jPS 3515 E3 E5 1918 I Copy 1 VING SJ\a f>L/vVS NO. 4 iiSAwmiii najntmso fGMONT AP.tNS NtW YOHIC THE FLYING STAG PLAYS For The Little Theatre No. 4 ENTER THE HERO Copyright, 191 6, by THERESA HELBURN COPYRIGHT, 1 9 18, BY EGMONT ARENS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED The professional and amateur stage rights on this play are strictly reserved by the author. Ap- plications for permission to produce the play should be made to Egmont Arens, 17 West 8th St., New York City. While it is hoped that the publication of the plays in this series will encourage their produc- tion in all parts of the country, it is held that the interests of the New Theater movement can best be served by vigorous protection of the play- wrights, without whom the movement cannot go forward. Therefore, any infringements of the author's rights will be punished by the penalties imposed under the United States Revised Statutes, Title 60, Chapter 3, The Publisher. ENTER THE HERO A Comedy in One Act by Theresa Helburn ^ ^ as played by the St. Francis Players. Published by EGMONT ARENS at the Washington Square Bookshop ^ New York 1918 ENTER THE HERO was first produced in San Francisco by the St. Francis Little Theatre Players, on January i6th, 1918, with the following cast: Ruth Carey - - . - Ruth Hammond Anne Carey . . . Helene Sullivan Harold Lawson - - - Arthur Maitland Mrs. Carey - - - . . Julia Deane 24 ibid 0)CI.D 4 9842 ENTER THE HERO The scene presents an upstairs sitting room in a comfortable house in a small city. The wall on the spectator's left is broken by a fireplace, and beyond that a door leading into the hall. At the back of the stage is a deep bay 'uiindoJo, no, you can't do that! You must help me. You've hurt me to the very soul. You mustn't humiliate me before the world. HAROLD I'll do anything I can, Aliss Carey. ANNE Anne! HAROLD Anne, I mean. But how? ANNE [After a moment's thought, as if the idea had just come to her.] You must stay here. You must pretend for a few days — for a week at most, that we're en- gaged. HAROLD I can't do that you know. Really, I can't. ANNE [Going to him.] Why not? Only a little while. Then you'll go away to India. We'll find it's been a mis- take. I'll break it off, — it will only be a pre- tence, of course, but at least no one will know what a fool I've been. HAROLD [After a moment's hesitation.] Miss Carey — Anne, I mean, I'll do anything I can, but not that! A man can't do that. You see, there's a girl, an English girl, down in Brazil, I— THERESA HELBURN 19 ANNE Oh, a girll Another! Well, after all, what does that matter? Brazil is a long way off. She need never know. HAROLD She might hear. You can't keep things like this hid. No. I wouldn't risk that. You'd better let me clear out before your family gets home. No one need ever know I've been here. {Again he makes a move ioivard the door. Anne stands motionless.] ANNE You can't go. You can't. It's more serious than you imagine. HAROLD Serious? What do you mean? ANNE Come here. [He obeys. She sits in a big chair, hut avoids looking at him. There is a delicate imitation of a tragic actress in the way she tells her story.] I wonder if I can make you understand? It means so much to me that you should — so much! Harold, you know how dull life is here in this little town. You were glad enough to get away after a year of it, weren't you? Well, it's worse for a girl, with nothing to do but sit at home — and dream — of you. Yes, that's what I did, until, at last, when I couldn't stand it any longer, I wrote you. HAROLD [Quickly.] I never got the letter, Miss Carey. Honor bright, I didn't. 20 ENTER THE HERO ANNE Perhaps not, but you answered it. HAROLD Answered it? What are you talking about? ANNE Would you like to see your answer? [S/ie goes to the desk, takes a packet of let. ters out of a drawer, selects one, and hands it to him.] Here it is — your answer. You see it's post- marked Rio Janeiro. HAROLD [Taking it ivo?ideringly.] This does look like my writing. [Reads.] "Anne, my darling — " I say, what does this mean? ANNE Go on. HAROLD [Reading.] "I have your wonderful letter. It came to me like rain in the desert. Can it be true, Anne, that you do care? I ask myself a hundred times what I have done to deserve this. A young girl seems to me as exquisite and frail as a flower — " Great Scott! You don't think / could have written such stuff! What in the world! ANNE [Handing over another letter.] Here's the next letter you wrote me, from the mine. It's a beautiful one. Read it. THERESA HELBURN 21 HAROLD [Tears it open angrily, and reads.] "I have been out in the night under the stars. Oh, that you were here, my beloved! It is easy to stand the dust and the turmoil of the mine without you, but beauty that I cannot share with you hurts me like a pain — " [He throws the letter on the table and turns toward her, speechless.] ANNE [Inexorably.] Yes, that's an exceptionally beautiful one. But there are more — lots more. Would you like to see them? HAROLD But I tell you, I never wrote them. These aren't my letters. ANNE Whose are they, then? HAROLD [JValking up and doivn furiously.] God knows! This is some outrageous trick. You've been duped, you poor child. But we'll get to the bottom of this. Just leave it to me. I'll get detectives. I'll find out who's back of it! I'll— [He comes face to face with her and finds her looking quietly at him with something akin to critical interest.] HAROLD Good Lord. What's the matter with me! You don't believe those letters. You couldn't think I wrote them, or you wouldn't have met 22 ENTER THE HERO me as you did, quite naturally, as an old friend. You understand/ For heaven's sake, make it clear to me I ANNE I am trying to ... I told you there had to be . . . answers ... I was afraid to send my letters to you, but there had to be answers. [Harold stares at fier.] So I wrote them myself. HAROLD You wrote them yourself? ! ? ANNE Yes. HAROLD These? These very letters? ANNE Yes. I had to. HAROLD Good God! [He gazes at the litter of letters on the desk in stupefied silence.] But the handwriting ANNE Oh, that was easy. I had the letter you wrote to Mother. HAROLD And you learned to imitate my handwriting? ANNE [Politely.] It was very good writing. THERESA HELBURN 23 HAROLD [In sudden apprehension.] No one has seen these things, — have they? ANNE They arrived by mail. HAROLD You mean people saw the envelopes. Yes. that's bad enough . , . But you haven't shown them to anyone? [At her silence he turns furiously upon her.] Have you? . . . Have you? ANNE [Who enjoys her ansiver and its effect upon him.] Only parts — never a whole letter. But it was such a pleasure to be able to talk about you to someone. My only pleasure. HAROLD Good heavens! You told people I wrote these letters? That we were engaged? ANNE I didn't mean to, Harold. Really, I didn't. But I couldn't keep it dark. There were your telegrams. HAROLD My telegrams? ! ? [She goes to desk and produces a bundle of despatches.] ANNE [Brazen in her sincerity.] You used to wire me every time you changed 24 ENTER THE HERO your address. You were very thoughtful, Harold. But, of course, I couldn't keep those secret like your letters. HAROLD [Standing helplessly, with the telegrams loose in his fingers.] My telegrams! Good Lord! [He opens one and reads.] "Leaving Rio for fortnight of inspection in interior. Address care Senor Miguel — " My telegrams! [He flings the packet violently on the table, thereby almost upsetting a boivl of roses ivhich he hastens to preser've.] ANNE And then there were your flowers. I see you are admiring them. [Harold •withdraius as if the floivers were charged with electricity.] HAROLD What flowers? ANNE These — these — all of them. You sent me flow- ers every week while you were gone. HAROLD [Overcome.] Good God! [He has now reached the apex of his amaze- ment and becomes sardonic] ANNE Yes. You were extravagant with flowers, Harold. Of course I love them, but I had to scold you about spending so much money. THERESA HELBURN 25 HAROLD spending so much money? And what did I say when you scolded me? ANNE [Taken aback only for a moment by his changed attitude.^ You sent me a bigger bunch than ever before — and — wait a minute — here's the card you put in it. [She goes to the same fatal desk and pro- duces a package of florist's cards.] HAROLD Are all those my cards too ? ANNE Yes. HAROLD [Laughing a bit ivildly.] I'm afraid I ivas a bit extravagant 1 ANNE Here's the one! You wrote: "H all that I have, and all that I am, is too little to lay be- fore you, how can these poor flowers be much?" HAROLD I wrote that? Very pretty — very. I'd forgot- ten I had any such knack at sentiments, ANNE And then, right away, you sent me the ring. HAROLD [Jumps, startled out of his sardonic pose.] Ringl What ring? 26 ENTER THE HERO ANNE My engagement ring. You really were very extravagant that time, Harold. HAROLD [Looking fearfully at her hands.] But I don't see . . . You're not wearing . . ? ANNE Not there — here, next to my heart. [She takes out a ring ivhich hangs on a chain inside her frock, and presses it to her lips. Looking at him deeply.] I adore sapphires, Harold. [A new fear comes into Harold's eyes. He begins to humor her.] HAROLD Yes. Yes. Of course. Everyone likes sap- phires, Anne. It is a beauty. Yes. [He comes very close to her, and speaks very gently, as if to a child.] You haven't shown your ring to anyone, have you, Anne? ANNE Only to a few people — One or two. HAROLD A few people! Good heavens! [Then he controls himself, takes her hands gently in his, and continues speaking, as if to a child.] Sit down, Anne; we must talk this over a little, — very quietly, you understand, very quietly. Now to begin with, when did you first — ANNE [Breaks a