iiiiniiiiiiininiiiii Class __ES3Si? faim-ighf N° /?Zt GQHmiGHcr o£Posm FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES HVE ONE^ACT COMEDIES By LAWRENCE LANGNER Introduction by ST. JOHN ERVINE STEWART St KIDD ONCPWA-U q S. A. CINCINNATI STEWART KIDD COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1921 STEWART KIDD COMPANY 1^\ All Rights Reserved These plays are fully protected by copyright in the United States, Great Britain and Colonies, and countries of the Berne Conven- tion. For permission to produce any of these plays application must be made to the author, who holds both the professional and amateur stage rights, and who may be addressed in care of the publishers, Stewart Kidd, Cincinnati, Ohio. Printed in the United States of America The Caxton Press **Everybody for Books." This is one of the Interlaken Library. JAN 22 '23 fP) ri A ft Q 9. fi 7 2 TO ESTELLE LANGNER I wish to thank my friend Philip Moeller, of the Iheatre Guild of New York, who produced most of these plays, for his helpful advice and suggestions. CONTENTS Page Preface 9 Matinata 15 Another Way Out 45 The Family Exit 79 Pie 107 Licensed 141 PREFACE Lawrence Langner, the author of these plays, is a typical American: he was born in Europe; and like all typical Americans, he is not happy outside New York. If he were a casual American, one who is American merely through accident of birth, he would probably prefer to spend his time in London or Paris, mugging-up European cul- ture in the hope that some of it might stick to him, but since he is a typical American and has wished for Americanization instead of hav- ing it wished on him, he spends his time at the unfashionable end of Fifth Avenue, trying to develop a culture which derives, not from Europe, but from Cape Cod. He will not live to see an American culture which does not derive from the Old World, but at least he and the group, whose most interesting member is Mr. Eugene O'Neill, are doing much to make the way easier for a more definitely American culture to establish itself. There are obvious dangers which may overwhelm these pioneers, such as arrogance and argumenta- tiveness and smugness and self-satisfaction and a disproportionate view of things and, above all, a tendency to imagine that the new and disorderly thing is better than the orderly and old; but if the pioneers have sound constitutions, they will survive them. It is easier, perhaps, for an Irish- man to be aware of these dangers than for anyone else because he sees them manifested so clearly in his own country where pettifogging patriotism has 9 PREFACE reached such a state of sickening smugness that the Irish people, the only people in the world who made a profit out of the War, thrust their aca- demic grievances upon the consideration of a wounded world as if they were of greater im- portance than those of the rest of humanity put together. Millions of Austrians and Russians may die of starvation and infectious disease; the whole of Central Europe may sink into misery and ruin, while the rest of Europe wonders how long it can manage to keep up appearances; but none of these things matter to Ireland, which behaved during the War like an hysterical woman who should rush into the presence of a man bleed- ing to death and exclaim, *'My God, IVe got a toothache!" These plays deal with the problem of marriage and the problem of family life, and are the kind of plays which are only written by a man who is happily married and peculiarly responsive to the ties of kindred. The thesis of them is the quite admirable one that the ceremony of marriage is not a sort of yardstick by which we can accurately measure human relationships. I do not know how many persons there are in the world who look upon the institution of marriage as a rigid mould into which all sorts of couples can be poured in the sure and certain hope that they will be equally comfortable in it; but I doubt whether the number is large. We may prettify the ceremony of mar- riage by calling it a sacrament indissoluble ex- cept by death, but we do not allow the prettiness of that idea to prevent us from making allowance for the contingency of divorce. The accumulated lO PREFACE experience of mankind shows that some sort of legal regulation of marriage is necessary if we are to get through the business of existence without being harassed by the details of it. The rule of the road was made, not to annoy and hamper people, but to enable all of us, the slow and swift, to get to our destination with as Httle misadventure as possible; and so far is it from limiting the swift to the pace of the slow that it actually enables the swift to get ahead of the slow without in- flicting hardship on the latter. If there were no rule of the road, traffic would not be in progres- sion, but in collision. What is true of the rule of the road is equally true of the institution of mar- riage, and all the complaints that are made of it, such, for example as are made of it in these plays, are really complaints about the per- sons who are parties to it rather than complaints about the thing itself. The free lovers in Another Way Out would not be living any more or less happily in the bonds of matrimony than they are in the bonds of unlegalized marriage. I have heard of couples, living, as the technical terni goes, in sin, who quarrel as frequently and as bitterly as any couple that ever got themselves blessed by a holy father in a church! I can see no way of removing the disabilities of marriage otherwise than by removing the human race or by de- sexing it. Marriage is, and must always be, a makeshift business in which two dissimilar per- sons agree to put up a decent pretence of identical desires and to make the best of a bad job by being as tolerant of each other as they can. It is a terrible strain on a man to live with a woman: II PREFACE it is an equally terrible strain on a woman to live with a man; and resonable recognition of that fact will make the relationship of husband and wife a fairly endurable one. But the difficulties in the way of making the relationship tolerable are not to be overcome by the hocus-pocus of mysti- cism or materialism. The priest who tries to per- suade us to believe that marriage is a sort of magical rite whereby discordant elements are made completely accordant is not any sillier than the Greenwich Villager who tries to persuade us that we have only got to dispense with the mar- riage ceremony altogether in order to achieve happiness. I remember, when I was in New York, meeting some very clever women who were found- ing a society to persuade married women to retain their maiden names. They said that it was de- grading to a woman to abandon her maiden name in favor of that of her husband, and they appealed to women to assert their individuality, which consisted, seemingly, in the maiden name. Mrs. John Jones was much less of an individual than Miss Maggie Smith! I suggested to my friends that they were making a great deal of pother about nothing. Apart from the social convenience of a man and a woman who share the same bed sharing the same name — for it must surely be a little awkward when Mr. John Jones and Miss Maggie Smith turn up at an hotel and ask for a room for the night — I failed to see why it was degrading for a woman to bear the name of the man to whom she was willing to bear children, particularly as she had chosen him of her own free will, and not degrading to bear the name of her 12 PREFACE father whom she had not chosen, whom, indeed, she might prefer to be without. A great deal of the intellectual revolt against convention is very like that, and the only safe and comforting rule of conduct for all of us is the belief that in- stitutions which have survived centuries of ex- perience are, on the whole, good institutions; for mankind has an extraordinary capacity for getting rid of customs and manners which are useless to it. As to the plays themselves, considered as plays and not as arguments, I find in them a sense of comedy which is concerned more with situations than with people. I have seen one of them per- formed, the jolly little play, called Pie, in which Langner's incorrigible domesticity is manifested, and it came over the footlights naturally and easily, rousing laughter and interest. I feel that each of the other plays will act as well as Pie did. In case anyone reading this preface and then reading the plays, imagines that Langner is a sort of cut-throat with a mania for tearing thmgs to pieces, I would like to add that, in addition to being a typical American, he is a man of morbidly respectable character, leading a life of such hum- drum convention that the goings-on at a Methodist tea party seem orgiastic in comparison with it. His career when set out might be used by the younger Rockefeller as an example to the mem- bers of his Bible class. He is conventionally and happily married; he is conventionally and proudly the father of a charming daughter; and he is con- ventionally and irresistibly conscious of family ties. He is the most conventional man I know, 13 PREFACE with a capacity for sentimental indulgence which makes me, another sentimentalist, feel brutal- minded by comparison. His tastes are simple to the point of austerity. He drinks so little that one feels he does so only to show his contempt for prohibition, that sign of a servile race. If all of us consumed as little tobacco as he does, the to- bacco planters would be ruined men. The only defect in his character, from the point of view of the younger Rockefeller, is that he writes plays and is associated with theatrical enterprises; but even in this hellish business, he contrives to behave himself in a way that is considered commendable by the Y. M. C. A., for the theater which he helps to govern, the Garrick, in West 35th Street, where the Theater Guild of New York has its home, is the only intellectual theater in the world which is a commercial success. St. John Ervine. London, November, 1921. 14 MATINATA A COMEDY IN ONE ACT Matinata* was first produced by the Provincetown Players November i, 1920, at the Playwrights' The- atre, New York, with the following cast: Columbine Norma Millay Pierrot James Light Harlequin Sydney Powell * Owing to the general mispronunciation of the original title, "Mattinata," I have anglicized the spelling of the Italian word. L. L. Copyright, 1921 By LAWRENCE LANGNER AU Rights Reserved MATINATA (A MORNING SONG) SCENE A small room in a large city^ in which Pierrot and Columbine make their home. The room is neither kitchen^ bedroom^ nor living-room; but it serves as all three; it isy in fact, a room of a char- acter which is denied to the rich. There is a bed-couch^ left front; door leading to the bathroom^ left rear; window ^ left center wall^ bed-couch against center wall; kitchen sink and gas stove ^ right center wall; cupboard with dishes and chest of drawers against right wall rear; and door leading to staircase to street^ right front. In the center are a small table and a few chairs, Pierrot is in bed; his head lies near the window. Columbine is bustling around^ setting the table on which she has already placed some of the breakfast dishes. COLUMBINE (to Picrrot) Breakfast is nearly ready, Pierrot! Do wake up. {Pierrot takes no notice. Columbine goes over to sit on the bed,) Don't you want some coffee? {Pierrot grunts,) I'm making a lovely breakfast for you, Pierrot. PIERROT {sleepily) All right, dear! Fm getting up. {She waits expectantly; he rolls over and goes back to sleep,) 17 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES COLUMBINE Fm going to stay here and bother you until you get up! See! Tm a mosquito! Tm buzzing around you! Buzz, buzz, buzz!!! {She kisses him,) Vra going to bite you! {She attempts to bite him,) PIERROT Do go away, dear! Can't you see Fm making up my mind to get up? It takes time. {He turns over so that his head is covered up, and all one can see of him is his hunched-up back.) COLUMBINE You'll never make up your mind! You know you've lots of things to do today. Please get up, Pierrot ! Please do ! {She begins to pull the bedclothes of him,) PIERROT Do leave me alone ! Fm getting up. {He winds the covers around him,) COLUM*BINE But breakfast! PIERROT I don't want any breakfast. {He settles down in the bed in a determined manner^ COLUMBINE {hurt) Very well! {She goes over to the gas stove and pours hot water into the coffee-pot. She looks over at Pierrot to see whether her new attitude will make any difference. It does not. She pulls up the blinds. She puts the coffee-pot on the table with a thud and sits down^ moving her chair i8 MATINATA noisily. She pours herself a cup oj cojffee. Pier- rot raises his head.) PIERROT {cheerfully) Hello! {Columbine drinks her cofee with great intensity^ PIERROT {shouting) Didn't you hear what I said? COLUMBINE {coldly) What did you say? PIERROT I said, "Hello!" COLUMBINE IVe heard you say that before. Do you know what time it is? PIERROT No! COLUMBINE It's nearly eleven o'clock. PIERROT Now, why did you tell me that? IVe slept only — let me see — six hours. You're very irritating! COLUMBINE I meant to be. PIERROT Very well. I shall go back to sleep. {He lies back on the bed.) COLUMBINE I don't care. Your company isn't so charming, after all. PIERROT I have a lovely idea for a song. If I could write it, I might be able to sell it for a hundred dol- lars. 19 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES COLUMBINE If only you could! PIERROT What couldn't we do with a hundred dollars! I know! We could go to a hotel and have break- fast, lunch, and dinner served in our room so we could stay in bed all day. I wish I could re- member that song. Confound you. Columbine, why did you bother me! I was half dream- ing of it — and now youVe made me forget it. {He sits up.) It was a song to the dawn — "Matinata"! COLUMBINE What do you know about the dawn ? PIERROT There is a great mystery about the dawn. It is seen only by people with very good habits, or by people with very bad habits. COLUMBINE It isn't difficult to see where you belong! PIERROT Isn't it? Well, I've never seen the dawn — that is, not for years! COLUMBINE You were out all night last Monday. Didn't you see it then ? PIERROT No, I was playing poker. I think I shall get up. COLUMBINE I've finished my breakfast. PIERROT Isn't that fine! Just in time to get me mine! COLUMBINE I shall do nothing of the sort. 20 MATINATA PIERROT {pleading) But, Columbine, dear! I'm so hungry. IVe had nothing to eat since two o'clock — and now it's eleven. COLUMBINE You should have gotten up when I called you ! PIERROT My Columbine angry with me? Don't be angry, sweetheart. Your mouth is like a red rosebud when you smile — but when you're angry it gets thin, like a long, red worm. COLUMBINE Ugh! How can you say my mouth's like a worm! PIERROT {struck with the thought) A worm may hide in the reddest rose! COLUMBINE I'm angry with you! PIERROT I didn't say your mouth was like that. {Gaily) I meant I wanted you to smile — to be happy. It's morning, the sun is up! COLUMBINE It's been up for hours. PIERROT {gaily jumping out of bed) And so am I! Here is your penitent Pierrot! If you'll only forgive me, I'll go to bed early, sleep all night, get up with the dawn, and bring you your breakfast in bed! Won't you like that? {He takes of his py jama jacket^ disclosing his costume underneath.) COLUMBINE It would be lovely — but it'll never happen! Goodness me, you've slept in your clothes! 21 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES PIERROT Yes, I was too tired to take them off. Do they look bad ? COLUMBINE The coat's creased terribly. I shall have to put the iron on. You can't go out looking like that! {She goes over to the stove and puts on an iron.) PIERROT {pulling on his stockings) Columbine, you are a dear! I don't deserve you. I know I don't. {He looks around helplessly^ Where are my shoes? COLUMBINE I don't know. I didn't take them off. Look where you least expect to find them. {Pierrot looks in his bed^ under his pillow^ and finally under the bed, where he finds them.) PIERROT What are you going to give me for breakfast? COLUMBINE Would you like boiled eggs ? PIERROT {with disgust) Eggs! Oh, Columbine, how could you suggest eggs? I want something dainty, something with a French name, that will waft its way gently into my insides. COLUMBINE I suppose you've been drinking! PIERROT Not more than was necessary! COLUMBINE I'll make you an omelette. 22 MATINATA PIERROT The French name! And it must be a frothy one — clusters of air bubbles coated with egg! COLUMBINE {sighing) I shall have to dirty three extra dishes. PIERROT That makes me think of something. I know! I haven't washed! COLUMBINE {breaking the eggs into a dish) Hurry, please! You'll begin to dress yourself just when I have everything ready for you. PIERROT Don't hurry me. Columbine. There should be something dignified about the way a man pre- pares himself for the day. If he hurries and skurries, it makes him fretful and nervous. A great opportunity may come to me today, if I preserve a calm in my soul. Would you have me miss it, just so as not to keep breakfast waiting for a few moments.^ COLUMBINE But you said you were hungry! PIERROT I am hungry. {Rises.) But I have a dignified hunger. I shall enter the bathroom with a stately air. Thus shall I begin the day and so shall I end it. {Pierrot goes into the bathroom.) {Columbine sighs, takes the egg-beater, mixes the omelette and pours it into a pan. She puts the cofee-pot back on the stove. Enter Pierrot, mopping his face with a towel. He dries it, then stands up and exercises listlessly for a few moments^ using knife and fork as dumb-bells. 23 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES He then tries rising up and down, hands on hips, body stiff; gets down but fails to rise; he staggers up. He repeats this twice, and finally Jails into a chair at the tabled PIERROT Well! Where's the omelette? COLUMBINE It isn't ready yet. PIERROT Tm hungry. COLUMBINE Eat some bread. PIERROT Where is it? COLUMBINE Over here. PIERROT Well, why don't you bring it to me? COLUMBINE Can't you get it yourself? PIERROT Don't you see I'm sitting down to my break- fast? You've been hurrying me the whole morning, and now I'm here it isn't ready — . COLUMBINE It is ready. See, the omelette is done. {She puts it on his plate ^ PIERROT Where's the salt? COLUMBINE Here you are! 24 MATINATA PIERROT And the bread. Do bring the bread! {She hands him the bread,) \ COLUMBINE You are bad tempered this morning. PIERROT Tm not. {He eats the omelette ravenously.) COLUMBINE {sitting at the table) Do you like the omelette? PIERROT It's all right. I nearly had that song. Listen: — "Rose-colored Dawn, My heart's forlorn — Do you like that? COLUMBINE I don't. First of all, a dawn's not rose-colored; and, secondly, the idea's absolutely unoriginal! PIERROT You do tell the truth terribly! COLUMBINE You need someone to tell you the truth. PIERROT Those weren't the words I was thinking of in bed. If you don't like them, it's your own fault for waking me up. What I said just now was inspired by the omelette. COLUMBINE Don't be stupid, Pierrot. If I waked you up, it was because I had to. I've worked all the week and now it's your turn. There isn't a thing in the place to eat. PIERROT Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could school 25 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ourselves to live without food; one could do it gradually. After all, material functions are merely matters of habit. COLUMBINE I wish you'd get the habit of working! PIERROT {hopelessly) Oh, dear! {He stretches.) COLUMBINE You kicked me — right on the leg! PIERROT {indiferently) Did I? COLUMBINE Yes. You might say you're sorry. PIERROT {sharply) I suppose I am sorry. Is it necessary to say so? COLUMBINE {indignantly) It certainly is! PIERROT {equally indignant) I might say equally, why did you have your leg in my way? My desire to stretch was frustrated — and by your leg! COLUMBINE Do you mean you're not sorry ? PIERROT I mean that if your leg hadn't been there, I wouldn't have kicked it. COLUMBINE {angrily) Where should I put my leg? PIERROT {more angrily still) Somewhere where it wouldn't be in my way! COLUMBINE {rising) Look here, Pierrot, I've just about had enough of you. You don't care what you do, or what you say! 26 MATINATA PIERROT {angrily) I suppose I don't! Well, Tm going. {He puts on his hat,) COLUMBINE {alarmed) Where are you going? PIERROT {bitterly) To work. To sell my immortality for a mess of pottage. COLUMBINE But I haven't ironed your coat — it is all creased. You look disreputable. PIERROT I don't care how I look. COLUMBINE And you haven't finished your breakfast. PIERROT I'm not going to finish it. {He goes out, slamming the door. Columbine sits at the table and weeps. After a pause, enter Harlequin, He stands at the door,) HARLEQUIN {with uplomb) Good morning! COLUMBINE {through her tears) Hello, Harlequin! HARLEQUIN Is that all you say to me, just "Hello"? Aren't you glad to see me ? COLUMBINE {tearfully) Yes, Harlequin! {Harlequin approaches her.) HARLEQUIN What's the matter? You're crying. 27 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES COLUMBINE (tearfully) Yes, Harlequin. HARLEQUIN Why are you crying? It's not over me, is it? COLUMBINE No, Harlequin. HARLEQUIN (disappointed) No ? Oh ! I thought it was ! COLUMBINE Why, Harlequin? HARLEQUIN Well, I know I haven't been very nice to you lately. But it's all over now. Columbine. Tell me what you've been crying about. COLUMBINE I don't ^now. (Harlequin takes her hand,) HARLEQUIN (sympathetically) Won't you tell Harlequin ? Perhaps he can help you. COLUMBINE Oh, Harlequin, it's — it's Pierrot! (She weeps again.) HARLEQUIN It's too bad, dear. Pierrots are the same the world over. You may thank your stars that wherever there's a Pierrot, you'll always find a Harlequin for consolation! COLUMBINE Fd like you to console me. Harlequin, but I don't think it would be right. HARLEQUIN Oh, yes it would. Harlequins are quite neces- 28 MATINATA sary to the world. The Pierrots would be quite unbearable without them. And now tell me, what has Pierrot been doing? COLUMBINE (tearfully) It's what he hasn't been doing. HARLEQUIN Oh! Neglecting you! COLUMBINE Neglecting himself. Wasting his time. Going to parties, staying up late, working only when he has to. He's so — so inefficient with him- self. HARLEQUIN Not with himself. Columbine, but with you. Columbine dear, if you were my wife, how I would devote myself to you! It would be the greatest pleasure for me to do little things for you, to make your life easier, instead of com- plicating it as Pierrot does. You make yourself a slave to him; you spoil him. COLUMBINE I know I do. He went away just now and left everything for me to do. The dishes aren't washed, the beds aren't made. He didn't get up till eleven o'clock! HARLEQUIN Eleven o'clock! {With immense satisfaction.) I've been up since five. What a way to treat you! Well, dear, I shall help you. Nobody can call me inefficient! COLUMBINE How I wish Pierrot had some of your qualities! 29 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES HARLEQUIN {with Still more satisfaction) He never will have. {Jumps up,) Shall we be- gin? COLUMBINE Begin what? HARLEQUIN Tidying up. I hate to sit in a room that's dis- orderly. COLUMBINE {coaxing) Oh, let's talk for a while. I don't feel like tidy- ing up yet. HARLEQUIN Don't you move! You stay right there. I'll do it. You've worked enough this morning. COLUMBINE {catches his arm) You are a dear to want to help me. HARLEQUIN There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. Columbine. {He bends his head down to her and kisses her.) COLUMBINE {with a little cry of pleasure) Oh, Harlequin! HARLEQUIN {taking her hand) Columbine, dear, I love you. It's breaking my heart to see you so unhappy, to see your dear hands so hardened and stained by working and scrubbing for Pierrot, who doesn't ap- preciate you the very least little bit. COLUMBINE {weeps) It's true. He doesn't. HARLEQUIN He stays out night after night, drinking and gambling, and when he's so tired that he can do nothing else, he comes back to you and offers 30 MATINATA you the dregs of himself. Columbine, you are too wonderful to be wasted on such a man. COLUMBINE (weepingly) I am ! I know I am ! HARLEQUIN Then leave him ! COLUMBINE (amazed) Leave him? HARLEQUIN Yes, come with me. COLUMBINE (enthusiastically) Oh — an elopement! HARLEQUIN This wouldn't be an elopement exactly. We should have to go through the form of a legal separation. COLUMBINE (disappointed) But an elopement! IVe always wanted an elopement ! HARLEQUIN I know, dear, but you must really leave this to me. An elopement is very romantic and all that, but a legal separation is really the most sensible way of doing it. COLUMBINE (pouting) Very well, if you say so. Fm not sure Tm very keen about a legal separation. It sounds so — so — HARLEQUIN (interrupting) Practical. And that's just what it is. COLUMBINE (admiringly) You are practical, Harlequin. What do I have to do? 31 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES HARLEQUIN Sit right down and leave everything to me. I shall attend to every detail. COLUMBINE You are a dear. Harlequin. {She sits down on a chair by the table?) Kiss me, sweetheart. (Harlequin bends over and kisses her.) HARLEQUIN {still bending over her) This isn't very comfortable. COLUMBINE {rising) You sit here and let me sit on your lap. {Harle- quin sits down J and she sits on his knee.) Tell me, Harlequin, how was it you came to fall in love with me? HARLEQUIN {starting) Oh, dear, I've put my sleeve in the omelette. Fm covered with egg. Do you mind if I clear off the table? {Columbine jumps of his knee and Harlequin rises,) COLUMBINE {anxiously) Let me help you. HARLEQUIN {wiping his sleeve) No, I can manage, dear. COLUMBINE But, Harlequin! HARLEQUIN But, Columbine! COLUMBINE Oh, very well. {She sits down.) HARLEQUIN ril clear them all off in a second. 32 MATINATA {He piles all the dishes on one arm^ and in a few seconds has carried them all ojff^ like an expert waiter.) COLUMBINE {admiringly) How clever you are, Harlequin! HARLEQUIN While Vm up, I think V\\ fix the beds. COLUMBINE But, Harlequin, what about the elopement? HARLEQUIN {rather sharply) The legal separation? COLUMBINE Yes, when shall we get started? HARLEQUIN When will Pierrot return ? COLUMBINE I don't know. HARLEQUIN Didn't you ask him, dear? COLUMBINE No! HARLEQUIN That was rather thoughtless of you. COLUMBINE But, Harlequin, I didn't know we were going to elope when he left this morning. HARLEQUIN Of course, you didn't, but on general principles, if you're living with a person constantly. Colum- bine, you ought to know just about what his habits are, and how long he may be expected to be away. ' 33 ' FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES COLUMBINE But Pierrot has no habits. HARLEQUIN That's true. I suppose you*d better get packed, so we can leave before he returns. Where is your suitcase, dear? COLUMBINE {pointing) Under the bed. HARLEQUIN {pulls out the suitcase) Lord, what a state it's in! Have you a duster? COLUMBINE Let me do it. HARLEQUIN Please, Columbine. Tell me where you keep the duster. COLUMBINE Please let me do it. HARLEQUIN Now, Columbine, didn't you say you'd leave everything to me? COLUMBINE But I want to do it! HARLEQUIN Very well, I know what we'll do. You pack the suitcase and I'll tidy the room. (Columbine takes the suitcase and dusts it with her handkerchief,) HARLEQUIN Using your handkerchief, dear? COLUMBINE I have no duster. HARLEQUIN No duster? 34 MATINATA COLUMBINE No! HARLEQUIN {expafisively) When you are living with me, dear, we shall have large piles of dusters! We shall have small, striped ones, large tea cloths, dishcloths, towels, and washrags, and every kind of brush, broom, and cleaning appliance! COLUMBINE How wonderful! HARLEQUIN {begins making Pierrot's bed) Does Pierrot sleep in this bed ? COLUMBINE Yes. HARLEQUIN I thought SO. Nobody but Pierrot could stand such sheets. COLUMBINE {alarmed) They're clean, aren't they? HARLEQUIN Yes, but cotton, and such cotton! When you live with me. Columbine, you shall sleep on linen. What's this? {He takes out a photograph of Columbine in a silver frame from under the pillow^ COLUMBINE {taking the picture) Where did you find it? HARLEQUIN Under his pillow. COLUMBINE Silly Pierrot! HARLEQUIN Silly's too mild a name for a lazy sentimentalist like Pierrot. Sleeps with his wife's photograph! 2>S FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ————— .— ^^^^^^^^»^.— — ^—i ^^^^^^^^^— ^^^^^^i— ■— ^^^»^^— COLUMBINE Hadn't we better hurry? HARLEQUIN We can't go away and leave the place untidy — though I suppose Pierrot would never notice it. COLUMBINE No — I don't think he would. (Columbine begins to bundle her underwear and clothes into the suitcase. Harlequin continues making up the bed.) HARLEQUIN {making the bed) Do you tuck the quilt under the mattress on both sides, or only on the left-hand side? COLUMBINE (carelessly) Oh, any old way. HARLEQUIN (dogmatically) The correct way is to tuck it under on the left- hand side only. (Columbine attempts to close the suitcase. Harlequin sees her,) Don't do that, Columbine. You're liable to strain yourself. Let me do it. (Harlequin begins to struggle with the suitcase but fails to close it,) You have too much in it. Do you mind if I open it? COLUMBINE But, Harlequin, we must hurry. Pierrot may come back any moment. HARLEQUIN We can't go away with all your things trailing out of the suitcase, dear ! (He opens it and turns to Columbine reproachfully.) Columbine! COLUMBINE Yes, it is untidy, isn't it? I was so excited I just pushed everything in. 36 MATINATA HARLEQUIN No wonder I couldn't close it. Columbine, dear, just leave this packing to me, will you? Look, here's a magazine, {He gives it to her and guides her to a chair,) You sit down there and read it for a few minutes, and Til have your suitcase packed like lightning. COLUMBINE But I feel so useless ! HARLEQUIN (reproachjully) Columbine! COLUMBINE I do. HARLEQUIN But you want to go away with me, don't you, dear.'' COLUMBINE {dubiously) I suppose I do. HARLEQUIN You suppose? Don't you know. Columbine, darling? COLUMBINE Yes, of course I know. HARLEQUIN Very well. Leave everything to me and there won't be any hitch. {He begins packing up her clothes^ which he has dumped out of the suitcase onto the floor. He is an expert packer; everything is folded up into the tiniest space. Columbine watches him appre- hensively over the top of the magazine. Harlequin begins to fold up a very frilly nightgown^ 37 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES COLUMBINE Please don*t look at that, Harlequin! HARLEQUIN Why not? COLUMBINE It embarrasses me. HARLEQUIN IVe seen loads of them. COLUMBINE Harlequin ! HARLEQUIN In shop windows. But isn*t this rather a stupid one? COLUMBINE Pierrot doesn't think so. HARLEQUIN It is rather stupid, though. Look at all that frilly lace on the shoulders! It means that the gown lasts half as long. .You are always liable to catch cold wearing it. Then again, the laundering is always more difficult and conse- quently more expensive, and it often scratches your skin when they put too much starch in it. {His voice full of promise.) Til buy you some simple, practical ones, without any frills and fripperies. COLUMBINE But I like that one. {Harlequin has another frilly garment in his hand. She jumps up and takes it away from him.) HARLEQUIN {amazed) Columbine, you don*t mean to tell me you wear those! 38 MATINATA COLUMBINE {puzzled) Yes, I do; why not? HARLEQUIN Goodness me, they're mid-Victorian. You take me back to the days of my grandmother. COLUMBINE What's the matter with them? HARLEQUIN I shall have to buy you an entirely new trous- seau! COLUMBINE I don't know that I want a new trousseau! HARLEQUIN Indeed you do. You need a new dress badly, too. When you live with me, I shall work hard and buy you loads of wonderful clothes. I shall select them myself. I want everybody to admire you and say what a faultlessly dressed woman you are! There! Everything's in, and there's room for a whole lot more. Are you sure you have everything? COLUMBINE {putting 077 her coat and hat) Quite sure. Come along. HARLEQUIN Did you remember to put in your rubbers? COLUMBINE {puzzled) Rubbers — on an elopement? HARLEQUIN Yes, why not? It might rain. COLUMBINE Well, I won't put in rubbers ! HARLEQUIN If it rains, you'll take cold without them. 39 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES COLUMBINE I will not take rubbers. HARLEQUIN Columbine, I insist on rubbers. COLUMBINE (sarcastically) Very well, I have no rubbers. But I have an umbrella — perhaps you'd like me to take that! HARLEQUIN That would be an excellent idea! COLUMBINE {getting angry) And how about a small medicine chest with mustard plasters, hot water bottles, and all the necessary equipment for treating small wounds, sprains, bruises, burns, and chapped hands? HARLEQUIN Columbine, I believe you are angry with me. COLUMBINE Angry with you ? No, Harlequin, Fm not angry with you. Tm angry with myself. Imagine eloping with a man who insists on packing rubbers and an umbrella. Oh, Lord! HARLEQUIN My dear, Fm simply trying to be practical! COLUMBINE (scornfully) Practical! Why haven't you brought a lawyer with you ? Why haven't we signed the necessary legal documents? Why haven't you brought a doctor in case we have an accident, and a trained nurse, and a hospital, and an ambulance? Why haven't you been really practical? HARLEQUIN Columbine, you're making fun of me! COLUMBINE No, I'm not! If I elope, it must be with a 40 MATINATA practical man, not an amateur. I want him to bring along railroad trains and seaside hotels and ocean liners ! HARLEQUIN You are making fun of me ! Columbine, I shall not go away with you. COLUMBINE {points to the sink) How could you go away with me when the dishes aren't washed ? {A noise is heard outside.) Hist ! It's Pierrot! HARLEQUIN What shall I do? COLUMBINE Something practical! HARLEQUIN ril hide in the bathroom. {Harlequin goes of into the bathroom. Columbine takes off her hat and coat and passes Harlequin's hat and walkingstick into the bathroom. Enter Pierrot. He carries a small straggling bunch of flowers.) PIERROT {penitently) Columbine, dear, these are for you! COLUMBINE Pierrot, dear! {They embrace.) PIERROT Forgive me, darling! COLUMBINE There's nothing to forgive, dearest. PIERROT I was rude to you! 41 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES COLUMBINE It was my fault, Pierrot. I had my leg in your way! PIERROT No, dearest, I was wrong in kicking my foot against you ! I know I was. So I went out into the fields and picked these flowers for you. Then I sat on the grass and looked at them, and do you know. Columbine, dear, that the song came back to me, the one I was dreaming about when you woke me up this morning — "Matinata'* I called it — so I wrote it down on a piece of paper and took it to the song publishers and would you believe it — they paid me ninety dol- lars and forty-seven cents for it ! COLUMBINE {amazed) And forty-seven cents! PIERROT Three dollars and seven cents a line! Look, here's the money ! {He pulls out the roll of bills and shows them to her.) Do you know what Tm going to do with it? Tm going to buy half a dozen of the laciest of lace nighties for you! The ones you have are nearly worn out. COLUMBINE But, darling, they are so impractical! PIERROT They're beautiful! And then Fm going to bring you half a dozen pairs of — COLUMBINE {glancing apprehensively at the bath- room door) Never mind, Pierrot! PIERROT And with the rest of the money we'll go on a 42 MATINATA little trip together! You'll have to pack your suitcase! COLUMBINE {shows her suitcase) It /j- packed! PIERROT How did you come to do that ? COLUMBINE {hesitating^ then lying heroically) Woman's intuition! The moment you said those few lines at the breakfast table, I just knew the publisher would buy the song! PIERROT Have you any room for my things? COLUMBINE {opens the suitcase) Lots ! PIERROT {admiringly) How neatly you packed it! Here, drop these in. {He throws in some clothes and shuts the suitcase^ stamps on it and goes to the door^ right. Columbine puts on her hat and picks up the suitcase?) PIERROT Columbine, you look charming in those old clothes. People will think we're eloping! {They kiss, Pierrot goes out. The bathroom door opens and Harlequin peeps through^ COLUMBINE {calls dowstairs^ looking at Harlequin) Pierrot, dear, shall I bring rubbers? {Columbine goes out. Enter Harlequin. He looks out of the window^ sighs, goes over to the table, shrugs his shoulders, and begins to wash the dishes.) CURTAIN 43 ANOTHER WAY OUT A COMEDY IN ONE ACT Another Way Out was first produced in November 1 91 6, by the Washington Square Players at the Comedy Theatre, New York, with the following cast: Margaret Marshall Gladys Wynne Mrs. Abbey Jean Robb PoMEROY Pendleton Jose Ruben Baroness de Meauville Helen Westley Charles P. K. Fenton Robert Strange Produced under the direction of Mr. Philip Moeller Copyright, 1916 By LAWRENCE LANGNER All Rights Reserved ANOTHER WAY OUT SCENE The studio in Pendleton* s apartment, A large room^ with skylight in center of wally doors center^ rights and left, table set for breakfast; a vase with red flowers decorates the table. Center rear wall, in front of skylight, a modelling stand, upon which is placed a rough statuette, covered with cloth. To one side of this is a large screen. The furnishings are many-hued, the cushions a flare of color, and the pictures fantastically futuristic, Mrs. Abbey, a benevolent-looking, middle-aged woman, in neat clothes and apron, is arranging some dishes on the table. Margaret, a very mod- ern young woman, is exercising vigorously. She is decidedly good-looking. Her eyes are direct, her complexion fresh, and her movements free. Her brown hair is bobbed, and she wears a pic- turesque Grecian robe. MRS. ABBEY Breakfast is ready, ma'am. (Margaret sits at the table and helps herself, Mrs. Abbey goes out, left,) MARGARET {calling) Pommy, dear. Breakfast is on the table. PENDLETON {from without) ril be there in a moment. 47 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES (Margaret glances through the paper; Pendleton enters^ door right. He is tall and thin^ and of ces- thetic appearance. His long blond hair is brushed loosely over his forehead and he is dressed in a heliotrope dressing gown. He lights a cigarette^ MARGARET I thought you were going to stop smoking be- fore breakfast. PENDLETON My dear, I can't possibly stand the taste of tooth-paste in my mouth all day. {Pendleton sits at the table. Enter Mrs, Abbey y door lefty with a tray, Pendleton helps himself y then drops his knife and fork with a clang, Mrs, Abbey and Margaret are startled^ MRS. ABBEY Anything the matter, sir? PENDLETON Dear, dear! My breakfast is quite spoiled again. MRS. ABBEY {conCCmcd) Spoiled, sir? PENDLETON {pointing to the red flowers on the break- fast table) Look at those flowers, Mrs. Abbey. Not only are they quite out of harmony with the color scheme of this room, but they're positively red, and you know I have a perfect horror of red. MRS. ABBEY But you Hke them that color sometimes, sir. What am I to do when you're so tempera- mental about *em. 48 ANOTHER WAY OUT MARGARET Temperamental. I should say bad tempered. MRS. ABBEY (soothingly) Oh, no, ma'am. It isn't bad temper. I under- stand Mr. Pendleton. It's just another bad night he's had, that's what it is. PENDLETON (sarcastically polite^ Mrs. Abbey, you appear to have an intimate knowledge of how I pass the nights. It's be- coming quite embarrassing. MRS. ABBEY You mustn't mind an old woman like me, sir. (The sound of a piano y hopelessly out of tune^ in the apartment upstairs^ is heard, the player banging out Mendelssohn^ s Wedding March with unusual i77sistence.) PENDLETON There! That confounded piano again! MARGARET And they always play the Wedding March. There must be an old maid living there. MRS. ABBEY They're doing that for a reason. MARGARET What reason? MRS. ABBEY Their cook told me yesterday that' her missus thinks if she keeps on a-playing of the Wedding March, p'raps it'll give you an' Mr. Pendleton the idea of getting married. She don't believe in couples livin' together, like you an' Mr. Pendleton. 49 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES MARGARET No? MRS. ABBEY And I just said you an' Mr. Pendleton had been living together so long, it was my opinion you might just as well be married an' done with it. MARGARET {angrily) Your opinion is quite uncalled for, Mrs. Abbey. PENDLETON Why shouldn't Mrs. Abbey give us her opinion? It may be valuable. Look at her experiences in matrimony. MRS. ABBEY In matrimony, and out of it, too. MARGARET {sitting) But Mrs. Abbey has no right to discuss our affairs with other people's maids. MRS. ABBEY I'll be glad to quit if I don't suit the mistress. MARGARET {angrily) There! "Mistress" again! How often have I asked you not to refer to me as the mistress? MRS. ABBEY No offense, ma'am. PENDLETON You'd better see if there's any mail, Mrs. Abbey, and take those flowers away with you. MRS. ABBEY Very well, sir. {Mrs. Abbey goes ofy door center,) MARGARET What an old-fashioned point of view Mrs. Abbey has. 50 ANOTHER WAY OUT {Pendleton takes up the paper and commences to read.) MARGARET Pommy, why do you stoop so ? PENDLETON Am I stooping? MARGARET Fm tired of telling you. You ought to take more exercise. {Pendleton continues to read.) One reason why the Greeks were the greatest of artists was because they cultivated the body as carefully as the mind. PENDLETON Oh! Hang the Greeks! {Enter Mrs, Abbey ^ door center^ with letters.) MRS. ABBEY These are your letters, sir. {Coldly,) And these are yours, ma'am. {She goes of^ left.) MARGARET {who has Opened her letters meanwhile) How delightful! Tom Del Valli has asked us to a party at his studio next Friday. PENDLETON {opening his letters) Both of us ? MARGARET {giving Mm the letter) Yes, and Helen Marsden wants us for Saturday. PENDLETON Both of us } MARGARET {picking Up another letter) Yes, and here's one from Bobby Watson for Sunday. PENDLETON Both of us? 51 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES MARGARET Yes. PENDLETON Really, Margaret, this is becoming exasperating. {Holds up the letters.) Here are four more, I suppose for both of us. People keep on in- viting us out together time after time as though we were the most conventional married couple on God's earth. MARGARET Do you object to going out with me? PENDLETON {douhtjully) No, it isn't that. But we're having too much of a good thing. .And I've come to the conclu- sion that it's your fault. MARGARET {indignantly) Oh, it's my fault? Of course you'd blame me. Why? PENDLETON Because you have such an absurd habit of boasting to people of your devotion to me, when we're out. MARGARET You surely don't expect me to quarrel with you in public? PENDLETON It isn't necessary to go to that extent. But when everybody believes that we're utterly, almost stupidly in love with one another, what can you expect? MARGARET You said once you never wanted me to sup- press anything. 52 ANOTHER WAY OUT PENDLETON That was before we began to live together. MARGARET What could I have done? PENDLETON Anything, just so we could have a little more freedom, instead of being tied to one another the way we are. Never a moment when we're not together, never a day when Vm not inter- viewed by special article writers from almost every paper and magazine in the country as the only successful exponent of the theory that love can be so perfect that the marriage contract degrades it. I put it up to you, Margaret — if this is a free union, it is simply intolerable! MARGARET But aren't we living together so as to have more freedom? Think of what it might be if we were married. Didn't you once write, "When marriage comes in at the door, freedom flies out at the window"? PENDLETON Are we any better off, with everybody treating us as though we were living together to prove a principle ? MARGARET Well, aren't we, incidentally? You said so your- self. We can be a beautiful example to other people, and show them how to lead the pure, natural lives of the later Greeks. PENDLETON Damn the later Greeks! Why do you always throw those confounded later Greeks in my 53 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES face? WeVe got to look at it from our stand- point. This situation must come to an end. MARGARET What can we do? PENDLETON It rests with you. MARGARET With me? PENDLETON You can compromise yourself with somebody publicly. That'll put an end to everything. MARGARET How will that end it? PENDLETON It'll break down the morally sanctified atmos- phere in which we're living. Then, perhaps, people will regard us as immoral — and treat us like decent human beings again. MARGARET But I don't want to compromise myself. PENDLETON If you believe in your own ideals, you must. MARGARET But why should I have to do it? PENDLETON It will be so easy for you. MARGARET Why can't we both be compromised? That would be better still. PENDLETON I should find it a bore. You, unless my memory fails me, would enjoy it. 54 ANOTHER WAY OUT MARGARET You needn't be cynical. Even if you don't en- joy it^ you can work it into a novel. PENDLETON It's less exertion to imagine an affair of that sort, and the result would probably be more saleable. Besides I have no interest whatsoever in women — at least, in the women we know. MARGARET For that matter, I don't know any eligible men. PENDLETON What about Bob Lockwood? MARGARET But he's your best friend! PENDLETON Exactly. No man ever really trusts his best friend. He'll probably compromise you without compunction. MARGARET I'm afraid he'd be too dangerous; he tells you all his secrets. Whom would you choose? PENDLETON It's a matter of complete indifference to me. MARGARET I've heard a lot of queer stories about Jean Roberts. How would she do? PENDLETON {firmly) Margaret, I don't mind being party to a flirta- tion — but I draw the line at being the victim of a seduction. MARGARET Why not leave it to chance? Let it be the next interesting woman you meet. 55 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES PENDLETON That might be amusing. But there must be an age limit. And how about you? MARGARET {takes the cloth ojf the statuette and dis- closes a figure of Apollo in rough modelling clay) Me! Why not the new model who is coming today to pose for my Apollo? PENDLETON Well, if he's anything like that, you ought to be able to create a sensation. Then, perhaps, we shall have some real freedom. MARGARET Pommy, do you still love me as much as you did ? PENDLETON How you sentimentalize! Do you think Td be willing to enter into a flirtation with a strange woman, if I didn't want to keep on living with you? MARGARET And we won't have to break up our little home, will we? PENDLETON No, anything to save the home. {Catches him- self.) My God! If any of my readers should hear me sa^y that! To think that I, Pomeroy Pendleton, should be trying to save my own home. And yet, how characteristically para- doxical. MARGARET {interrupting) You are going to philosophize! Give me a kiss. {She goes to him^ sits on his lapy and places her arm on his shoulder; he takes out a cigarette^ she lights it for him,) S6 ANOTHER WAY OUT PENDLETON {brought buck to reality) I have some work to do. I must go. MARGARET A kiss! PENDLETON (kisses her carelessly) There, let me go. MARGARET I want a real kiss. PENDLETON Don't be silly, dear. I can't play this morning. IVe simply got to finish my last chapter. {A bell rings. Mrs, Abbey enters and goes to the center door,) MRS. ABBEY There's a lady to see Mr. Pendleton. MARGARET Tell her to come in ! PENDLETON But, Margaret! ; MARGARET Remember! {Significantly,) The first woman you meet! {Margaret goes outy right, Mrs, Abbey enters center with Baroness de Meauville. Mrs, Abbey goes outy left,) BARONESS DE MEAUVILLE {speaking with a pro- nounced English accent) Good morning, Mr. Pendleton, Fm the Baron- ess de Meauville! PENDLETON {recalling her name) Baroness de Meauville? Ah, the costumer? 57 FIVE ONE-ACT COM ED BARONESS Not a COS turner, Mr. Pendleton. It am an artist, an artist in modern attire. A woman^is to me what a canvas is to a painter. PENDLETON Excuse me for receiving you in (my dressing gown. I was at work. i^""^ BARONESS I like to see men in dressing gowns — yours is very charming. PENDLETON {^flattered and pleased) Do you like it? I designed it myself. BARONESS {looking seductively into his eyes) How few really creative artists there are in America I PENDLETON (modestly) You flatter me. BARONESS Not at all. You must know that Fm a great admirer of yours, Mr. Pendleton. IVe read every one of your books. I feel I know you as an old friend. PENDLETON That's very nice of you! (The baroness reclines on the couch; takes a jewelled cigarette case from her reticule^ and offers Pendleton a cigarette^ BARONESS Will you smoke? PENDLETON Thanks. {Pendeton lights her cigarette^ then his own. He 58 ANOTHER WAY OUT draws his chair up to the couch. An atmosphere of mutual interest is established^ BARONESS Mr. Pendleton, I have a mission in life. It is to make the American woman the best- dressed woman in the world. I came here to- day because I want you to help me. PENDLETON But I have no ambitions in that direction. BARONESS Why should you have ambitions? Only the bourgeoisie has ambitions. We artists have inspirations. I want to breathe into you the spirit of my great undertaking. Already I have opened my place in the smartest part of the Avenue. Already I have drawn my assistants from all parts of the world. Nothing is lacking to complete my plans — but you. PENDLETON Me? Why me? BARONESS {endearingly) Are you not considered one of the foremost men of letters in America? PENDLETON {modcstly) Didn't you say you had read all my books? BARONESS Are you not the only writer who has success- fully portrayed the emotional side of American life? PENDLETON {decidedly) Yes. 59 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES BARONESS Exactly. That is why I have chosen you to write my advertisements. PENDLETON {aghast) But, Baroness! BARONESS You're not going to say that. It's so ordinary. PENDLETON But — but — you want me to write advertise- ments! BARONESS Please don't disappoint me. Why, you might even evolve a new form of literature. PENDLETON Yes, I suppose that's so. But one has a sense of pride. BARONESS Art comes before Pride. Consider my feelings, an aristocrat, coming here to America and en- gaging in commerce, and advertising, and other dreadful things, and all for the sake of Art! PENDLETON But you make money out of it! BARONESS Only incidentally. Just as you, in writing my advertisements, would make, say ten thousand or so, as a sort of accident. But don't let us talk of money. It's perfectly revolting, isn't it? Art is Life, and I believe in Life for Art's sake. That's why I am a success. PENDLETON Indeed? How interesting. Please go on. BARONESS When a woman comes to me for a gown, I don't 60 ANOTHER WAY OUT measure her body. Why should I? I measure her mind. I find her color harmony. In a moment I can tell whether she ought to wear scarlet, mauve, taupe, magenta, or any other color, so as to fall into her proper rhythm. Everyone has a rhythm, you know. {Pendleton sits on the sofa.) But I don't have to explain all this to you, Mr. Pendleton. You understand it intuitively. This heliotrope you are wearing shows me at once that you are in rhythm. PENDLETON {thinking of Margaret) Vm not so sure that I am. What you say interests me. May I ask you a question? BARONESS Yes, but I may not answer it. PENDLETON Why do you wear heliotrope, and the same shade as mine? BARONESS {with mock mystery) You mustn't ask me that. PENDLETON Fm all curiosity. BARONESS Curiosity is dangerous. PENDLETON Supposing I try to find out. BARONESS That may be even more dangerous. PENDLETON {taking her hand) Tm fond of that kind of danger. BARONESS Take care! Fm very fragile. 6i FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES PENDLETON Isn't heliotrope in rhythm with the faint re- flection of passion? BARONESS How brutal of you to have said it. PENDLETON {coming closer to her) I, too, am in rhythm with heliotrope. BARONESS {with joy) How glad I am. Thank God, you've no desire to kiss my Hps. PENDLETON Only your finger-tips. {They exchange kisses and finger-tips.) Your fingers are like soft, pale, waxen tapers ! BARONESS Your kisses are the breathings that light them into quivering flame! PENDLETON Exquisite — exquisite ! BARONESS {withdrawing her hands) That was a moment! PENDLETON We must have many such. BARONESS Many? That's too near too much. PENDLETON {fervently) We shall, dear lady. BARONESS How I adore your writings! They have made me realize the beauty of an ideal union, the love of one man for one woman — at a time. Let us have such a union, you and me. PENDLETON {taken aback) But I live in such a union already. 62 ANOTHER WAY OUT BARONESS {horror-Stricken) What ! You live in such a union ! {She rises.) U Don't you see what we've done? You are liv- ing in one of those wonderful unions you de- scribe in your books — and I've let you kiss me. I've committed a sacrilege. PENDLETON You're mistaken. It isn't a sacrilege. It's an opportunity. BARONESS {dramatically) How can you say that — you, whose words have inspired my deepest intimacies. No, I must go. {She makes for the door^ center?) I — must — go. PENDLETON You don't understand. I exaggerated every- thing so in my confounded books. BARONESS Please ask her to forgive me. Please tell her I thought you were married, otherwise, never, never, would I have permitted you to kiss me. PENDLETON What made you think I was married? BARONESS One often believes what one hopes. PENDLETON You take it too seriously. Let me explain. BARONESS What is there to explain? Our experience has been complete. Why spoil it by anti-climax? PENDLETON Am I never to see you again? BARONESS Who knows? If your present union should end, and some day your soul needs — some one? 63 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES {She goes outy dooVy center^ her manner full of promise,) PENDLETON (withfeeltng) Goodbye, long, pale fingers. (Enter Margaret^ door^ right,) MARGARET Did you get a good start with the scandal? PENDLETON Not exactly. I may as well admit it was a fail- ure, through no fault of mine, of course. And now, I simply must finish that last chapter. {He goes of,) {Margaret rings. Mrs, Abbey enters,) MARGARET You may clear, Mrs. Abbey. MRS. ABBEY Very well, ma'am. {She attends to clearing the table,) MARGARET Mrs. Abbey, have you worked for many people living together, like Mr. Pendleton and myself? MRS. ABBEY Lor*, ma*am, yes. IVe worked in nearly every house on the south side of Washington Square. MARGARET Mr. Pendleton says Fm as domestic as any wife could be. Were the others like me ? MRS. ABBEY Most of them, ma'am; but some was regular hussies, not only a-livin' with their fellers — 64 ANOTHER WAY OUT but havin' a good time, too. That's what I call real immoral. {A bell rings, Mrs. Abbey opens door, center, and passes out. Conversation with Fenton without is heard, Mrs. Abbey comes back.) MRS. ABBEY A young man wants to see you, ma*am. MARGARET That's the new model. Til get my working apron. {Margaret goes out, door, right. Mrs. Abbey calls through door, center.) MRS. ABBEY You c'n come in. {Enter door, center, Charles P. K. Fenton, dic- tionary salesman. He is a strikingly handsome young man, offensively smartly dressed in a black-and-white check suit, gaudy tie, and white socks. His hair is brushed back from his fore- head like a glossy sheath. He carries a small black bag. His manner is distinctly ''male.'') MRS. ABBEY {points to the screen) You can undress behind there. FENTON Undress? Say, what's this? A Turkish bath? MRS. ABBEY Did you expect to have a private room all to yourself? FENTON {looking around) What am I to undress for? MRS. ABBEY The missus will be here in a minute. « 65 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES FENTON Good-night ! Fm goin' ! {He makes for the door,) MRS. ABBEY What's the matter? Ain't you the missus' new model ? FENTON A model! Ha, ha! YouVe sure got the wrong number this time. Tm in the dictionary Hne, ma'am. MRS. ABBEY Well, of all the impudence! You a book agent, and a-walkin' in here. FENTON Well, you asked me in, didn't you? Can't I see the missus, just for a minute? MRS. ABBEY {good-naturedly) Very well. {Confidentially) I advise you to re- move that Spearmint from your mouth, if you want to sell any dictionaries in this house. FENTON {placing his hand to his mouth) Where shall I put it? MRS. ABBEY You'd better swallow it! {Fenton tries to do so, chokes, turns red, and places his hand to his mouth, Margaret enters door, right.) MARGARET {tO FcntOn) I'm so glad to see you. {Fenton is most embarrassed. Mrs. Abbey, in surprise, attempts to explain the situation,) MRS. ABBEY But, ma'am — 66 ANOTHER WAY OUT MARGARET You may go, Mrs. Abbey. MRS. ABBEY But, but, ma'am — MARGARET {severely) You may go, Mrs. Abbey. {Mrs. Abbey leaves in a hujf.) Fm so glad they sent you up to see me. Won't you sit down? {Fenton finds it a difficult matter to handle the situation. He adopts his usual formula for an ^^openingy^ but his speech is mechanical and without conviction. Margaret adds to his em- barrassment by stepping around him and ex- amining him with professional interest^ FENTON Madam, I represent the Globe Advertising Publishing Sales Company, the largest pub- lishers of dictionaries in the world. MARGARET (continuing to appraise him) Then you're not the new model? FENTON No, ma'am. MARGARET What a pity! Never mind, go on. FENTON As I was saying, ma'am, I represent the Ad- vertising Globe Publishing — I mean the Globe Advertising Publishing Sales Company, the largest publishers of dictionaries in the world. For some time past we have felt that there was a demand for a new Encyclopaedic Dictionary, madam, one that would not only fill up a good deal of space on the bookshelf, making an at- 67 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES tractive addition to the home, but also con- taining the most complete collection of words in the English language. {Margaret has taken a pencil and is measuring Fenton while he speaks. Fenton^s discomfort is obvious. He attempts to rearrange his tie and coaty thinking she is examining them.) MARGARET Please go on talking, it's so interesting, FENTON Statistics show that the woman of average edu- cation in America, madam, has command of but fifteen hundred words. This new diction- ary, madam {producing a book from his bag), will give you command of over eight hundred and fifty thousand. MARGARET {archly) So you are a dealer in words — how perfectly romantic. FENTON {warming) Most of these w«ords, madam, are not used more than a dozen times a year. They are our Heritage from the Past, ma'am, just as our flag is our heritage. And all these words, to say nothing of the fact that the dictionary fills five inches on a bookshelf, making an attrac- tive addition to your library, being handsomely bound in half-cloth, all these are yours, ma'am, for the price of one dollar. {He places a dictionary in her hand. She ex- amines it.) 68 ANOTHER WAY OUT FENTON If you have a son, madam, the possession of this dictionary will give him an opportunity of acquiring that knowledge of our language which made Abraham Lincoln the Father of Our Country. Madam, opportunity knocks at the door only once, and this is your oppor- tunity, at one dollar. MARGARET {meaningly) Yes, this is my opportunity! I'll buy the dic- tionary, and now {sweetly) won't you tell me your name? FENTON {pocketing the dollar) My name is Charles P. K. Fenton. MARGARET Mr. Fenton, would you mind doing me a favor? FENTON {looking dubiously toward the screen) Why, I guess not, madam. MARGARET I want you to take off your coat. FENTON {puzzled) You're not trying to kid me, ma'am? MARGARET I just want to see your development. Do you mind? FENTON {removes his coat) Why, no, ma'am, if that's all you want. MARGARET Now, bring your arm up, tighten the muscles. {Fenton does as she bids; Margaret thumps his arm approvingly.) Splendid! You must take lots of exercise, Mr. Fenton. 69 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES FENTON Not me, ma'am. I never had no time for ex- ercise. I got that workin' in a freight yard. MARGARET I suppose you think me rather peculiar, Mr. Fenton. FENTON You've said it, ma'am. MARGARET You see, I'm a sculptress. {She points to the statuette.) This is my work. FENTON You made that? Gee! That's great. {He ex- amines the statuette.) Just like them statues at the Metropolitan. MARGARET That center figure is Apollo, Mr. Fenton. FENTON {vaguely) Oh— Apollo! MARGARET I was to engage a professional model for it, but I could never hope to get a professional as ^no, a type as you. Will you pose for it? FENTON {aghast) Me? That feller there without any clothes? {Dubiously) Well, I don't know. It's kind of chilly here. MARGARET If I draped you, it would spoil some of your lines. {Seeing his hesitation.) But I will if you like. FENTON {relieved) Ah, now you're talking. 70 ANOTHER WAY OUT MARGARET So you'll really come? FENTON How about this evening? MARGARET Splendid! Sit down. (Fenton does so.) Mr. Fenton, youVe quite aroused my curiosity. I know so few business men. Is your work in- teresting? FENTON Well, I can't say it was, until I started selling around this neighborhood. MARGARET Is it difficult? FENTON Not if you've got personality, ma'am. That's the thing, personality. If a feller hasn't got personality, he can't sell goods, that's sure. MARGARET What do you mean by personality, Mr. Fenton? FENTON Well, it's what sells the goods. I don't know how else to explain it, exactly. I'll look it up in the dictionary. {He takes a dictionary and turns the pages.) Here it is, ma'am. Per — per — why, it isn't in here. I guess they don't put in words that everybody knows. We all know what personality means. It's what sells the goods. MARGARET I adore a strong, virile, masculine personality, FENTON I don't quite get you, madam. 71 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES MARGARET The men I know have so much of the feminine in them. FENTON Oh,— "sissies"! MARGARET {flirtingly) They lack the magnetic forcefulness which I like so much in you. FENTON I believe you are kidding me. Does that mean you like me? MARGARET That's rather an embarrassing question. FENTON You must or you wouldn't let me speak to you in this way. MARGARET {arckly) Never mind whether I like you. Tell me whether you like me. FENTON {feeling more at home) Gee! I didn't get on to you at first. Sure I like you. MARGARET Then we're going to be good friends. . FENTON You just bet we are. Say, got a date for to- morrow evening? MARGARET No. FENTON How about the movies? There's a fine feature film at the Strand. Theda Bara in "The Lone- some Vampire," fiv^ reels. They say it's got "Gloria's Romance" beat a mile. 72 ANOTHER WAY OUT MARGARET I don't know that Td care to go there. FENTON How about a run down to Coney? MARGARET {ecstatically) Coney! Fve always wanted to do wild pagan things ! yL^ FENTON Say, you'll tell me your name, won't you? MARGARET Margaret Marshall. FENTON Do you mind if I call you Margie ? MARGARET If you do, I must call you — FENTON Charley. Gee, I like the name of Margie. Some class to that ! MARGARET Fm glad you like it. FENTON {moving closer) And some class to you! MARGARET {coyly) So you really like me ? FENTON You bet. Say, before I go, youVe got to give me a kiss, Margie. MARGARET Well, I don't know. Aren't you rather "rush- ing" me? FENTON Say, you are a kidder. {He draws her up from her chair, and kisses her warmly on the lips,) 13 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES MARGARET (ecstatically) You have the true Greek spirit! {They kiss again.) If only Pommy would kiss me that way! FENTON Pommy? Who's Pommy? MARGARET Pommy is the man I live with. FENTON Your husband? MARGARET No, we just Hve together. You see, we don't believe in marriage. FENTON {pushing her away in horror) I thought there was something queer about all this. Does he live here? MARGARET Yes. {Points to door, right.) He's in there now. FENTON {excitedly) Good-night! I'm goin'. {He looks for his hat.) MARGARET {speaking with real anguish) You're surely not going just on that account. FENTON {taking hat and bag) Isn't that enough? MARGARET {emotionally) Please don't go. Listen. I can't suppress my feeUng for you. I never do with anybody. I liked you the moment I saw you. I want you as a friend, a good friend. You can't go now, just when everything's about to begin. FENTON {severely) Fair's fair, Miss. If hes keeping you, you can't 74 ANOTHER WAY OUT be taking up with me at the same time. That puts the finish on it. MARGARET But he doesn't keep me. I keep myself. FENTON Wait a minute. You support yourself and live with him of your own free will! Then youVe got no excuse for being immoral. 'Tisn't like you had to make your living at it. {At the door,) Goodbye. MARGARET But I can explain everything. FENTON It's no use. Miss. Even though I am a sales- man, Fve got a sense of honor. I sized you up as a married woman when I came in just now, or I never would have made love to you at all. MARGARET Oh, wait ! Supposing I should want to buy some more dictionaries? FENTON {returning) YouVe got my card. Miss. The phone number is on it. Bryant 4253. {Sees Margaret hang her head.) Don't feel hurt. Miss. You'll get over these queer ideas some day, and when you do, well, you've got my nu;nber. So long. Kid. {Fenton goes outy door^ center^ MARGARET {taking Ms Card from the table and plac- ing it to her lips soulfully) My Apollo — Bryant 4253! {Enter Pendleton^ door, right,) 75 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES PENDLETON Did you get a good start with your scandal? {Margaret hangs her head.) It's no use. I'm convinced we're in a hopeless muddle. MARGARET I heartily agree with you. PENDLETON You've changed your mind very suddenly. MARGARET I have my reasons. PENDLETON The fact is, Margaret, that so long as we live together we're public figures, with everybody else as our jury. MARGARET But lots of people read your books and respect us. PENDLETON The people that respect us are worse than the people that don't. MARGARET If they wouldn't always be bothering about our morals ! PENDLETON If we continue to live together, we shall simply be giving up our freedom to prove we are free. MARGARET {faltering) I suppose we ought to separate. PENDLETON I believe we should. MARGARET We'll have to give up the studio. PENDLETON {regretfully) Yes. 76 ANOTHER WAY OUT MARGARET It's taken a long time to make the place home- like. PENDLETON We've been very comfortable here. MARGARET I shall miss you at meals. PENDLETON I shall have to start eating at clubs and res- taurants again. No more good home cook- ing. MARGARET We're kind of used to one another, aren't we? PENDLETON It isn't an easy matter to break, after five years. MARGARET And there are mighty few studios with as good a light as this. I don't want to separate, if you don't. PENDLETON But, Margaret — {Piano starts playing the Wed- ding March?) There, that confounded piano again. {Seized with an idea.) Margaret, there's another way out! MARGARET {witk the Same idea) You mean, we ought to marry! PENDLETON Yes, marry, and do it at once. That'll end everything. MARGARET Let's do it right away and get it over with. I simply must finish my Apollo. PENDLETON I'm going to buy you a new gown to get married 77 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES in, a wedding present, from Baroness de Meau- ville's. MARGARET I don't know that I want a de Meauville gown. PENDLETON Please let me. I want to give you something to symbolize our new life together. MARGARET Very well. And in return, TU buy you a dic- tionary, so that I won't have to keep on cor- recting your spelling. {Pendleton goes outy door^ right. Margaret goes to the phoney and consults Fenton's card.) MARGARET Bryant 4253? Can I speak to Mr. Fen ton? {Enter Mrs, Abbey.) Mrs. Abbey, what do you think? We're going to get married! MRS. ABBEY Well, bless my soul! That's right. You can take it from me, ma'am, you'll find that re- spectability pays. MARGARET {at phonc) Bryant 4253? {Sweetly.) Is that Mr. Fen ton? {Pause.) Hello, Charley! CURTAIN 78 THE FAMILY EXIT A COMEDY IN ONE ACT The Family Exit was first produced in September, 1917, at the Comedy Theatre, New York, with the following cast: Peter Rutherford-Vandusen Rutherford Rutherford-Vandusen Martha Rutherford-Vandusen Cornelius Eugenia Mike O'Rourke Elise David Higgins Edwin Forsberg Alberta Gallatin James Dyrenforth Frances Ross Frank E. Jamison Alethea Luce Produced under the direction of Mr. Philip Moeller Copyright, 1917 By LAWRENCE LANGNER All Rights Reserved THE FAMILY EXIT SCENE A room in the Immigration Office at Ellis Island. A bare^ official-looking room^ with doors right and left. The furnishings consist of a long table ^ a desky and some chairs. On the table is a tele- phone, and on the desk, a large, ledger-like book, Mike O'Rourke is a middle-aged Irish-American, He wears the uniform of an immigration officer, Rutherford Rutherford-Vandusen is a pompous elderly gentleman, exceedingly well-dressed, and carrying himself always with the air of the Ameri- can aristocrat. He is regarded as the head of the well-known Rutherford-Vandusen family, and never forgets this fact for a minute. Martha, his wife, is of equal importance. She has reached a ripe middle age. She carries a lorgnette which she uses to advantage for the pur- pose of discomforting her social inferiors. Cornelius is the product of three universities, from each of which he has been expelled in turn. As a result, he has been able to acquire the vices of all three. He has a winning, boyish manner, which makes him instantly popular. He is about twenty-five years old. Eugenia is a young debutante, pretty but un- developed. 6 8i FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES Martha^ Eugenia^ Cornelius^ and Rutherford are seated at the table, O'Rourke is sitting on a high stool at the desk, RUTHERFORD {to O'Rourke) Is this the best room you have? o'rourke Sure, sir. It's the best on Ellis Island! We call it the drawing-room, sir. MARTHA {sliding her finger over the top of the table, and examining the result through her lorgnette) This place hasn't been dusted for months. o'rourke It's them aliens, ma'am. You can't do nothin' wid aliens. Put a bunch of them in a clean room like this, and in a minute or two you will find it so full of dust, you'd think it never was cleaned in years. CORNELIUS That's queer. Where do they get the dust? o'rourke Like as not they bring it over wid them, sir. RUTHERFORD The conditions I find here are absolutely de- plorable. I shall write a letter to the New York Times on the subject immediately on returning home. CORNELIUS Say, Dad, we didn't come to this hole to make a sanitary investigation, did we? o'rourke {going to the desk) I'll see if I can find the alien you're lookin' for. 82 : THE FAMILY EXIT RUTHERFORD {indignantly) Is it necessary for me to tell you again that the gentleman I wish to see is not an alien. He is my brother ! o'rourke I beg pardon, sir. I know just how you feel. My own brother, Patrick, was an alien once upon a time himself, and what an alien ! One of the worst that ever came on the Island! Why, sir, he hadn't set foot on American soil more than half an hour before he started a fight and nearly killed a couple of Dagoes! CORNELIUS {much interested) He must have been a corker! RUTHERFORD I should hardly think a man of that type would make a very desirable citizen. o'rourke {to Rutherford) Beggin' your pardon, sir, that's where you're wrong. After he'd finished with the Wops, he yells, "Me for the land of liberty," and wid that he whales into a couple of Greasers, an' two or three Pollacks, till they called out the Fire Department, an' him cursin' and swearin' so blasphemous (beggin' your pardon, ma'am) that the Holy Father himself, who lives here on the Island, began yellin' paternosters to beat the divil ! RUTHERFORD But— o'rourke Ah, Pat was a great one, sir. {Beploringly,) Aliens ain't like that nowadays. Them low Hungarians an' Greeks an' whatnot, ain't got 83 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES no Irish spirit in 'em. Not one good fight have we had on this Island for months. MARTHA I suppose your brother was deported im- mediately.^ o'rourke {astonished) Deported, ma'ajn. I should say not. Michael O'Callahan, the Commissioner of Immigration, comes up to my brother, an' "Patrick O'Rourke,'* says he, "wid your vicious fighting abilities, we'll make a first-rate New York pleeceman of you — but youVe got to quit your cursin' and swearin'." "Bedad," says Pat, "it's the pleeceman I'll be, but" (beggin' yer pardon, ma'am) — says he to O'Callahan, "I'll be damned if I quit me cursin' and swearin'." MARTHA What a dreadful person ! o'rourke {explanatory) O'Callahan seen his heart was in the right place, ma'am. Says he to me brother, "Then if you won't quit cursin' and swearin', O'Rourke," says he, "will you promise you'll act like a gentle- man, an' only curse an' swear when you're at home?" "Sure," says Pat, an' wid that they let him in. RUTHERFORD Indeed! o'rourke An' today, sir, my brother owns three clubs on the East Side, an' is runnin' for Alderman next election. Maybe you've heard of him sir? Patrick O'Rourke's his name. 84 THE FAMILY EXIT RUTHERFORD I can't say I have, Mr. O'Rourke. I am not well acquainted in East Side club circles. {He looks at his watch.) I'd be infinitely obliged if you could arrange for me to see my brother as soon as possible. o'rourke Sure, sir, I didn't know you was in a hurry. As a general rule, most people that comes here to meet their relatives is in no hurry at all ! CORNELIUS My uncle's been away for twenty years. I've never seen him. o'rourke Sure, that accounts for it, sir. I know some- thin' about family life myself. I've had troubles of my own ! {Going to the desk.) What did you say his name was? RUTHERFORD {impatient) Peter Vandusen. o'rourke Vandusen. There you are, sir. Peter Vandusen, Case No. 374. {Looking up.) I'm not sure you can see him, sir. When they've got a number like this here, it means they've got somethin' agin' him. RUTHERFORD Something against him! Whatever do you mean? {Martha and Eugenia rise.) o'rourke How did you know your brother was here? 85 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES RUTHERFORD Mr. Tillotson, our lawyer, told us so this morn- ing, and we came here immediately to arrange matters with the authorities. o'rourke Did yer lawyer tell you why your brother was detained here ? RUTHERFORD Not a word. {CRourke takes a paper from the desk^ and Rutherford crosses to him.) o'rourke Well, it can only be for one of a few things that the United States Government is detainin' him. {He consults the lists,) There^s our regulations. Did you know whether yer brother has small- pox or trachoma, for instance? EUGENIA Uncle can't have anything like that the matter with him, can he. Mother? CORNELIUS {facetiously) I should expect Uncle Peter to have better taste than to bring anything like that into the country! o'rourke How about the bubonic plague, or cholera, or the like obnoxious diseases ? RUTHERFORD {nettled) My brother, sir, comes of a thoroughly re- spectable old American family! o'rourke Ah! Then maybe they won't let him in for moral reasons. 86 THE FAMILY EXIT MARTHA What! RUTHERFORD So far as we know, my brother is a confirmed bachelor. o'rourke He may be a bachelor, sir, but is he a polyga- mist? RUTHERFORD A polygamist ? What do you want to know that for? o'rourke {points to the paper) It's one of the questions we ask. If he's a polygamist, the United States won't let him land. WeVe enough of that sort here aL ready ! RUTHERFORD These questions are absolutely absurd! o'rourke {consulting the paper) Is yer brother an anarchist, sir? EUGENIA {enthusiastically) Wouldn't that be exciting! Fancy Uncle being an anarchist — and throwing bombs and things! I do hope he's an anarchist! MARTHA {severely) Nonsense! Your uncle is too rich to be an an- archist! o'rourke {crosses to the telephone at the table ^ left) Just a minute! I'll call the superintendent. {Takes the phone,) Official 3. Is that you, Sullivan? There's a party here to see a Mr. Peter Vandusen, No. 374. One of the gintle- men's his brother. {Appraises Rutherford,) Yes, he's quite the gintleman — all dolled up 87 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES fine. What is 374 being held for? The divil you say! Are you sure? All right. {He drops the receiver^ RUTHERFORD What is it? o'rourke It's morals, sir! MARTHA Morals ? {She rises,) RUTHERFORD Morals? What do you mean? o'rourke Case No. 374 arrived wid Case No. 375. MARTHA What on earth is that? o'rourke 375 is a woman! RUTHERFORD A woman! MARTHA {shocked) Do you mean he came here from Paris with a lady? o'rourke No, ma'am, a woman! MARTHA {to Rutherford) Rutherford, my dear, do you think it right for Eugenia to remain here while we uncover the details of this disgusting affair? RUTHERFORD Certainly not, Martha. Eugenia, wait outside! EUGENIA Dad, please let me stay. I heard all about when Aunt Vera spent the week-end with the chauf- 88 THE FAMILY EXIT feur, and if I was old enough to hear about that, Tm old enough to hear about this, too. MARTHA This is quite a different matter. It isn't at all likely that my sister Vera would stoop to the depravities of which your father's brother is capable. RUTHERFORD (hotly) Until this day there has never been a breath of scandal linked with the name of Vandusen, but I well remember the weeks we spent worry- ing over the possibility of your sister's dis- graceful escapade becoming public. MARTHA At any rate, even if my sister was guilty of im- proper behavior, she had the decency to be im- proper in private, as a well-bred person should, instead of flaunting the scandal in the face of the entire United States, as your brother seems to be doing! RUTHERFORD Eugenia, on second thought, you may stay. I'm sure there must be some misunderstanding. No Rutherford-Vandusen could ever sink so low as to be capable of anything in the nature of your Aunt Vera's escapade. CORNELIUS How about me, Dad? MARTHA Don't be impertinent, Cornelius. RUTHERFORD {tO 0' Rouvke) Can we see my brother? o'rourke Sure, sir. The United States don't object to you 89 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES seein* him. It's a pity he didn't let you know, sir, so's you could have tipped him off to come on one boat — and the female alien on the next. That's the regular way to do it, sir, with every- thing moral and aboveboard. CORNELIUS That's a cinch of a way to be moral! o'rourke Sure, sir. It's easy enough to be moral ! Comply wid the law of the United States, that's what we say. When a man knows that so long as he behaves decent when he comes into this coun- try, he can stay here and be as indecent as he pleases, it's a poor sort of morality, says we, for him not to come here on one ship an' her on another, an' comply wid the laws of the United States! CORNELIUS Say, what'U happen if 374 sticks to 375 ? o'rourke They'll both be sent back to Paris, sir, and that's the right place for them as has no self- control. Would you like to see the female alien along wid your brother, sir? MARTHA The female alien? Certainly not. CORNELIUS Mother! Be a sport! Let's look her over. MARTHA Do you want your mother and your sister to meet such a woman? EUGENIA I'd love to meet a really fallen woman. Mother. Besides, she's almost related to us, isn't she? 90 THE FAMILY EXIT MARTHA Eugenia, you're getting all kinds of wrong ideas in your head. Tm determined you shall not stay here. EUGENIA Where shall I go? MARTHA {points to the door^ lefty marked ^'Private''') May she wait in there ? o'rourke Sure, if she wants to, ma'am — but I don't advise it. MARTHA Why not? o'rourke That's where we keep the white slaves, ma'am. MARTHA White slaves! o'rourke Don't be scared, ma'am. They're just as scared of you as you are of them. MARTHA (hysterically) I wish we hadn't come. This place is full of dreadful people! o'rourke This room what you're in now, ma'am, was once the typhoid ward. {They all rise.) RUTHERFORD The typhoid ward! {Cornelius crosses to Eugenia.) o'rourke Yes, sir, and I've heard tell that they stacked 91 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES the corpses one on top of another, during one of them epidemics, that high! {Pantomimes height to shoulders,) MARTHA I feel quite faint, Rutherford. o'rourke {laughs) Sure, it's all right now, ma'am. The old typhoid ward was burnt down years ago. V\\ go an' bring yer brother, sir. {He goes out, right,) MARTHA What a horrible creature! RUTHERFORD {sits at the table, left) What do you expect from a government official nowadays? Cornelius, this is what we get for electing a Democratic Administration. MARTHA Tm afraid to touch anything. I shan't be able to go near the children for a month. {She fans the air.) I can almost feel disease in the air! RUTHERFORD Don't fuss, Martha. MARTHA I'm not fussing, Rutherford. You annoy me so sometimes, I could almost scream. RUTHERFORD Scream, if you want to. EUGENIA Father! You know how nervous Mother is! MARTHA What does your father care about my nerves? His good-for-nothing brother spends twenty years in Europe, — refuses to have anything to do with his family all that time, and arrives here like a convict; and then nothing suits 92 THE FAMILY EXIT your father but that he must endanger our lives by bringing us to this disease-ridden place to meet him. RUTHERFORD Did I bring you here? Was it my idea? MARTHA Do you think I would have suggested coming here if you had told me the kind of place this was? RUTHERFORD How should I have known? MARTHA If you didn't waste all your time playing golf and sitting around at the club, you'd have made it your business to know, before bringing us here. RUTHERFORD Didn't you pester me to come? MARTHA I? RUTHERFORD Didn't you say that so long as Peter was so wealthy and had no heir, it was my duty to see we should all welcome him? MARTHA And what if I did ? The children have nothing — absolutely nothing — thanks to your gullibility! EUGENIA Oh, Mother, do stop! MARTHA I shall not stop. Your father had just as much money as your Uncle Peter in the beginning — and would have had to this day — if he hadn't speculated with it — and with my money into 93 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES the bargain. I suppose we can thank our lucky stars there was some he couldn't touch, or we'd be beggars today. As it is, we have to pinch and scrape to get along on our niggardly thirty thousand a year! RUTHERFORD Are you never going to stop talking about that money? MARTHA Rutherford, so long as there is a breath left in my body, I shall say again what I have said before — you had no business to speculate if you weren't sure of not losing the money! CORNELIUS I wish you two wouldn't bother about what we're going to inherit. We're not worrying about it. EUGENIA I should think not! MARTHA Who's going to pay your debts if anything should happen to your father? CORNELIUS (with confidence) Why, my wife's father, of course. MARTHA That's all very well for you, Cornelius. You're a man. CORNELIUS Then why are you arguing? MARTHA What about your sister ? Who's willing to marry a girl without a penny ? CORNELIUS Sister'll have no difficulty. She's got enough 94 THE FAMILY EXIT sense to compromise herself with a millionaire, like any other poor society girl. MARTHA Eugenia will do no such thing. EUGENIA Mother! MARTHA There's been enough talk about the family already. I suppose we shall have to treat Uncle Peter cordially, in spite of everything. RUTHERFORD Yes, we'd better act discreetly. It is no use antagonizing Peter; he's very eccentric. He may object strongly to any criticism. MARTHA Very well, I shall do so — but it will be for your sake, Eugenia. EUGENIA Don't bother about me. Mother. MARTHA {to Eugenia) Your uncle can be of great assistance to you. Before he went to Paris he moved in the very smartest circles — if you can win his affections — in the way you seem to win the affections of all the poor young men in town — you should have no difficulty in making an excellent match this season. o'rourke {of stagey right) This way, sir. {Enter y right , Peter Rutherford-Vandusen, Peter is an aristocratic-looking old man^ with a keen sense of sarcastic humors and a distaste of con- ventional forms. The family stares at him) 95 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES RUTHERFORD {cTosses to Peter) Why— Peter! PETER {to Rutherford) What the dickens did you want to come here for? RUTHERFORD Why— PETER Who told you I was here? RUTHERFORD Tillotson. PETER Tillotson is a gabbling fool. I shall get another lawyer immediately. Why did you come, anyway ? RUTHERFORD We came to welcome you, Peter. You don't seem very glad to see us. How are you ? PETER Oh, Tm quite well. I'm glad to see you. I suppose this is the family, eh ? Hello, Martha, Why, I hardly recognize you; youVe grown so stout. Is this Cornelius? Why didn't you come to see me when you were in Paris ? CORNELIUS I called several times, Uncle, but you were al- ways out. PETER That's right. I remember seeing you through the window. I vowed I wouldn't see any of the family for twenty years, and I kept my word. MARTHA You always were eccentric, Peter. 96 THE FAMILY EXIT PETER Not really, Martha. When a man does a ra- tional thing, the world calls him eccentric. I had nothing in common with any member of my family, so I stayed away from them for twenty years. There's nothing eccentric about that! MARTHA I hope youVe gotten over those queer ideas, Peter. But you haven't met your niece, Eugenia. PETER Oh, Eugenia! {He goes to shake hands with her. She kisses him.) Eugenia, you're just as im- pulsive as your mother was — thirty years ago. EUGENIA Am I, Uncle? MARTHA {piqued) I hope your uncle's terrible memory isn't as good as it was. PETER It gets better every day. Well, Rutherford, I suppose you know I'm in a fine mess here. RUTHERFORD {lookifig meaningly toward Eugenia) Do you think we'd better discuss it now? PETER Why not? Perhaps Eugenia could suggest something. Modern young people are probably much more resourceful in affairs of this sort than we old stagers. MARTHA Our daughter has been educated in one of our most exclusive schools. You may speak freely before her, Peter. 97 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES EUGENIA {sweetly) Anything Uncle Peter does must surely be quite proper. PETER You're mistaken, my child. I'm not nearly as old as I look. EUGENIA I know. You're forty-five! PETER No, little flatterer, fifty-five. That's why I'm here again, to die in peace on good American soil. EUGENIA Don't talk that way. Uncle. Why, we are going to have the loveliest time with you. I have it all arranged. We are going to our place at Newport next month, and you'll come with us, won't you? We have perfectly wonderful golf, tennis, swimming, riding, and polo, and this year there's going to be hydro-aeroplaning, too. And there'll be lots of parties, and dances, and dinners, and bazaars, and things like that! You'll enjoy it so much. PETER Hm ! I don't know. It sounds rather strenuous. I don't think my nerves could stand it — es- pecially the hydro-aeroplaning! MARTHA You'll certainly live with us while you're here, Peter. We shall all feel quite hurt if you don't. We're looking forward to it, and I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Cousin Alice and Cousin Susan are going to spend the summer with us, too. 98 THE FAMILY EXIT PETER {alarmed) Cousin Alice and Cousin Susan — RUTHERFORD {grimly) Yes. PETER Are those two old cats still in existence? I thought they were dead and buried long ago ! MARTHA Peter, Peter! The same old Peter! PETER Martha! Martha! The same old family! MARTHA We all feel so glad having you back with us, Peter. Cousin Augustus and Honoria live in the next cottage to us. They have six children — all splendid young people — and there are Wil- helmina's twins, and the three grandchildren, the cutest things! They^re all dying to meet you! RUTHERFORD {as tJiough it Were all settled) Of course, you'll stay with us, Peter. We're planning a little family party for you. After twenty years of absence, we must celebrate your return to us. The family welcomes you, Peter, in spite of your strange behavior to us all. But once a Vandusen, always a Vandusen ! PETER Yes — it seems like fate. MARTHA Then we can count on you for the summer? PETER I don't know. {Dubiously,) What about Elise? ALL {together) Elise? 99 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES EUGENIA Who is Elise? MARTHA {to Eugenia) Never mind, dear. PETER Of course, I can*t leave Elise. RUTHERFORD But, Peter, you don't expect — PETER But IVe brought her over from Paris. De- cidedly no. I can't leave my Elise. MARTHA But she can't stay in America. They won't allow her in. That person told us so just now. PETER {crosses to Martha) Well, I'll let you into a secret. Tillotson's been down to Washington for me. He has a little influence, as you know, and he's arranged every- thing. She's going to be allowed to land — in fact, both of us will be allowed to land to- gether. RUTHERFORD It seems to me it was very foolish of you, Peter, to have attempted to bring the lady with you. PETER That's an original observation of yours, Ruther- ford. CORNELIUS Why didn't you keep it quiet. Uncle? PETER Naturally, I tried to keep it quiet. But you don't know my Elise. She's so absent-minded. We had separate staterooms on board, but the poor thing kept walking into my cabin all the lOO THE FAMILY EXIT time we were crossing. She was sea-sick, poor child, and whenever she feels ill, she can't help acting naturally. But the upshot of it was, everyone was scandalized! MARTHA {dryly) I should think they might be. PETER Some stupid old busybody reported it to the authorities, so they made inquiries and stopped us here. EUGENIA Why didn't you marry her. Uncle? MARTHA Marry her! Eugenia! The idea! PETER Well, rd often thought of marrying Elise — but then — I didn't. Elise's father was a cab-driver — her mother drank abominably — and one of her brothers was a convict. And you know what the French are. Once you marry into a French family, death alone can separate you from your relatives ! MARTHA You were quite right, Peter. You couldn't pos- sibly have put up with such awful people. But I'm sure there is some way we can arrange it, — so you could stay with us yourself. You're a man of the world, Peter. You don't have to carry your establishment on your back, like a snail. PETER I've thought it all out already, Martha. Tillot- son tells me that even if Elise were allowed to land here, I couldn't go with her from New lOI FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES York City to Jersey without breaking another peculiar law. RUTHERFORD Yes — that is so — the Mann Act. PETER Fm certainly annoyed with Mr. Mann, who- ever he may be. You see, we planned to tour the States together later on, but if we did, I should break this law at least fifty times and probably pass the rest of my old age in jail. CORNELIUS Don't worry about that, Uncle! TU put you on to some dodges to get around that. PETER Fm too old for dodges, my boy. If Mr. Mann wants to prevent people traveling, let him do it. Tillotson and I have fixed everything. Fve been a confirmed bachelor all my life, but I've given up my freedom to enter the Land of Liberty. RUTHERFORD Given up your freedom to enter the Land of Liberty? PETER Yes. This morning Elise and I were married! RUTHERFORD Married! PETER Yes; it solves all our problems. The cab- driver papa-in-law, the alcoholic mamma-in-law, the convict brother-in-law are three thousand miles away — so Elise and I are married. I02 THE FAMILY EXIT MARTHA {indignantly) Married! Do you mean you've married a kept woman? PETER I had to keep her, Martha. When you see her, you'll see she's quite unable to support herself. EUGENIA Is that woman my aunt. Uncle? PETER Yes; and you'll find her a very charming aunt, too. If you like her, we'll both come and stay with you. MARTHA {crossing to Eugenia) Do you mean to suggest bringing a person of that sort into our home? PETER Why not? The United States Government has guaranteed her lOO per cent pure. What more do you want? RUTHERFORD Peter! Your marrying her is nothing less than an affront to the family. PETER Rutherford, I'm surprised at you. You should be delighted to know that, like a Vandusen, I've acted honorably. MARTHA It may be honorable to her — but it's dishonor- able to us ! RUTHERFORD It's perfectly stupid to talk of acting honorably, Peter. If it were necessary for a man to marry a woman of that sort to be honorable, where would any of our own girls find husbands? 103 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES PETER Well, it's too late to discuss the ethics of the situation. We're married, and that settles it. Would you like to meet your sister-in-law, Martha? MARTHA I shall certainly not meet her! Neither shall Eugenia ! PETER {points to the door^ left) Elise has been waiting in there to see you for nearly half an hour. Do you want to meet her? {He goes to the door^ left.) EUGENIA {excited) Mother! She's in the room with the white slaves ! MARTHA {making for the door) Rutherford, I insist that we go, at once! RUTHERFORD Yes, we'll all go. Come, Eugenia! {They leave indignantly, Cornelius lingers,) PETER {to Cornelius) Do you want to meet your aunt, Cornelius? CORNELIUS {enthusiastically) You bet I do. Uncle. I guess she's some kid, eh? PETER {with a queer smile) Well, she is — in a way. CORNELIUS {knowingly) You've got to hand it to the French chickens when it comes to class. Uncle. I've been there myself — so I know. {Peter opens the door^ left. Enter Elise, a charm- ing little white-haired old lady, dressed in a black 104 THE FAMILY EXIT satin dress, with a white lace collar. She is dig- nified, yet sweet in her manner. Cornelius lets out a whistle of surprise. Peter introduces Cornelius?) PETER Your nephew, Cornelius. ELISE Bon jour, m'sieu! I speak not good englise. CORNELIUS {with a dreadful accent) Bon jour, tante. Comment vous allez vous? ELiSE {smiling graciously) Vouz parlez frangais? CORNELIUS {confused) Oui, madame — Well, Uncle, I guess Til beat it! {He does so, double quick time.) ELISE Why does he go so quick? Do I frighten him? PETER He must have been disappointed, little wife. He was hoping to find something in the nature of what he termed "a chicken". ELiSE {puzzled) A chick-en? Ah — poulet! What you mean, Peter? PETER He didn't know weVe lived together these past twenty years. ELISE But the family — the dreadful family, that you hate so much? PETER Gone, dear, gone! 105 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ELISE Gone? C^est merveilleux ! How do you get rid of these 'orrible people so easy? PETER By marrying you, dear. In France, I got rid of your family by not marrying you. In America, I get rid of my family l^y marrying you. CURTAIN io6 ■- \ PIE A COMEDY IN ONE ACT Pie was first produced by the Provincetown Players at the Playwrights' Theatre, New York, in January 1920, with the following cast: Clifford Quilter James Light DiANTHA, his wife Edie Hinemann Patrolman Dan O'Donahue Howard McLennon Annie Mulligan Alice Rostetter Produced under the direction of The Author Copyright, 1919 By LAWRENCE LANGNER All Rights Reserved PIE SCENE A comfortable room in Annie Mulligan^ s apart- ment. In the center is a small table covered with a white table-cloth and laid for two people. Notwithstanding the commonplace furniturCy the room is cosy^ and not unattractive. The presence of an armchair and desk^ newspapers on the floor y books scattered everywhere^ and a general air of being lived in, indicates that the room is not used exclusively as a dining-room. There is a door, center, leading to the hall. Viewed from the audi- ence, there is a window in the right wall, and a door in the left wall leading to the kitchen; a bright, green flower-pot stands in front of the window. Cliford ^uilter and Annie Mulligan are finish- ing dinner. Clifford alternately gnaws the end of a chicken bone, and takes a puff at his pipe. Annie, after drinking some coffee from her saucer, divides an apple pie into large portions with mathematical precis io n . Clifford is a tall, mild-looking person, rather boyish in his enthusiasm over the chicken. He wears a brightly-colored dressing-gown and carpet slip- pers; he looks dreamily up at the ceiling through a pair of heavy horn-rimmed glasses. His utter lack of table manners shows that he is very much at home. 109 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES Annie is a large^ blonde Irishwoman; the gen- erous curves of her body indicate an easy-going disposition and an indulgence in good food. Her smile is contagious. There is something very ap- petizing in the sight of Annie ^ as she cuts a gen- erous portion of apple pie, and balancing it neatly on the end of a bread-knife^ offers it to Clifford. ANNIE (beaming on Clifford) Have a piece of pie, dearie! CLIFFORD Tm not through with the chicken yet, Annie. {He looks over the debris of the chicken on the plate.) What's become of the otjier leg? ANNIE {angrily) Sure, d'ye expect a chicken to have three legs? Two youVe eaten, and now you're lookin' for the third! CLIFFORD How absent-minded of me. I was thinking of the plot of a new story. Let me tell it to you ! ANNIE {incensed) What a man! Always having plots at dinner- time ! CLIFFORD But, Annie — ANNIE Why don't ye work while ye work {swallows a mouthful) y an' eat while ye eat? CLIFFORD {apologetically) Why — I was eating, Annie. ANNIE {still angry) I know you was, CHfford, but you was payin' no attention to what you was eatin'. Half no PIE the day Tm in the kitchen, cookin' the tasty meals for you — and you — no sooner do you get your teeth into a nice young broiler, before you have a plot, — an' by the time you're through wid it, the chicken's nearly all gone, an' you no more tastin' it than if it was cornmeal mush. It's heart-breakin' work, it is, Clifford, cookin' for a man like you! CLIFFORD {rises and pats her consolingly) Come, Annie, dear. Don't feel hurt. I do ap- preciate your cooking — immensely. Your chicken was a masterpiece; there was an in- definable something about its flavor, Annie, that just carried me away — over the chimney- tops and roofs of the city — away to the balmy countryside — into Elysian Fields of sunshine, into drowsy, fulsome farmyards, with the browsing cattle and clucking hens. Then, Annie, there was woven in my mind, a simple, beauti- ful story — of love unfulfilled — of sacrifice un- rewarded! Annie, I salute you. (He bows,) Your cooking is poetry to my soul. ANNIE {still angry) Your soul! Go along wid you. You don't know the diflference between your soul and your stomach. CLIFFORD How few of us do ? However, that's philosophy, and thank the Lord, you don't understand philosophy. {He sits.) Please give me a piece of pie — and see whether I appreciate it ! {Annie helps him to pie.) Ill FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ANNIE (happily) There ! CLIFFORD [adoringly^ after having choked down a large mouthful) Wonderful apple pie! Wonderful apple pie! How I have sung of your delicate aroma — the satisfying qualities of your amber-colored sub- stance — the exquisite crispness of your daintiest of crusts! And above all, O pie — excelling — nay — eclipsing all those other virtues — more precious than all the rest — I sing the praise of your delectable digestibility. ANNIE {wreathed in smiles) Don't talk so much. Eat! {Clifford needs no second invitation,) CLIFFORD Do you remember how I immortalized your pie in my last novel, Annie, dear? A review of it has just come out in the Literary Digest. ANNIE No! CLIFFORD Let me read it to you. {Clifford takes a clipping out of his pocket and reads.) "In these days when morbid introspection holds the literary stage, when novelist after novelist takes a gruesome, macabre-like delight in analyzing and dissecting the grossest phases of man- kind's abnormalities, how refreshing it is to come upon a book, like *Happy Firesides,' by Clifford Quilter, and to know that clean, whole- some literature is not yet dead in America. *Happy Firesides,' a plain, simple story of the 112 PIE love of a good man for a good woman, and the spiritual happiness their unselfishness brought them, should be read by every one who believes in upholding the sacred traditions of the home." {To AnnieJ) There! What do you think of that? {Annie begins to weep in a very ungrace- ful manner^ What's the matter? ANNIE (bursts out) I think you ought to leave me and go back to your wife. CLIFFORD {startled) What! Go back to my wife? What an un- pleasant thought! ANNIE But, Clifford— CLIFFORD {interrupting quickly and holding out his plate) Some more pie, dear. I have a good appetite today. Dont make me lose it. ANNIE Sure, an' it does me heart good to see you eatin' so well, Clifford. But it's back to your wife you should go, dearie. CLIFFORD {rises and caresses her) Come, Annie, you've never asked me to go back to my wife before. Be reasonable, dear! ANNIE {gulps) Sure, I'm tryin' to be reasonable. D'ye think I want you to go away and leave me, after the happy days we've had together? CLIFFORD Then why do you ask me to go? {Suspiciously.) Somebody must have been putting silly no- 113 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES tions into your head. Whatever gave you such a stupid idea? ANNIE I — I — I've been reading "Happy Firesides." CLIFFORD (taken aback) YouVe read "Happy Firesides"! Why, Annie, I thought you never read anything {sotto voce) outside of the New York American. {He sits.) ANNIE I picked it up off the floor last week. I never thought Fd understand it, wid all them big long words you use when you're talkin', but, honest, Clifford, it didn't seem no more harder than Ella Wheeler Wilcox, an' just as inter- estin', too. CLIFFORD (indignantly) My dear Annie, please don't compare me with Ella Wheeler Wilcox. ANNIE (reassuring) Sure, an' I didn't mean her no harm, dearie. CLIFFORD (sarcastically) Indeed ! ANNIE (sentimentally) What you said about love and the home, an* all them things, honey, was just beautiful, an', what's more, they're true! It just broke my heart thinkin' how you was livin' wid me, in- stead of wid your wife, an' your thoughts so lovely and pure, an' all. Honest, Clifford, the day I finished readin' it, I had to go out into the kitchen and peel onions, just to have an excuse if the neighbors seen me cryin' ! CLIFFORD (comforts her, taking her hands across the table) 114 PIE Come, come, my poor old Annie! Why didn't you tell your Clifford all about it before? ANNIE I just couldn't, dearie. I thought you'd think me ungrateful after we've been so happy together. You've been so kind, too. CLIFFORD {with great sincerity) Kind? Why, Annie, it's you that's been kind. You've taken me under your wing, dear; you've been mother and sweetheart to me — all in one. Don't talk of my being kind, Annie, you're the kindest person in the world, dear, and I do, do love you! ANNIE Sure, you're that nice, makin' love to me, Clif- ford, I feel Hke tellin' Dan O'Donahue to go to the divil. CLIFFORD (rises y surprised) Dan O'Donahue? Who's he? ANNIE He's me cousin. CLIFFORD Your cousin ? How was it you've never men- tioned him before? ANNIE I was kind-a ashamed to. CLIFFORD Ashamed? Why? ANNIE (apologetically) Well — you see — he's a policeman. CLIFFORD Oh! ANNIE He says we ain't livin' moral. 115 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES CLIFFORD Of course he'd say that! What do you expect a policeman to know about morality? ANNIE And it's right he is. Sure, you say so yourself. CLIFFORD (astonished) I say so? ANNIE Yes, you say it in "Happy Firesides." CLIFFORD Qiis voice Jailing) I do? ANNIE Don't you remember how Jack Maitland went back to his wife? CLIFFORD {taken aback) That's true. He did. But then, dear, I'm no Jack Maitland. Have you a copy of the book here? ANNIE {points to the desk) Sure, it's there, in the drawer. {Cliford rises and fumbles at the drawer) Can't you find it? It's underneath the Bible. CLIFFORD Here it is. (He produces the book, turns pages.) Now, Annie, listen to this: {He reads) "One wishes that some new form of descriptive art could be evolved to describe a man like Jack Maitland. Something more graphic than ver- biage is needed to do justice to his portrayal. Jack Maitland was a man of more than rugged physique. Health and strength radiated from his lithe, muscular body. His flashing eyes, his ruby lips, his white teeth glinting in the sunlight, all told the tale of masculine virility, of bouhd- ii6 PIE less energy, of courage, skill, and determina- tion." {He half closes the book,) There, Annie, I ask you, is that like me ? ANNIE {dubiously) Well, it's somethin' like you. CLIFFORD I have white teeth. ANNIE {encouragingly) Sure, it's too modest you are, Clifford. CLIFFORD But listen to this; "Like all who enjoy a rude, vigorous health, his appetite was voracious and his digestion like that of an ostrich." Is that like me ? {He thrusts the book at her,) ANNIE There's nothing wrong wid your appetite. CLIFFORD {closes the book) Annie, the hero of this book had courage and determination. In addition, he had an excel- lent digestion. He was able to return to his wife, ANNIE {emphatically) And so must you, dearie. CLIFFORD IVe none of those things, and I'm going to stay right here. ANNIE {dogmatically) What's right for Jack Maitland, Clifford, is right for you! You mustn't try to make me believe that wrong is right. CLIFFORD {hotly) Wrong and right are merely relative. ANNIE {positively) And it's relatives that causes all the trouble. 117 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES Dan says they won't ever forgive me as long as you live here. CLIFFORD Suppose they don't. What do you care ? ANNIE Sure, I've got to consider my relatives. Dan says so! CLIFFORD Dan, Dan, Dan! How often do you see Dan? ANNIE Why, he comes here to dinner once in a while when you're away. CLIFFORD {significantly) Ah! While I'm away! He has probably heard you inherited a little money. Does he know about it? ANNIE (with rising emotion) Sure, but it isn't that. It isn't only what Dan says. {She points to the book?) You said it ain't right yourself. I ain't happy no more. If you don't go, / shall have to! CLIFFORD {with feeling) Come, Annie, my darling, you're not serious, are you? You don't understand what this means to me. You know I can't write at home, with Diantha fussing around the house, grum- bling every time a room is untidy, and a ter- rible cook, who martyrs me at every meal! ANNIE {forcefully) Right comes before writin'. CLIFFORD {pleading) You're such a simple, sweet dear, Annie, you don't realize the subtle relation between your exquisite food and my spiritual well-being. 1x8 PIE When I was at home, dear, the matter of food was left by my wife to a succession of incom- petent hussies who called themselves cooks, and set out to murder me with their villainous con- coctions. Thank goodness, no single one stayed long enough to put me completely underground. ANNIE (melting) How you do talk! CLIFFORD {oratorically) What happened to me on the delicatessen diet they fed me? They poisoned me with pickles. They tortured me with ptomaine! I was the victim of every form of gastric disorder. I became morbid. I wrote delicatessen novels. I delved into the vinegars and acids of life. I plunged deep into the brine of human misery. I wallowed in the oil of human slime! And then I came to you, Annie, — acidified, salted, pickled. And you healed me — healed me with the blessed salve of your good home cooking. Annie, youVe saved me once. Don't throw me back to home and indigestion. ANNIE {distraught) Oh, dearie, I just don't know what to do. It's terrible for us to be leadin' a life of shame, and it agreein' wid you so well! CLIFFORD (indignantly) A life oiF shame. Who said that? ANNIE Them's Dan's own words. CLIFFORD What do you care for the opinion of a man like Dan? He has the common, conventional point of view about morality. Artists are above 119 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES morality. In living with me, Annie, no matter what the world may say, you show a fine pagan spirit. {He sits in the armchair*) ANNIE Pagan! Go 'long wid ye — it's a Catholic I am. CLIFFORD {takes a clipping from his pocket. Annie standsy center) See what they say here, dear — "American literature owes much to Mr. Quilter for show- ing us the blessings of the simple, domestic vir- tues, and the quiet delights of family life." I can't write that on delicatessen, Annie dear. ANNIE {bursts) I can't help it, Clifford, I want to be an honest woman. CLIFFORD What could be jnore honest, more honorable, than to help me write novels like "Happy Fire- sides," which extol the ideal of happy homes? I appeal to your sense of duty, Annie. You're not only making me happy, dear, you're making men happy, and women happy, and children happy, all over the United States, and even in England. ANNIE {dubiously) Am I? CLIFFORD And you must keep it up, dear, you mustn't stop. Why, Annie, rather than have this calam- ity happen, I'll go to Diantha, get a divorce, and marry you! ANNIE {aghast) An' have me called a homewrecker by every- body ? 1 20 PIE CLIFFORD No, dear, no! ANNIE {a light dawning on her) Vm. a vampire, that's what I am. CLIFFORD {soothingly ^ rising) A vampire! Why, the idea! Nobody will think you a vampire, dear. ANNIE Yes they will, dearie, if I give way to myself and drive your wife out, and wreck her home, and ruin her life. I will be a vampire. I'll lose my self-respect. CLIFFORD {with bravado) Fd like to see that Dan O'Donahue! Td tell him what I think of him. ANNIE {assuringly) He's goin' to be here in a minute. CLIFFORD {his bravado disappearing) Well, I guess I don't want to see him, anyway. He's caused enough mischief. ANNIE {persuasively) Run along before he comes, Clifford. Why don't you go back home for a few days, honey dear, and we'll both think it over. Do it just to please me. I want to feel right about it, honest I do. CLIFFORD {tenderly) I know you do, Annie. Very well, I'll go and talk it over with Diantha. Where are my shoes ? {He slips of his dressing-gown^ which he throws on the floor y and kicks ofl his slippers. They hunt on their hands and knees for his shoeSy which are found under the furniture.) 121 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ANNIE I sure will miss you, dearie! CLIFFORD {sitting in the armchair and putting on his shoes) We'll both be sorry, Annie. But we won't quarrel over it, dear. We never have quarreled, and we're not going to begin now, are we? ANNIE Of course not. Kiss me goodbye! {They kiss and move toward the door. She helps him with his coat and hat.) Here's your umbrella! Let me wrap you up a piece of pie to put in your pocket, dearie. CLIFFORD I'll take it for remembrance. But, no! I must try to forget. {They kiss again.) Goodbye! {Cliford goes out, center. Annie reads from book at table.) ANNIE {sighs) What's right is right! {She carries the cofee-pot to the door leading to the kitchen and goes out.) {Enter Cliford, center; he tiptoes to the pie dishy cuts a piece of pie, and goes to the drawer of the desk, from which he takes some paper; he wraps the pie up in the paper. Meanwhile, the door, center, opens; enter stealthily Dan O'Donahue, a big, red- faced policeman. He tiptoes behind Clifford and as Clifford puts the parcel containing the pie in his pocket, Dan pounces upon him and grabs the parcel.) DAN No you don't! 122 PIE CLIFFORD What's the matter? DAN ril show you what's the matter! What are you stealing? {Annie comes in from the kitchen.) ANNIE Sure, an' what is the matter? DAN {excitedly) You sure are lucky, Annie. I seen this here guy walkin' up the street, lookin' kinda hesitatin' and I thinks to myself, "There goes a real hard- boiled egg/' You can always tell a criminal by the shape of his head, Annie, an' when I seen this little runt, I sizes him up, and begins to follow him. And all of a sudden he stops at your front door, opens it wid a key^ mind you, closes it quietly, walks upstairs on tiptoe, and I just gets here in time to see him slip this here parcel into his pocket. CLIFFORD But I can explain everything. DAN {vindictively) I know you oily guys. You'll explain to the judge. Come to look at you, I know you. You've been in jail before. ANNIE Why, I know the gentleman. Dan, let go of him. DAN Yer tryin' to shield him, Annie. Don't waste your pity on a crook like him. What's in the parcel? 123 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ANNIE I tell you he ain't a crook. DAN {puzzled) Then who is he? ANNIE {hesitates) Why — why — he's my gentleman friend. DAN {taken aback) He is ? But you said he was a regular gentleman ! ANNIE Didn't I tell you he was an author? DAN What's he got in this parcel? {Annie opens the parcel.) ANNIE Pie! DAN {positively aghast) Apple pie! Well! CLIFFORD Goodbye, Annie. Goodbye, Mr. O'Donahue. I'm going to ask the Police Commissioner to promote you. DAN {surly) Indade, an' where to? CLIFFORD They need men like you in the Intelligence Department. {He goes out,) DAN Has he gone for good ? ANNIE {sadly) Yes, I suppose so. DAN {approvingly) Fine business. Yer doin' right, Annie. Just finished dinner, eh? 124 PIE ANNIE We was just through. DAN That's a good-lookin' chicken ye have there! ANNIE {not very inviting) It's cold, or Fd ask you to have some. DAN {not at all abashed) Sure, I don't mind it cold. ANNIE Help yerself if you're hungry. {She gives htm knife yforky and plate.) DAN Thank you, Annie. {He sits at the table tn Clif- ford's chair,) ANNIE {resigned) I'll get you a cup of hot coffee. DAN That'll be great, Annie. {Annie goes of, Dan literally falls upon the food. His appetite completely eclipses that of Cliford. He rapidly devours the remains of the chicken, as well as the apple pie, and then he unwraps the piece of pie wrapped up in paper and consumes that as well. Enter Annie, left, with cofee.) ANNIE Here you are. {She hands him a cup of coffee.) DAN That smells like good coffee. {He drinks.) 1 had a talk wid the family about you, Annie, and it's goin' to be all right. We're all willing to forget the past. Now, what I've bin thinkm| is this. We've got to get the folks together, an' I2S FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES my idea is you should have them all here to dinner next Sunday. ANNIE Dan, will they really forgive me? DAN Lave it to me. You can always rely on me, Annie, to handle the folks. {Surveying the empty dishes^ Gosh, don't the walkin' around in the fresh air make a man hungry? ANNIE Will you have a bit of cheese? DAN Why, I guess I could make room for a bite or so. {Annie gets the cheese from the cupboard^ Annie, I got some good news for yer. I told the Cap- tain of my precinct I had a cousin, an unpro- tected female, livin' in this block, and he's bin and transferred me to this beat, so Til be able to look in here every hour or so for a bit o' — er — conversation wid yer. ANNIE {alarmed by the prospect^ Well, now, if you're on duty, you can't be comin' in here all the time now, can you ? DAN {knowingly) Lave it to me, Annie. Lave it to me! {The bell rings,) ANNIE Who can that be? DAN Was you expectin' somebody? ANNIE {puzzled) Not a soul. I've got my old dress on. Will ye go to the door? 126 PIE DAN All right. {Dan goes outy center. Annie stands near, peer- ing through a gap in the door. Dan comes back.) DAN It's a lady to see yer, an' she won't give her name. ANNIE It ain't the lady from the laundry? DAN It's a real swell dame! ANNIE {flustered) Ask her in, Dan, while I go and change my dress. You talk to her. DAN What shall I talk about? ANNIE Oh, anything. Tell her about some of them swell murder cases you was in. {Annie goes ojff^ left.) {Dan opens the door^ center^ and calls.) DAN {officially) Step this way, please. {Enter Diantha ^uilter. She is a good-looking^ artistically dressed woman ^ slightly freakish in appearance. She wears a one-piece gown. She paces the room restlessly as she talks,) DIANTHA I hope I'm not intruding? DAN Sit down and make yourself comfortable, 127 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ma'am. Annie was just giving me a little lunch. Maybe you'd like a drink of coffee ? DiANTHA (shudders) Thank you. I never take coffee ! DAN Would yer like a bit of bread and cheese? DIANTHA (shuddering still more) Thank you. I've just finished dinner, and I'm afraid it hasn't quite agreed with me. Besides, I never take cheese. DAN (attempting jocularity) You should be a policeman, ma'am, ye'd take anything. DIANTHA That seems to be so. I understand you took my husband's pie. DAN (taken aback) Your husband! Was that your husband? DIANTHA It was. Don't look so startled. I still know my husband when I see him. DAN I sure am sorry for yer, ma'am. It's me that's makin' him go back to ye. DIANTHA Ah! So you're the cause of all this trouble. DAN Trouble ? DIANTHA To think of my husband being sent back to me by a policeman. It's humiliating. DAN Isn't it glad ye are to have him back wid yei* 128 PIE DIANTHA Glad? How absurd. Don't you know I don't get along with my husband? DAN I nivver knew a thing about it. He looks to me like a mighty fine feller, ma'am. DIANTHA Vm glad you like him. Perhaps you'll help me. Have you any influence over the lady who lives here, Mr.— ? DAN O'Donahue's me name. Sure, ma'am, that I have. I'm her cousin. Won't you set down, ma'am? DIANTHA (sils at the table. Dan sits at the other side) Very well. Let me tell you why I want you to help me. In addition to being Mr. Quilter's wife, Mr. O'Donahue, I'm an interior decorator. In fact, / originated the Home Beautiful. DAN Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am, but what the divil is that? DIANTHA Haven't you heard of the Home Beautiful? DAN No; nor seen one, neither. DIANTHA (reciting her favorite formula) Why, the Home Beautiful is a home, beauti- fully decorated, harmonized to the personality of its occupants. I believe, Mr. O'Donahue, that a refined, tastefully decorated home shows at once that the people living in it possess dis- tinction and culture. Don't you agree with me? ^ 129 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES DAN Sure, ma*am. But I bet them things cost like the dickens. DiANTHA (rises) Cost has nothing to do with it, Mr. O'Donahue. This is the kind of a room my husband Hkes. Look at the hideous green flower-pot. Look at his slippers there, his pipe on the table, his dressing-gown on the floor, and cigarette ashes strewn everywhere. What kind of a Home Beautiful could / have if my husband lived in it? I appeal to you, Mr. O'Donahue. (She sits.) DAN Sure, a man's got to have his little comforts, ma'am. DIANTHA His comforts are my discomforts. But he and I have been getting along splendidly since he's been living here. The arrangement is perfect. I'm known as Mrs. Quilter, the wife of the cele- brated novelist, and it helps me in a professional way. In return, whenever Clifford writes a novel, I decorate the different rooms he de- scribes, so that his readers haven't the faintest idea he has such abominably bad taste. DAN But wouldn't it be better, ma'am, if you and him was livin' together, like a nice, respectable married couple? DIANTHA Clifford is right. You are interfering. (Severely,) You'd better think twice before you come between husband and wife, Mr. O'Donahue. 130 PIE DAN (rises) He ain't going to live here^ that's all! DiANTHA {rises) You're simply jealous. You're just interfering because you like the food here. DAN Who told you that? DIANTHA Clifford. And I believe him. He says you al- ways call at meal times. DAN It's a lie, ma'am. It's an insult to me uni- form. {Enter Annie, dressed in a tight-fitting white gown; her face is very red.) DIANTHA {astonished) Why! Annie Mulligan! ANNIE Lor'! The missus! DIANTHA {repeating with astonished deliberation) Annie Mulligan ! ANNIE Yes, ma'am. DIANTHA I thought you went with a family in Philadelphia. ANNIE {dramatically) Didn't he tell you — I was — she? DIANTHA {a light dawning on her) Not a word. The wretch! ANNIE Mavbe he was afraid, ma'am. DIANTHA I'll never forgive him, never! 131 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ANNIE Oh, ma'am! DIANTHA You were the best cook I ever had. I wouldn't have lost^o^ for anything. ANNIE {taking Clifford's part) Sure, it wasn't his fault, ma'am, indeed it wasn't. I never would have left you, if you hadn't insisted on me doin' the washin' and ironin', as well as the cookin' and general house- work. DIANTHA {sharply) You made an absurd fuss about the washing and ironing. There was hardly a half-day's work a week. ANNIE {her temper rising) I know I'm a bad woman, Mrs. Quilter, but I will not do washin' and ironin' under sixty- five a month, not for nobody. DIANTHA This is all too trifling to quarrel about. Tell me, Annie, how did this affair start with my husband? ANNIE Why, ma'am, he was that uncomfortable at home, upsettin' the beautiful furniture in all them fine rooms, so when you was away lec- turin' on the Home Beautiful, he used to stay out in the kitchen so as not to disturb anything, and there he'd be, handin' me the saucepans, and helpin' me to wash up. It was that ro- mantic, ma'am, was it any wonder I fell in love with him? 132 PIE DIANTHA And then? ANNIE After I left, ma'am, I come into a little money, an* started housekeepin' on me own account, an' he begged me to take him in as a lodger, an' you know how he talks, ma'am, just Hke a book, an' I — I — I — {Annie sobs,) DIANTHA Well, how do you feel about it? ANNIE {proudly) I've been a regular vampire, ma'am. But I've done right in the end. I've sent him back to you, ma'am, and he is in better condition now than he ever was. DAN You've done right, Annie. DIANTHA But I don't want him back. ANNIE Don't want him? DIANTHA {shuddering) Before I say another word, you must remove that terrible green flower-pot. It's been making me nervous ever since I came into the room. {To Dan.) Move it over here. {Dan does so with obvious surprise.) No. Over there. {Dan goes back.) It isn't right yet. Never mind. I'll cover it. {She covers it with her scarf. She speaks to Dan in a businesslike way,) Now, give me a hand with this. {She begins moving the table^ Dan and Annie assisting her,) Move it more this way. No; more that way. Stop, stop! There, that makes the place a little more attractive. ^33 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES {She then rearranges chairs in other parts of the room,) That's better. I simply can't sit com- fortably in a room that doesn't harmonize. {To Annie.) Now, Annie, I want to talk this over with you alone. {She looks meaningly at Dan.) ANNIE You'd better be going about your business, Dan. {Dan does not stir.) For all you know there might be a murder on this block this very minute. DAN {moving towards the door) I guess I ain't wanted here, but I warn you, Annie, if you don't defend the honor of the Mulligans, I will. ANNIE Honor o' the Mulligans! Sure, you'll have enough to do to look after your own honor. Go 'long wid ye and catch the murderer. {She pushes Dan to the door^ center.) DAN There ain't no murderer. What are vou talkin' about! {He goes out.) DIANTHA Annie, I can't understand your deserting my husband for that stupid creature! ANNIE I'm not desertin' him, ma'am. I'm givin' him back to you. DIANTHA Let's sit down and talk this over. {Annie sits.) Before we start, Annie, do you happen to have any bicarbonate of soda? 134 PIE ANNIE Not a bit, ma'am. DIANTHA Just my luck. Never mind. Cigarette? {She offers a cigarette to Annie ^ who refuses. Biantha lights her own cigarette^ throws the match on the floor ^ picks it up, looks for an ash tray^ and hands the match to Annie. Annie throws it back on the floor.) We both love Clifford, don't we? Let's forget about ourselves and do what is best for him. You know very well you don't want to send Clifford home. You're only doing it because some one influenced you to do it. Don't you know, Annie, if you do something against your own better judgment, then it isn't right, and when it isn't right, it's wrong, and when it's wrong, it's immoral? ANNIE Is it? DIANTHA Of course. And if you send Clifford away, against your own sense of what's right, you'll be an immoral woman! Yes, Annie, an im- moral woman! ANNIE Sure, I'm immoral if he stays, an' immoral if he goes. What'U I do? DIANTHA Just let things be as they were, Annie. Be un- selfish! Don't gratify your desire to be con- ventional. ANNIE (suspiciously) But why don't you want him, ma'am? FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES DIANTHA Because he really loves you, Annie, and you love him. Your love has made him happy. I was never able to do that. ANNIE An' why not, ma'am? DIANTHA {abstractedly) Well, you see, he married me on an intellectual basis, Annie. He said he liked my mind. But when two people marry that way, Annie, it never lasts, because as soon as a woman dis- agrees with a man, he begins to dislike her mind. Now it's entirely different with you, Annie. No matter whether or not Clifford likes your mind, he'll always like your cooking. Your love will last. ANNIE {brightening) Will it, ma'am? DIANTHA It will, indeed. I'm fond of him, Annie, but I'm a modern woman. I'll make the sacrifice. I'll give him back to you, if you'll take him. Do it for his happiness, as well as for mine. ANNIE Your happiness? DIANTHA Clifford's been so good-natured to me since his digestion is cured. He used to be a perfect bear, so I'm grateful, too. ANNIE {graciously) Oh, don't mention it, Mrs. Quilter. DIANTHA Don't call me Mrs. Quilter. Call me Diantha, 136 PIE Annie. We have so much in common, haven't we? ANNIE (dubiously) Yes. DIANTHA Come, Annie, dear, you won't sacrifice the hap- piness of all of us, will you ? ANNIE {sobs) Fm just a weak, weak woman! DIANTHA You'll take him back? ANNIE {tearfully) I will. DIANTHA I left him on the street. Til call him. {Diantha goes out. The window ^ right, opens from without and Clifford tumbles in. Annie, who is washing the tears from her face with drinking water from a glass pitcher on the table, is startled^ ANNIE Lor', what a fright you gave me! CLIFFORD {excited) Your cousin, Dan O'Donahue, has been stand- ing at the street door with his night-stick in his hand, glaring at me as though he'd like to kill me. ANNIE He wouldn't let you in? CLIFFORD No. But I fooled him. When he was looking the other way, I climbed up the rain spout. Annie, dear, will you take me back? 137 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ANNIE {answering everything) Indeed I will! My darlin'! {They embrace, Dan's head appears at the window^ CLIFFORD ril never, never leave you, Annie. Never, never, never! DAN {entering through the window and pulling them apart) Oh! Won't you! Consider yourself under arrest. CLIFFORD Consider yourself on the street minding your own business. DAN The impidence! CLIFFORD {angrily) You came in through the window. You'll find it more convenient to leave through the door. {He pushes Dan towards the door.) DAN {eagerly) Is it a fight yer wan tin' ? ANNIE {separating them) Ah! Don't be gettin' mad, Dan. He's comin' back to me with his wife's consent, so there's nothin' wrong about it any more. DAN {suspiciously) Isn't there? Why not? ANNIE Ye wouldn't understand if I explained it to you, Dan. I'm not sure I quite understand it myself. CLIFFORD It's all right, Mr. O'Donahue, I assure you. 138 PIE ANNIE {winningly ^ taking Dan's night-stick away from him) See here, Dan, IVe got another apple pie in the kitchen. Will ye both come in and have some? {She places her arms on each of them.) What d'ye say, Clifford? CLIFFORD {with glee) Will I? {To Dan.) There's one thing we both agree on, Mr. O'Donahue, and that's Annie's apple pie, eh? DAN {grinning) I guess so. ANNIE An' there'll always be enough for the both of you. DAN Let's shake hands, Mr. Quilter. And now for the pie ! {They shake hands and go into the kitchen. Enter Dianthay door^ center^ DIANTHA {excited) Clifford has completely disappeared, and so has your cousin. Perhaps they're fighting! ANNIE {beaming) Sure, they're not fighting. They're eatin' — in the kitchen. DIANTHA Are they? What are they eating? ANNIE Pie! Apple pie! DIANTHA {regretfully) Oh! Some of your delicious apple pie! 139 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES ANNIE It won't hurt you, dearie, it'll melt in your mouth like butter! DIANTHA ril come in a moment. Do you mind if I use your phone? ANNIE (points to the phone) Sure, there it is. {Annie^ highly delighted^ goes into the kitchen,) DIANTHA {into the phone) Farragut 6500. I want to speak to Mr. Aubrey Hastings' apartment. {Pause.) Is that you, Aubrey? {Pause.) Yes, I fixed it. {Pause.) There's absolutely nothing to be alarmed about. CURTAIN 1 40 LICENSED A TRAGI-COMEDY IN ONE ACT Licensed was first produced by the Washington Square Players in February, 191 5, at the Bandbox Theatre, New York, with the following cast: Mrs. Ransome Josephine A. Meyer Jane Ransome, her daughter Ida Rauh Rev. Mr. Tanner, a clergyman Carl Soanes Produced under the direction of Mr. Philip Moeller Licensed was the opening play of the first bill of the Washington Square Players. Copyright, 1915 Bv LAWRENCE LANGNER All Rights Reserved LICENSED SCENE The Parlor of the Ransomes* house, in a cheap district of Brooklyn, There is a profusion of pic- tures, ornaments, and miscellaneous furniture. A gilded radiator stands in front of the fireplace. Table, center, on which are some boxes and silver- plated articles arranged for display. Over the door hangs a horseshoe. White flowers and fes- toons indicate that the room has been prepared for a wedding. To the left is a sofa, upon which lies the body of a dead man, his face covered with a handkerchief. There is a small packing-case at his side, upon which stand two lighted candles, a medicine bottle, and a tumbler. The blinds are drawn. Janet, dressed in a white, semi-bridal costume, is on her knees at the side of the couch, quietly weeping. After a few moments the door opens, admitting a pale flood of sunshine. A murmur of conversation in the passage without is heard. Mrs. Ran some enters. She is an intelligent, comfortable-looking, middle-aged woman. She wears an elaborate dress of light gray, of a fashion of some years previous, evidently kept for special occasions. She is somewhat hysterical in manner and punctuates her conversation with sniffles. MRS. RANSOME My dear child, now do stop cryin*. Won't 143 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES you stop cryin'? Yer Aunt Maud's just come, and wants to know if she can see you. JANET {through her sobs) I don't want to see her. I don't want to see nobody. MRS. RANSOME But your aunt, my dear — JANET {interrupting) No, Mother, not nobody. (Mrs. Ransome goes to the door and holds a whis- pered conversation with somebody outside. She then returns^ closing the door behind her^ and sits on the chair close to Janet.) MRS. RANSOME She's goin' to wait for yer father. He's almost crazy with worry. All I can say is — thank God it was to have bin a private wedding. If we'd had a lot of people here, I don't know what I should have done. Now, quit yer cryin', Janet, I'm sure we're doin' all we can for you, dear. {Janet continues to weep softly.) Come, dear, try and bear up. Try and stop cryin'. Yer eyes are all red, dear, and the minister'll be here in a minute. JANET {quieter) I don't want to see him, Mother. Can't you see I don't want to see nobody? MRS. RANSOME I know, my dear. We tried to stop him comin*, but he says to yer father, he says, "If I can't come to her weddin', it's my duty to try to comfort yer daughter"; and that certainly is a fine thing for him to do, for a man in his 144 LICENSED position, too. An' yer father — he feels it as much as you do, what with the trouble he's bin to, buyin' all that furniture for you an' him, and one thing and another. He says Bob must have had a weak heart, an' it's some con- solation he was took before the weddin' an' not after, when you might have had a lot of children to look after. An' he's right, too. JANET Oh, Bob! Bob! MRS. RANSOME Now, now! My poor girl. It makes my heart bleed to hear you. JANET Oh, Bob! I want you so. Won't you wake up. Bob? MRS. RANSOME {putting her arms around Janet and bursting into sobs) There — you're cryin' yer eyes out. There — there — you've still got yer old mother — there — there, just like when you was a baby — there — JANET {in a quiety serious voice) Mother — I want to tell you something. MRS. RANSOME Well, tell me, dear, what is it? JANET You don't know why me and Bob was goin' to get married. MRS. RANSOME Why you and Bob was goin' to get married? JANET Didn't you never guess why we was goin' to get married — sort ol all of a sudden? 145 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES MRS. RANSOME All of a sudden ? Why, I never thought of it. {Alarmed,) There wasn't nothin' wrong be- tween you and him, was there? {Janet weeps afresh.) Answer me. There wasn't nothin* wrong between you and him, was there? JANET Nothin' wrong, MRS. RANSOME What do you mean, then? I JANET We was goin' to get married — because we had to. MRS. RANSOME You mean — you mean you're goin' to have a baby? JANET Yes. MRS. RANSOME Are you sure ? D'ye know how to tell ? JANET Yes. MRS. RANSOME Oh, Lor'! Goodness gracious! How could it have happened? JANET Fm glad it happened — now, MRS. RANSOME D'ye understand what this means? What are we goin' to do about it? JANET {through her tears) I can't help it. I'm glad it happened. An' if I lived all over again, I'd want it to happen again. 146 LICENSED MRS. RANSOME You'd want it to happen? Don^t you see what this means? Don't you see that if this gets out, you'll be disgraced till your dying day? JANET I'm glad. MRS. RANSOME Don't keep on sayin' you're glad. Glad, in- deed! Have you thought of the shame an' dis- grace this'll bring on me an' yer father? An' after we've saved an' scraped these long years to bring you up respectable, an' give you a good home. You're glad, are you? You certainly got a lot to be glad about. JANET Can't you understand. Mother? We wasn't thinking of you when it happened — now it's all I have. MRS. RANSOME Of course you wasn't thinkin' of us. Only of yerselves. But me and your father is the ones that's got to stand for all the talk there'll be about it. Think what the family'll say. Think what the neighbors'll say. I don't know what we done to have such a thing happen to us. (Mrs, Ransome breaks into a spell of exagger- ated weepings which ceases as the doorbell rings.) There! That's the minister. God only knows what I'd better say to him. {Mrs, Ransome hurriedly attempts to tidy the roomy knocking over a chair in her haste^ pulls up the blinds half- way and returns to her chair. There is a knock at the door, Mrs, Ransome breaks into a pro- longed howl,) Come in. 147 FIVE ONE^ACT COMEDIES {Enter Rev, Mr, Tanner, He is a clergyman with a rich^ middle-class congregation and a few poorer members^ amongst whom he numbers the Ransomes. His general attitude is kind but some- what patronizing; he displays none of the effusive desire to please which is his correct demeanor towards his richer parishioners. The elder Ran- somes regard him as their spiritual leader^ and worship himy along with God^ at a respectful distance.) TANNER {speaks in a hushed voice, glancing towards the kneeling figure of Janet) Bear up, Mrs. Ransome. Bear up, I beg of you! {Mrs, Ransome howls more vigorously,) This is very distressing, Mrs. Ransome. MRS. RANSOME {bctwccn her sobs) It certainly is kind of you to come, Mr. Tanner, Tm sure. We didn't expect to see you when my husband phoned you. TANNER Where is your husband now? MRS. RANSOME He's gone to send some telegrams to Bob's family, sir — his family. We'd planned to have a quiet wedding, sir, with only me and her father and aunt, and then we was goin' to have the rest of his family in this afternoon. TANNER It's a very sad thing, Mrs. Ransome. MRS. RANSOME It's fairly dazed us, Mr. Tanner. Comin' on top of all the preparation we've bin makin' for the past two weeks, too. An' her father 148 LICENSED spent a pile o' money on their new furniture an' things. TANNER {speaking in an undertone) Was he insured? MRS. RANSOME No, sir, not a penny. That's why it comes so hard on us just now, havin' the expense of a funeral on top of what weVe just spent for the weddin'. TANNER Well, Mrs. Ransome, Fll try to help you in any way I can. MRS. RANSOME Thank you, Mr. Tanner. It certainly is fine of you to say so. Everybody's bin good to us, sir. She had all them presents given to her. TANNER Did he have any relatives here? MRS. RANSOME Not a soul, poor fellow. He comes from up- state. That's why my husband's gone to send a telegram askin' his father to come to the funeral. TANNER How long will your husband be? {He glances at his watch.) MRS. RANSOME I don't think he'll be more than half an hour. He'd like to see you, if you could wait that long, I know. TANNER Very well. I have an engagement later, but I can let that go if necessary. 149 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES {Tanner and Mrs, Ransome sit down in front of the table,) MRS. RANSOME It certainly is a great cornfort havin' you here, Mr. Tanner. I feel so upset I don't know what to say. TANNER Bear up, Mrs. Ransome. You are not the greatest sufferer. Let me say a few words to your daughter. {He rises, goes to Janet, and places his hand on her shoulder, but she takes no notice of him,) My poor child, you must try to bear up, too. MRS. RANSOME She takes it so bad, Mr. Tanner, that the Lord should have took him on their weddin' mornin'. TANNER {returning to his chair) We must not question, Mrs. Ransome, we must not question. The Almighty has thought fit to gather him back into the fold, and we must submit to his will. In such moments as these we feel helpless. We feel the need of a Higher Being, to cling to — to find consolation. Time is the great healer. MRS. RANSOME But to expect a weddin' {sobs) and find it*s a funeral — it's awful! {Sobs,) And besides, — Mr. Tanner, youVe always bin good to us. We're in other trouble, too. Worse — worse even than this. TANNER In other trouble? 150 LICENSED MRS. RANSOME I just can't bear to think about it. TANNER Your husband's business? MRS. RANSOME No, sir. It's— I don't know how to say it. It's her and him. TANNER Her and him? MRS. RANSOME I'm almost ashamed to tell you. She's goin' to have a baby. TANNER (astounded) She's going to be a mother? MRS. RANSOME Yes. {Sobs,) Oh, you don't know how hard this is on us, Mr. Tanner. We've always bin respectable people, sir, as you well know. We've bin livin' right here on this block these last ten years, an' everybody knows us in the neighbor- hood. Her father don't know about it yet. What he'll say God only knows. TANNER I'm terribly sorry to hear this, Mrs. Ransome. MRS. RANSOME I can forgive her, sir, but not him. They say we shouldn't speak ill of the dead— but I always was opposed to her marryin' him. I wanted her to marry a steady young fellow of her own re- ligion, but I might as well have talked to the wall, for all the notice she took of me. TANNER It's not for us to judge, Mrs. Ransome. How long were they engaged? FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES MRS. RANSOME Well, sir, I suppose on an' off it's bin about three years. He never could hold a job long, an' me and her father said he couldn't marry her — not with our consent — until he was earnin' at least forty dollars a week — an' that was only right, considerin' he'd have to support her. TANNER Yes, you were quite right in that. Dear, dear. I'm sorry to see a thing of this sort happen — and right in my own congregation. I've ex- pressed my views from the pulpit from time to time very strongly upon the subject, but now- adays our words fall so often upon deaf ears. Young people discredit the Church and her teachings — it's only in the great crises of life that they realize it is we who are right. MRS. RANSOME You got to remember they was going to get married, sir. If you'd bin here only an hour earlier, Mr. Tanner, there wouldn't have bin no disgrace. {She points to the official-looking paper lying on the table.) Why, sir — there's the marriage certificate — Mr. Smith brought it down from church this morning — all waiting for you to fill it in. If you'd only come earlier, sir, they'd have bin properly married, and there wouldn't have bin a word said. TANNER That's true. They might have avoided the immediate disgrace. But after all, that isn't the way to get married. To my way of thinking, it isn't so much a matter of disgrace. That means nothing. It's the principle of the thing. 152 LICENSED MRS. RANSOME {eagerly) Oh, Mr. Tanner, do you mean it? Do you mean that the disgrace of it means nothin' ? TANNER Well — not exactly nothing — but nothing to the principle of the thing. MRS. RANSOME An' would you save her from the disgrace of it, if you could, Mr. Tanner, if it don't mean nothin' ? TANNER You know I'm your friend, Mrs. Ransome. I'll do anything I can to help you, within reason. MRS. RANSOME {eagerly pleading) Mr. Tanner, if she has a baby, respectable people won't look at us no more. We'll have to move away from here. It'll break her father's heart, as sure as can be. But if you could fill in the marriage certificate as though they'd bin married, Mr. Tanner, why, nobody's to know that it isn't all respectable and proper. They had their license, and ring, and every- thing else, sir, as you know. TANNER {astounded) Fill in the marriage certificate? MRS. RANSOME They'd have bin married regular if you'd only come an hour earlier, Mr. Tanner. Couldn't you fill it in that they was married before he died, sir? TANNER But that would be forgery. FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES MRS. RANSOME It would be a good action, Mr. Tanner — indeed it would. Her father an' me haven't done nothin' to deserve it, but we'll be blamed for it just the same. Look at all the years we've bin goin' to your church, and never asked you a favor before, Mr. Tanner. TANNER {with feeling and evident sincerity) My good woman, I don't know what to say. I'd like to help you, but how can I? In the first place, don't you see that you're asking me to act against my own principles? I've been preaching sermons for years, and making a public stand, too, against hasty marriages that break up homes and lead to the divorce court — or worse. The church is trying to make mar- riage a thing sacred and apart, instead of the mockery it is in this country today. I sym- pathize with you deeply. I know how hard it is for you all. But for all I know, you may be asking me to help you thwart the will of God. MRS. RANSOME The will of God? TANNER Mind you, I don't say that it is, Mrs. Ransome, but it may very well be the Hand of the Al- mighty. Your daughter and her young man, as she has confessed herself, have tried to use the marriage ceremony — a holy ceremony, mind you — to cover up what they've done. MRS. RANSOME Oh, don't talk like that before her, Mr. Tanner. TANNER I don't mean to hurt her feelings, or yours 154 LICENSED either, but don't you see what a predicament you place me in. It wouldn't be right, MRS. RANSOME But they was goin' to get married, sir. You got to take that into consideration. My girl ain't naturally bad. It isn't as though she'd pick up any feller that happened to come along. Hundreds and thousands do it, sir, indeed they do, and most of them much worse than she and him, poor fellow. TANNER Yes, there you are right. I may seem hard to you, Mrs. Ransome, but what am I to do.^* I must stand by my own honest beliefs. MRS. RANSOME [pleading hard) You can't know what this means to us, sir — or you'd do it out of pity for us, indeed you would. Her father'll take on somethin' dread- ful when he hears about it. He'll turn her out of the house, sir, as sure as can be. You know him, sir. You know he's too good a Christian to let her stay here after she's disgraced us all. And then, what's to become of her? She'll lose her job, and who'll give her another — without a reference — an' a baby to support? That's how they get started on the streets, sir, {sobs) an' you know it as well as I do. TANNER My poor woman, I wish I could help you. It's very distressing — but we all have to do our duty as we see it. I grieve for you from the bottom of my heart. I'll do anything I can for you within reason. FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES MRS. RAN SOME {almost hysterical^ dragging Janet from the side of the body) Janet, Janet! Ask him yourself. Ask him on your bended knees. Ask him to save us! {Janet attempts to return to the side of the body.) Janet, do you want to ruin us? Can't you speak to him? Can't you ask him? {Mrs, Ransome breaks into sobs.) TANNER Let her be, Mrs. Ransome. MRS. RANSOME Janet — what's the matter? Why are you so hard-hearted ? JANET {rises and turns fiercely on Mrs. Ransome) Who's hard-hearted? MRS. RANSOME I didn't mean to hurt you, dearie. TANNER I can't tell you how sorry I am for you, Janet. JANET Well, I tell you straight, I don't want none of your pity. MRS. RANSOME Janet, don't speak like that to him. You're excited. {To Tanner?) She don't mean it, sir — she's all worked up. JANET {her excitement increasing^ and speaking in loud tones) All right. Mother — I'll tell him again — I don't want none of his pity. I c'n get along without it. An' if you and him think that writin' a few words on a marriage certificate is going to make any difference, well — you're welcome to. 156 LICENSED TANNER My dear girl. Don't you understand, if it was merely a question of writing a few words, I'd do it in a minute. But it's the principle of the thing. JANET (bitingly) Huh! Principle of the thing! I heard it all. You preached against it, didn't you? It's a pity you never preached a sermon on how me and him could have gotten married two years ago, 'stead of waitin' till now, when it's too late. TANNER Others have to wait. JANET We did wait. Isn't three years long enough? D'ye think we was made of stone? How much longer d'ye think we could wait. We waited till we couldn't hold out no longer. I only wish to God we hadn't waited at all, 'stead of wastin' all them years. MRS. RANSOME {shocked) Janet, you don't know what you're sayin'. JANET I do, an' I mean it. We waited, an' waited, an' waited. Didn't he try all he could to get a better job? 'Twasn't his fault he couldn't. We was plannin' to go West, or somewhere — where he'd have more of a chance — we was savin' up for it on the quiet. An' while we was waitin', we wanted one another — all day an' all night. An' what use was it? We held out till we couldn't hold out no longer — an' when we knew what was goin' to happen, well — v/e had to get married — an' that's all there's to it. 157 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES TANNER {making a remarkable discovery^ supporting all his personal theories on the subject) Ah! Then your idea was to marry simply be- cause you were going to have a baby! JANET Sure it was. D'ye think we wanted to marry an live here on the twenty-five a week he was gettin'? We'd have bin starvin' in a month. But when this happened — we had to get mar- ried — starve or not. What else could we do ? TANNER Well, I don't know what to say. It seems to me that you should have thought of all this before. You knew what it would mean to have a baby. JANET D'ye think I wanted a baby? I didn't want one. I didn't know how to stop it. If you don't like it — it's a pity you don't preach ser- mons on how to stop havin' babies when they're not wanted. There'd be some sense in that. That'd be more sense than talkin' about waitin' — an' waitin' — an' waitin'. There's hundreds of women around here — starvin' and sufFerin' — an' havin' one baby after another, an' don't know the first thing about how to stop it. 'Tisn't my fault I'm goin' to have one. I didn't want it. TANNER Miss Ransome, your views astound me. JANET I can't help it. People may think it wrong, an' all that, but it ain't his fault an' it ain't mine. Don't you think we used to get sick of goin' to movies, an' vaudeville shows, an' all 158 LICENSED them other places — time after time? I wanted him to love me, and I ain't ashamed of it, neither. MRS. RANSOME Janet, how dare you talk like that in front of Mr. Tanner. {To Tanner.) She don't mean it, Mr. Tanner. She don't know what she's say- in'. I've always brought her up to be inner- cent about things. She must have got all this from the girls at the store where she works. She didn't get it in her home, that's sure. JANET No, that I didn't. Nor nothin' else, neither. You was always ashamed to tell me about any- thing, so I found out from the other girls, like the rest of 'em do. I've known everything for years and years — except what'd be useful to me. If I'm goin' to have a baby it's your fault. Mother, as much as anybody. You only had one yourself — but you never told me nothin'. MRS. RANSOME {speechkss) Janet! TANNER Miss Ransome, this is not a subject I ordinarily discuss, but since you know what you do know, let me tell you there is nothing worse than trying to interfere with the workings of nature, or — if I may say so — of God. JANET Well, Bob said the rich people do it. He said they must know how to do it, because they never have more'n two or three children in a family; but you've only got to walk on the next block — where it's all tenements — to see ten ^S9 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES and twelve in every family, because the workin' people don't know any better. But I don't want no pity from anybody. I can take a chance on it. I got a pair of hands, an' I c'n take care of myself. TANNER Mrs. Ransome, it's no good my talking to your daughter while she's in this frame of mind. She appears to have the most extraordinary views. There'd be some hope for her if she'd show a Httle penitence — a little regret for what's been done and can't be undone. You've often heard me say in the pulpit that God is always willing to forgive the humble and peni- tent. JANET {with scorn) *'God," indeed. Don't make me laugh. {She points to Bob's body,) Look at him lying there. God? What's God got to do with it? {She kneels dejectedly at the side of the couch^ rigid and silent. Tanner is obviously touched^ TANNER Poor girl. I don't know what to do. If only she had shown some signs of penitence — some remorse for what has happened — I might even have gone so far as to have made the entry in the marriage certificate — seeing the punish- ment she's already had. {He waits J or some re- sponse from Janet^ which does not come.) But as she is now, I don't see what good it would do, so I think I'd better go. MRS. RANSOME {appcalingly) Oh, don't go, Mr. Tanner. Wait just a minute while I talk to her, please. Janet, can't you 1 60 LICENSED say you're sorry for what you've done? Can't you see that Mr. Tanner only wants to be fair with you? Come, do it for our sakes— yer father and me. You know how hard he s worked, how rehgious he is, an' everythmg. You don't want to ruin us, do you? Can't you see it isn't only yourself that's got to be con- sidered? Think of what we've done for you. Tell him you're sorry for it, dol TANNER I really must go. MRS. RANSOME Just one minute more. Please wait one mm- ute more. Janet, what's the matter with you? Can't vou see the disgrace it'll be to all of us They'll all laugh at us— an' jeer at us. It 11 follow us around wherever we go. You know how folks make fun of your father— because he keeps himself respectable— an' saves his money. Do you want them to laugh at him? Do you want them to be laughin' at you and talkm^ about you? Do you want them to be makm fun of your baby— an' calUn' it a bastard— an' askin' it who its father was? JANET (nervously) They wouldn't. MRS. RANSOME . ^ Yes they would. An' all the time he's growin^ up the other children in school'll be tormentm him, and callin' him names. Didn't the same thing happen to Susan Bradley's boy? Didn t they have to go an' live out in Jersey, coz she couldn't stand it no longer? u i6i FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES JANET {defiantly) They went away coz he was always gettin' sick. MRS. RANSOME Of course he was always gettin' sick — with all the devils makin' fun of him — an* makLn' his life a misery. Didn't we used to see him goin' down the block — with the tears runnin' down his cheeks — an' all of 'em yellin' names after him. Just think of the baby you're goin' to have. D'ye want that to happen to your baby? D'ye want them to make its life a misery — same as the other one? JANET {lifelessly) Thev wouldn't. MRS. RANSOME Of course they would. They'll tease an' tor- ment it, just like the other — an' when he's old enough to understand — who'll he blame for it? He'll blame you for it. {Inspired.) He'll blame Bob for it — he'll hate him for it. D'ye want your boy — Bob's boy — to be hatin' his own father? What'd Bob say? What'd he think of you ruinin' his baby's life — an' all just because you're obstinate an' won't listen to reason. Can't you see it? Just think^ — if you'll only say you was in the wrong — an' do what Mr. Tanner asks you — he'll forgive you an' make everything all right. Oh, Janet — can't you see it ? Ask him — beg him ! JANET Oh, dear. Well — how c'n Mr. Tanner make it all right? MRS. RANSOME You know what I mean. Oh, Janet, it won't 162 LICENSED take him a minute to write it. If he don't, can't you see it'll ruin us all our lives? JANET {blankly) Only a minute to write it — or it'll ruin us all our lives. MRS. RANSOME Oh, Janet, this is your last chance. Tell him you're sorry. (To Tanner^ who has edged to- wards the door^ and is about to leave,) Oh, Mr. Tanner, please don't go. TANNER Really, I must. MRS. RANSOME Oh, sir! I can see she's sorry. You won't go back on your word, sir? JANET {feigning remorse) Let me think a bit. Mr. Tanner, I guess I'm in the wrong. It didn't seem to me to be wrong —that's all I got to say. I hope you'll for- give me. I'm sorry for the way I spoke — and what I done. TANNER {returning) My child, it's not for me to forgive you. Are you truly repentant — from the bottom of your heart ? JANET Yes, sir. TANNER I don't like preaching sermons out of church, Janet, but I hope that this has taught you that there can be no justification for our moments of passion and willfulness. We must all try to humble our pride and our spirit. I won't go back on my word, but if I give you this chance to 163 FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES start out afresh, you must try to wipe out what has happened by living a clean, wholesome, useful life. Will you promise me that? JANET rU try, sir. TANNER And now, Mrs. Ransome, I suppose Fll have to fill out the certificate as though it had hap- pened an hour or so ago. I know I may appear changeable. But I feel I am doing my duty. This may save your daughter from a life of deg- radation. I think the end justifies the means. But first, let me ask you, who knows that the ceremony wasn't performed before he died? MRS. RANSOME Only me — an' her father — an' my sister out- side. TANNER Can she be relied upon to hold her tongue? MRS. RANSOME She surely can, sir. TANNER Well, you understand this is a very serious thing for me to do. If it becomes public, I shall be faced with a very unpleasant situation. MRS. RANSOME Oh, I promise you, Mr. Tanner, not a soul will know of it. We'll take our dyin' oaths, sir, all of us. TANNER All right. But first let me lend Janet this prayer- book. {Takes a prayer-book out of his pocket; ad- dressing Janet,) Here's a prayer-book, Janet. I'll go with your mother now into the back 164 LICENSED parlor, and meanwhile I want you to read over this prayer. It will comfort you in your sorrow. Come, Mrs. Ransome, take the certificate, and we'll come back later and discuss the funeral arrangements. MRS. RANSOME {takes the marriage certijicate) Oh, Mr. Tanner, I don't know how to thank you. Is there anything I can do in return? I'd be glad to. TANNER {as he leaves the room) ^ ^ We're trying to raise funds for a mission to spread Christianity amongst the Chinese. (Tanner and Mrs. Ransome go out. Janet closes the door. She walks towards the couch, looks at the prayer-book, then the couch. She flings the prayer-hook to the other end of the room, smashing some of the ornaments on the mantle-shelf, and throws herself upon the side of the couch, sobbing wildly.) SLOW CURTAIN 165 Stewart Kidd Dramatic Anthologies Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Edited by FRANK SHAY and PIERRE LOVING THIS volume contains FIFTY REPRESENTATIVE ONE-ACT PLAYS of the MODERN THEATER, chosen from the dramatic works of con- temporary writers all over the world and is the second volume in the Stewart Kidd Dramatic Anthologies, the first being European Theories of the Drama, by Barrett H. Clark, which has been so enthusiastically received. The editors have scrupulously sifted countless plays and have selected the best available in English. One-half the plays have never before been pub- lished in book form; thirty-one are no longer available in any other edition. The work satisfies a long-felt want for a handy collection of the choicest plays produced by the art theaters all over the world. It is a complete reper- tory for a little theater, a volume for the study of the modern drama, a rep- resentative collection of the world's best short plays. CONTENTS AUSTRIA Schnitzler (Arthur) — Literature BELGIUM Maeterlinck (Maurice) — ^The Intruder BOLIVIA More (Federico) — Interlude DENMARK Wied (Gustave) — ^Autumn Fires FRANCE Ancey (George) — M. Lamblin Porto-Riche (Georges) — -Francoise's Luck GERMANY Ettinger (Karl) — ^Altruism von Hofmannsthal (Hugo) — Madonna Dia- nora Wedekind (Frank)— The Tenor GREAT BRITAIN Bennett (Arnold) — ^A Good Woman Calderon (George) — The Little Stone House Cannan (Gilbert) — Mary's Wedding Dowson (Ernest) — The Pierrot of the Min- ute. Ellis (Mrs. Havelock) — The Subjection of Kezia Hankin (St. John) — ^The Constant Lover INDIA Mukerji (Dhan Gopal) — ^The Judgment of Indra IRELAND Gregory (Lady) — ^The Workhouse Ward HOLLAND Speenhoff (J. H.) — ^Louise HUNGARY Biro (Lajos) — The Grandmother ITALY Giocosa (Giuseppe) — The Rights of the Soul RUSSIA Andreyev (Leonid) — ^Love of One's Neigh- bor Tchekoff (Anton)— The Boor SPAIN Benevente (Jacinto) — His Widow's Hus- band Quinteros (Serafina and Joaquin Alverez) — A Sunny Morning SWEDEN Strindberg (August) — The Creditor UNITED STATES Beach (Lewis) — Brothers Cowan (Sada) — In the Morgue Crocker (Bosworth) — The Baby Carriage Crony n (George W.) — A Death in Fever Flat Davies (Mary Carolyn) — ^The Slave with Two Faces Day (Frederick L.) — The Slump Flanner (Hildegard) — Mansions Glaspell (Susan)— Trifles Gerstenberg (Alice) — The Pot Boiler Helburn (Theresa) — Enter the Hero Hudson (Holland) — The Shepherd in the Distance Kemp (Harry) — Boccaccio's Untold Tale Langner (Lawrence) — ^Another Way Out MacMillan (Mary) — ^The Shadowed Star Millay (E>lna St. Vincent) — ^Aria da Capo Moeller (Philip) — Helena's Husband O'Neill (Eugene)— He Stevens (Thomas Wood) — ^The Nursery Maid of Heaven Stevens (Wallace) — Three Travelers Watch a Sunrise Tompkins (Frank G.) — Sham Walker (Stuart) — The Medicine Show Wellman (Rita) — For All Time Wilde (Percival)— The Finger of God YIDDISH Ash (Sholom) — Night Pinski (David) — Forgotten Souls Large 8vo, $8$ pages. Net, $$.oo Send for Complete Dramatic Catalogue STEWART KIDD COMPANY PUBLISHERS, - - CINCINNATI, U. S. A. Stewart Kidd Dramatic Anthologies CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS OF iQii AMERICAN Edited by Frank Shay THIS volume represents a careful and intelligent selection of the best One-act Plays written by Americans and produced by the Little Theatres in America during the season of 1921. Tney are representative of the best work of writers in this field and show the high level to which the art theatre has risen in America. The editor has brought to his task a love of the theatre and a knowledge of what is best through long association with the leading producing groups. The volume contains the repertoires of the leading Little Theatres, together with bibliographies of published plays and books on the theatre issued since January, 1920, Aside from its individual importance, the volume, together with Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays, will make up the most important collection of short plays published. In the Book are the following Plays by the following Authors Mirage George M. P. Baird Napoleon's Barber Arthur Caesar Goat Alley Ernest Howard Culbertson Sweet and Twenty Floyd Dell Tickless Time Susan Glaspell and George Cram Cook The Hero of Santa Maria .... Kenneth Sawyer Goodman and Ben Hecht All Gummed Up Harry Wagstaff Gribble Thompson's Luck Harry Greenwood Grover Fata Deorum Carl W. Guske Pearl of Dawn Holland Hudson Finders-Keepers George Kelly Solomon's Song Harry Kemp Matinata Lawrence Langner The Conflict Clarice Vallette McCauley Two Slatterns and a King Edna St. Vincent Millay Thursday Evening Christopher Morley The Dreamy Kid Eugene O'Neill Forbidden Fruit George J. Smith Jezebel Dorothy Stockbridge Sir David Wears a Crown Stuart Walker izmo. Silk Cloth $ 3.7s ^ Turkey Morocco $10.00 Send for Complete Dramatic Catalogue STEWART KIDD COMPANY PUBLISHERS, ... - CINCINNATI, U S. A. Stewart Kidd Plays The PROVINCETOWN PLAYS Edited by GEORGE CRAM COOK and FRANK SHAY With a foreword by HUTCHINS HAPGOOD Containing the ten best plays produced by the Province- town Players, which are: "SUPPRESSED DESIRES", George Cram Cook and Susan Glaspell. "ARIA DA CAPO", Edna St. Vincent Millay. "COCAINE", Pendleton King. "NIGHT", James Oppenheim. "ENEMIES", Hutchins Hapgood and Neith Boyce. "THE ANGEL INTRUDES", Floyd Dell. "BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF", Eugene O'Neill. "THE WIDOW'S VEIL", Alice Rostetter. "STRING OF THE SAMISEN ", Rita Wellman. "NOT SMART", Wilbur D. Steele. Every author, with one exception, has a book or more to his credit. Several are at the top of their profession. Rita Wellman, a Saturday Evening Post star, has had two or three plays on Broadway, and has a new novel, "The Wings of Desire." Cook and Glaspell are well known — he for his novels, and Miss Glaspell for novels and plays. Edna Millay is one of America's best poets. Steele, according to O'Brien, is America's best short-story writer. Oppenheim has over a dozen novels, books of poems, and essays to his credit. O'Neill has a play on Broadway now: "The Emperor Jones." Hutch. Hapgood is an author of note. A record of the work of the most serious and important of all the new theatre movements in America. New York Sun: "Tense and vivid little dramas," Dallas News: "Uniform in excellence of workmanship, varied in sub- ject matter — the volume is a distinct contribution to American dra- matic art. j2mo. Net, $2. JO Send for Complete Dramatic Catalogue STEWART KIDD COMPANY PUBLISHERS CINCINNATI, U. S. A. iiiijlir 016 235 733 5