av mine was wantin' to shlip in to the game unbeknownst, 
 why, wid me right there, she'd have no throuble at all, at all. 
 
 Norah (eagerly). Is it me ye're manin' ? W'u'd ye git me in ? 
 
 Dolan. Sure, that's jist what I com' fer. 
 
 Norah. An' w'u'd I see — where's that pepper ? (Picking it 
 up.) W'u'd I see ahl the thing thot's told about in here ? 
 
 W'u'd I see — where's this? — oh (Reading slowly .) " Siv- 
 
 'ral facthors com-bine to rinder a Hayvard vic-tho-ry nearly 
 cerrtin in th' onrivilled ix'bishin av futball thot takes place to- 
 day. Her new re-revolver" — no, that's not it — "her new re- 
 volvin' widge " — w'u'd I see thot ? 
 
 Dolan. Ye w'u'd, so ! 
 
 Norah. W'u'dn't that be foine ! (Reading.) " Her new 
 
 revolvin' widge is regar-rded as in-in-vin-invis " Fait' I can't 
 
 till whether thot's " in-vis-ible " or "jn-vin-cible." What do 
 thim words mane ? 
 
 Dolan. They both mane " out av sight." 
 
 Norah (admiringly). See what 'tis to have learrnin' ! (Read- 
 ing.) " And she has in riserve siv'ral other ahlmost aiqually 
 
 sthrong Deland man — mano -" Bad cess to that word, I 
 
 can't make it out. 
 
 Dolan (looking). " Man-over," sure — that's one o' their 
 thricks for thrippin' up th' other fellies. 
 
 Norah. Oh-h ! An' I'd see thot ? 
 
 Dolan. Av coorse. 
 
 Norah. An' — let's see — "Aside from its perfect tame-play, 
 the shupayr'ority av the Hayvard iliven lies not only in its hivvy 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 7 
 
 but active roosh-line, but in its matchliss ag-gra-vation av backs." 
 Fait', an' I guess thot's thrue ! I'm told ivery wan av the fellies 
 has a foine, broad back, that he c'u'd carry a 
 
 Dolail {impatiently). Naw, naw, — "backs" is what they 
 calls some o* the players. 
 
 Norah. Oh-h ! Sure, I might 'a' knowed thot, fer here's 
 their names, " Lee, Andrews, Mar-rtin " — Why, thot's our 
 Misther Bob ! To think av me fergittin' him, an' that afther 
 seeing — where 's thot ? {Turning paper .) Oh, here 'tis — did ye 
 see this, Mike ? " Martin, '96 " — see, there's his picther— " Hay- 
 vard's famous halt-back, is one av the bist-known futball 
 players in the counthry. No opponint can shtand agin him, an' 
 he niver fails to make ground, ayther by shkirtin' th' ind or 
 bookin' the cinthre, whiniver the pigshkin comes his way." 
 Howly saints, will they be afther havin' a pig there ? 
 
 Dolan. Musha, no. Thot's the futball. 
 
 Norah. Is that so ? Will, thin, — " His pe-pe-nom-ial sixty- 
 yard shprints down the gridiron," — sure, what'll they be afther 
 cookin' there ? 
 
 Dolan. Nawthin'. Thot's the fayld ! 
 
 Norah. 'Dade, thin, futball's a foony game ; they cahl ivery- 
 thing something ilse.- Oh, don't I wish I c'u'd go, jist to see 
 what's it's like. W'u'd I see ahl thim fellies in a hape, kickin' 
 an' poundin' aiche other like they are in the picther ? 
 
 Dolan. Ye w'u'd, — ahf'en. 
 
 Norah. Oh, ain't it a tirrible shame I can't go ? 
 
 Dolan. But why — — 
 
 Norah. An' I'd see Misther Bob breaking the noses av ahl 
 thim Pinsylv'ia fellies, — th' oogly blaygards, — w'u'dn't I ? 
 
 Dolan. Ye w'u'd, an' more, too. 
 
 Norah. Hiven be praised, 't'u'd be betther nor a wake ! 
 
 Dolan {coaxingly). Will, now, thin, Norah, why don't ye 
 come along, dinner or no dinner ? Jist till 'em it's yer afther- 
 noon an' ye musht have it, an' let th' owld man 
 
 Norah {scornfully dropping paper carelessly on table). 
 Huh, — it's little I care for him, th' owld omadhaun, but it's 
 diff rent with the missis. But thin {wavering), I niver promust 
 I'd shtay, so I'd not be go'n' back av me word, an* 'tis me afther- 
 noon 
 
 Dolan. Thrue for ye, Norah, show yer shpirit. 
 
 Norah {on the point of yielding). An' sure, Misther Bob 
 
 ought have some one from here to see'm, an' so I guess {Door 
 
 closes in the distance, r., followed by sound of Bob Martin 
 whistling, " Yale Men Say," approaching.) Bejabers, here's 
 Misther Bob himsilf ; git out o' thot windy; quick ! 
 
 [Pushing him towards the window, L. 
 
 Dolan. But, Norah, what time will ye be ready ? 
 
8 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 Norah. I've not sid I'm go'n' yit, an' git along ; he'll find ye. 
 
 [DOLAN disappears through the window. She closes it 
 
 after him, and begins to dust assiduously, as Bob 
 
 Martin enters R. 3 e. 
 
 Bob. Good-morning, Norah. Have they finished breakfast 
 
 yet ? [Picks up paper and carelessly glances it over. 
 
 Norah. No, Misther Bob, they're not quite t'rough. 
 
 [Dolan peers cautiously in window, and she shakes 
 her duster violently at him, Bob's back being turned. 
 Dolan disappears. 
 Bob. Oh, well, I want to speak to Miss Nell before I see the 
 
 others. Can you get her in here— without — er 
 
 [Becomes absorbed in a newspaper item. 
 Norah. 'Dade, yis, Misther Bob, aisy. {Looks out window 
 as she goes towards door.) He's gone ! I wondher will he 
 have sinse enough to come back later. [Exit, L. 3 E. 
 
 Bob {after a moment, tossing aside the paper). Well, they 
 seem to have done the game up there in good shape. I shall 
 hate not having the family there, especially Nell. I've kept out 
 of the way till the governor cooled down, and before I produce 
 these tickets, I'll find out from Nell whether he's just as wrathy 
 because his agreement to let me play this year covers this game. 
 {Taking three tickets from his pocket, and then replacing them.) 
 Guess Norah 's having some trouble getting Nell out. {Listens.) 
 No, here she comes. 
 
 Enter Nell, quickly, l. 3 e. 
 
 Nell. Oh, Bob, isn't it a splendid day for the game ? 
 {Checking herself.) There ! I declared when I got up this 
 morning that I wouldn't speak of the game, I feel so awfully to 
 think I can't go. 
 
 Bob. Then the governor's as bad as ever ! I hoped he'd 
 given in at least enough to let you off, since he's had to let 
 me. 
 
 Nell. Yes, and that's made him ten times more determined 
 to have mamma and me here. No, I've just got to give it up, 
 and I'm not going to talk or think about it at all. 
 
 [Drops despondently on the sofa. 
 
 Bob. It's a shame, Nell, that's a fact. And to think I'd got 
 such good tickets {producing them) for you three. 
 
 Nell {eagerly , springing up). Let's see them. {Seizing them.) 
 Where are they ? " DH, 9, 11 and 13 ! " Oh, Bob, what per- 
 fectly fine seats ! Oh, dear, what did you let me see them for ? 
 Now I feel worse than ever. 
 
 Bob {reaching for the?n). Well, I can get rid of them easily 
 enough. 
 
 Nell {holding them away from him). Nobody shall have 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 9 
 
 those seats if I can't. Yes, I know I'm a dog-in-the-manger, 
 but I'm going to imagine I'm there this afternoon, and I couldn't 
 do it half so well if I knew other people were in those seats. 
 
 Bob. Ah, yes, I see ; you're "not going to think about it at 
 all " — except all the afternoon ! 
 
 Nell. Humph, — now I suppose you think you're funny. 
 
 Bob. Oh, no, — not half as funny as I think you are, nor a 
 quarter as funny as this family dinner craze of father's. I sup- 
 pose it's going to be the same big affair this year as usual ? 
 
 Nell {at first indifferently , then disgustedly). Oh, yes, twelve 
 besides ourselves, and six or eight courses. To think of sitting 
 and eating all this beautiful afternoon when we might be out 
 
 there on the field seeing Oh ! (Turning exasperatedly.) 
 
 It makes me nearly frantic. (She sees the paper on the table 
 where Bob has dropped it, and seizes it eagerly.) Oh, Bob, 
 here's the paper ; have you seen it ? 
 
 [Sitting in arm-chair and beginning to open it. 
 
 Bob. Yes, but you don't want to ; there's nothing in it except 
 the game. 
 
 Nell. Why, but that's just 
 
 Bob. The thing you are not going to think about — until this 
 afternoon. 
 
 Nell. Pshaw, Bob, don't be monotonous. {Looking at paper .) 
 " Prospects of the game," — oh, what does it say ? (Running 
 over the first headlines rapidly.) "Crimson Supporters Con- 
 fident" — they ought to be! "Will Pennsylvania Down Har- 
 vard ? " Nonsense ! — mm — mm — never mind the headlines. 
 Now, then — " Several factors combine to make a Harvard vic- 
 tory nearly certain," — of course ! "In the unrivalled exhibi- 
 tion " — mm — mm — " her new revolving wedge is regarded as 
 invincible, and she has in reserve several other almost equally 
 strong Deland manoeuvres." (To Bob.) Does that mean any- 
 thing more than that double criss-cross trick and 
 
 Bob. Oh, yes ; this must mean the new ones. 
 
 Nell. New ones ? Why, but you never told me about them. 
 
 Bob. Very true, sissy, but I believe I did tell you, when you 
 wanted me to get you in behind the fence to see us practise, that 
 we were sworn to secrecy and that no exception was made even 
 for inquisitive little 
 
 Nell. There, you needn't go on ; I remember you were silly 
 and impertinent, as usual. I prefer the paper. (Reading skim- 
 'mingly.) " Perfect team play — superiority — Harvard Eleven — 
 heavy but active rush-line — matchless aggregation of backs." 
 You conceited thing ! You made me read this because you 
 knew it praised you. 
 
 Bob. Made you read it? Well, if that isn't a girl all over ! 
 If I had wanted to blow my own trumpet, do you think I'd have 
 
IO THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 picked out that place ? No, young woman ; if you want real, 
 solid glory, all wool and a yard wide, just look at this inside 
 page. {Helping her open the paper. 
 
 Nell. Where? Oh, "Sketches of the Players." {Running 
 her eye down page.) Bob Martin ! What a perfectly awful 
 picture of you ! Where did they get such a fearful thing ? 
 
 Bob. From my photograph, of course. 
 
 Nell. Your photograph ? Not that one ? 
 
 \ Crossing to ?nantel and taking up photograph / 
 comparing it with the picture.) 
 
 Bob. Certainly ; don't you perceive the striking resem- 
 blance ? 
 
 Nell. Well, I should think they'd be ashamed to print such 
 wretched things. {Replacing photograph, and looking again 
 at paper.) If the account of you here is anything like the pic- 
 ture, I'll take back what I said about conceit. {Sitting on sofa 
 and reading.) " Martin, '96, Harvard's famous half-back," — 
 h'm — " is one of the best-known football players in the country." 
 {Ironically.) Oh, my ! 
 
 Bob. There, that's the stuff to convince an unappreciative 
 family ! 
 
 Nell. If they didn't know how entirely incorrect news- 
 paper reports always are. I believe you wrote this one 
 yourself. 
 
 Bob. Well, then, of course you don't want to read it, espe- 
 cially as you know you are not going to think 
 
 Nell {exasperated). Oh, Bob Martin, if I don't pay you off! 
 Now hold your tongue till I finish this interesting work of fiction. 
 " No opponent can stand against him, and he never fails to make 
 ground, either by skirting the end or bucking the centre when- 
 ever the pigskin comes his way." {With mock innocence.) 
 Why, Bob, this man couldn't have seen the Princeton game, 
 could he ? 
 
 Bob. Now, look here, my sweet child, allow me to remind 
 you that it is very bad form to twit on facts 
 
 Nell. Especially such awfully sore facts as your performance 
 that day. The newspapers next morning weren't quite as com- 
 plimentary as this. 
 
 Bob {jumping up). Oh, confound it, Nell, can't you let that 
 game alone ? 
 
 Nell. Yes, when you get through with that little joke of 
 yours. Tit for tat, Bobby ! {Returning to the paper.) "His 
 phenomenal sixty-yard sprints down the gridiron have frequently 
 saved the game for Harvard." 
 
 Bob {who has crossed and now sits beside her). Oh, Nell, 
 just see the awful roast on the governor at the end of that ! 
 [Reading.) " Martin's playing deserves especial credit in con- 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. II 
 
 sideration of the serious difficulty against which he had recently 
 struggled. We refer to the narrow-minded and childish 
 opposition to his playing shown in his own family." How's 
 that ? 
 
 Nell. How horridly impertinent ! Just like a newspaper ! 
 But, Bob, doesn't it tell anywhere what the coachers think of the 
 eleven ? 
 
 Bob. I think so, over here. {Turning paper.) I haven't 
 read it myself. [Both become absorbed in reading. After 
 
 a moment. 
 
 Mrs. Martin [outside). Nell ! [They do not hear. 
 
 Mrs. Martin (entering l. 3 e., and going to table without 
 seeing them). Where can Nell be ? Norah called her out so 
 quietly. {Seeing them.) Oh, it was Bob. {In a pleased tone.) 
 Good -morning, dear. {Going back of sofa, between theml) 
 What are you and Nell so absorbed in ? 
 
 Bob {turning). Good-morning, mother. {Drawing her down 
 and kissing her.) I didn't hear you come in, at all. {Looking 
 at her.) Is anything the matter ? You look so fagged. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Oh, no, dear ; nothing. I just didn't sleep very 
 well, that's all. 
 
 Nell {rising). Yes, she was thinking about the game and 
 wishing we could 
 
 Mrs. Martin {to a). There, dear, don't. 
 
 Nell. But, mamma, do see the splendid tickets Bob had got 
 for us ! Isn't it a mean shame that father 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Hush, Nell ; remember how much your father 
 cares for this Thanksgiving gathering. And Bob will come and 
 tell us all about it as soon as it is over. {Anxiously.) You 
 don't think they'll beat you to-day, do you ? 
 
 Bob {reassuringly). No, I don't ; and nobody else does. 
 Why, just look at the morning paper. {Picking it up, rising 
 and bringing it to her.) It says that a Harvard victory is nearly 
 certain. 
 
 Nell {on the other side of her). Yes ; and that new revolving 
 wedge, — you remember ; I told you about it, — it says it's in- 
 vincible. 
 
 Bob. And we've got a lot of other equally strong Deland 
 manoeuvres besides. 
 
 Nell. And their team-play is perfect. 
 
 Bob. And our heavy but active rush-line is superior- 
 Nell. And so is their matchless aggregation of backs, —that's 
 Bob, you know,— and, oh, do see this hideous picture of 
 him, that they took from that photograph ; and they say 
 that no opponent can stand against him ; and then over 
 here 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Nell, Nell, don't go ahead so fast. I can't see 
 
12 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 anything, and I want to read every bit of it. {Drops into chair, 
 C, looking from page to page.) Why, but do see all the space 
 this game occupies ! Why, the leading editorial is actually given 
 up to it ! [Reads intently. 
 
 Bob. Yes, and there is even something in the financial column 
 about the brokers betting on the result. 
 
 Mrs. Martin {absently, still reading). Ye — es. 
 
 Bob {crossing and finally standing with Nell near fire- 
 place). I knew she was interested in the game, but I didn't 
 suppose she cared as much as all that. 
 
 Nell. Of course she does ; why, she's been worrying for the 
 past week to think she shouldn't see you. 
 
 Bob {decidedly). Well, by George, I'm going to ask father to 
 let you both go. He may give in. 
 
 Nell {despondently). No, he won't ; you'll only 
 
 Martin {appearing at l. 3 e.). Sarah, have you seen my 
 paper anywhere ? [Mrs. Martin does not hear. 
 
 Bob {to Nell). Here he is ! 
 
 Martin (moving towards~M.Rs. Martin, without seeing Nell 
 and Bob). Sarah, I asked if you had seen my paper. {She 
 still does not notice. Her position hides the paper from him.) 
 Sarah ! [Louder. 
 
 Mrs. Martin {starting and turning). Oh, Thomas ! Did 
 you speak to me ? 
 
 Martin {with slight emphasis). Yes, my dear, I did. Have 
 you seen my paper ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin (rising and handing it to him). Oh, yes, here 
 it is ! Bob was showing me 
 
 Martin. Bob? {Seeing him for the first time.) Oh, {coldly) 
 good-morning. So you have finally discovered that you have a 
 family living in Cambridge. I believe it is a week since we've 
 seen you, isn't it ? 
 
 Bob. I'm awfully sorry, sir, but secret practice takes so much 
 time. 
 
 Martin. Well, when / was at Harvard I should have 
 been ashamed to neglect my family for the sake of amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 Bob {aside). Amusement ? Well, if he thinks training is 
 
 fun ! {Aloud.) Yes, sir, but football is such a science 
 
 now, and we want to be sure to knock the stuffing out of the 
 Quakers to-day. 
 
 Martin. Have the kindness, sir, to speak the English language. 
 I suppose you mean you want to win from the University of 
 Pennsylvania, for nowadays college men think only of winning, 
 never mind how. 
 
 Bob. Well, sir, we're going to play a clean, square game, and 
 beat them, too. You see if we don't ! 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. I3 
 
 Martin. I, sir ? See ? Do you think I have any interest in 
 the result ? No, sir. 
 
 [Seats himself in arm-chair and puts on his glasses. 
 As he begins to open paper. 
 
 Bob {hesitating). But — but, you see, sir, I had hoped, as 
 mother and Nell would be so disappointed not to see the 
 game 
 
 Nell. Yes, papa, so disappointed. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. It will be an unrivalled exhibition of football, 
 Thomas ! 
 
 Bob. So I hoped you would all come. I have 
 
 Martin. Oh, I see, sir. We don't owe this visit to filial 
 affection after all. You came simply to lure us away to this 
 performance of yours. But your memory is shorter than I should 
 expect, since you have forgotten that our Thanksgiving dinner 
 always occupies most of the afternoon, and this year will be no 
 exception to the rule. I propose to have at least one house in 
 Cambridge where Thanksgiving is celebrated in a proper, re- 
 spectable fashion. 
 
 Bob. But even if you didn't feel like coming yourself, sir, 
 couldn't mother and Nell come ? 
 
 Martin. Oh, certainly — certainly — of course. Your mother 
 and sister can go, if they see fit. {To Mrs. Martin.) How is 
 it, my dear, do you think it would look well for a hostess and 
 her daughter to be absent from her table when she has a dozen 
 invited guests ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin. I had forgotten the dinner for a moment when 
 I spoke, Thomas, my mind was so full of Bob's playing. 
 
 [Sighs slightly, and sits, with her work R. of table. 
 
 Nell. But, papa, perhaps the relations won't all come. You 
 know Uncle James and Aunt Martha can't come. 
 
 Bob. Yes ; they're going to the game. 
 
 Martin {dropping his paper at his R.). They are going to do 
 nothing of the kind, sir. Your Uncle James is not well. 
 
 [Turns and gathers up paper from floor. 
 
 Bob {aside). H'm. He didn't look very sick, half an hour 
 ago, buying tickets of a speculator. 
 
 Martin. And whether they come or not, there are at leastten 
 others who are coming. But I won't discuss this matter any 
 longer ; I am going to have my usual Thanksgiving dinner, and 
 I intend to have present every member of my family over whom 
 I have any control. So now will you have the kindness to let me 
 read my paper in peace ? I do not wish to hear another word 
 about this game. [Prepares to read ; finds spectacles clouded 
 and polishes them, etc. Meanwhile. 
 
 Nell {aside to Bob, with stifled laugh). Bob ! Bob ! 
 
 Bob {aside). What ? 
 
1 4 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 Nell (as before). He doesn't want to hear any more about 
 the game — and he's going to read that paper. \Both collapse. 
 
 Bob (as before). And, O lord, Nell, that about his opposition ! 
 {Second collapse. Bob sits on chair, L. front, and Nell 
 on hassock by him, and they watch their father expect- 
 antly, whenever he turns to his paper. Just as Martin 
 is going to begin reading, enter Norah, R. 3 E., carry- 
 ing several letters. 
 
 Norah (to Mrs. Martin). Please, mum 
 
 Martin (turning). Eh ? What's that ? 
 
 Norah (with some trepidation). Sure it's nothin' but the 
 mail I was bringin* to the missus, sor. (Hands letter to Mrs. 
 Martin. Aside.) Fait' he's tirrible narvous this marnin'. 
 (On her way out, she peers cautiously out of the window, L. ; 
 aside.) I wondher will Mike be around agin. [Exit, L. 3 E. 
 
 Mrs. Martin (handing one letter to Martin). A letter for 
 you from New York ; it's from your brother Fred, isn't it ? The 
 others are to me. {Both open and read letters* 
 
 Bob. Say, Nell ! 
 
 Nell. What ? 
 
 Bob. I'll bet you anything you like that Uncle Fred's family 
 isn't coming. 
 
 Nell. Why not ? 
 
 Bob. Why, Whittemore, don't you know, that's engaged to 
 Grace, is playing left-tackle for Princeton this year, and if they're 
 not all going to the Yale-Princeton game, I miss my guess. 
 
 Martin (who has read his letter with a growing expression 
 of surprise and disgust, and now sits looking at it with a 
 puzzled and annoyed air). My dear, this is a most extraordi- 
 nary thing. Frederick never missed a Thanksgiving gathering 
 before in his life, and yet here he says that he is sorry to find 
 that an appointment made some time ago with that young fellow 
 that Grace is going to marry 
 
 Bob (aside to Nell). There ! 
 
 Martin. Is for to-day, and will require the presence of all 
 three of the family in New York. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. How unfortunate ! 
 
 Martin. I should say it was ! I can't understand how he 
 could make such an engagement without noticing that it came 
 upon this day, of all days. I did think that Frederick, at least, 
 was free from the modern disregard for this fine old anniver- 
 sary ; but if he can't keep it in mind any better than that 
 
 Oh, well, hang it all, let him stay away, if he wants to ; we shall 
 have enough without him, — seven, besides ourselves, makes a 
 good table-full. [Picks up his paper, 
 
 Mrs. Martin. My dear. 
 
 Martin Rooking up j sharply). Well,— what now ? 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 1 5 
 
 Mrs. Martin. My note was from Boston, from Cousin Ellen. 
 
 Martin {impatiently). Well ? They're coming, of course ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Well, no, Thomas ; it seems 
 
 Martin {incredulously). Not coming ? Why, what reason 
 can she have ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin. She writes only a few lines, my dear, and 
 after saying how very sorry they shall be to lose our pleasant 
 family party, she continues, " But we find that to miss the great 
 football game " 
 
 Martin. What ! ! 
 
 Mrs. Martin {more distinctly). " To miss the great foot- 
 ball game would be a serious disappointment to the children." 
 
 Bob ) {together leaning forward). Yes, a great disappoint- 
 
 Nell ) ment. [Martin turns sharply towards them. 
 
 Bob {quickly). To Tommy. 
 
 Nell. And Johnny. 
 
 Martin {to Bob). Don't you know better, sir, than to inter- 
 rupt your mother ? [Bob and Nell watch as before. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. She simply adds that they feel it best to attend 
 the game and so must decline our kind 
 
 Martin. Well, of all pieces of impertinence ! 
 
 'Mrs. Martin {rising). Why, Thomas ! 
 
 Martin. I beg your pardon, my dear, but really such an 
 excuse is enough to make a parson swear. To tell us point- 
 blank that she won't come to our Thanksgiving reunion because 
 she wants her children to see such a brutal sport ! I must say 
 I thought better of your cousin. 
 
 Mrs. Martin {who has crossed back of him to sofa). Why, 
 but, Thomas, people think so differently about Thanksgiving 
 celebrations. 
 
 Martin. I have been made well aware of that, my dear, in 
 my own family. [Turns to pick tip his paper from table. 
 
 Bob {coming forward, while Nell joins Mrs. Martin on 
 sofa). Well, now, father, as nobody is coming to the dinner, 
 why don't you all 
 
 Martin. Nobody, sir ? May I ask whether you regard your 
 Uncle George and my second cousin, Ned Biddle, as nobody, to 
 say nothing of your cousin Randall Thayer. 
 
 Bob. Why, but, father,— Cousin Randall's a Yale man, and 
 he'll be certain to be at the New York game. 
 
 Martin. Game! Game! Really this is getting unbearable. 
 Pray, sir, do you think that every one is as ready as you to 
 sacrifice their family duties for the sake of so-called sport ? 
 Randall Thayer would no more lose our yearly meeting than I 
 would myself. So unless you have a sensible suggestion to offer, 
 I will try again to read my paper. 
 
 [Bob seats himself on arm of sofa j Martin opens paper. 
 
I0 * THE revolving wedge. 
 
 Enter Norah, r. 3 e., with telegram and book to sign. 
 
 Norah. Plase, sor 
 
 Martin {turning sharply). Well, what now ? 
 
 Norah {aside). Howly saints, what ails him the day, at all ? 
 [Aloud.) Sure it's ownly a tiligraph, sor, an' the by says, sor, 
 is there anny answer, sor ? 
 
 [Martin seizes the despatch and opens it; Mrs. Martin 
 beckons Norah to bring the book to her, which she signs. 
 
 Martin. Oh, from Randall. His acceptance, of course. 
 {Reads.) " Sudden business call to New York " — eh ? (Bob 
 and Nell, exchange looks) — " prevents me from dining with you. 
 Deepest regrets. Randall G. Thayer." {Pauses, unable to 
 speak; then turning toward others breaks out.) Well, if I — 
 {Catches Bob's eye and stops short, turning sharply away ; 
 crushes the telegram and jerks it away ; then sits back with 
 some force.) Very well, it Randall Thayer considers a football 
 game of more importance than my invitation to dinner, he may 
 content himself with football games hereafter, that's all. 
 
 [Reaches for his paper. 
 
 Norah {with trepidation). Is — is there anny answer, sor ? 
 
 Martin. No ! ! [Norah goes towards the door, then steps 
 back to let in some one else. 
 
 Norah. Here's Docthor Brown, mum. 
 
 Enter Dr. George Brown, r. 3 e,, and exit Norah ; all rise, 
 
 Nell {rushing to him eagerly). Oh, Uncle George, I'm so 
 glad to see you. [Kisses him. 
 
 Mrs. Martin {cordially). Good-morning, George ; this is 
 kind of so busy a man as you. [Crosses to R. of table. 
 
 Brown. Oh, well, Sally, you don't expect even a doctor to 
 work on a holiday, do you ? Your husband has a day off with 
 his family, and why shouldn't I ? Don't you agree with me, 
 Martin ? [Shaking hands with him. 
 
 Martin. Precisely, doctor. This day ought to be devoted to 
 family gatherings, as it always has been, and, so far as I am 
 concerned, as it always will be. [Emphatically, 
 
 Brown {jocosely). And besides I thought if I came in now I 
 might get get a look at this surprising nephew of mine {slap- 
 ping Bob on the shoulder), the " famous half-back, one of the 
 best-known players in the country, who " — let's see, what's the 
 rest of it ? 
 
 Nell {eagerly). " No opponent can stand against him, and 
 he never fails to make ground " 
 
 Mrs. Martin {eagerly). " Either by skirting the end or 
 bucking the centre." 
 
 Bob {laughing). Be sure not to forget the "phenomenal 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 1 7 
 
 sixty-yard sprints down the gridiron." They're just as im- 
 portant as the rest. {Aside.) Hope they'll quit this before they 
 strike the " childish opposition." 
 
 Martin {aside). Now, what's all this nonsense they're talking ? 
 
 Brown, Well, we couldn't have a better day for the game, 
 could we ? 
 
 Martin. Game ? We ? 
 
 Nell. Oh, Uncle George, we're not going. 
 
 Brown {surprised). Eh ? 
 
 Martin {to Nell ; stiffly). Your uncle probably understands 
 that perfectly, my dear, since he has done us the honor to accept 
 our invitation for dinner to-day. 
 
 Brown. Dinner ? Why, but didn't you mean just a lunch 
 before the game ? 
 
 Martin {more stiffly). Not at all, sir. I should certainly not 
 allow our usual Thanksgiving dinner to be interrupted to witness 
 a mere athletic contest. 
 
 Brown. Oh-h ! {Aside.) Devilish awkward, this ! {Aloud.) 
 I — I'm exceedingly sorry to have misunderstood you, Martin, 
 and so made — er — another engagement. 
 
 Martin {with cold surprise). Another engagement ? 
 
 Brown {nervously; smiling). Ye-yes, I'm afraid so ; I'm so 
 
 driven, you see, — two or three very serious cases and — and 
 
 But you know what a. doctor's life is. 
 
 Martin. Of course, sir, we understand the demands upon a 
 physician's time, but as you said when you came in that you 
 were taking a day off 
 
 Brown {with forced laugh). Oh,- — ha, ha, — in joke, you 
 know. {Aside.) Bless my soul, this is most unpleasant. 
 {Aloud.) So, Sally, I shan't get a taste of your Thanksgiving 
 goodies. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. But, George, can't you come for the first 
 courses ? We'll excuse you after. 
 
 Brown. I'm afraid I'd better not, Sally ; I should have to 
 leave so soon. You see the game begins 
 
 Nell {aside ; pulling his arm). Uncle George ! 
 
 Martin {grimly). Ah — the game ? 
 
 Brown {aside). Damn it, I knew I should put my foot in it. 
 {Aloud.) Er — er — well, yes. You see, I supposed you were all 
 going, so I asked Bob to get me a ticket, too, and I only came 
 to see — er — that is — I mean — {desperately) have you got it, 
 Bob? 
 
 Bob {producing it). Here it is ; but if you want, 1 can get 
 rid 
 
 Brown {seizing it). No, no, — couldn't think of putting you 
 to that trouble. 
 
 Bob. Why, but it wouldn't 
 
 Z 
 
1 8 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 Brown {aside to Bob). Confound it, youngster, hold your 
 tongue. (Nell pulls Bob back and lectures him in dumb- 
 show.) I — I'm very sorry, Martin, that it should happen so, but 
 you see — er 
 
 Martin {very stiffly). I beg, sir, that you will say no more 
 about it. {Pause.) Pray be seated. 
 
 Brown. I — I'm afraid I must be going ; I have so much to do. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Oh, but, George, do stay a little longer, since 
 you're not coming — I mean, we haven't seen you for so long. 
 
 Brown. Well, Sally, perhaps — just a minute. {Aside.) Great 
 Scott, I can't stand much more of this. [All sitj solemn pause. 
 
 Brown {with forced animation). Very fine weather we're 
 having for November, — splendid, Bob, for foot 
 
 Nell {aside, touching him). Uncle George ! 
 
 Martin. I beg your pardon ? 
 
 Brown. I — 1 said "very fine weather." 
 
 Martin. Very. [Uncrosses his legs, and crosses them the 
 
 other way. Another pause. 
 
 Brown {making another effort j jocosely). By the way, Sally, 
 I didn't know but you'd got scarlet fever or smallpox here, when 
 I saw that the house was under surveillance. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. What in the world do you mean, George ? 
 
 Bob | {together, with evide7it anxiety to relieve situation). 
 
 Nell [Yes, what do you mean, Uncle George ? 
 
 Brown. Why, when 1 was coming up the street, a meek-look- 
 ing policeman was hanging around your gate, eyeing the house 
 closely. 
 
 Bob {with evidently assumed interest). A policeman ? 
 
 Nell {laughing nervously). How very funny ! 
 
 [Goes up and looks out R. window. 
 
 Brown. When he saw I was coming here, he strolled away 
 unconcernedly, but ■ 
 
 Nell. Why, there he is now ! 
 
 Bob {looking out other window). Well, I hope he'll know 
 this house next time he sees it. He's staring hard enough. 
 
 Mrs. Martin {who has also risen and is looking out with 
 Nell). Why, so he does ! What can it mean r* {Coming 
 down to Martin ; Bob crosses to Nell.) Oh, Thomas, you 
 don't suppose that the chimney is on fire, do you ? 
 
 Martin {bouncing up and going with h&r to L. window). 
 Nonsense, my dear ; the man is probably searching for some 
 particular number and doesn't know enough to ask. The Cam- 
 bridge police are so stupid. I'll just speak to him. {Opens 
 •window.) Are you looking for any one, my man ? Eh ? I say, 
 are you looking for any one ? 
 
 Bob. He doesn't look as if he knew what he did want. 
 
 Nell. He looks scared. 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 1 9 
 
 Martin. Do keep quiet ; I can't hear what he says. {Through 
 window.) What name did you say ? Nelson? {Thoughtfully.) 
 Nelson ? Nelson ? {To the others.) Do any of you know a 
 man. by the name of Nelson about here ? [All look blank. 
 
 Brown. Never heard of the man. 
 
 Bob {tentatively). There's Nelson that plays left end 
 
 Nell {aside). Bob ! {Aloud, guickly.) Oh, papa, perhaps 
 Norah or Bridget vvpuld know. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Yes, Thomas, no doubt they would. 
 
 Martin. A very good idea. {Speaking out.) Here, my 
 man, — I don't know myself where Mr. Nelson lives, but if you'll 
 go around to the kitchen door, — just around that side, — I think 
 very likely the cook can tell you. {Closing window .) He seems 
 anxious to find out ; he's gone around that corner like a shot. 
 {Starts to come down and meets Brown, who has risen.) Oh, 
 {stiffly) are you going, doctor ? 
 
 Brown. Yes, Martin, I think I must. I have several visits 
 
 to make before I go to the — er — that is- Well, good-bye, all. 
 
 {Aside.) Good lord, it's time I left. [Exit, precipitately , R. 3 E. 
 
 Bob {calling off). Hold on a minute, Uncle George ; I'm 
 going your way. {To the others.) Good bye now, but I'll be in 
 this evening. 
 
 Martin {shortly). Good-bye, sir. [Comes down. 
 
 Nell {first looking to see that Martin does not hear). Oh, 
 Bob, be sure and send us the score the very minute the game's 
 over. 
 
 Mrs. Martin {same business as Nell). Yes, and come as soon 
 as you can to tell us all about it. Good-bye, dear, I shall think 
 of'you every minute this afternoon. 
 
 [Exit Bob, r. 3 e. ; Nell and Mrs. Martin go to windows 
 to watch him off, waving handkerchiefs, etc. ; Martin 
 paces up arid down, front, with manifest irritation. 
 Mrs. Martin comes down after a moment, Nell still 
 watching Bob out of sight.) 
 
 Martin {to Mrs. Martin). My dear, if your brother pre- 
 ferred this — this elevating performance to our family party, I 
 wish he could have had the frankness to say so at once, and not 
 try to put us off with transparent excuses. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. But, Thomas, just now when Cousin Ellen 
 admitted plainly that they were going to the game, you did not 
 like that any better. 
 
 Martin. If you cannot perceive any distinction between the 
 two cases, Mrs. Martin, I think we'd better not discuss the sub- 
 ject any further. {She sits at her work R. of table, he picks up 
 the paper.) Oh, by the way, has any one heard from Philadel- 
 phia, — from Ned Biddle, I mean ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin. No, my dear. 
 
20 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 Martin {with a shade of doubt). We-11, that probably means 
 he's coming. He'd have written his regrets, if he had been taken 
 by this football insanity, as every one else appears to be. But 
 Ned has too much sense for that, which is fortunate, considering 
 that our dinner-party is reduced to ourselves and him. 
 
 [Sits in arm-chair. 
 
 Nell {who has come down). Papa, if Cousin Ned doesn't 
 come, can't we go to the game after all ? See, Bob has brought 
 us tickets, — the very best seats. 
 
 Martin. Extremely thoughtful of him, I'm sure, knowing my 
 feeling on the subject as he does. But there is no doubt that 
 your cousin will come, so 
 
 Nell. But, papa, why can't we take him with us ? You know 
 he's a graduate of U. of P., and I know he'd be delighted. 
 
 Martin. There, Ellen, that is enough. If your Uncle Fred 
 sees fit to make other engagements for his family to-day, and if 
 your Cousin Ellen's family and your Uncle George prefer one 
 football game, and your Cousin Randall another, to dining with 
 us, — very well, that is their affair ; but we shall have our regu- 
 lar Thanksgiving dinner, and shall not attend this game. And 
 furthermore I desire you to say nothing more upon the subject 
 whatever. I have been trying for nearly two hours to read my 
 paper, and I have not seen one word in it yet. 
 
 [Nell hesitates, as if about to speak. 
 
 Mrs. Martin {who has risen and is now going towards door). 
 Come, Nell, I want you to help me with the table. 
 
 [Motions to Nell to be silent j then exit, L. 3 E. 
 
 Nell {aside, going slowly towards door). I hope he'll enjoy 
 his paper. [Exit, L. 3 e. 
 
 Martin {stretching himself in his easy-chair, with a sigh 
 of relief ). Ah-h ! After hearing of nothing but that everlast- 
 ing game all the morning, a sensible newspaper is a comfort. 
 Now, let's see. What's that tremendous scare-head on the first 
 page ? {Reading.) " Prospects of the Great " — oh, bah ! I 
 suppose they must have something in the paper about that idi- 
 otic exhibition, but I shouldn't think they need to give all that 
 space to it. Now just look at the stuff they've got there. {Run- 
 ning through the sentence disgustedly .) " Crimson Supporters 
 Confident — Pennsylvania Down Harvards " — such slang ! 
 " Several Factors " — elegant English ! " Harvard Victory — •. 
 Revolving Wedge " — what sort of a thing is that I should like 
 to know? "Strong Deland Manoeuvres — Perfect Team-Play 
 — Active Rush-Line — Matchless Aggregation of Backs." There, 
 that's enough of that gibberish. Let's have a little common 
 sense. {Opening paper and reading.) "A Close Struggle 
 Predicted." Ah {with a satisfied air , folding paper to this 
 Place), here's something about this next city election. " Opin- 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 21 
 
 ions of the Coachers." Coachers ? Coachers ? What are 
 those ? Oh, probably some new slang phrase for the ward 
 committees. Well, let's see what they've got to say. " Dr. 
 William A. Brooks, the well-known Harvard coach," — that's a 
 very good sign, by the way, the growing interest in politics 
 taken by young Harvard men — " Dr. Brooks gives it as his 
 positive opinion that Harvard to-day will defeat Pennsylvania." 
 Eh ? What's this ? (Glancing down the column.) Why, con- 
 found it, it's that game again ! Wasn't there enough of it on 
 that first page ? Well, I've had all /want of it this morning. 
 (Turning emphatically to another page.) I do wish they 
 wouldn't fill papers with these frightful pictures. What is this 
 article, anyway? "Sketches of the Players." Oh, theatrical 
 news. They cram papers full of it nowadays, but anyway it's 
 a relief from that game. (Reading.) " Below we give por- 
 traits and sketches of all the members of the Harvard and 
 
 Pennsylvania " What!! (Silting up and glaring at the 
 
 paper.) That wretched game again ? Oh, this is intolerable ! 
 They call this thing a newspaper, and — I won't read a word 
 more. (Tosses the paper upon the table, and sits back discon- 
 tentedlyj then suddenly reaches for it again.) Hold on, 
 though ; I must see what the editorials say about the tariff de- 
 bate ; I'm safe there. (Turning paper.) What is the leader 
 about? "The Evolution of Football." Great Heavens! 
 {Jumping up.) Has the whole world gone mad on that sub- 
 ject ? Can't I get away from that game anywhere ? Well, as 
 for this enterprising sheet (beginning to cru?nple it and start- 
 ing up stage), the kitchen stove is (As he has raised the 
 
 paper in his hands to crush it, his eye has fallen on a para- 
 graph and now fixes on it, and he exclaims, with change of 
 tone, coming down.) Eh ? " C, B. & Q. gone up two points ? " 
 (Re-opens and smooths paper.) Well, here's one rational col- 
 umn, at least. (Reads.) " The market was dull and quiet yes- 
 terday"- — just as I supposed, — " the chief interest among the 
 (brokers appearing to be the formation of pools on the result of 
 
 the Harvard-Pen " Damnation ! (Httrling the paper 
 
 from him so that it falls on floor, open, between him and the 
 fireplace j he paces to and fro for a moment in speechless 
 wrath.) Well, I suppose the publishers of that valuable period- 
 ical think they know their business, but I can tell them that 
 they've lost at least one subscriber. (Standing R. of paper and 
 glaring down at it.) As if it weren't bad enough to have those 
 atrocious pictures (indicating page lying uppermost) staring at 
 one from every page (his eyes fix upon a part of the page) one 
 
 must be— er (He gases at the paper with an air of grow - 
 
 ing perplexity.) Now, who is that ? I'm positive I've seen 
 that face somewhere before. (Rapping his forehead.) Now, 
 
22 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 isn't that strange ? Those features are just as familiar to me 
 
 [Looking up abstractedly.) Why can't I place (His eye 
 
 falls upon the photograph of Bob, o?i mantel, and he stops 
 "short.) What ! {Glances back and forth from paper to pho- , 
 tograph j then, picking up paper, rushes to the mantel, and, 
 seizing photograph, compares them j stands looking at picture 
 and paper with disgusted contempt, and then replaces photo- 
 graph!) Well, I think I've proved all I've said of newspaper 
 
 pictures. If a man can't recognize his own son ■ (Looking 
 
 closer.) Oh, the thing is labelled, isn't it ? A very wise precau- 
 tion. (Reading contemptuously .) " Half-back Robert Martin! " 
 and just look at this account ; pretty stuff to be written of a 
 gentleman's son. " Famous half-back — mm — mm — skirting the 
 end — bucking the centre — pigskin — sixty-yard sprints — grid- 
 iron." Ugh ! 1 believe one of the chief things about football 
 that I detest is its ridiculous language. However, there is one 
 comfort about this report, it isn't as personal as they usually 
 are. Is there any more of it ? (-Reading.) " Martin's playing 
 deserves especial credit in consideration of the serious difficulty 
 against which he has recently struggled." (Looking up j sur- 
 prised.) Eh ? What's that ? Serious difficulty ? This is the 
 first I've heard of it. But then it would be just like Bob to keep 
 it to himself; the boy has got grit. I only hope it's not a bad 
 
 injury. I wonder if this tells (Reading.) " We refer to 
 
 the narrow-minded and childish opposition to his playing shown 
 in his own family." (Glares at the paper in speechless wrath 
 
 for a moment ; then gasps.) Why — why — of all outrageous 
 
 (Controlling himself, and beginning viciously to fold the 
 paper.) Well, this was all that was needed to complete my 
 enjoyment of this — this highly respectable journal, so now 
 (starting towards fireplace) I'll see if the fire 
 
 Enter Mrs. Martin, l. 3 e. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Oh, Thomas ! 
 
 Martin (whirling about, paper in hand). Well, my dear, 
 what now ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin. I'm sorry, Thomas, but I'm afraid we really 
 must give up the dinner. 
 
 Martin. I have heard something very much like that, my 
 dear, several times already. I suppose you and your daughter 
 have now determined, in spite of my wishes, to attend this 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Oh, no, no, Thomas, it isn't that, but how can 
 we have a big dinner with no one to wait on table ? 
 
 Martin. Eh ? Why, where's Norah ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin. She has just told me that she is going out this 
 afternoon. 
 
 Martin. What ? [Drops paper. 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 2$ 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Yes, it's her afternoon, you know. I had 
 understood, of course, that she would stay in, but this police- 
 man seems to 
 
 Martin. Policeman ? What policeman ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin. The man, my dear, that said he wanted Mr. 
 Nelson, and that you sent around to the kitchen awhile ago. 
 
 Martin. Eh ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin. That was probably just what he wanted, for he 
 has persuaded her to go with him. 
 
 Martin. Never mind about all that, my dear ; the girl sim- 
 ply can't go — it's absurd. You must insist on her staying. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. But, Thomas, I have said all I can. 
 
 Martin. Very well, then ; I'll settle this business. Send 
 her in to me. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. But, my dear 
 
 Martin. Send — her — in — to — me! (Crossing to r. ; Mrs. 
 Martin starts towards L. 3 e.) And please understand, 
 Sarah, that we shall have our Thanksgiving dinner if I have to 
 wait on table myself! 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Oh-h, very well, Thomas. [Exit, l. 3 e. 
 
 Martin. Everything seems conspiring this morning to drive 
 me nearly distracted. But I'll see if I can't settle one thing to 
 suit me. 
 
 Enter Norah, l. 3 E., in hat, cloak and best dress, prepared 
 to go out. Bnsiness. Martin at her entrance stiffens and 
 stands R., looking at her, as if waiting for her to speak. 
 She composedly plants herself at end of sofa and also waits. 
 
 Martin. Norah, haven't you something to say to me ? 
 
 Norah. Fait', sir, I was towld 'twas you had something to 
 say to me. 
 
 Martin. Norah ! 
 
 Norah. Sor ? 
 
 Martin. You're not going out this afternoon ? 
 
 Norah (coolly). I am, sor. 
 
 Martin. But, Norah, you know perfectly well that we need 
 you to wait on table. 
 
 Norah. I'm very sorry, sor, to be afther puttin' out the mis- 
 sis, but 'tis me afthernoon out. 
 
 Martin. You can take some other afternoon for that, Norah, 
 but to-day you must 
 
 Norah. 'Dade, sor, no other day 'ill do, for it's to-day the 
 game is. 
 
 Martin. The game ? You don't mean 
 
 Norah. I mane the big futball game, sor, that Misther Bob 
 is in. They do be afther saying he'll make thim Pinsylv'ia 
 fellies wish 
 
24 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 Martin [sharply). Norah, I don't want to hear any more of 
 this. You know we are not going to see Mr. Robert play, so 
 there can be no reason for you to. 
 
 Norah {with feeling). 'Dade, thin, sor, I've lived here iver 
 since Misther Bob was that high, an' if his family can do widout 
 see'n' 'm the biggesht afthernoon av his loife, I can't. 
 
 Martin. Greatest afternoon of his life ? Nonsense ! 
 
 Norah. Fait', it may be nonsinse to you, sor, but 'tis not to 
 Misther Bob, poor felly ! It's aisily seen that it's breakin' his 
 heart he is to think that whin iverybody is cheerin' an' yellin' 
 fer him this afthernoon, there'll not be wan o' thim that belongs 
 to'm there. An' p'raps Miss Nell an' the missis don't be going 
 to see him, but {Pausing significantly. 
 
 Martin. But ? But what ? 
 
 Norah. Well, I'm thinkin' nayther of thim thinks it's nonsinse 
 ayther, for it's proud an' fond they are av him. 
 
 Martin. Eh ? Huh ? What do you mean ? 
 
 Norah {pointblank, first marching across to him). I mane, 
 sor, it's a bad day for them to be kep' from seein' Misther Bob 
 by him that ought be 
 
 Martin {a little abashed yet nettled). Look here, Norah, 
 please understand that we are not staying away from this — this 
 game from any lack of regard for Mr. Robert. You appear to 
 forget our Thanksgiving family party. Of course, with that, we 
 can't go to any game. 
 
 Norah {coolly). Thin there's the more raison I sh'u'd, fer 
 I'll be better than nobody. An' so {glancing at clock), as it's 
 
 after twelve, an' I don't want to kape Captin Dolan waitin' 
 
 [Moving slightly towards door. 
 
 Martin. Captain who ? 
 
 Norah. Captain Michael Dolan, sor, av the p'lice foorce, 
 that's takin' me to the game ; an', be the same token, I'm much 
 obliged to ye fer sindin' him 'round so free to me in the kitchen, 
 fer he'd niver 'a' done it widout, he's that bashful. 
 
 Martin {crossing impatiently from her to fireplace). Con- 
 found that man ! 
 
 Norah {starting toward r. 3 e.) It's a pleasant afthernoon 
 I'll be wishing ye, sor. 
 
 Martin {turning sharply). Here ! Where are you going ? 
 
 {Bell rings outside. 
 
 Norah {quickly). The front door-bell, sor. I'll answer it an 
 me way out. Good-afthernoon, sor. [Exit quickly, R. 3 E. 
 
 Martin. But, Norah, I say ! What, she's gone ? Very well, 
 we'll settle this when she returns. If this abominable game has 
 
 got to take the very servants {Paces up and down, stopping 
 
 a little at each break.) I — I wonder if the boy really does feel our 
 not being there. It's very foolish of Sarah and Nell. Oh, they 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 25 
 
 can't care much ! Bother the woman ! Oh, well, we shall have 
 a very pleasant little dinner with Ned Biddle, and they can't 
 help enjoying it. I wonder where Ned is, by the way ; (at fire- 
 place) he surely can't be going to— . — 
 
 Biddle {entering R. 3 E., and coining down). Ah, Tom, the 
 servant told me I should rind you here, so I came right in. 
 
 Martin {who has turned and rushed delightedly toward him). 
 Ned, my dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you. [Shaking hands 
 warmly.) I was thinking of you this moment, hoping you were 
 coming and 
 
 Biddle. Coming ? Indeed I was coming. Nothing short of 
 an earthquake would keep me away from Cambridge to-day. 
 
 Martin. Exactly, exactly ; I felt sure you would look at it in 
 that light. (Aside.) Thank heaven, there's one sensible man 
 in the family. {Aloud.) But sit down — sit down. (Biddle sits 
 in arm-chair.) I'll speak to Sarah and Nell in a moment ; I 
 believe they're busy in the dining-room just now. You see, 
 (embarrassed) — er — well — I — I'm afraid you'll find the dinner 
 this year somewhat of a disappointment, for by (grimly) a — a 
 series of coincidences, none of the relations will be here except you. 
 
 Biddle. Really ? Oh, well, you know, I came to see you, 
 and 
 
 Martin (continuing). And moreover, you'll get your dinner 
 in a most informal style, for our waitress has taken this oppor- 
 tune moment to fail us. (Sits on sofa.) It is most unfortunate 
 and I regret excessively. 
 
 Biddle. Now, my dear Tom, I beg you won't say a word 
 more, for this informality makes it all the easier for me to ask — 
 as I shall have to — to be excused before dessert. 
 
 Martin (surprised). Before dessert ? 
 
 Biddle. Yes, by about quarter of three, that is. You're not 
 going to the football game, of course ? 
 
 Martin (eyeing him suspiciously). No, sir, we are not ! 
 
 Biddle (easily). No, I didn't suppose you would, under the 
 circumstances ; shouldn't want to, myself. But, of course, it 
 works just the other way with me, a graduate of Pennsylvania ; 
 so though I don't care much for the first half, I wouldn't miss 
 that last half for all Wanamaker's store. 
 
 Martin (restraining himself). Do you mean to tell me, 
 Biddle, that you are going to attend this — this infernal game ? 
 
 Biddle (surprised). Why, of course I am ! Who wouldn't, 
 in my place ? 
 
 Martin (perplexed). Who wouldn't ? Why, bless my soul, 
 haven't I just told you that I sha'n't ? 
 
 Biddle. Oh, you, — a Harvard man, — of course, you'd stay 
 away ; that's natural, but 
 
 Martin. Harvard man ? Natural ? What do you mean ? 
 
26 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 Biddle (smiling, knowingly). Oh, come, Tom, don't you sup- 
 pose I can see that you're staying away for the same reason that 
 makes me go ? 
 
 Martin {dryly, though still perplexed). Then I suppose you 
 attend this exhibition from a wish to celebrate Thanksgiving 
 respectably and appropriately, for that is certainly why I stay 
 at home. 
 
 Biddle. Eh ! Oh, {beginning to laugh), ha, ha, I see. 
 Good ! Ha, ha, very good ! " Celebrate Thanksgiving appro- 
 priately." Oh, ho, ho ! 
 
 Martin. That's what I said, but 
 
 Biddle. I say, Tom. Ha, ha ! Our eleven won't leave you 
 Harvard fellows much to be thankful for this afternoon, will 
 they ? Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Martin. Eleven? Harvard? I'm talking about our Thanks- 
 giving dinner. 
 
 Biddle (knowingly). Oh, yes, — ha, ha, — I know, — I know, of 
 course. (Admiringly .) Oh, Tom, you're a sharp one ! What 
 other man would ever have thought of using a Thanksgiving 
 dinner to dodge seeing his college badly beaten. 
 
 Martin (with contemptuous relief). Oh-h ! Dodge seeing 
 my college beaten at football ? Humph ! (His tone and air 
 changing,) Harvard beaten ? (Incredulously.) Why, look 
 here. (Turning and stooping for paper.) Haven't you 
 
 Biddle (jocosely). Haven't I consideration enough not to re- 
 fer to what can't be helped, eh ? Too painful a subject ? Ha, 
 ha ! (Mrs. Martin and Nell enter, l. 3 e. Martin con- 
 tinues to search in paper.) Too much for your ■ 
 
 Mrs. Martin (advancing cordially). Why, Edward, (Biddle 
 rises) I didn't know you had come, till I just heard your voice. 
 (Shaking hands.) Have you been here long ? 
 
 [ Crosses to R. of table. 
 
 Nell (shaking hands coolly). How do you do, Cousin Ned ? 
 (Aside, passing to chair L.) This finishes any slight chance 
 we had for going. [Sits, moodily. 
 
 Mrs. Martin (sitting). Well, what were you having such a 
 good time about when I came in, if I may ask ? 
 
 Biddle (with mock solemnity). 'Sh ! 'sh ! Tom doesn't 
 want anything more said. (Sits.) He thinks it's bad enough 
 to have Harvard beaten. 
 
 Mrs. Martin [ (starting). Harvard beaten ? 
 
 Biddle. I was only assuring him that I appreciated his 
 sagacity in staying away from the game on that account. It is 
 very wise, very wise indeed. 
 
 Martin (who has been searching paper until attracted by 
 Biddle's last two speeches, and, during them, has c-ontrolled 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 2J 
 
 himself with difficulty). But I'm not staying away on that 
 account ! 
 
 Biddle (knowingly). Oh, no.no, — of course not, — I under- 
 stand. It's only, — ha, ha, — a sort of coincidence, you know, that 
 you are staying at home on the day your college is going to 
 lose. 
 
 Martin (jumping up). But, confound it, man, Harvard isn't 
 going to lose. 
 
 Nell (rising). No, indeed ! We're going to win ! 
 
 Mrs. Martin (rising). Why, yes, Edward, we have certainly 
 understood 
 
 Martin. Understood ? We know ! Several factors render 
 a Harvard 
 
 Biddle (who has been gradually growing serious and now 
 breaks in, rising). Look here, Tom, do you mean seriously 
 that you imagine Harvard has the slightest chance of winning 
 to-day ? 
 
 Martin. Imagine ? No, I don't imagine. I know, as every 
 one does, that 
 
 Nell. A Harvard victory is certain. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. In the unrivalled exhibition of football 
 
 Biddle. Why, but how perfectly absurd ! You must know 
 that Pennsylvania is sure to win. 
 
 All the Martins (in varying tones of conte?nptuous incre- 
 dulity). Pennsylvania win ! 
 
 Biddle. Why, certainly. That is admitted everywhere. 
 
 Martin. Admitted nowhere ! Why, (raising paper) all the 
 newspapers state positively 
 
 Biddle. That Pennsylvania will have a walkover. 
 
 Martin. No, sir, (searching through paper) that Harvard 
 can't help winning. Where is that paragraph, Nell ? (He 
 crosses and hands a sheet to Nell and one to Mrs. Martin, 
 and all three search, retaining the papers afterwards for 
 future use. Almost immediately.) Ah, here it is ! There, 
 now, there's the opinion of an intelligent, wide-awake news- 
 paper. " Several factors combine to render a Harvard victory 
 nearly certain to-day." (Seeing Biddle looking incredulous.) 
 It says so here ! 
 
 Mrs. Martin. And, Edward, this editorial begins, " As Har- 
 vard will undoubtedly win the great football game to-day," — 
 " undoubtedly " — it says so here ! 
 
 Nell. And look ! " Dr. William A. Brooks gives it as his 
 positive opinion that Harvard will defeat Pennsylvania ! " It 
 says so here ! 
 
 Biddle. Oh, pshaw ! That's only a Boston paper, sure to 
 back Harvard. Now here (producing paper) is last night's 
 Philadelphia Press, an unprejudiced metropolitan journal, 
 
23 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 and it remarks ; " A number of reasons taken together cause a 
 victory for Pennsylvania to be practically assured to-morrow." 
 
 All the Martins {incredulously). Oh-h ! 
 
 Biddle {without stopping). And the leader begins, " In 
 view of Pennsylvania's coming victory over Harvard," and our 
 coaches simply know we're going to win, — it says so here ! 
 
 Martin. Bah! Mere bluff! Why, everything is in our 
 favor; just look at this — this {searching frantically through 
 paper) — this — well, never mind, — I mean this revolving sledge of 
 ours. 
 
 Nell {apart to Martin with an agonized expression). 
 Wedge, papa, wedge ! 
 
 Martin. As I say, our revolving wedge is invincible. It says 
 so here ! 
 
 Mrs. Martin. To say nothing of the other equally strong 
 Deland manoeuvres. 
 
 Biddle. Pooh ! they don't come up to our flying interference. 
 {Keeping an eye on his paper.) Nothing can stand against 
 that. It says so here ! 
 
 Nell. Why, but, Cousin Ned, our men can go through it like 
 pasteboard. It says so here ! 
 
 Biddle. My dear Nell, that is an impossibility. The Harvard 
 eleven is notoriously weak. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. ) ,T, fl v , 
 
 Nell. \ Weak ! 
 
 Martin. Weak ? You're dreaming ! Why, even aside from 
 our perfect horse-play 
 
 Nell (as before). Team-play, papa ! 
 
 Martin. Yes, yes, I know (to Biddle), just look at our — 
 our — (aside, again s ear chmg paper) where the devil has that 
 thing got to ? (Aloud, quoting from memory.) Our — er — our 
 matchless aggregation of heavy rushlines. (Nell tries, with 
 same look, to speak' as before, but he keeps on unheeding.) 
 They will be quite strong enough to attend to your men, while 
 our sides,- — no, fronts, — no — Nell, what Is it they call Bob ? 
 
 Nell (resignedly). Back, papa. 
 
 Biddle (Interrupting In great surprise). Bob ? Why, do 
 you mean — is the Martin that plays half-back for Harvard in 
 such rocky — I mean, is that your Bob ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin (pleased). Why, yes, Edward, didn't you 
 know ? Our Bob is Harvard's famous half-back. 
 
 Biddle. Oh-h, — I — I — didn't understand before ; I — 1 beg 
 your pardon, I'm sure. Of course, this explains 
 
 Martin (angrily suspicious). Explains ? What explains ? 
 
 Biddle (In embarrassed haste). Oh, oh, — there, Tom, I — 
 we'll say no more about it, for I sympathize 
 
 Martin. Sympathize ? Sympathize with what ? 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 20. 
 
 Biddle. Why, with your-feelings as a father ! 
 
 Martin {thoroughly perplexed). What ! 
 
 Biddle. Oh, nothing — never mind. Let's talk of 
 
 Martin. No, but what do you mean ? 
 
 Biddle. Well, well, — I only meant, of course, the spectacle 
 would be too painful for you, and I really apologize. 
 
 Martin. Look here, Ned Biddle, just stop talking conun- 
 drums if you can. What spectacle would be painful for me, 
 and what have my feelings as a father got to do ? 
 
 Biddle {interrupting j having been looking sharply at Mar- 
 tin). Tom Martin, do you mean you actually don't know 
 about your son ? 
 
 Martin. Know about him ? Why, of course I do. My son, 
 I'd have you know, is one of the best-known football players in 
 the country. 
 
 Biddle. Well, yes, — best known. I guess he is that. 
 
 S^lt*??, s [ {together). \ ™**>. E * w » rd - what 
 
 Nell {sharply) ) ( Cousin Ned, do you mean ■ 
 
 Martin (furious). Do you dare, sir, to insinuate that my 
 son 
 
 Biddle. Dare, sir ? I think it's not a question of daring. I 
 have been forced to say what I did not wish to say. Do you 
 mean you haven't seen what the papers say ? 
 
 Martin {aside, resignedly). Seen the papers ? 
 
 Biddle. About your son's poor playing ? 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Poor playing ? Why, Edward, you're 
 
 Nell. Cousin Ned, Bob is the best player 
 
 Martin {with disgusted contempt). Oh, here, Sarah — Nell. 
 Don't talk to him ! He doesn't know 
 
 Biddle. I don't know ? Then the newspapers don't know, 
 either, for they say 
 
 Nell MartilX I {together). That Bob is a first-rate player ! 
 
 Biddle. No, no, nothing of the sort ! Why, the Press says of 
 
 him {Interrupting himself , as he drops into arm-chair and 
 
 opens paper.) Let me remind you that you have forced me to 
 read this ! {Reading.) " That he does not understand even 
 the rudiments of the game, was shown by his miserable flukes 
 in Harvard's recent contest with Princeton." 
 
 Nell {indignantly). That's not true ! Bob played a splendid 
 game against Princeton, until they slugged him when the umpire 
 wasn't looking, so that at last he could hardly stand ! 
 
 Biddle. Yes, yes, that's what they always say; but hear this : 
 " He hasn't the smallest idea of tackling, and the merest be- 
 ginner at the game can down him in his tracks." 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Why, but, Edward, no opponent can stand 
 against him. It says so here ! 
 
$0 THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 Martin (who has been trying to break in during the last few 
 speeches). And he never fails, sir, to make ground by skirting 
 the centre or 
 
 Nell {as at his former mistakes). Papa, ends ! 
 
 Martin. Yes, yes, I know, — or by bucking the ends (Nell 
 tries unsuccessfully to speak), whenever the griddle 
 
 Nell {despairingly). Papa ! 
 
 Martin. Yes, Nell, I meant gridiron, comes his way, and 
 
 Biddle. Yes, yes, but besides that {Reading.) " He 
 
 can't run a little bit, and only his social pull keeps him on the 
 eleven., for he is constantly losing games for Harvard " 
 
 Martin. No such thing ! His phenomenal sixty-yard 
 sprouts- 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Thomas ! 
 
 Martin (without stopping). Yes, yes, my dear, down the 
 pigskin, — I remember it all, — {by-play from Nell and Mrs. 
 Martin) have frequently saved the game. 
 
 Biddle. Oh, listen — listen ! " In short, he is such a perfect 
 stick at football that his performances will be the chief obstacle 
 to Harvard's success to-morrow." 
 
 All the Martins (indignantly). Oh-h ! 
 
 Biddle (without stopping). " And we are not surprised 
 to learn that his family is too ashamed of him to witness the 
 game." 
 
 Martin (bursting out). What ! 
 
 Biddle (more distinctly). " Too ashamed of him to witness 
 the game." It says so. 
 
 Nell. You see, papa ! ) {T th , 
 
 Mrs. Martin. There, Thomas ! [ v & '> 
 
 Martin (choked with rage). Why, the infernal lying 
 
 Biddle (with a meaning look). Eh ? 
 
 Martin (turning sharply to Nell). Nell, where are those 
 tickets ? 
 
 Nell (producing them quickly). Here, papa ! 
 
 Mrs. Martin. Why, Thomas 
 
 Martin. Sarah, you and Nell put on your things at once ! 
 We've only just time to. get to the field ! 
 
 Nell ) /. ,; • r Jr * ( We will, papa! 
 
 Mrs. Martin \ C"S^r joyfully), j Y ^ Tho ^ , 
 
 [All the Martins start toward r. 3 e. 
 
 Biddle (rising and stepping quickly to L., watching them). 
 But, Martin, your Thanksgiving dinner ! 
 
 Mrs. Martin ) (taken aback, all three turning sharply). 
 
 Nell j Oh— the dinner ! 
 
 Martin. What do you suppose I care for a Thanksgiving 
 dinner when I'm going to see my son and the rest of the Har- 
 vard eleven beat, — no — licked, — no, — what was it the boy said ? 
 
THE REVOLVING WEDGE. 
 
 31 
 
 (Rushing down to Biddle.) Knock the everlasting stuffing 
 out of the Quakers ! Thanksgiving dinner be hanged, sir ! 
 [Tableau. Mrs. Martin and Nell, r. back ; Martin, c. 
 fronts Biddle, l. front. 
 
 QUICK CURTAIN. 
 
A NEW DRAMA. 
 
 A TURN IN THE MARKET. 
 
 A DRAMA IN ONE ACT. 
 By CHARLES WALCOT RUSSELL. 
 
 Four male and one female chaVacters. Scene, a broker's office ; costumes, 
 modern. This piece relates a dramatic episode of great emotional strength and 
 interest, with much vigor and effectiveness. Bob Price, the tramp, whose 
 inopportune return into the life of John Drew threatens his happiness, is a part 
 of some humorous and great dramatic opportunity. This piece can be worked 
 up to a very strong climax. 
 
 Price .... 15 cents. 
 
 NEW DARKEY PLAYS. 
 
 THE FAITH CURE. 
 
 A FARCE IN ONE ACT. 
 Arranged by GEO. H. COES. 
 
 Five male and two female characters. Scenery and costumes easy. Plays 
 half an hour. Characters, Irishman and Irishwoman and two Negroes. Other 
 characters may be played black face or white, as desired. A very funny piece j 
 can be worked up indefinitely. 
 
 Price . . . . 15 cents. 
 
 SCENES IN A SANCTUn. 
 
 An Ethiopian Farce in One Act. 
 By GEO. H. COES. 
 
 Six male characters. Scene, a plain interior. This lively sketch illustrates 
 the perils and pleasures of an editor's life, and is full of action and character. 
 Very funny and full of opportunities for local *• gags." Plays twenty minutes. 
 
 Price .... 15 cents. 
 
A NEW DRAMA. 
 
 THE VAGABONDS. 
 
 An Original Drama in Three Acts. 
 By CHARLES TOWNSEND. 
 
 Author of "Rio Grande," "The Spy of Gettysburg," "The Mountain 
 Waif," "Finnigan's Fortune," etc. 
 
 Eight male and four female characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, easy 
 interiors and exteriors. A capital d tarn a in Townsend's well-known and popular 
 style, full of good comedy scenes and strong climaxes. Bascom, the tramp, is an 
 admirable part, full of opportunities, both humorous and dramatic. Barney 
 (Irish), Chub (Yankee), and Ephraim (Negro), are capital low comedy characters. 
 Jonas Dilworthy (heavy), Leonard (leading), and Major Tomps (character), are 
 very strong, and Peggy (soubrette), Mother Carew (character), Charlotte 
 (comedy), and Alice (juvenile), form a well-balanced quartette of ladies. An 
 excellent play for amateurs, brisk in action, full of incident, bright in dialogue, 
 and essentially popular in character. 
 
 Price .... 25 cents. 
 
 SYNOPSIS. 
 
 ACT I. — In old Virginia. Ireland and Africa. " Guess they hain't so full 
 o' fight es they wuz." Chub and Peggy. Barney gets jealous. A " scrimmage " 
 on tap. Peggy's orders. A truce. A jolly old maid. The mystery of a life. 
 Bascom the vagabond. " I'm a hoodoo ! If I look in a pan of milk it turns 
 sour!" A vision of the past. Dilworthy the hypocrite. "The best advice for 
 a starving man is a good, square meal." The reputed witch. The threat. 
 Bascom to the rescue. The recognition. The price of silence. Planning a 
 murder. The unseen witness. 
 
 ACT II. — Scene 1. Parlor at Dilworthy's. Father and son. A pair of 
 rascals. " Don't you preach morality." The agreement. Chub and Peggy. 
 A lovers' quarrel. "Don't want your candy." The story of a crime. The forced 
 confession. Scene 2. A road in the forest. A lost "coon." "I isn't scared." 
 Some fun. Mirth and music. Alice and Leonard. Her decision. The promise. 
 Scene 3. Bascom's home. A conference. Barney learns a secret. A presenti- 
 ment of evil. A threatened quarrel. "Why don't you throw me out? I'm 
 used to it." The plotters. Dilworthy's demand. A murderous scoundrel. 
 A rifle shot. The accusation. " Before another night the truth shall be 
 known ! " 
 
 ACT III. — Library at the Major's. Peggy and Ephraim compare notes. 
 " I'd like jes' one slash at dat ole Dilworthy ! " The Major explains. The exam- 
 ination. Taking testimony. " Stick to your story." Charlotte makes some 
 remarks. "Hurrah for Ireland!" The clodhopper. Barney wants to fight. 
 Ephraim and the "ghost." An unexpected arrival. " Dar's de ghost!" 
 Cornered at last. A game of bluff. Mother Carew; A startling denouement. 
 Vindication. Justice asserts herself. Reunited at last. Finale. 
 
 RED OR WHITE? 
 
 A. Decision in One Act. 
 By WILLIAfi MAYNADIER BROWNE. 
 
 Two male and two female characters. Scene, an easy interior ; costumes, 
 modern. This is an admirable little piece for parlor or stage, appealing to the 
 best taste. Its interest is serious, but it is brightly written, and its story is very 
 dramatic. Originally produced by The Footlight Club, Jamaica Plain, Mass. 
 
 Price .... 15 cents. 
 
50HE 5UCCESSFUL RECITATIONS 
 
 IN 
 
 THE READING CLUB, 
 
 (CONTINUED.) 
 
 The Clown's Baby, story of the circus in the West among the 
 miners. The Cruise of the Monitor, patriotic and full of life. 
 Intensely Utter, effects of culture on an aesthetic daughter, and 
 a practical papa. 
 
 A Glimpse of Death, story of the tramp who stowed himself in 
 the lumber car, and his narrow escape from a frightful death. 
 Virginny, a story of the Tennessee Mountains. Kelly's Ferry, 
 showing the human nature and brotherly feeling between the two 
 opposing armies of the rebellion. 
 
 Nancy Sikes, the thrilling description of the death of Nancy, 
 from Dicken's Oliver Twist. Asleep at The Switch, too well 
 known to need description. Money Musk, the late Nella Brown's 
 famous recitation. 
 
 The Railroad Crossing, Yankee dialect piece, very funny. The 
 Old Maid's Prayer and the Sequel to same, very humorous. 
 Middlerib's Rheumatic Cure, one of Mr. Burdett's well-known 
 successes. 
 
 The Nine Suitors, a very popular selection for a lady. Vir- 
 ginia, Macaulay's famous poem. The Ballad of Cassandra 
 Brown, how the suitor was driven away by too much elocution. 
 
 In the Catacombs, how Yankee brag comes out ahead. Indig- 
 nant Nellie, a child selection made famous by Nella Brown Pond. 
 Lasca, dramatic and effective. 
 
 Aunt Sophronia Tabor at the Opera, the best character 
 selection published for a lady. Cicely and The Bears, well 
 known and amusing. Lessons in Cookery, humorous recitation 
 for a lady. 
 
 The Light from over the Range, a pathetic selection in 
 Western dialect. Counting Eggs, how the old darkey manages to 
 give short count. Bay Billy, one of Frank Gassaway's famous 
 war poems. 
 
 The Uncle, the well-known dramatic poem recited by Mr. Henry 
 Irving. How Ruby Played, the Yankee's description of Ruben- 
 stein's playing. Father Phil's Collection, how the old priest 
 collects funds for repairs on his church. 
 
 A Yachtsman's Speech, written for and recited by Sol Smith 
 Russell. A Race for Life, the dramatic story of a race with 
 the tide in the Bay of Fundy. The Women of Mumble's 
 Head, Clement Scott's famous poem. 
 
 Casey at the Bat, made popular by DeWolf Hopper. The 
 Fireman, Conrad's famous dramatic poem. Ride of Reuben 
 Bright, a famous ride to save the Old Flag. 
 
TWO NEW COflEDIES. 
 
 A Bachelor's Divorce. 
 
 A. Comedy in Three Acts. 
 By B. C. LEASE. 
 
 Three male and four female characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two 
 interiors, very easy. This is a hurtling piece, full of action and "go," and well 
 adapted to the needs of a small company and a small stage, owing to its compact 
 cast, ils freedom from supernumerary characters and its simple scenic require- 
 ments. Samuel Singleton is a confirmed old bachelor, and the story of his 
 "dvorce"is full of mishaps and surprises, hut ends happily for everybody. 
 Plays two hours and a half. 
 
 Price . . . 15 cents. 
 
 SYNOPSIS. 
 
 Act I. — The old bachelor's birthday. A designing landlady. A letter 
 and a lady. Singleton in a fix. A family row. Cloudy weather. Ned and 
 Nelly. The wild-cat. Desperate remedies, lioly to the rescue. "My cousin 
 from New York." Engaged. 
 
 Act II. The young physician. Entertaining a "cousin." A little lunch. 
 A surprise and a confession. Storms ahead. Koly and Ked. A lover's quarrel. 
 The right man but the wrong nephew. The flowing bowl. Settled bad weather. 
 A new complication. Married. 
 
 Act III. A sick doctor. An undeceived mamma. Heavy rain and low 
 barometer. Singlet »n at a discount. An insane uncle. The rivals. A chal- 
 lenge. A duel with paper-cutters. Clearing weather. A compromise. A pair 
 of heroes. Explanations. A suu-burst. Hot and dry. Divorced. 
 
 A Class=Day Conspiracy. 
 
 A. COMEDY IN ONE ACT. 
 By ALGERNON TASSIN. 
 
 Two male and three female characters. Costumes, modern ; scene, a 
 college-room. A very pretty, clever and ingenious Utile play, teliing a familiar 
 incident of Harvard's "Class-Day " in anew and original way. Clever in dia- 
 logue, brisk in action, entertaining in plot, and perfectly sane and wholesome in 
 sentiment. An admirable piece for amateurs. 
 
 Price . ... 15 cents. 
 
^^ . NEW OPE RETTAS FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 Odd Operas for Eventide. 
 
 A Collection of Short and Simple Musical Entertainments for Children. 
 
 By Mrs. C. N. BORDMAN, 
 
 Author of "The Kingdom of Mother Goose," "Motion Songs for the School- 
 room," "The Temperance Clarion," etc. 
 
 Complete with all the music and full instructions for performance. This collection is 
 rongly r< 
 ticabfiity. 
 
 strongly recommended for its simplicity, originality of idea, tunefulness and perfect prac- 
 " flity. 
 
 COUTE1TTS. 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE BROWNIES. A Musical Sketch for Chil 
 dren. For any number of boys. 
 
 JIMMY CROW. A Recitation for a Little Girl. 
 
 MARKET DAY. An Operetta for Young People. Seven speaking parts 
 and chorus. 
 
 QUEEN FLORA'S DAY DREAM. An Operetta for Children. Six 
 speaking parts and chorus. 
 
 THE BOATING PARTY. A Musical Sketch for Little Children. Thirty 
 boys and girls. 
 
 SIX LITTLE GRANDMAS. A Musical Pantomime for very Little 
 Children. Six very little girls. 
 
 A HOUSE IN THE MOON. A Recitation for a Little Girl. 
 
 ROBIN'S SPECIFIC; 
 
 OR, THE CHANGES OF A NIGHT. 
 
 A. Christmas Operetta ik One Act. 
 
 Words by Music by 
 
 AMELIA SANFORD. ! ADAM CIEBEL. 
 
 For one adult and nine children from eight to sixteen years old, with eight very little hoys 
 and twelve little girls for Chorus. Three changes of scene, very easily arranged, costumes 
 varied but simple and readily procured. Very effective and easily gotten up. 
 
 Catalogues describing the above and other popular entertainments sent free on application U 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 
 
 | THEATRICAL PUBLISHERS, 
 
 ^No. 23 Winter Street. = BOSTON, MAS*. 
 
B 
 
 AKBR'S SELECTED LIST 
 OF JUVENILE OPERETX 
 
 Designed especially for Church, School, and I 
 izations. Complete, with all the music i 
 performance. j 
 
 Grandpa's Birthday. In One Act. Word* 
 music by C. A. White. For one adult (male~ofl 
 children; chorus, if desired. Prig 
 
 Jimmy, The Newsboy. In One Act. Written and composed by 
 W. C. Parker. For one adult (male), and one boy. No chorus. 
 Very easy and tuneful. Price, 25 Cents. 
 
 The Four-leafed Clover. In Three Acts. By Mary B. Hornk. 
 
 For children of from six to fifteen years. Seven boys, seven girls, 
 and chorus. Very picturesque. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 Beans and Buttons. In One Act. Words by Wm. H. Lepere; 
 music by Alfred G. Robyn. Two male and two female characters; 
 no chorus. Very comical and easy. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 Hunt the Thimble. In One Act. Words by A. G. Lewis; music by 
 Leo R. Lewis. Two male, two female characters and small chorus. 
 Simple and pretty. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 Red Riding Hood's Rescue. In Four Scenes. Words by J. E. 
 Estabrook; music by J. Astor Broad. Three male, four female 
 characters and chorus. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 Golden Hair and the Three Bears. In Five Scenes. By J. Astor 
 Broad. Three adults (2 m., 1 f.), eight children and chorus. Music 
 is easy, graceful, and pleasing. Price, 75 Cents. 
 
 R. E. Porter ; or, The Interviewer and the Fairies. In Three 
 Acts. Words by A. G. Lewis; music by Leo R. Lewis. Six male, 
 six female characters, and chorus. Very picturesque and pretty. 
 
 Price, 75 Cents. 
 
 Gyp, Junior. In Two Acts. Words bv Eare Marble; music by 
 D. F. Hodges. Two males, one female (adult), three children and 
 chorus. Very successful and easily produced. Price, 75 Cents. 
 
 Alvin Gray ; or, The Sailor's Return. In Three Acts. Written 
 and composed by C. A. White. Ten characters, including chorus; 
 can be made more effective by employing a larger number. 
 
 Price, 75 Cents. 
 
 Catalogues describing the above and other popular entertain- 
 ments sent free on application to 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 
 
 THEATRICAL PUBLISHERS, 
 
 No. 23 Winter Street, - Boston, Mass.