35 P13 «0 PLrAYS EXCIiANGCD. .jamer'5 Edition or PL7\Y3 The Deacon's Second Wife ODPYRIQHT, <«St, BY WALTER H. BAKER A CO. Class; r<£?oS Book . 2 ^ A ^ 3 Copyright N''. COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT The Deacon's Second Wife ^1 A Comedy in Three Acts By ALLAN ABBOTT Author of ^^ Nephew or Uncle y* etc. BOSTON WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 1910 ,*?> The Deacon's Second Wife CHARACTERS (^As originally produced under the title of*' Back to Nature y*^ at The Horace Mann School, New Torky by the Senior Class of igog,for the benefit of The Athletic Field.) (In order of their first Malvina FlTZ Deacon Barachias Fitz . Milton George Washington Fitz Nancy Melissa Fitz Mrs. Brown . Kate Rollins John D. Bullock Mrs. Bullock Dorothy Bullock Hartley Bullock Ernest Rench Philip Gamboge entrance) Marion Halsey. Bryant Hervey. Edward Steckler. Dorothy Kohn. Pauline Tenny. Dorothy Cheesvian. Charles Meyer. Mally Lord. Gertrude Griffith. Arthur Sulsberger. Beverley Burnham. Waldo Sellew. SYNOPSIS OF SCENES Act I. — Sitting-room in Deacon Fitz's farmhouse. Act II. — Deacon Fitz's dooryard. Act III. — Sitting-room, rearranged. Time : — The Present. Copyright, i 910, by Walter H. Baker & Co. TMP92-Q08535 (gCI.D 17842 PROPERTIES Act I. — Electric belt in table drawer. Two pasteboard boxes. Odds and ends of clothing. Rag carpet. String. Hat, cape and umbrella for Mrs. Fitz. Patchwork bag contain- ing rolls of gaudy colored cloth, some of them to afford good lines, such as: ''That was my weddin' weskit," etc., and a stocking full of money. Apple and cookies for Milton, also bean-blower and three doughnuts. Black skirt and old shawl for Nancy to take to Kate. Straw suit- case for Kate and white wig with bobbing curls and grease paints for her make-up. Wallet for Bullock. Luggage for Ernest. Act II. — Savvhorse, chopping-block, several sticks of fire- wood, partly sawn up, an axe and a saw. Low seats on either side of door, r. Up stage, r., bench with tin wash-basin. Newspaper for Bullock. Off stage, r., a brassy phonograph. Note-book, pencil and red handkerchief for Hartley. Fancy apron, flowers in hair and colander full of peas for Dorothy. Parasol, handkerchief and letter for Mrs. Bullock ; jelly-bag off R. Three doughnuts for Milton off r. Shovel, rake and hoe for Ernest and Hartley. Off R. dinner-bell ready. Off r. for Kate, dipper of water and roller towel. For Philip, knap- sack, portable easel, sketch-book, paint-box, brushes, handker- chief, postal-card and pencil. For second entrance, a small sketch of chrysanthemums. Act III. — Easel, pallette and brushes for Philip. Light, silky lavender scarf for Kate. The Deacon's Second Wife ACT I SCENE. — Living-room in Deacon Fitz's house. Doors down R. and up L. j windows R. and l. in flat, with sofa between them. A mantelpiece with a stove in front of it, Just above entrance r. ; table C, with rocking-chair to the right of it, and an ordinary chair to the left. Big Bible on table and a very ugly table cover. Another chair against wall at L. The furniture of the room is oldfashioned mahogany cov- ered with haircloth, if possible. Quaint and ugly pictures on the ivalls, framed mottoes, etc., including a portrait of *' The Old Squire.'' In upper l. corner is a *• what-not,'' or a set of cone brackets overloaded ivith knickknacks, as is also the mantel. Two small packing boxes r. of table c. {Discovered L. c, Mrs. Fitz, busy packing. She is a tall, erect woman of middle age. Brisk, efficient, impatient, but kind of heart and very solicitous for her husband's welfare. She pauses, left of table, and calls off R.) Mrs. F. Barachias ! Barachias . 'D^kCO'ti {from off R.). Yes, Malviny? Mrs. F. Find it? Deacon. No. Mrs. F. Secont bag on the right. No, not first bag, secont bag. (Aside.) My husband's one of the saints of the earth, but he'd try the patience of Job. Everything in this house has been in the same identical spot for eighteen years, an' he don't know where to find things yet. Got it? Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit — well ! Deacon enters r. He is a hale, elderly man, semi- bald, with ruddy complexion and stiff, square-chopped beard ; genial, absent-minded, dependent on his wife. He wears rusty farm clothes ; ivaistcoat, but no collar or coat ; big square boots. He carries a large ^'piece-bag," made of patchwork, in his ri^ht hand ; pauses at door. 5 b THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE Deacon. Guess I must have got turned around. You see, Malviny, you didn't say whether it was right hand goin' up- stairs, or right hand comin' down. Mrs. F. I sh'd think any one who'd been over them stairs as often as you Here, let me hold the bag open, an' you feel for the money. {Comgs to R. c, takes bag and holds it open. Picture: Deacon, head and shoulders in the bag. ) Deacon {straightening up, out of breath'). You don't cal'- late this is the wrong bag ? Mrs. F. Wrong bag? Do you suppose I've been a-skimp- in' and a-savin' money and a-puttin' of it away for eighteen years, hard times and soft, without knowin' what bag it's in ? {Turns bag upside down, shaking out on the floor a multitude of small rolls of cloth, of all colors. Deacon and Mrs. F. on haftds and knees hunting through them. Business of Deacon holding up various rolls with appropriate com- ments as, '^ By snakes/'' *^ My weddi?i' weskit /** etc. Mrs. F. finds stocking full of money. Deacon puts it on table while she holds bag open for him to stuff pieces.) Deacon {seated in rocker, r. c. ; corner of packing-box on his knees. Shakes out money). How much you reckon you better take, Malviny ? Mrs. F. Well, there's a dollar for stage, goin' and comin' — ticket on the railroad two seven ty- five ; — ten cents for a sandwich an' a piece of pie at the Junction — say five dollars ; an' that allows a dollar an' fifteen cents for emergencies. Deacon {rising, handing bill to her). Great snakes ! If you k'n git out of a fust-class emergency for a dollar fifteen, gol ding it if they're not cheaper than they used to be ! {Replaces stocking in bag, takes it back to door R. and throws it off sta^e.) Mrs. F. I'm not looking for no great amount of emer- gencies as long as I've got an English tongue in my head. An' you'll see me back in two days with my sister's two sons, if I can bring 'em. You might as well get the mowin' started to-morrow, an' they'll be here in time to help git it in. THE deacon's second WIFE "J (^She continues packing the pasteboard boxes on the sofa. ) Deacon. Gol ding it ! If I wouldn't like to see one of them big mowers they use out West. Fust thing you know they'll make the hay, git it in the barn and feed it to the stock all by electricity. (^Crosses l. and sits in chair down L.) Mrs. F. An' electric machines don't get the rheumatiz. Barachias, do you ever expect we can sell the farm an' move to the village? You done about your share of work, 'pears to me. incomes front to table.') Deacon, hy cricky ! {Rubs his back.) Dunno but I think so too ! A little house in the village, with about one cow an' a little garden patch would give me most all the farmin' I need the rest of my days. Nancy and Milton would be near the school, too. Mrs. F. Mebbe that agent of the lumber company will make you a good offer for your pine grove. Deacon. Or if your nevvews will help me build a porch around the front of the house, mebbe we can sell it to the city folks to rusticate in. Mrs. F. City folks ! Ain't you had enough of city folks? Summer trash, I call 'em. Deacon. Now, Malviny ! Don't you get wrought up ! Mrs. F. {crossing -r. c, down). Have we ever had any city boarders here that didn't try to swindle the very shingles off the barn? Cluttering up the whole house, drivin' off the horses when you needed 'em for hayin', skippin' their board, selling you fool things no sensible man would look at — summer trash ! I hope to goodness I'll never see one on 'em again ! Deacon {crossing r.). Come now, Malviny, if you get a-goin' on summer boarders, you'll miss the stage. Ain't you better have the children look out for it now ? Mrs. F. {to door i..). Milton! Milton! Where be you? {Enter Milton Fitz, l. Small boy ; bare legs, browned. Sneakers. Big straw hat, torn. Mrs. F., at table.) Milton George Washington, where's your hat ? Mil. (l.). Be you blind, maw ? On my head. (Deacon laughs.) Mrs. F. Take it off in the house ! What would your Cousin Kate think, comin' to-day, just from New York? THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE Mil. If the picture papers is true, I guess she's got a hat to beat it. {Takes off hat ; -Deacon laughs and sits.) Mrs. F. You run over to Mrs. Brown's and ask lier if she can come right over for a few minutes. An' tell your sister I want she should come here right off. Don't let the grass grow under your feet ! \_£xU Mil., l. Deacon. You reckon we'll have enough to eat while you're gone ? Mrs. F. Well, if you ain't, you must have more appetite than becomes the deacon of an orthodox church. Didn't I spend all day yesterday bakin' ? There's a pot of beans, and a can of brown bread, three pans of riz biscuit, five loaves of bread, a layer cake, and a crock full of doughnuts ; besides eight pies, — three lemon and five dried apple. I guess that'll keep you till day after to-morrow, an' some to spare. Deacon. By the livin' cook-stove ! I reckon that'll hold us down ! Mrs. F. {calling, from door l.). Nancy Melissy ! Enter Nancy Fitz, l. A girl of twelve. Hair pulled back very tight, ift one braid. Bedraggled dress much out- grown. Nan. {crossing to l. c). Yes, maw. Mrs, F. (l.). Nancy, go set on the back porch an' watch out for the stage. Tell me the minute you see it cross the bridge, so's 't I'll have time to put on my bunnit. Nan. Yes, maw. {During this conversation, Deacon is busy tying up the two boxes with heavy cord.) Mrs. F. Then you k'n be all ready to meet your Cousin Kate Rollins. You got her room all scrubbed clean, an' fresh linen on the bed ? Nan. Yes, maw, an' the towel with red fringe you gave me Christmas. Mrs. F. I expect after her winter in New York she'll be real particular. But if she's anything like her mother, she's smart as a steel trap, and will take right holt an' help. No summer trash about the Rollinses. You see 't she has a good welcome. Now run out an' watch for thet stage. THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 9 (Mil. appears i?i window ^ l. c, with a putty-blower. Business with putty-blower. Each time he hits Deacon he slaps his head, exclaiming: ^^ Set fire ! That feels like a yellow-jacket,'" etc. After business he thrusts head in and speaks. ) Mil. Say, maw ! I didn't have to go for Mrs. Brown ! She's comin' over here, about as tight as she can put ! \_Exit Nan., giggling. Mrs. F. I want to know ! Must 'a' been a kind of second sight ; 'tain't everybody that always knows when they're wanted. Enter Mrs. Brown, l. Anxious, hurried. Dress, a loose prifit morning wrapper. Flannel bandage around throat. Speaks with a deprecatory drawl. Mrs. B. (coming c). Anybody passed away? Deacon (r.) Passed away ! HuUy graveyard ! Mrs. F. (l.). Passed away ! Deacon. Nobody we know on. All of us are feeling pretty chipper, barrin' rheumatiz. (Mil. repeats business with putty-blower.') Mrs. B. Then I've had my trip over for nothin'. I see crape on the door, an' thought I might be needed to help lay out. Deacon. Crape on the door ? Mrs. F. Milton, what tricks have you been up to now ? Mil. (who has been watching through window). Why, I knowed Mrs. Brown would come quicker if she had something to interest her. So I just tied your black stockin'son the door- knob. Mrs. F. Wait till I get you, you young scapegrace ! (Dashes for window. Mil. vanishes. Deacon laughs and slaps Iwnself.) Barachias Fitz ! I should think you'd be ashamed to stand there and laugh at such carryin' on ! Deacon. Waj, you wanted Mrs. Brown here, an' now you've got her, I don't see but what you ought to be satisfied. Mrs. Brown, won't you have a chair? Mrs. B. (sitting left of table). I s'pose I might as well. I ain't as strong as I once was — but then, we won't any of us be any younger. 10 THE deacon's SECOND WIFfi {All seated ; Mrs. F., r. ; Mrs. B., l; Deacon, c, on sofa.) Deacon. How you feeling, Mrs. Brown ? Mrs. B. Well, I might be better, but then I might be worse. I been sufferin' from the sore throat, lately — seems like it was the real old quinsy. Mrs. F. 1 wanted you should know Fm going away for two days to my sister's, over Dorchester way. Mrs. B. Well, — I hope you won't come to no harm. Last week they tell me there was an accident. Mrs. F. All the more reason why there won't be one this week. The train men will be looking out sharp for a while, anyhow. Deacon. Yes, if Malvina was on a train, by crickets ! I reckon she'd keep the conductor awake and on the job. (^Laughs.') Mrs. F. I'm goin' over to see if I can get my two nevvews to come back and help until the hayin'. There don't seem to be no hired help around, an' with hay sixteen dollars a ton, it don't pay to risk gettin' it in with just one man an' a boy. Mrs. B. Hayin's a risky time, anyhow. Suppose a big thunder-storm come up while you're gone, an' beat the hay all down ? Mrs. F. {standing suddenly ; stiffly). I guess my bein' here wouldn't keep the thunder-storm off. I ain't no lightning- rod. (Sits.) But what I wanted to say was this. You know my husband's niece is comin* to-day for a three weeks' visit. Mrs. B. No! Who's she? Deacon. My sister Beth's girl. Been all last winter board- in' in New York, an' goin' to school there. We ain't seen her since she was eight, — that's nine year ago come Thanksgivin*. She was a cute little thing then— real peart and knowin' ! Mrs. B. You can't judge much about children — they change before you know it. Now, there was my brother Simeon's boy Mrs. F. What I wanted to ask you was, would you run in once in a while an' see if things are goin' all right while Fm gone? It won't be but two days — three at the most. An' I'd feel easier to think there was some one lookin' out for those children — you know the Deacon is just a big boy himself. Deacon. I guess Malviny's wished more than once she THE DEACONS SECOND WIFE It could give me a lickin' or send me to bed without a supper. You remember the Hallowe'en we bobbed for apples? Lor! how I did laugh that night ! (^Laughs and slaps his k?iee.') Mrs. B. Yes, I reckon they'll need some one to look after 'em. I'll consider it a solenui duty, while they are bereft of your care. Lord send they don't come down with some sick- ness. They tell me down to the village that the measles Enter Mil., l. Mil. Maw, sister says get on your hat. Mrs. F. {jumping up and crossing to sofa). The stage is comin'. Land sakes, where's my hat? (Deacon brings hat to her and helps her to collect boxes. ) Mrs. B. I must be getting back, an' take my pies out of the oven. I expect they are burnt to a crisp. ( Crosses to door, l.) I hope, Mrs. Fitz, you won't come to no mishaps ! \^£xit, l. Nan. {entering and crossing down l.). Here comes the stage up the hill, and Kate's on the front seat, drivin' ! Deacon. Come, mother, you better hurry, or you'll get left behind. Mrs. F. {gathering up her luggage — tiuo boxes, jacket, um- brella ; busitiess with packages. Steps toward door, l., and repeatedly turns back with further directions). Don't let the house get all upset while I'm gone — Barachias, keep your eye on Milton ! a lickin' every day on general principles wouldn't hurt him — Nancy, don't forget to feed the chickens — if the man comes about the electric belt, the money's behind the clock — an' if any agents come to sell the Scriptures embellished, tell 'em we prefer our Scriptures just as they was writ ! And, Bara- chias, remember ! while I'm gone, don't you have no dealings with no summer trash. {Exit l., helped by '^a.-^. Business with packages. Mrs. F., outside.) Well, Katie, child ! I'd never have known you ! Run right in with your Cousin Nancy ! You'll see me back soon ! {All call out : " Good-bye, mother ./" etc.) Kate Rollins enters l. , followed by Nan. and Mil. She is a girl of about seventeen, in Jieat traveling or school suit, and simple, jaunty hat. Nan. and she are both trying to carry a straw suit- case. Nan. to L., with case; Mil, stays by door munching an apple. 12 THE deacon's SECOND WIFE Kate (c). No, no, child, it's not heavy a bit. Deacon (c). Kitty, my dear, I'm glad to see you. Kate. Thank you. Uncle Barachias. ( Crosses L. c, down ; Nan. up to sofa to leave suit-case.) So good to see dear old New Hampshire again ! Just think ! a whole year away. Deacon. Your Aunt Malviny has to go away for a couple of days, but we'll give ye enough welcome to make up for it. Kate {turning). Oh ! You must let me help run the house. We had cooking in the Horace Mann Schools, and I know all about carbohydrates — and proteids and — Nereids — oh, no, Nereids are in the mythology, but honest and true, I can make dandy muffins, and the best salad you ever ate ! Deacon. Fact is, Kitty, we're not strong on salad here; we eat our greens mostly cooked, or else with sugar and vine- gar. But when your aunt's beans and pie give out, you can make us some carbohydrates or Nereids. Nan. {taking stage). And you can show me all about how they cook in New York. What kind of pie do you make most? Kate. They don't let us make pie — they don't think it's good for us. Nan. Oh ! they ought to come up here and eat maw's mock- mince — all raisins and currants and brown sugar and maple syrup and cider and citron, spices, melted butter — and whipped cream on top ! Deacon. Or green apple pie with lots of molasses in. Kate {sitting). But tell me about Aunt Malvina. Where is she going ? (Nan. crosses to Mil,, taking a cooky from his pocket.) Deacon. You see, Kitty, I'm sort of put to it this year about the hayin' ; my rheumatiz set in earlier than usual, and she's gone to your Uncle Judd's in Dorchester to get his boys to come and help me out. Nan. Last year we had a boarder that helped. He was a perfectly elegant man — had lovely purple shirts ; and he was agent for the Magic Electric Belt. Deacon. Yes, he was a good hand to work. . Said it was because he wore the electric belt himself all the time. Kate (c.) What is the electric belt ? (Rises to examine belt. ) Deacon {getting one from table drawer). You see this THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE is plate is full of electricity — it'll make a compass spin 'round. You wear it one week in back and the next week in front, an' the electricity just shoots through you. It's good for you whether there's anything the matter or not. Kate. So your boarder sold you a belt ? Deacon. Oh, yes, I've one, and great snappin' turtle! warn't your aunt mad ! And a fresh one comes every three months. He worked up a pretty good trade here in town — the only folks that didn't buy one was your Aunt Malviny and the minister ; he allowed the belt cured most too many things for 'em all to be true, an' (^folding it up) I don't know but he was right. Kate. Well, it's a shame about your rheumatism, uncle ; maybe we can find a boarder who'll help this year — or can't 1 learn to do haying? I'd love to drive one of those kicky-out machines — it would feel like being a giant grasshopper. Deacon. You mean a tedder? Bless you, child, hayin's a man's work. You'll find plenty to do around, without goin' out on the farm. Kate {to\.. c). Nancy, tell me some of the things you do; do you go to school ? Nan. Oh, yes, Milton and I, we go to school down to the centre. In winter we coast all the way on sleds. Kate. What grade are you in ? Nan. I'm fifth reader class; Milton's fourth. But he's the prime scholar in declamation. (Mil. makes for the door.) Deacon. You ought to hear him recite "Venerable Men," by Daniel Webster. You know Webster was one of our New Hampshire boys. Milton, come in here and do ''Venerable Men " for your Cousin Kate. (Deacon takes ail this with serious pride.) Mil. Oh, pa, must I ? Deacon. Yes, or you can't have but one piece of pie for supper. (Nan. rushes to door and drags in Mil., grinning sheepishly, down fro7ity L.) Now, brace up and don't forget your gestures. {Down R., with Kate and^A^.) 14 THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE Mil. {reciting with elaborate old time declajiiatory style and gestures, directing himself, so far as possible, toiuard teacliers arid alu7n7ii who may he in the audience'). "Venerable Men, you have come down to us from a former generation" {After three sentences.') Oh, pa ! won't you let me off if Nancy and I do " King Alcohol " ? Kate. What's '' King Alcohol " ? Nan. That's a song we learned for Prohibition Week last spring. We sang it in Grand Army Hall. Kate. Oh, yes, do sing '*King Alcohol." {Song,—^K^. and Mil.) *' We're coming, we're coming, our strong little band. On the right side of Temperance we all take our stand. We don't use tobacco, because we do think That them that does use it most always does drink. Down with King Al-co-hol ! " (Nan. and Mil. commence the above by taking hands and swifigi7ig to get time. Make a false start or two, taking i?i breath and letting it go again.) Deacon. Now, Kitty, tell us about your school. {Dur- ing the followifig scene Deacon is the most apprecia- tive one of the audience ; laughs, slaps his leg, etc. Kate may insert a page or two of Jokes ; burlesque of teachers, etc., written to suit local conditions. Deacon stands at close.) Good for you, Kitty — you'll do. We got to look after the stock now; but when we begin hayin' you shall drive your kicky-out machine. \_Exit, laughing and slappi?ig himself. Mil. And you can run my phonograph any time you want to. Kate. Have you a phonograph ? Nan. I guess he has ; and all the latest songs, too. You ought to hear '' Who put the overalls in Mrs. Murphy's chow- der ? ' ' {Humming tune. ) Mil. What else do you do at Horace Mann ? Kate. Well, we have plays. Nan. Oh, goody ! I never saw a play in all my life. Kate. Last year I was an old lady ; I'll show you. Nancy, can you get me a black skirt and an old shawl? (Nan. goes off THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 15 R. Kate goes up to sofa and kneels before mirror ivhich she braces on top of suit-case?) I've got a wig and some grease paints in my bag. I brought them along just for fun. {Back to audie?ice ; makes up as she talks. Enter Nan., r., with skirt and shawl.) You see, you put on your wig, rub a little cold cream on your face, dab some gray on your eyebrows and under your eyes, stick in a few lines, powder up a little, then if you've got the right costume (^puts skirt over head and shawl oti) — there you are ! [Stiddenly fronts audience and changes voice.) Don't you children know your old auntie? {Picture.) ^^' \ (together). Oh, leave it on so dad can see ! Kate. All right, Milton, if you'll take my bag and things to my room, I'll play mother for a little while. (Mil. exits, r. ; Kate changes voice.) Now, dearie, you can be mother's little helper and get tea. (Nan. giggles.) Mil. reenters, r. Mil. Ma, what shall I do now ? {Giggles. Automobile horn heard, off h. All three jump. Confusion. Knock at door l. , gejitle at first, then louder. ) Kate (/;/ a panic). Wait, children ! I can't get this wig off. * (Mil. opens door and reveals John D. Bullock, who enters, followed by M.YiS. Bullock, Dorothy ^////Hartley.) John {uph.). I'd like to speak with your mother, if you'll call her. Mil. (do7vn r., dragging Kate to front). Ma, a gentle- man to speak with you. (John and his party, except the chauffeur ^ down l. , all in long coats and goggles.) John. Mil. Mrs. Bul. Dor. Nan. Kate, Mrs. Bul. My dear, you'd better let me, this time. {To l6 THE deacon's' second WIFE audience.') We've been turned away from three places already. {To Kate.) We stopped to ask you, Mrs. — Mrs. Mil. ) ^.^ Nan. I F"^- Kate. Fitz. Mrs. Bul. Mrs. Fitz — thank you — if you or one of your good neighbors could put us up. We are unacquainted with this part of New Hampshire, and don't really know what we are going to do, unless you will shelter us. Kate. Why, really, Mrs. — Mrs. John. Mrs. Bullock. ( Crosses infrotit of Mrs. Bul. /^l.) Of the firm of Bullock & Baer, brokers, 32 Wall Street. {Puts card on table.) Kate. Thank you. Mrs. Bullock, I really don't see how I could take the responsibility Nan. {dragging Kate down r. ; all edge somewhat toward c. ). Why, yes, ma. There's the parlor chamber and the two empty rooms over the sitting-room, and Milton and 1 could go up attic. Mil. {at her left elbow). And there's the three pans of biscuit and eight pies. Mrs. Bul. (c). It would be only for a week; for that matter, we'll go any time you want us to. John (l., producing wallet). And we'll pay cash in ad- vance — anything in reason. Mrs. Bul. Charles ! Let me manage this time. Dor. (l.). Oh, do let us stay, Mrs. Fitz. I think this is the dearest place — I just fell in love with it the moment we came over the hill. {To l. c. Nan., business all through scene of admiring DOR.'s gown.) Kate (r.). I'm sure I don't know what Mr. Fitz will say. Har. (l., a little down). Tell him we'll all help on the farm. Sis has been crazy to make hay all summer — can't you see her ? *' Beneath her torn hat, glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health." Dor. If my hat is torn, it's because you insisted on speed- ing when we came through those woods. THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 1 7 John. Now, Mrs. Fitz, would ten dollars a week be a fair price ? Kate. But Mr. Fitz Mrs. Bul. My dear, you may be sure we will not stay where we're not welcome. If your husband doesn't like the arrangement, we'll go at any time. Kate. All right, then, you may stay. {One step toward Mrs. Bul., to clear r. entrance.') But who's this? Ernest Rench enters l. , with luggage. Takes two steps to l. c. Har. This, Mrs. Fitz, is the man of the future; Mr. Ernest Rench, president of the Cornell Aero Club, at present acting as our companion, guide, and chauffeur. (Hand on shoulder. There must be utmost cordiality be- tiveen the two young men.') Deacon enters r., remaining extreme R., not seen by }Lm:e. Watches in surprise, until he takes in the situatioji ; at the words ^' Mrs. Fitz,*' bursts out laughing, slapping himself and exclaiming : ** Summer trash / " ^^ Malviny's ghost f' Kate. Oh, my ! What are we going to do ? There isn't another room in the house left for Mr. Rench ! Ern. That's all right; I'd rather sleep out, anyhow. I can put up a shack in that pine grove on the hill. (Kate shows interest in Ern.) Har. Yes, Rench, and I'll come with you. Then you can imagine you're Stevenson on his travels with a donkey. Ern. Will you tell me where to put these things, Mrs. Fitz ? {Loud laugh from Deacon. Kate turns round astonished.) Deacon. She's just as peart as ever ! Kitty, what tricks you up to now ? (Kate, embarrassed, has ?io answer ready.) Mrs. Bul. Mr. Fitz, your wife has kindly consented to let us stay here for a few days. Deacon. My wife ! By the jumpin* grasshopper ! my wife ! 1 8 THE deacon's second WIFE John. At ten dollars apiece a week. Dor. You will let us stay, won't you ? We all love the place already. Har. You'll be doing your country a service, sir. I am special correspondent for the New York Watch- Out, and they want me to write a series of articles on Roosevelt's Farmer's Commission. So if I could get right on the farm and help run it, you see — find out at first hand what the farmer's problem really is Deacon. Lord, boy, there's forty thousand problems, and they're different every year. Dor. And I'll lead the simple life in the kitchen, and get material for college themes ! Har. And Rench, here, knows enough about machinery to mend up everything you've got. Deacon. Well, you settle it with Kitty — she seems to be boss here. I can Enter Mrs. B., l. Mrs. B. I thought I'd just run over — land sakes alive 1 What's all this mess of people ? (Nan. a7id Mil. cross to her, L., and explain in aft under- tone, poiftting to Kate, r. c. Mrs. B., c, tmconvinced, shakes her head.) Mrs. Bul. Mrs. Fitz, your husband is willing ; now may we say it is settled ? (Mrs. B. flings off children and crosses c, confronting Mrs. Bul.) Mrs. B. But you don't understand. I don't know who you are, ma'am, but I feel it my bounden duty to warn you Mrs. Bul. (condescefidingly'). You wouldn't be concerned, I assure you. (Mrs. B. stiffens up.') We don't expect a Waldorf-Astoria. (Mrs. B. turns angrily and crosses down L.) Kate. Come, I'll show you the rooms. \_Exeunt r., Kate, Mrs, Bul., Har., Dor., John ^w^Ern. (Deacon on stage, r., Mil. and Nan., l., all laughing heartily. Mrs. B., c, angry and worried.) THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE I() Deacon. She's the same peart little Kitty ! She's sister Beth's own child ! She takes right holt ! Mrs. B. You're all a passel of children together. You can't get no encouragement from me (/^ Deacon), nor you wouldn't from Malviny, nuther ! CURTAIN Picture for Call Enter Kate, r., folloived by Deacon, with his hand on her shoulder ; both cross L., Mrs. B. following to C, shaking her finger at them. The city people, ivithout their ivraps^ group about door R. Mil. and Nan. take hands and dance extreme l. Mrs. F. appears behind windoiv l. c. ACT II SCENE. — The back porch and yard of farmhouse. Land- scape drop in third grooves. R., porch, ivith door into kitchen ; l., front, a big tree ; near it, wood-pile and sazu- horse ; a few sticks cut, lying near chopping-block. Beside porch steps, a wash-stand with tin basin. {Before curtain rises, noise heard as of saw being pushed slowly through log. Har., coat off aiid red in the face, is disclosed sawing wood. John Bullock, sitting on piazza, in armchair, reading paper and occasionally look- ing up to criticize Har.) Har. Woof ! {Leaves log half sawn and sits on it.') Back to nature with a vengeance ! A good half hour on this wood- pile, and only four logs sawn up. My article for the Watch- Out will be full of local color. ''Why Boys Leave the Farm ! " {Saws the stick through and sits on sawhorse.) One more suggestion for the Roosevelt Farmer's Commission. {Business of writing in note- book.) '* Cook by gas ! " Now for split- ting it up. {Business of balancing stick on chopping-block, and aiming at it with axe. Continue, to huitior audience.) John {rising; on steps'). Hartley {speaks with an irri- tating drawl), as a woodchopper, I should estimate your value per diem as just about thirty cents. Har. About thirty dollars is what I'll ask, if I ever live to collect my wages. {Note-book.) "Economic aspects of the wood-pile. Thirty dollars, or thirty cents?" John. Now, when I was a boy, we used to lean the stick against the block. Har. Like that ? John. Hold the lower end firm with the foot, swing your axe over your head Har. {following directions, but lowering axe gingerly). No, thank you. 20 THE DEACON*S SECOND WIFE 11 John. What's the matter ? Har, I'qi afraid of spoiling the shine on my shoes. Be- sides, if I cut off my toes, they'd clutter up the lawn. {Note- book.') " Picturesque detail of farm story. Barefoot boy chop- ping wood ! " John. Well, my son, if you want to make your living on the farm, cut out that note-book business. Why, you are as bad as that artist fellow your sister Dorothy talks about, — him and his sketch-book. Why don't you young fellows take up something practical, instead of scribbling and scrawhng ? Har. Now look here, dad, why are you so sore about poor Phil Gamboge? You've never even seen him. John. Never seen him? No, and I never" will see him, if I can help it. Why, sir, what right has a fellow like him to be dangling after my Dorothy? Never earned a cent of money in his life, and never will ! Dorothy'll have ten thousand a year, if she behaves herself. Har. I should think that might be enough for them both. John. Why, Hartley, would you have your sister marry a miserable young dabbler in paint pots and easels and fol-de- rols, that can't pay his own way? Har. They say Gamboge has a fine reputation among his brother artists. John. Fiddlestick's end ! His fellow artists haven't a grain more business sense than he has — or you either. What does a single one of them know about stocks? No, don't say a word; Pm going out to talk to the Deacon, or somebody with some sense. \_Exit John, l. Har. Poor old Phil — I guess he's down and out. The governor might just as well give them his blessing and an en- dowment ; he's got money enough for the whole bunch of us. Enter Dor., r., from house. She wears a well-made summer costume of white linen, with a flower in her hair. Small fancy apron, more for show than use. Carries large tin pan of unshelled peas, and a colander. Dor. Hart, I wish you'd clear up your old wood-pile ! I want to come out and work. Har. Far be it from me to deprive my little sister of so novel an experience. Dor. Don't be so impertinent. Take your handkerchief, and brush off that stool. 22 THE DEACON*S SECOND WIFE Har. That's not a stool, that's a chopping-block. Dor. I intend to consider it a stool. Now you may up- holster it with that red object around your neck. (Har. takes off bandanna handkerchief and spreads it on block.) Thank you ; with just a little polish you'll make a regular Sir Walter Raleigh. Har. Now perhaps you'll tell me what we are going to have for supper — and how soon. Dor. We're going to have the best supper you ever had in your life. I'm getting it all myself. Chicken — I've just sent Milton to catch one, and that crazy boy merely opened his mouth and laughed. And peas — you've got to help me shell 'em. And fudge cake. Har. How long is all this going to take? Dor. Supper's at six; it's now ten minutes past five. Har. Are you sure you'll get that fudge cake in all right? Dor. Oh, that's the easiest thing of the lot. Why, up at Northampton we made them all the time. Nobody ever does anything at college without fudge cake. {Business of shelling peas.) Mrs. Bul. enters from l. She wears city clothes y and car- ries parasol. Letter in hand. Mrs. Bul. {ivith easy good nature). Now, children, what can I do to help? You know this is " back to the farm " for us all. No, I think I'll not shell peas ; the pods, you know, might stain my gown. But the veranda certainly needs picking up and dusting. {Business of putting away John's paper ; dusting chairs and railing with pocket handkerchief, etc.) Dor. Have you been way to the village, mother, so soon ? Mrs. Bul. Yes, dear, and such a charming village. Really, the church is quite a little gem, and the village folk very re- spectable, hard-working people. Dor. And did you do my errand at the baker's? Mrs. Bul. My dear, there isn't any baker's. Dor. How stupid of them ! Why, then I can't make my fudge cake. Har. Does the making of a fudge cake demand the co- operation of a baker ? Dor. Of course, stupid. You get the layers of cake from THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 23 the baker, then make your fudge, and stick it together. How perfectly maddening ! Har. Sister, I did not know you were such a cook. Did you find any mail, mother ? Mrs. Bul. Only one letter ; and that was addressed to Miss Kate Rollins. The postmaster said she was staying at this house. I assured him there was no such person, but he grinned in his ignorant country fashion, and made me take it. I'll leave it here on the railing till Deacon Fitz comes back. Dor. Nothing for me ? Mrs. Bul. Now, Dorothy, don't bring up the subject of Philip Gamboge again ; it's very painful to me. You know what your father Enter Kate, 7nade up as ** Aunt Kitty** still ; cotton wrap- per y etc. Dor. (^jumping up and running to her, upsetting peas ^ which Har. and his mother painfully pick up). Oh, Aunt Kitty, I've a^big surprise for you ! I'm getting the whole supper myself! ^Kate. You dear child, you needn't have done that. I was looking out for it. Dor. I love to. You see I may need experience. May I confide in you ? I may — in the very near future — I may — be cut off without a penny ! And so we're going to have chicken and fudge cake — oh, no, not fudge cake — chicken and peas. Kate. Those peas ? Dor. Yes, and the chicken Milton is catching for me. Kate. My dear Dorothy, your peas wouldn't be cooked before midnight ; and as for the chicken Dor. Why not the chicken ? Kate. We'll have that to-morrow ; it would be so tough now you couldn't cut it. Dor. Oh, what a maddening place ! {Tears apron of and flings it on sawhorse.) The baker won't bake, and the chicken won't cut, and the peas won't cook. I'm sure at home we have chicken the day it's ordered, and the peas you can cook in the can in ten minutes ! And all my supper gone up ! {About to weep.) Kate. There, child, you needn't worry a mite. I've just got some pop-overs in the oven, and there's sausage and coffee, and doughnuts for desert. That will please Uncle Barachias. 24 THE deacon's second WIFE Mrs. BuL. Uncle Barachias? Kate (embarrassed). Yes, yes, that's the Deacon. He'd be pleased to pieces if you'd call him uncle — ^just as you call me Aunt Kitty. Uncle Barachias and Aunt Kitty ! {^Laughs ; aside.) Oh, dear, what would Aunt Malvina think ? Mrs. Bul. I wonder who Aunt Malvina js? Kate. Now, Dorothy, if you want practice in housekeep- ing, run in and set the table. Put on the red tablecloth. Mr. Hartley, would you run down to the garden and tell the Deacon and Mr. Rench it's most supper time? Mrs. Bul. My dear, before you lay the cloth, I must make sure the table is dusted ! \_Exeutit all but Kate. Kate. My, what a helpless lot ! What if Aunt Malvina came back and found them all here ! Wouldn't the fur fly ? That Mr. Rench knows what he's about ; the rest haven't sense enough to tie their own shoe-strings. Mrs. Bul. {in door). Beg pardon, Mrs. Fitz, is this the dust cloth ? Kate. No, that's the jelly bag ! Look under the sink. Mrs. Bul. Thank you, Mrs. Fitz ! (Nan. afid Mil. burst in, convulsed with laughter, from be- hind the tree. Nan. has altered her hair and costume a little, in imitation o/Dor. ; flower in hair, etc.) Nan. {mockingly). Beg pardon, Mrs. Fitz ! Mil. Beg pardon, Mrs. Fitz ! Do let me dust the barn. Nan. {i?nita ting Mrs. Bvl.'s artiflcial manner). You must let me lay the cloth ! Mil. Gee, but they're green ! Catch a chicken for supper ! By haystack ! Nan. When maw comes home, won't she make 'em scratch ground ? Mil. Look at how that city guy chops wood ! {Busijiess of imitating.) By haystack ! Cousin Kate, you're a good fellow ! Nan. Ain't she, though? I wish I could act out somebody like that ! Kate. Oh, it's larks. But it makes you so hungry ! Mil- ton, go reach your hand in the pantry window and get us all some doughnuts. (Mil. goes ; business of hooking doughnuts ; returns with them and the letter.) THE DEACON*S SECOND WIFE I5 Nan. But ain't Dorothy the sweetest thing? An' that dress ! She looks as slick as a mitten ! {Unseen by Kate, she slyly picks ttpT>OR.'s apron frofn saw- horse and puts it on.^ Kate. Oh, yes, she's a dear, — if she can't cook a supper. Mil. Say, Kate, here's a letter ! Says Miss Kate Rollins. Kate. Let me have it. Mil. Lessee who it's from. Postmark, " Dorchester, " by haystack ! It's maw ! (KAtE takes letter and tears it open. All three sit in a row against tree^ munching doughnuts. She reads letter aloud.') Kate {reading letter'). **Dear Niece Kate: — I take my pen in hand to say we are all enjoying good health except your Uncle W. and the bay horse that got the blind staggers. The doctor come last night and give him a bolus, but did no good. Your Cousins Sam and Jubal has the farm work on their hands and can't leave until things is settled one way or the other. His trouble is rheumatiz, same as my husband. I can't be back as soon as I said, as there ain't a real smart person around to do for your uncle. Tell Mrs. Brown she may let you have all the doughnuts you want, but not too much pie, especially mince, which would give you dispepsy. You make a bolus by rubbing a great spoonful of ipecac into a soft middle of a raised biscuit, make a ball of it and jam it down the throat. (Mil. chokes on a doughnut ; Nan. slaps his back, etc.) As that is all for this present, and with dutiful regards to Mr. F., in haste, Aunt Malvina." Not coming back yet. I'm so afraid these folks will find me out. Think we can keep it up? Mil. Sure ! Jump up, though, here come the fellows. Enter, l., from fields, Ern. and Har., carrying shovel, rake, etc. Kate gives Ern. a doughnut behind Har.'s back. Har. Oh, my Lord! *'The plowman homeward plods his weary way" — make a note of that. Ernest, how do you keep going ? Ern. Me ? Oh, I guess I can stand it. Hoeing weeds is nothing to propping up a motor-car with your back. Sonny, how's your phonograph ? i6 Mil. It works great since you fixed it. By haystack ! I'll give you a concert after supper. Nan. An' be sure to play {any sentimental song) for Dor- othy ; I know she'd like something sweet. {Sings first two lines. Dinner-bell rings ^ off stage ; exit all into kitchen, r. Kate, last on stage, detains Ern. a moment.') Kate. Sure you're not letting them all work you too hard ? Ern. Me? They couldn't work me too hard. You're an old dear to think of it, though. {Gives her an affectionate hug, and exits R.) Kate {in some co?ifusion). It's kind of nice to be an old dear — but suppose he should find out ! {Exit R., as Deacon and John enter, talking.) John. Deacon, your corn don't seem to be coming very fast. Deacon. It do look a long way from Johnny Cake, don't it? {Slaps thigh and laughs. Crosses to R., to wash face at basin. Kate enters, r., with dipper of water and roller towel.) John. You know I was once president of the Chrysan- themum Society, so I understand such things. What you need is to get corn started the fall before. Now if I were you, I'd plant it in two-inch pots, under glass. (Deacon tur?is abruptly away and hides his laugh by splash- ing and spluttering i7i the basin. John crosses and exits to kitchen. Deacon rubs face into big towel and laughs.) Deacon. Plant corn in the fall — in pots — under glass ! Set fire, you ! \_Exit r., laughing and slapping hitns elf . {Stage remains empty for a moment ; then enter in a lei- urely way, Philip Gamboge, a young artist. Tramper's knapsack. Small sketch-box in one pocket, sketch-book in another. ) Phil. This is the town Dorothy's postal said ; but which Deacon Fitz's house is, remains to be seen. But what a paint- THE deacon's second WIFE 27 able old doorway! By Jove, I must get a note of that. {Seated on block, begins to sketch rapidly.) All it needs is a pretty girl in the doorway. . ,.s t^x^v , Dor (opening door ; astonished at seeing htm). Philip 1 Phil. Dorothy ! You here? I've hunted all New Hamp- ^^^''^OK. Crossing to him). Ssh ! They're all in there at supper ! If daddy heard you, he'd be out here with a pitch- fork. Hush, hide behind the tree. r i . n Phil I'm determined to meet him and have a frank talk. Do you think he'll ever give his consent to our marriage ? Dor Philip, he's perfectly maddening. He won t even hear of meeting you ; he's dragged us all over New England to get out of your way. Whenever your name is mentioned he simply gets up and paws the air ! Phil And all because I'm not a business man! How would it do if you told me how to jolly him up, and then intro- duced me to him suddenly, and let me try ? Dor Why, daddy's an old dear when you know how to manage him. If you could only get him going about some of his hobbies. , ^ j .u . u j John (at door). Dorothy ! Haven't you found that hand- kerchief yet ? . , , ,1 J f Dor. Yes, but, daddy, one of the neighbors called for a minute to find out something. John. Well, tell him quick and come in to supper. (Door shuts.) Phil. Yes, do tell him quick, but don't go in to supper; what are those hobbies ? r^ , . , u n Dor. Well, first there's the stock market. Daddy s a bull, and he's sure the industrials are going up. Phil. What are industrials ? Dor. Oh, steel and sugar and rubber and those things. Phil. All right ; I'm a bull, then, and it's all up with steel. What next? , ,. . , Dor. Then, poUtics; he thinks Roosevelt's policies made the panic. ,. ^ ^ . . Phil Very well ; bull for steel ; lion for Teddy. Dor. And farming. Daddy was once president of the Chrysanthemum Show, so he thinks he knows how to run a farm, 28- THE deacon's second WIFE Phil. Industrials, chrysanthemums, and my policies. I'll get them all down fine. Just give me a chance to meet him. Enter Kate, from kitchen^ r. Kate. Dorothy, do come in and finish your supper — we're almost through. Dor. (^presenting Phil.). Mrs. Fitz, this is my friend, Mr. Gamboge. And could you make room for him to stay a few days? He'll do anything — the wood-pile, or' the garden, or the haying — won't you, Philip? Phil. Yes, I haven't done any landscapes this year. Let me do the haying. Or just this little bit here — the old tree is very paintable. Kate {aside). That's why she wants to learn housekeep- ing. I'll just help them out. What larks! {To Phil.) Really, Mr. Gamboge, I don't see what I can do; we have a house full of company now. Phil. That's all right; I like company — especially this company. Dor. Couldn't you give him a cot in the attic? Phil. Or on the piazza, like a Fresh Air Fund ? Kate. I could let you sleep on the hay in the bam loft, only there's one objection. Phil. That's nothing ; everything has at least three objec- tions. What is it ? Kate. Hornets. Dor. Philip ! You shan't sleep in a barn full of hornets. Phil. Don't mind 'em a bit. I'll train their moral naturet by the appeal of the fine arts. If that doesn't work, I'll resors to cigarettes. Kate. Cigarettes ! In the hay barn ? I guess not, young man. I'll just get one of the men to show you to the barn, but you leave your cigarettes with me. Dor. You to the barn, and don't tell daddy he's here. I don't want to spoil dad's supper. Kate. I'll say he's a new hired man. \_Exit. Phil. Jolly little old lady. By George, Doro, I don't be- lieve she's so old either, in spite of her white hair. Did you notice her back ? Just as limber as a girl's. Dor. She's just as good as a girl. Do you know, Phil, I've told her a little about us, and she's the dearest thing — showing me all about housekeeping. She's just as interested ! THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 29 Phil. Well, so am I. Who wouldn't be interested ? But do you know, I'd like to paint her; she's awfully chic. Dor. And wasn't it dear of her to take you in ? {Both seated 071 choJ>ping- block, back to house ; holding hands S) Enter Deacon. Deacon. Hem mtwi / You the fellow that wants a job ? Seems to me you are pretty much at home already. Dor. {taking Phil.'s handkerchief and winding it around his finger). Oh, I was just tying up his finger ; he had such a bad cut ! Phil. Yes, Pm liable to cut myself that way most any time. Deacon. Well, you come along to the barn, and then PlI see about some supper for you. (Phil, and Deacon, off l.) Dor. Now Pve just got to prepare daddy's mind. When he knows Phil is here, won't he just paw the air ! The family enter, R.,from supper. John and Ern. cross and sit on block and logs ; Mrs. Bul. and Har. on porch steps ; Nan. crosses to Dor. ; Mil. crosses, gets armful of kindlings and reenters house. Nan. Dorothy, do come in and have some supper. Your sausages are on the back of the stove. Dor. {crossing with her to r., and pausing at steps'). Mummy, dear, won't you put in a good word for Philip once more? Pve a very special reason ! Mrs. Bul. Pll try again, but you can't expect too much, as Pve never even seen him. [Dor. exits quickly with Nan., r. John {to Ern.). Now, if you want my advice, Pve been around a good deal, and seen a good many automobiles. If you would take the working parts of the engine out every night and let them soak in kerosene Mrs. Bul. My dear, do let Mr. Rench enjoy his little after dinner rest. Have you read your paper? John. Pve read day before yesterday's paper ; that seems to be the latest news you can get here. Mrs. Bul. Very interesting issue, wasn't it? John. Yes, if you find it interesting to lose a thousand dol- 30 THE deacon's SECOND WIFE lars an hour. Since I left Wall Sireet the bears seem to be having it all their own way. Mrs. Bul. Did you read the art notes? John. Have you ever known me to read the woman's page? Mrs. Bul. There's a most interesting account of the mid- summer exhibit of American painters at Lyme. And the first medal was awarded to Hartley's friend, Philip Gamboge. John. Aha! That's the nigger in the wood-pile, is it? What's the medal worth — ten dollars? Har. It's worth everything — it's worth a reputation as a leader of the younger American painters. John. When your leader of American painters sells pic- tures, I'll have more faith in his medals. Har. But, dad, think of the capital tied up in the hundred and ten canvases in his studio. Who knows what they may bring, some day? John. Yes, who knows? When I gamble in futures, I want some line on the price, anyhow. Why, Hartley (rising excitedly), don't you see those hundred and ten pictures aren't worth a cent till he sells one and establishes a i)rice ? Har. Do you mean the years of training and the months of hard work they represent have no value ? John. No more than if he'd spent those years twiddling his thumbs. If you and your mother had the slightest idea of business, you'd see that value means the ratio of supply to de- mand. And if the demand is nil Har. Why, then the more pictures he paints, the poorer he is ! Poor old Phil ! \^Exit into kitchen. Mrs Bul. I do wish you men wouldn't get so excited when you argue. Your old business reasons are so tiresome ! John. Why, Evelyn, I should think any one with the least atom of sense — Rench, you see the pointy don't you? How in thunder can an artist support a wife when all his paintings bring is gold-plated medals ? If I could see the young fool himself, I'd convince him Enter Deacon, with Phil., l. Deacon. Ladies and gentlemen, this is our new hired man, Mr. Cabbage. Phil. Gamboge. Deacon {hand to ear). Hey? Phil. Gamboge. THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 3I Deacon. Oh, yes, Mr. Gamboge. Mrs. Bul. Hartley's friend ? Deacon. I guess you city folks'll like him. Seems to be more interested in takin* pictures than he does in gettin' his supper. Mrs. Bul. How very charming ! Deacon. Yes, he wouldn't come to supper till he'd finished a picture of some funny kind of flowers. Mrs. Bul. Really? Mr. Gamboge, do let us see it. Phil. It's only a little sketch — a note of some kind of chrysanthemum. {Pulls out little sketch.) John. Chrysanthemum? Why, that's no chrysanthemum known to floriculture. That thing looks like a Skye terrier in a whirlwind. Phil, (^gravely). It's a new kind, just imported. They call it the ''Admiral Togo." John. Well, well ! Most extraordinary ! Strange I shouldn't have known about it. So you're interested in chrys- anthemums? Phil. Have been for years. Why, sir, last fall we'd have had the world's record for them in this country, if it hadn't been for the panic. I tell you, sir, when Roosevelt's term is over John. My idea exactly. Is that little sketch for sale ? Phil. No, it's hardly worth selling. Of course, if it inter- ests you, you're welcome to it. Mrs. Bul. But, Mr. Gamboge, if you're always so gen- erous with your work, how will you ever make any money ? Phil. Oh, I'm not worrying, so long as stocks are going up. John. Going up? I haven't seen a paper in three days. What's going up ? Phil. Everything — five and ten points. But mostly indus- trials. The leader yesterday was Chrysanthemum Preferred — I mean Sugar Preferred, followed closely by Roosevelt Common. John. Roosevelt Common ? Phil. Excuse me — Rubber Common. Rubbers went up to a dollar and a quarter a pair. Deacon {who has crossed the porch). Come, young man, the girls is waitin' to give you your supper. John. Yes, yes, but how about Sugar? Phil, {crossins: ^.\ Sugar? Oh, Sugar! Why, Sugar's formed a combine with Cream Preferred, Quaker Oats Com- mon, and every morning they go down faster ! \^Exit R., quickly. 31 THE deacon's second WIF£ John. Evelyn, that young man appears to have lost his reason. Mrs. Bul. But, my dear, he seems to be pretty well in- formed. And it's certainly praiseworthy of him to turn his summers to profit doing farm work. John. But what did he mean about stocks being up? Do you think he knows? Mrs. Bul. My dear, you must get your mind off tliose wretched stocks. Dorothy shall come and soothe your fore- head. Dorothy! Dorothy, dear! {Enter Dor., r., also IrlkR., followed by Kate and Deacq-n, who stands in door- way ufiiil curtain.) Dorothy, go soothe your father's head. He's been thinking about that old stock market again. Kate. Milton's fixing up a little surprise that will give you something else to think about. Dor. {standing behind hiniy stroking his forehead). Daddy, dear, no bulls and bears up here. See how quiet it is — not a sound but the crickets. Mrs. Bul. Not a single trolley-car. Har. Not a theatre for two hundred miles Dor. Or a roof garden Har. Or a taxicab Mrs. Bul. Or a hand-organ Dor. Nothing but still, quiet country — back to nature's own heart ! {From window comes sound of ^Iw..^^ phonography loud and strident y playing the latest comic song.) CURTAIN For Call {City people covering their ears. Kate arw^ Deacon smil- ing, beating time; Nan. ^w^Mil. dancing in middle of stage.) ACT III SCENE. — Same as Act I, with the furniture rearranged and the decorations tnuch more simple and artistic. The stove and the '' what-not'' in the corner have been taken away and a bowl of daisies adorns the fireplace. Most of the pictures ^ including the portrait of << The Squire,'' have been taken down from the wall. The tidies have been taken from the chairs, and the table-cover from the table, which is now placed c, between the windows, with the top tilted up against the wall. The sofa is placed agaifist the wall down l. Table, mantel and walls are now decorated with old fashioned things — brass, petvter, blue china, etc. On the majitel, which Dor. is arranging as the curtain rises, stands a sitnple sto?ie fug or pitcher of wild flowers — yellow daisies or blue flag. Down L. c, near sofa, stands Phil.'s easel with a canvas on it — a portrait of " Aunt Kitty." The windows are draped with cheap but pretty striped cotton print. At doors are por- tieres of old hand-woven spreads or the oldfashioned blue and white rugs. Two chairs up stage near table ; one down R. ; another down l., near easel. Phil, {standing off, as YyosL. alters position of flower fugs'). There ! No, left a little. Just there. Now, that's very chic, isn't it? Dor. It's perfectly adorable. You were the sweetest thing, Aunt Kitty, to let us pull your room to pieces and to arrange it all over like this. Don't you like it? Kate (rising and coming down c, looking around). Yes, I like it — but I don't know what Mrs. Brown would think — or Aunt Malvina. Dor. Aunt Malvina ? Who's Aunt Malvina ? Kate (aside). Now I've done it ! Why, Aunt Malvina — don't you know ? She was the Deacon's first wife ! Phil. Well, I don't see how she can have any say now, or old lady Brown, either. Why does she keep running over and laying down the law and the gospel as if she were boss here? Kate. Well, I suppose she thinks it a duty. You see when Aunt Malvina left us 33 34 THE deacon's second WIFE Phil. I thought the local phrase was *' passed beyond." Dor. Stop, you bad boy. Go on, Aunt Kitty. Kate. When Aunt Malvina left us, she asked Mrs. Brown to take care of the Deacon. Dor. Never dreaming, of course, that you would be here. Kate. Yes, she knew I'd be here before she went. Phil. But she preferred Mrs. Brown as a successor ? Kate. She thought Mrs. Brown would be a better manager. Dor. It's the most romantic thing I ever heard of! Think of her calmly picking out her husband's second wife for him. Kate. You see, Mrs. Brown doesn't always grasp quite what's going on. Phil. I see ! a little wanting in the upper story, is she ? Well, you're mighty good to take so nicely bossing from her. Now sit down, like a dear old soul, and let me finish that por- trait. The lavender scarf, please — that's it. Kate {crossing to arfiichair ; Dor. arrajiges scarf over her shoulder Sy then crosses down L., looking over Phil.'s shoulder as he paints'). My, what a fix — one fib after another — I won- der what I'll tell those poor people next? And what will happen when Aunt Malvina comes? Phil. (Jo Dor.). Doro, doesn't that shadow under the hair need a shade more green ? Kate. Green ! (^Jumps up.) Are you painting my hair green ? If you've got to change it, make it dark brown — that's what it used to be. Phil. No, no, Mrs. Fitz ; do sit still — and there by the ear just a touch of purple ? Kate. I will not stand green hair and purple ears ! {Runs across to portrait; bursts out laughing.) Is that the way I look? All those funny little white curls? Why, that's just like my grandmother ! Dor. Then you must have had a dear grandmother. And it isn't old a bit — just look, when the hair is covered up. {Puts haiids over the hair.) Why, Philip, if you could make the New York woman look so girlish, your fortune would be made, and dad's last objection would be conquered ! Kate (resuming pose). Go ahead ; make me as young as you like; anything to help you children along. To see the way you two go on makes me almost wish I had a lover myself. Dor. (a step forward, toward c). Why, Aunt Kitty ! You shocking old lady ! How about Deacon ? THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 35 Kate. Oh, the Deacon ; yes. But you wouldn't call him romantic exactly, would you ? 1 mean if I were young like you. Dor. {^crossing to Kate and kneeling by her while Phil. paints'). If you were young like me, what kind of a lover would you want? Kate {Jialf laughing, half earnest). Well, he'd be a big, strong, manly fellow. I shouldn't want any weakling. Dor. No, of course not. Kate. Then he'd have to like out-of-doors, and farming, and horses and cows, and tools, and machinery ; because I'd be a country girl, and wouldn't want to leave all those things for a stuffy city house. Dor. Oh, I'm so glad ! Then you wouldn't want my PhiHp ! Kate. No, I'll not take your Philip. He'd have to have brown hair and eyes — {run in short descriptio7i of actor play- ing Ern.) Dor. Why, you've given a perfect description of Mr. Rench — and he likes machinery, and just loves farm animals, too ! Why, Aunt Kitty ! I do believe you must have loved some one just like him, once, years and years ago. Kate (Jiesitatiiig). Perhaps I did — once, — years and years ago. Enter, r., with tea-tray, Mrs. Bul. Crosses up c. and puts tray on table. The tray is a big tifi waiter covered with red napkins and bearing coarse cups, ^' brown betty'' tea- pot, etc.f but arranged as for afternoon tea in a city house. Mrs. Bul. Now, Philip, you must stop long enough to join us in some tea. I'm so delighted to find something about the house that I can do. Really, Mrs. Fitz, you manage so skil- fully Kate. A great deal of it is Dorothy's work, too ; she's get- ting to be a splendid housekeeper. Dor. (crossing to Phil., down l.). Phil, did you hear that? I'm a fine housekeeper! Aunt Kitty says so, and in spite of the chicken supper ! Now if you could only get daddy to call you a good business man Mrs. Bul. It will be difficult to do that, my dear, unless Mr. Gamboge can actually sell some pictures. To be sure, Mr. Bullock was much pleased at the interest you showed, 36 THE deacon's second WIFE Philip, in the chrysanthemums, and your news about the stock market greatly pleased him. Phil. I'm afraid my stock quotations were not very accu- rate. Mrs. Bul. I believe he said something about your memory of details which was not wholly flattering, but the main point of your news, that there was a strong bull market, has kept him in the wildest excitement ever since. Now if you could only sell a picture Phil. My dear Mrs. Bullock, how kind you are to me. I don't mind confiding in you that I hope to have positive news from one of my pictures any moment. {Takes stage to R. c.) I sent a big allegorical painting to the competition for a new State House out West ; it represents Oratory triumphing over Plutocracy, with Bryan, idealized, in the centre of the picture. The choice was narrowed down to my design and one other, and the final decision should have reached me yesterday. I don't see what can be keeping back tliat letter ! Dor. {crossing to Phil.). Oh, Phil, if you only can get that order ! How much would it mean ? Phil. Probably eight hundred dollars. Dor. Eight hundred dollars ! And daddy said one pic- ture would establish the market for the rest. How many have you in your studio ? Phil. I suppose about two hundred. Dor. Twice eight, sixteen, and how many zeroes ? ( Counts on fingers.) One> two, three, four; and point off three — why, that makes sixteen thousand dollars — or is it a hundred and sixty thousand ? ( Crosses to Mrs. Bul. , throws her arms about her, and then exit, l. door.) Oh, mamma, Phil and I will be too rich for anything ! Isn't it maddening not to get that letter ? Kate (who has been looking out window). There comes Mrs. Brown. I know she'll be horrified at the change in the room, and may say something dreadful. You'll all help get her talking about something else, won't you? Dor. Yes, mother; Aunt Kitty has been telling us poor Mrs. Brown is quite out of her head. Mrs. Bul. Out of her head ? Dor. Yes, she has a delusion that she's the Deacon's sec- ond wife. That's why she keeps coming over here and trying to boss things. Phil, do take that easel away or she'll go into spasms, THE deacon's second WIFE 37 (^Exit Phil., r., with ease I ^ as Mrs. B. enters, l.) Mrs. B. I thought more'n likely you needed a hand from some sensible person when I see the settin'-room window hung with that kitchen apron stuff. (^Looks about her.) Well ! 1 want to know ! Looks like a cyclone had been through the room. Centre table shoved up against the wall like sweepin' day, old plates and saucers stuck around, an' where's the squire's picture that hung on that wall for sixty years to my cer- tain knowledge ? {Reenter Phil.) Well, if Malviny Fitz came back she wouldn't know her own rooms. Mrs. BuL. Who's Malviny Fitz? Dor. {interrupting). She was the Deacon's first wife. Aunt Kitty has just been telling us about her. She died Mrs. B. Kitty, aren't you ashamed of such goin's on ? You tell them the truth, this minute ! Kate. I knew her well ; she was everything to the Deacon. The house has never been the same. Milton and Nancy are her children. Mrs. Bul. Poor old gentleman ! and poor children ! They seem very happy, though; I'm sure you're like a mother to them. Kate. I try to be ; and I'm doing my best to make the Deacon happy. Mrs, B. Kitty, this has gone far enough ; Mrs. Bullock, I feel the time has come — Pve set by and seen this house turned topsyturvy as long as I can stand. Mrs. Bul. Dear, dear, it's a very sad subject. Do take a cup of tea, Mrs. Brown ; Ave'U try to think of something else. Dor. {handing cup). Cream or lemon, Mrs. Brown? Mrs. B. Cream. It may be city manners to mix tea and lemonade, but I can't feel that it's quite proper for temperance women. Such goin's on. What will happen when Malviny comes back? Phil. ") Dor. y {together). Malvina come back ! Mrs. Bul. ) Mrs. Bul. You don't have such things happen in this town, do you ? Mrs. B. There was a message from her on Thursday Dor. a message? Phil. Heavens ! Have we got in with a crowd of spir- itualists ? 38 THE deacon's second WIFE Kate. Oh, Mrs. Brown, do you really think she'd care so much? {Crosses L. to Mrs. B.) Mrs. B. Care ! When her boast was that not a thing in this room was moved for eighteen years ! Dor. Oh, Mrs. Brown, it makes me creep to hear you talk of the first Mrs. Fitz coming back ! Suppose that door should open {Drops teacup.') Kate (r.). Don't, don't ! I know just how it would be ! The first thing to go would be that table Mrs. B. Indeed it would — that would be tipped down and moved out into the middle of the room so quick (Mrs. B. , to general disapproval, pours tea into saucer and cools it by breathing on it.) Phil. (l.). Table tipping ! I knew jve'd come to that. Next we'll have slate writing ! Dor. (l.). If you people don't stop talking about ghosts as if they were live people and would walk in any minute, I shall faint ! Mrs. Bul. (l.). Yes, yes ! Let's talk of something more rational. Mrs. B. (r.). But, Mrs. Bullock, you don't understand; I feel it my duty to explain Mrs. Bul. Yes, Mrs. Brown, I'm sure I respect your be- lief. I've had friends of all sorts of faiths, — Methodists and Christian Scientists and one Mohammedan, — although we've always been Episcopalians ourselves. But if you please, if you are a Spiritualist, don't try to explain it to us. {Back to tea- table.) Take another cup of tea, Mrs. B. {handing cup to Mrs. Bul., who puts it on table). No, thank you; that tea ain't cooked long enough for me. I always cook my tea twenty minutes, so's you can taste the tea. Mrs. Bul. But, my dear Mrs. Brown, surely you don't consider that healthy ? I'm very sure when I attended lectures on hygiene last winter, they said tea should never be boiled. Mrs. B. Anybody that's endured as many ills as I have, ought to know what's healthy an' what ain't. Now, you take this quinsy sore throat — here I've had it three weeks steady, an' I've had a different kind of bandage round my throat every three days. Dor. Yes ; I remember the day we came it was a red flan- nel bandage. Kate. And then you changed it to ice compress THE deacon's second WIFE 39 Phil. And what is it now ? Mrs. B. Onions — a string of boiled onions done up in a big handkerchief; that's the old-time country remedy; these new- fangled young doctors don't none of 'em know how comforlin' to the throat boiled onions is. Deacon {outside). Easy there, now ! Ern. {outside). That's all right ; never mind. Kate. What's that outside ? Phil, {at windoiv). They're bringing young Rench from the field ; he seems to be hurt. Enter John Bullock, r. , excitedly ; to c. John. Get some bandages, somebody. Hartley's just stuck a pitchfork in Rench's leg, and they're bringing him in here. (Kate goes r., quickly. Deacon ^;;^Har. eftter r., helping Ern. to sofa, where they set about gettitig off his shoe.) Mrs. B. Somebody make a mustard poultice — most any sort of trouble is helped by mustard poultices. \^Exit Kate, r. Dor. {holding out tiny lace handkerchief). Here, tie it up with this ! Mrs. Bul. I'm sure we shall all faint; do get my smelling salts. Reenter Kate, r., with bandages ; the men take them and tie up the cut. Mrs. B., /^ c. Kate. Now just lift up his foot on the sofa so the blood won't run down. That's it. Mrs, B. 'Pears to me my experience with troubles ought to count for something. Bean't you going to poultice it? Kate {down\..,infro7itofsofa). Poultice? Nonsense! Mrs. B. Well, I wash my hands of the whole matter. Jf he loses his leg, you've got yourselves to blame. 1 say nothing now, but wait till Malviny comes back. \^Exit, l. Kate (l. c). Oh, Mrs. Brown, don't {Crosses r. c.) What shall I do? Mrs, Bul. I'm sure, Mrs. Fitz, you've done very well, and you're not to be frightened by her superstitious, spooky ideas. But what's the matter? You look faint. Philip, a glass of water, quick ! 40 THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE {Takes Kate to chair, r. Exetuif- Phil and John, returnhig at once ; Phil, with water, John with whiskey,) Kate {sinking into chair, while Mrs. Bul. and Dor. /an her). Oh, it's nothing. Pm not used to seeing people liurt, that's all. {Sits up and sips water that Fhil. offers.) But you don't think he'll be crippled for life, do you? John. Have some whiskey ! Deacon. Sho, no ! it's only a scratch. By next week he won't be as much of a cripple as young Bullock here, all lamed up from sawin' wood. Ern. No, Pm all fine and dandy already, Aunt Kitty. Pm willing to be stuck every day in the week, if you'll pet me up like this every time. Har. Well, we got the hay all in, old man, if I did mistake you for a haystack. Deacon. Yes, you boys done fine — and Mr. Bullock, too, for a city man. Mrs. Bul. {taking ]oiin down r. c). John Bullock! Do you mean to say you've been pitching hay ? John. Certainly, my dear, certainly. They had none of them apparently ever had any instruction in the proper way to handle a pitchfork, and were evidently unable to follow my directions, so I was forced to take a fork in hand myself. {About here Kate goes out and gets a tray of cookies and glass of milk for Ern.) Har. (l.). The fact is, mother, dad had to do something violent to take his mind off the stock market. John (r. c). Take my mind off? Do you suppose my mind has been off for one minute since I telegraphed for con- firmation of the rumor Gamboge brought? Young man {to Phil.), I wish you could collect your wits long enough to tell me just what stocks were up, and how much. Phil. (/// r.). I wish I could, sir, but you know Pm not a business man. John. Evidently not — evidently not. And apparently my office force are not much better ones — two days in answering a telegram ! I can't understand that any better than your non- sense about Quaker Oats preferred ! Reenter Kate with tray ; crosses to sofa, r. , and fusses over Ern. THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 41 Mrs. Bul. (r. c). Come, John, don't pitch mto Mr. Gam- boge so. I'm sure he didn't mean anything ! Dor. Yes, daddy, do quiet down. You know we packed up all your things for you all ready to start the moment you get your telegrams; meanwhile, think of all the experience we're getting ! {Business of Deacon crossing to table and drinking the glass of whiskey that Kate refused.^ Phil. And if we're losing money on Wall Street, think how much we are earning sawing wood ! Ern. And pitching hay ! Dor. And cooking dinners ! Mrs. Bul. And making tea ! Kate. But I'm so sorry it's all only pretending, after all. When the telegram comes, you'll all be packing off to the city and leaving us. Har. Well, it looks as if I'd fixed old Ernest so he wouldn't rush off. Deacon. No, I reckon we won't let him go till he gets a little more spry on his feet. Ern. I don't mind staying right on ; this is just the sort of life that suits me. Phil. What, lying on the sofa and having Aunt Kitty feed you ginger cookies ? Kate {indignantly). You know that isn't what he meant ! He means the farm life. You can see that, the way he pitches into it ! Phil. I should think he meant the cookies from the way he pitches into them ! Come, old man, which do you mean ? Ern. I mean both ! I think the ideal existence would be to own a little farm like this, and live on it with Aunt Kitty. Phil. Look out, Ernest, you'll make the Deacon jealous. Ern. With Aunt Kitty — for an adopted grandmother ! {Through proceeding few speeches, Kate must follow with appropriate pantomime y for a laugh at end J) John. Well, young man, you might do a lot worse for yourself. Why, if I knew a young fellow like you who would take such a farm as this and run it on scientific principles, I'd be strongly tempted to finance the project for him. I'd con- sider it a good investment. 42 THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE (Kate takes out tray and cooky plate. ^ Ern. Do you really mean it, Mr. Bullock ? John. Mean it? Of course 1 mean it! Do you think a Wall Street man ever makes a business proposition he doesn't mean ? Deacon, is there a farm around here in the market for a reasonable figure? Deacon. Waal, now, I wouldn't wonder if you could get this very farm at a j^retty good bargain. ]\Iy wife and I have often spoke of retirin' to a litde house in the village. I guess we wouldn't quarrel about terms. Waal, now, I'll just get the plans of the farm an' show you how it goes. \^Exit. Dor. Daddy ! John. Yes ? Dor. Don't buy this farm — and Mr. Rench, don't you think of living on it. John. Why not? Ern. Yes, why not ? Dor. It's haunted ! E*^^ I {.together'). Haunted ! Nonsense ! Mrs. Bul. Dorothy, child, don't be frightened by what that foolish old woman said. You know the only people who can really see ghosts are the Society for Psychical Research, and I'm sure she's not one of them. Phil. I don't know ! I rather agree with Dorothy, The old lady was certainly quite stirred up. John. What old lady? Ern. What did she say ? Phil. Mrs. Brown, the cheerful old bird with the sore throat. It seems there's one Malvina Mrs. Bul. The Deacon's first wife Dor. Who has a way of appearing out of nothing, any time ! Phil. Your friend Aunt Kitty believes in Malvina — said it gave her the creeps to think of her coming back. Enter Kate. Ern. Aunt Kitty, what's this about the family spook ? Did you ever see her ? Mrs. Bul. ) .^ ^, . at i • :> Dor I {together). Malvma? John. The Deacon's first wife ! THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 43 Kate (slow/y). Yes, I have seen her. I saw her the very day you came. Dor. Oo — oh ! How creepy ! Mrs. Bul. Now, child, don't get excited. You really believe, then, that she actually exists? Kate. I'm sure of it — surer than that I'm Mrs. Fitz ! Phil. And may appear any moment? Look here. Aunt Kitty, you aren't giving us a jolly ? Har. You know I may be a yellow journalist, but this is coming it pretty strong, even for me. Ern. I don't mind if she does turn up once in a while, if the Deacon and Aunt Kitty move to the village. I'd be glad of some company. Kate. The last words she said were : " You'll see me back soon." Deacon (reentering, fumblhig papers). Na-ow, Mr. Bul- lock, I reckon we can talk turkey ( Opposite door opens and Mrs. F. appears, with bundles, as before.) Malviny ! (^General consterfiation. Picture: l., Mrs. F. ; r. c. Dor. and Mrs. Bul. in each other^s arms, almost faint- ing. Phil., John afid Har., fanning them and sprink- li?ig water ; r.. Deacon, with Kate hiding behind him ; Ern. half-rising from sofa.) Mrs. F. Wal ! What's all this mess — summer trash ? Deacon. Why, they've been our guests for the last week — paying guests. Mrs. F. I want to know ! Pity I hadn't been here to make 'em more comfortable. S'posin* you do some intro- ducin'. Mrs. Bul. Heavens ! To have a man introduce you to his wife's ghost ! Dor. Do you suppose it will want to shake hands? Deacon. Malviny, this is Mrs. Bullock, an' Miss Dorothy Bullock. Mrs. F. Pleased to know yer. Dor.' ^'''^' 1 (.^'Sether). Delighted ! Deacon (r.). These are Mr. Bullock, of New York, Mr. Hartley Bullock, Mr. Gamboge, the artist, and on the sofy, Mr. Rench, that got stuck with a pitchfork. Mrs. F. (c). Pitchfork? Amateur hayin', eh? From what I see as I come along, I judge you made a better job than the 44 '^HE deacon's second WIF£ electric belt man did last year. An' who's that behind ye ? (Kate steps around Deacon, to r. c. Phil, and Dor. on either side of Mrs. F.) Kitty ! You young imp of darkness ! What moiikeyshines hev you been up to ? {Snatches off her wig ; Kate's hair falls down^ loose or in braid. Tableau of astonishme?it ; exclamations : " You're not Aunt Kitty!'' ''You're not a ghost !" ''You're the real Mrs. Fitz I " etc.y etc.^ John (r. c). Mrs. Fitz, you arrived in the midst of a most important transaction which doubtless concerns you. Mr. Fitz was talking of selling the place in the interest of young Rench. Mrs. F. Selling the place, eh? Well, you fix it up between you. I guess I could leave off farm work without crying my eyes out. Only give me time to straighten up this room ; it looks like the day after the auction. Deacon. But why didn't you tell us you was comin', Mal- viny, instead of jumpin* in on us like that? You most scared these bodies into fits. Mrs. F. You mean to say you didn't get my letter? Who went to the post-office yesterday? {Calls.) Milton ! Nancy Melissy ! {Children enter.) Milton, what you got in your pockets? (Mil., business of e7nptying pockets Q,. of stage ; pro- duces string, nails y kiiifcy etc., etc. ^ finally telegram for ]oii^t letters for Deacon and Phil., which are handed around.) How'd you come to carry these ever since yesterday morning ? Mil. Why, you see, maw, Tom Judd and me fell in the brook yesterday, and I thought I'd better carry the letters around till they got dry ! John {excitedly waving telegram). Gamboge, your news is confirmed from New York. The whole market yesterday ad- vanced sharply ; my partner says if I can reach New York be- fore the advance reaches its climax, we shall have the bears begging for mercy. Evelyn, Dorothy, get your things on ! Hartley, run out the machine at once. Phil. Stop a moment, Mr. Bullock ; my letter says , *' Your design for State Capitol accepted ; offer you a thousand dol- lars." Mr. Bullock, permit me to make a most respectful ap- pHcation for your daughter's hand. John. Take her, my boy ; you've shown me you've the art of judging the stock market, and if you invest your thousand right, you can afford to paint pictures. You'll come back to the city in the car with us. Now hurry ! THE DEACON S SECOND WIFE 45 {All scatter, leaving Deacon and Mrs. F., Kate, Ern., Nan. and Mil. on stage.) Mil. Gee, maw ! You ought to see that Hartley fellow saw wood ! {Imitates.') Nan. Oh, maw ! that Dorothy's got the slickest clothes you ever saw. Wait till I show you what she give me ! Deacon. An* if you'd seen this boy Ernest getting tossed with a pitchfork, just like he was a cock o' hay ! (^Laughs; slaps himself .) Mrs. F. But you got the hay all in, did ye? Deacon. Every spear of it — twenty-eight ton. Mil. An' all the wood cut an* split — two cords an' a half. Nan. An' the pies is all gone. Mil. An' that's the last one of the doughnuts ! (Kate goes up r. to mantel, gets a tobacco box full of money , crosses to left of Mrs. F., and gives her the box ; then goes L. and adjusts ^r^.'s pilloiv and shawl.) Kate. And you'll find the board money behind the kitchen clock : forty- five dollars. {From this time on Kate remains near Ern., at the sofa ; business of coquetry.) Mrs. F. Well, you made out to do pretty well for a week's managin'. Lucky you did, for my sister's boys couldn't come, no way. Enter Mrs. B., l. ; goes l. c. Mrs. B. Land o' the livin' ! Malviny Fitz, it's a mercy you got home when you did ! Such goin's on I never see ! Many's the time I tried to warn 'em all and give a helpful word of neighborly advice, but in the words of Scripture, it wasn't no use to kick against pricks. {Goes up L. c.) Mrs. F. Well, you needn't to lose no sleep nor no kicks. We've got our hay in, and people paying ten dollars a week for the fun of doin' it, and wantin' to buy the farm at the end ! Seems to me there was a lesson for some of us in the text : " Out of the mouths of babes and sucklin's." (John andyi^s. Bul., Har., Dor. and fmh. enter r., and 46 THE deacon's second WIFE file across stage with luggage, dressed in automobile cos- tumes, saying: " Good-dye,'^ confusedly as they go. Po- sitions for concluding lifies :) Nan. afid Mil. Mrs. B. Mrs. Bul. Dor. and Thil. Deacon. Mrs. F. Bul. Kate. Ern., (on sofa). John. Deacon, remember my offer when you are ready to retire from farm life; if Rench wants to take it up, I'm back of him. Ern. You know what I said — it all depended on having Aunt Kate for an adopted grandmother. Now she's too young for that, but I just can't get along without her, somehow. Perhaps I can persuade her to come as Deacon. No, my boy, we won't let you do no persuadin' for a year or two yet. She's just nothin' but Beth's little girl — {holds out both hands to Kate, who runs down c. to hint) our little niece, Kitty. Positions : Mrs. B. Har. Nan. Mil. Mrs. Bul. Dor. Phil. Mal. Deacon. Kate. Bul. Ern., {on sofa). CURTAIN For Recall (Same positions ^ but Kate lookitig back at Ern.) JAN 3 1910 One copy del. to Cat. Div. SAH 3 1910. :^:31 ^'iia 'm r B^4 5f: