PS 3531 
 .1354 
 J6 
 
 1922 
 Copy 1 
 
 PKK.E TH JRTY-P^l V E CENTS 
 
 Wi 
 
 fOB THIRTEEN 
 
 BY 
 
 CARL WEBSTER PIERCE 
 
 THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 / 
 
Successful Rural Plays 
 
 A Strong List From Which to Select Your 
 Next Play 
 
 FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
 i^EWis Tubes. For five male and six female characters. Time 
 of playing, two hours and a half. One simple exterior, two 
 easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, . a 
 farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New 
 Yorker, Philip's mother wants him to marry a society woman, 
 and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. 
 Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by 
 intercepting a letter from Philip to Flora. She agrees to marry 
 Dave, but on the eve of their marriage Dave confesses, Philip 
 learns the truth, and he and Flora are reunited. It is a simple 
 plot, but full of speeches and situations that sway an audience 
 alternately to tears and to laughter. 
 
 HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
 Lewis Tubes. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two 
 hours and a half. Scene, a simple interior — same for all four 
 acts. Costumes, modern. One of the strongest plays Mr. Tubbs 
 has written. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter 
 Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son 
 of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. 
 She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. 
 When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave 
 Ruth. Harold, who does not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- 
 covers she loves Len, but thinks she has lost him also. Then 
 he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. 
 
 THE OLD NEW HAMPSHIRE HOME. A New 
 
 England Drama in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For seven 
 males and four females. Time, two hours and a half. Costumes, 
 modern. A play with a strong heart interest and pathos, yet rich 
 in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of 
 the "Old Homstead" and "Way Down East" type. Two ex- 
 terior scenes, one interior, all easy to set. Full of strong sit- 
 uations and delightfully humorous passages. The kind of a play 
 everybody understands and likes. 
 
 THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy 
 in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For five males and four 
 females. Time, two hours. Rural costumes. Scenes rural ex- 
 terior and interior. An adventurer obtains a large sum of money 
 from a farm house through the intimidation of the farmer's 
 niece, whose husband he claims to be. Her escapes from the 
 wiles of the villain and his female accomplice are both starting 
 and novel, 
 
 A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in 
 Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four 
 females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. 
 One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a 
 country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which 
 results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker 
 in his power, but the White Mountain boy finds a way to check- 
 mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. 
 
 THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
Job Thirteen 
 
 A Comedy in Three Acts 
 
 By 
 CARL WEBSTER PIERCE 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 1922 
 
P5 253I 
 
 Copyright 1922 by The Penn Publishing Company 
 
 Job Thirteen 
 
 cm 63^55 
 
 M -2 1323 
 
 •w« 
 
Job Thirteen 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS 
 
 Henry Van Derr, 
 
 A home-loving man, risen from laborer to great 
 wealth 
 
 Dan Boggs An upstanding young man 
 
 James The butler 
 
 Professor Saiselle A French instructor 
 
 Mr. Clifton Who sells " family trees " 
 
 Count Egozzi Seeking a wealthy wife 
 
 Robert Cutter A high class crook 
 
 Policeman. 
 Edythe Van Derr, 
 
 Henry's wife, with social aspirations 
 
 Marianne Van Derr Henry's daughter 
 
 Grace Keene Accomplice to Cutter 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 Act I. — The Van Derr living-room. Tuesday morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Act II. — Scene I. Office of Robert Cutter. Wednes- 
 day morning. Scene //. Same as Act I, 
 Wednesday afternoon. 
 
 Act III. — Same as Act I. Friday. 
 
 Note : — If desired, the play may be produced with six 
 males and three females. Professor Saiselle 
 can double Robert Cutter, and Clifton can 
 double Policeman. 
 
 Time of Playing: — ^Two hours. 
 
STORY OF THE PLAY 
 
 Mrs. Van Derr has social aspirations. Her husband, 
 Henry, who rose from a laborer to great wealth, 
 has none and wishes to live a simple life. Their 
 daughter, Marianne, wants to marry Dan Boggs, 
 a good upstanding young man, but her mother 
 wants her to marry Count Egozzi. Mr, Van Derr 
 realizes that the Count is an adventurer, and as 
 he favors Dan's suit, he determines to bring his 
 wife to her senses. This he does by pretending 
 they have lost all their money. Mrs, Van Derr 
 decides to abandon all social climbing and that 
 Dan is the man for Marianne. Mr. Van Derr 
 explains, and everyone is happy. 
 
Job Thirteen 
 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE. — The Van Derr living-room; Tuesday 
 morning. The entrances are c. hy a wide, arched 
 doorway opening into a hall; and r, hy a door 
 opening into the study. At right of center en- 
 trance there is a large, empty bookcase; and on 
 wall at left of entrance is the push-button of the 
 servants' bell. A Japanese screen is set in the 
 upper left corner of the room. Down left is a 
 small bookcase containing the "Encyclopaedia 
 Britannica " and a ten-volume " History of Eng- 
 land." Left center is a library table on which 
 lies a copy of "Burke's Peerage." At right of 
 table is an easy chair. Just below right entrance 
 is a small desk on which the telephone stands. 
 The furnishings of the room give a general ap- 
 pearance of lavish expenditure ; hut a very de- 
 cided lack of taste and artistic arrangement pre- 
 vails. 
 
 (The curtain discovers Henry Van Derr in easy 
 chair beside table. He is an honest, straightfor- 
 ward, democratic man of about forty-five, blessed 
 with much common sense which offsets his lack 
 of education. He heartily dislikes the innova- 
 tions in his mode of living which have been thrust 
 upon him by his wife. His speech is slow and 
 deliberate. For the most part he is meek in his 
 wife's presence, but upon occasion can hold his 
 own with her. Edythe Van Derr stands c She 
 
 5 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 is 'physically larger than her husband, hut not 
 mentally. Over-ambitious for social prestige she 
 awkwardly attempts to gain it by every means 
 which happens to flash into her head. Dan 
 BoGGS stands before a chair at the right. He is a 
 manly American youth of about twenty-four 
 years. Henry, weakly protesting, speaks to his 
 wife.) 
 
 Henry. I won't go, I tell yer, if I have to ride in 
 that darned limousine. {To Dan.) I call it 
 tough when a man has to ride three blocks in an 
 auto when he has feet that have treated him fair 
 an' square as many years as mine have. 
 
 {He sticks his feet out before him and gases at them.) 
 Edythe (sharply). See here, Henry Van Derr 
 
 Henry. Van Derr! My name always has been, is 
 now, and ever shall be Vander, V-A-N-D-E-R. 
 
 Edythe (paying no attention to his protest). What 
 will the neighbors say if they see you, a half a 
 millionaire — I mean the owner of half a milUon 
 dollars, — walking down the street ! 
 
 Henry. They had plenty of chance to see me in the 
 past, an' they will continue to do so. 
 
 Edythe (zvith a tone of finality). I guess they won't. 
 If you haven't pride enough to live up to your 
 station in life, I'll drag you up to it. 
 
 Henry (carelessly). Look here, Edith. Whose 
 money bought the ticket to this here station ? 
 
 Edythe. You miser! If I didn't spend your money 
 for you it would be rotting in savings banks — or 
 in an old stocking. (To Dan.) My spouse had 
 five hundred thousand dollars scattered around 
 in nearly as many savings banks at three per cent ! 
 Imagine leaving a fortune to a business man like 
 that! 
 
 Henry (with a sigh). It was a sorry day for me 
 when that fool lawyer found that I was Uncle's 
 only heir. 
 
 6 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Dan.- May I see Marion pretty soon, Mrs. Vander?. 
 — er — I mean Mrs. Van Derr. 
 
 Edythe {coldly). I am afraid not. Her French pro- 
 fessor is due now ; and then Count Egozzi is com- 
 ing to call. 
 
 Henry {chuckling) . The Count of no account. 
 
 Edythe. Henry ! 
 
 Henry. Dan, his pocket-book is fllatter'n a flounder, 
 but you ought to see how he keeps his title shined 
 up. It glares in Mother's eyes like the head- 
 light on a locomotive. 
 
 Edythe. Henry, you are impossible ! 
 
 Dan. Mrs. Van Derr, I would like to see her just a 
 minute. I have hardly seen her in the last six 
 months, 
 
 Henry. Ho-ho ! Dan, Mother has changed the spel- 
 lin' of Marion's name. 
 
 Dan. What? 
 
 Edythe. Don't speak of me as " Mother." And 
 stop your talk. 
 
 Henry {gravely). All right, Mrs. Van Derr. {To 
 Dan.) Bein' the wife of a man whose uncle was 
 so careless as to burden him with half a million 
 automatically changes the spellin' of your daugh- 
 ter's name from M-A-R-I-O-N to M-A-R-I- 
 A-N-N-E. {In a mock whisper, indicating his 
 wife.) And now hers is spelt E-D-Y-T-H-E. 
 Wouldn't that knock you cold? 
 
 Edythe. Henry ! 
 
 Dan. Is your name still the same? 
 
 Henry. You bet your life ! She decided that in view 
 of the fact that Longfellow, Clay and a bunch of 
 English kings were called Henry, I could keep 
 mine. I think the kings turned the trick. It was 
 either them or Henry Ford. The latter's money, 
 not his car, lets him in. Speakin' o' kings, the 
 butler says to me this mornin', " You ought to 
 read what happened to Henry the eighth's wives, 
 sir. You might gtt some helpful suggestions." 
 Now I Hke that butler; he's what I call a 
 good 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Edythe. What did I tell you about conversing with 
 James ? 
 
 Henry {to Dan). That's the latest. The butler's 
 right name is George ; but Mother — er — my wife, 
 — says all butlers should be Jameses, so James it 
 is. 
 
 Edythe {Tmth dignity). Henry, you are impossible! 
 
 Henry. Another! Dan, if you have five hundred 
 thousand in the family, something must be " im- 
 possible " several times a day. 
 
 {Enter James, c. He is a rotund, hold English butler, 
 with a decided English accent. His dignity is im- 
 pressive. ) 
 
 James. Professor Saiselle, madame. 
 Edythe. Show him in. 
 
 {Exit James, c.) 
 
 Henry. Which one o' your phoney dudes is comin* 
 now, Ma, — er — Edith? 
 
 Edythe. The Professor is Marianne's French in- 
 structor. 
 
 Henry. I s'pose he's necessary so 's you can tell 
 what you're eatin' when you go to those swell 
 restaurants where you get lots o' silverware to 
 handle, and little to use with it. 
 
 {Enter Professor Saiselle, c. He is dressed in cor- 
 rect morning attire; is somewhat bald, wears a 
 goatee and long waxed moustaches.) 
 
 Prof. S. {effusively). Ah, bon jour, Madame. 
 
 {Crosses to Edythe and kisses her hand.) 
 
 Henry {to Dan). Wouldn't y' call that impossible! 
 
 Prof. S. Madame she ees charmante aujourd'hui. 
 
 Edythe {wondering what he has said). Oh, Profes- 
 sor, you don't mean it ! 
 
 Henry {to Dan). That guy ought to be naturalized 
 or Americanized or somethin*. 
 
 8 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Prof. S. And Mademoiselle, she ees quite ready for 
 ze legon, ze grande langue Frangaise? 
 
 Edythe. Beautiful day, isn't it? Come right into 
 the study. Professor. 
 
 {Exeunt Edythe and Professor Saiselle, r.) 
 
 Henry. What d'ye know about that guy gettin' seven 
 bucks for an hour of that polly voo stuff? Not 
 that I don't want to spend the money for my 
 Marion, but think o' the poor devils who work 
 two long days with a pick and shovel for that 
 much. By golly, I'd be happy if Edith would let 
 me swing a pick instead of keepin' me caged like 
 a bird. 
 
 Dan. It must be hard on you to be kept like a hot- 
 house plant. You have always been so active. 
 
 Henry. Until I was incapacitated by half a million 
 dollars. Danny, I was never so happy as when 
 I was busy, and I've stood this tomfoolery just as 
 long as I can. {Looks around room and speaks 
 cautiously.) I'U get murdered when she finds 
 this out. Listen. I went down-town early this 
 mornin' and got me a job. Now I can be happy 
 again. {Rubbing his hands together.) It will 
 seem like old times to be back on a job ! 
 
 Dan. Gee, I sure do wish that it was more like old 
 times for me. {Sighs.) Six months ago I never 
 thought that anything like this would happen. 
 
 Henry. I wish to blazes that that uncle of mine had 
 got frozen to death in Alaska before he dug that 
 fool half million out of the ground instead of 
 after. It's brought me nothin' but unhappiness. 
 Money ain't no good in such quantities. 
 
 Dan {discouraged). I guess that I shall have to quit 
 calling here. Mrs. Vander seems dead set against 
 my seeing Marion. 
 
 Henry {earnestly). Oh, Dan, don't do that! You 
 are all that has kept me from suicide — you and 
 the butler. An' Marion still loves you, y' know. 
 
 Dan. Of course. Well, I'll stick it out as long as I 
 can. 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry. By golly, you two are goin' to be married in 
 
 spite of all the moth-eaten aristocracy that 
 Mother can dig up. 
 
 Dan. I'm glad to hear you say that. 
 
 Henry. I'm just a plain New England Yankee; ain't 
 got much book education; ain't much of a busi- 
 ness head, for all I'm a Yankee, I'll admit I 
 don't know how to look after half a million dol- 
 lars; I never expected to have 'em. But they 
 ain't a-goin' to spoil my life, nor Marion's, nor 
 yours; and I'll be hanged if I don't find a way 
 to keep 'em from spoilin' that money-drunk wife 
 o' mine. 
 
 {Enter Marianne, c. She is a pretty girl of about 
 
 twenty-two.) 
 
 Marianne. Dan ! 
 
 Dan. Marion ! 
 
 Marianne. I'm so glad to see you. 
 
 (They embrace.) 
 
 Dan (dramatically). It seems years since last we 
 met! 
 
 Henry. How did you escape your mother and that 
 frog-eater ? 
 
 Marianne. I haven't. I'm on my way to them now. 
 
 Dan. I was afraid that I was never going to see you 
 again. 
 
 Marianne. It does seem a long while since the last 
 time. 
 
 Dan. We'll hope for better times soon. 
 
 Marianne. Just like the old ones. 
 
 Dan. You bet. 
 
 Henry. Six months ago we were in a little seven- 
 room house. I had a good job in the factory as 
 foreman; and you children were to be married 
 in a year. And then that fool money came. Now 
 look at us. Livin' in this great ark ; me out of 
 a job ; and Ma tryin' to break things up between 
 you. But she won't do it, by golly. 
 
 lO 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Dan. It won't be many weeks before I get that pro- 
 motion; and then perhaps we can get married; 
 that is, if you can hold off the dukes and counts 
 until then. 
 
 Henry. Dan, I vow that I won't have any son-in- 
 law but you. 
 
 Marianne. We will all stick together on that point. 
 
 Dan. I don't understand what has set your mother 
 against me so. Six months ago I was welcomed 
 by her at any time. Now I get the cold shoulder. 
 She didn't speak to me more than twice in fifteen 
 minutes just now. 
 
 Henry (dryly). She was talkin' to me, all right. 
 
 Marianne. Oh, it is just her social ambition. She 
 wants a title in the family. She wants to " live 
 like a lady," as she expresses it. You have no 
 title. And this morning she told us that your 
 name haunted her. 
 
 He'sry (with a chuckle). She said " Boggs ! Boggs! 
 We will be in a social mire if we have any Boggs 
 in the family." By golly, I'd rather call you Mrs. 
 Boggs than Countess Egozzi. 
 
 (Enter James, c. ) 
 
 James. Miss Marion, your mother wishes me to hin- 
 form you that the Professor is awaiting you in 
 the study, 
 
 (Exit c.) 
 
 Henry. Run along, quick, before she gets all het up 
 
 again. 
 Dan. Good-bye, Marion. We'll get your name 
 
 changed to Boggs yet. 
 
 (Exit Marianne, r.) 
 
 Henry (calling after her). And change back the first 
 one, too. (To Dan.) This new-fangled spellin' 
 sounds almost the same, but looks like the deuce 
 on paper. 
 
 II 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Dan. I i;nust get along, or instead of that promotion 
 I'll get fired. Oh, I forgot to tell Marion some- 
 thing. The company has assigned me a flivver to 
 run 'round in. 
 
 Henry. That's fine. 
 
 Dan. I've got to drive out into the country a few 
 miles to inspect a job, and if Marion can get 
 away I'd like her to go. {Looks at watch.) I'll 
 stop in about eleven to get her. 
 
 Henry. I'll tell her, and try to hold Mother while 
 she makes an escape. 
 
 Dan {with a courtly how) . Good-bye, Mr. Van Derr. 
 
 Henry. Get out, you scamp ! {Exit'DA.-N, c. Henry 
 gazes sadly around.) Home, Sweet Home! 
 
 (He goes to study door and listens, then goes to center 
 door, looks up and down the hall, and next rings 
 the electric hell. After a pause, during which 
 Henry wanders about the room, James enters, c.) 
 
 James. Yes, sir. 
 
 Henry. Say, Jim, do you think we can arrange a 
 little game for to-night? 
 
 James (familiarly, as always when speaking with 
 Henry). For 'eaven's sake, sir, kindly call me 
 George. 
 
 Henry (slapping his shoulder). All right, George, old 
 thing. 
 
 James. That sounds better, sir. 
 
 Henry. I'm not your king ; don't " sir " me. 
 
 James. Very good, sir. Oh! Hi 'umbly begs your 
 pardon. 
 
 Henry. Don't slip again. You tell that chauffeur, 
 — what's his name — Frangois — to meet us in the 
 basement again to-night, and we'll have a little 
 game of stud. I don't play stud often, but I 
 must have some excitement after not even bein' 
 allowed to walk. 
 
 James. The chauffeur requested me to hinform you 
 that 'is name is not Francois. Mrs. Van Derr 
 hinsists that all chauffeurs should be named Fran- 
 iz 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 ^ois. But 'e wasn't. 'E is a Greek, hand Hi 
 can't even pronounce 'is name. 
 Henry. Poor feller. So she's changed him, too. 
 Tell him I'll call him Frank. I know a Greek 
 named Frank who runs an ice-cream parlor. By 
 golly, I Hke you, George. You and Dan are the 
 only real men who ever come into this house. 
 
 {Enter EdythEj, r., unobserved by the men.) 
 
 James. Hi 'ave a new story that the cook told me. 
 
 Henry. Fine ! 
 
 James. Hit's a rare good one. 
 
 (He nudges Henry with his elbow.) 
 
 Henry {patting James' shoulder). Fire away! 
 Edythe {sternly). James! 
 
 James {greatly startled). Coming, Madame — er, — 
 Hi mean going! 
 
 {Exit James, c, with great dignity.) 
 
 Edythe. The very next time I catch you speaking so 
 familiarly with James I shall discharge him and 
 get a Japanese servant. 
 
 Henry. You'll have to change names then, all right. 
 I never heard of a Jap named James. 
 
 {Telephone rings. Henry starts to answer it.) 
 
 Edythe. Leave that alone. {She rings for James.) 
 Henry. Well, of all the crazy notions ! 
 
 {Telephone rings again. Enter James, c.) 
 
 Edythe. James, the 'phone. {He answers.) 
 James. Mr. Van Derr's residence .... Who is it, 
 please ?....! will see. Hold the wire, ( To 
 Edythe.) The Gilt Edge Book Company, Ma- 
 dame. Their man was here yesterday and meas- 
 ured the bookcase. 
 
 (Edythe goes to 'phone. Exit James, c.) 
 
 Edythe {at 'phone). Yes.... Yes. You have the 
 measurements, haven't you? Now this is what I 
 
 13 
 
JOE THIRTEEN 
 
 want done. I want those shelves filled with 
 
 books Oh, goodness. It doesn't matter in the 
 
 least what they are; just send along those with 
 the prettiest bindings Yes. {Hangs up.) 
 
 Henry. That's a pretty way to pick out your readin' 
 matter, I must say. I hope the color of the 
 bindin's won't clash with the wall-paper. 
 
 Edythe. It might do you some good if you read any- 
 thing. 
 
 Henry {pointing to bookcase at left). Shall I start 
 with that Encyclopaedia and that History of Eng- 
 land in ten volumes which came the other day? 
 Say, why don't you present that bunch o' histories 
 to George — I mean James ? He was born in Lon- 
 don. He might appreciate 'em. 
 
 Edythe. I would like to know how long it is going to 
 take to accustom you to the presence of servants. 
 
 Henry. That butler's a good sport, and you can't get 
 me to snub him. 
 
 Edythe. After six months of heroic struggle on my 
 part you haven't acquired the least bit of polish. 
 
 Henry. Six months ago I suited you all right. 
 
 Edythe {with a sigh). Six months ago I lived in a 
 dream world, and did not think that I would ever 
 see it in reality. I was resigned to my fate, that 
 is why you suited me ; but now it is different. 
 
 Henry. You were full of Laura Jean Libby and the 
 rest o' them paper-covered women. But you let 
 me live in peace, and paid attention to gettin' three 
 squares a day, instead of seein' how much you 
 could spend. {Bell rings off stage.) Now who 
 is that? It's just after ten o'clock, and there have 
 been about a dozen good-f er-nothin's here already. 
 {Glances at door to study.) Poor Marion. 
 Dancin' teacher, French teacher, and 
 
 Edythe. Stop your grumbling. It is probably the 
 gentleman from the Genealogical Research Ser- 
 vice. 
 
 Henry. The what? 
 
 Edythe, You wouldn't know if I repeated it a thou- 
 sand times. They have been looking up our an- 
 
 14 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 cestry, — charting our family tree, and searching 
 out our family crest, 
 
 Henry. Huh ! What does it amount to ? 
 
 Edythe. I don't know exactly. Their rates are very 
 reasonable. 
 
 Henry. I don't mean in money. What good is the 
 information ? 
 
 Edythe. What good is it ? Henry ! We must be 
 able to assure Count Egozzi that he is marrying 
 into a worth-while family. 
 
 Henry. A half a million dollars speaks for the worth 
 of the family in the Count's mind. But, see here, 
 Edith, that funny foreigner and his tin armor 
 haven't got a ghost of a show with Marion along- 
 side o' Dan Boggs. 
 
 Edythe. Don't mention that repulsive name. A son- 
 in-law named Boggs, — or one of royal blood. 
 How can there be a choice? 
 
 Henry. Well, Marion is goin' to make it herself; 
 and, by golly, I'll stand by her. 
 
 (Enter James, c.) 
 
 James. Mr. CHfton is here, Madame. 
 Edythe. Show him in. 
 
 (Exit James, c.) 
 
 Henry. I suppose that I'll have to go down cellar 
 with the dog. 
 
 Edythe. No; stay. You may acquire a few points 
 of etiquette. 
 
 Henry. Etiquette ! Six months ago you didn't know 
 that fish was supposed to be eaten without the aid 
 of a knife; and a good old ordinary fork did duty 
 for the boiled potatoes and the salad, too, — when 
 we were lucky enough to have salad. We had 
 dinner at noon, and supper at night ; and I didn't 
 have to dress up in one o' them trick shirts to eat, 
 either. 
 
 Edythe (covering her eyes with her hand; dramatic- 
 ally). Stop! Let the dead past bury its dead. 
 
 15 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry. You and your ancestry ghoul don't seem to 
 be doin' that. 
 
 {Enter Clifton, c. He is a suave, smooth-tongued 
 business man; is neatly dressed in a light business 
 suit. He carries a brief-case.) 
 
 Clifton. Good-morning, Mrs. Van Derr. 
 
 Edythe. Good-morning, Mr. Clifton. This is my 
 
 husband. Henry — Mr. Clifton. 
 Henry. Pleased to meet you. (They shake hands.) 
 
 My wife tells me you have been diggin' into our 
 
 past. I'll bet you dug through considerable hard 
 
 pan. 
 Edythe. Henry ! 
 
 Clifton. I have made some very important discov- 
 eries. In fact, I might term them startling. 
 Edythe (eagerly). Let me hear them. Can we 
 
 claim Mayflower descent? 
 Henry. Easy there. The New Englanders have that 
 
 ship so overloaded now that she will never 
 
 weather a storm. 
 Edythe {endeavoring to silence her husband with a 
 
 glance as she speaks to Clifton). And have you 
 
 discovered the family crest? 
 Clifton. You are too eager, Mrs. Van Derr. Let 
 
 us take things up systematically. 
 Edythe. I am so excited. Henry, think of it ! We 
 
 are about to hear in detail of our ancestors. 
 
 Doesn't it thrill you? 
 Henry. Not so much as speculation on the future — 
 
 based on the happenin's o' the last six months. 
 
 {He places a chair at left of table for Clifton. 
 Edythe sits in easy chair. Henry draws small 
 chair c. and sits.) 
 
 Clifton. Before I give my report, Mrs. Van Derr, 
 I wish to state that the information I am about to 
 reveal has been compiled with the utmost care and 
 diligence. 
 
 i6 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Edythe. Certainly. 
 
 Clifton. Not only did we secure data from our 
 London representative, but I, myself, made a trip 
 to Boston to consult some rare documents and 
 volumes in a private collection to which very few 
 persons have access. 
 
 Henry (^aside). I wonder how much extra for that? 
 
 Edythe. How thorough you are. 
 
 Clifton. It pays us to be accurate. 
 
 ^Opens brief -case and spreads out papers.) 
 
 Henry (aside). I bet it does. 
 
 Edythe. Do tell me when my father's side of the 
 house J5rst set foot in this country. Did they 
 come on the Mayflower^ 
 
 Clifton. I am sorry to say that they did not. The 
 earliest trace I can find was this entry in the log- 
 book of a slave-ship which arrived in Virginia 
 from Africa in 1630. It is a sworn copy of the 
 original which is preserved in a small museum in 
 Virginia. The entry is under date of July 15, 
 1630, and reads: "At the point of a pistol I was 
 forced to throw into irons one John Ralston, a 
 worthless roustabout, who joined the crew on the 
 African coast. His cruel treatment of the ne- 
 groes under his command has been beyond de- 
 scription ; and even his own shipmates are relieved 
 that he is under restraint. Signed, Amos Calvin, 
 Captain." 
 
 Edythe. So my ancestor was a ship's captain? 
 
 Clifton. Why, no. Your ancestor was the worth- 
 less roustabout ! 
 
 Edythe. Mr. Clifton! 
 
 Henry (gleefidly). What a prize package you have 
 drawn in this ancestral grab-bag. 
 
 Edythe. There must be some mistake. 
 
 Clifton. I have told you how carefully this informa- 
 tion was gathered, 
 
 Edythe (hopefully). But the Revolutionary War? 
 
 17 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Can't you find that some of my people were 
 heroes in the Revolution ? 
 
 Clifton. Mrs. Van Derr, I have never traced such 
 a peculiar line in all my research work. I find 
 that one James Ralston — the only great-great- 
 grandson of the John Ralston of the ship's log — 
 was shot as a traitor during the war. He sold 
 valuable information to a person known to him to 
 be a British spy. 
 
 Edythe {nearly overcome). Enough! Enough! 
 Don't tell me any more. 
 
 Clifton. Shall I give you the report of the Van Derr 
 line ? 
 
 Henry {cheerfully). Sure thing! By golly, Ma, I'll 
 bet that there were not any worse crooks in my 
 family than in yours. 
 
 Edythe {faintly). Let's hear what you have discov- 
 ered. Perhaps for once Henry will save the day. 
 
 Clifton {consulting his papers). I find that in Eng- 
 land in the first part of the seventeenth century 
 there were only two male members of the Van 
 Derr family living. The name, by the way, was 
 then Vander, V-A-N-D-E-R. The present form 
 seems to have been adopted at a rather recent 
 date. 
 
 Henry {pointedly). Quite recent. 
 
 Clifton. One of these brothers came to Amer- 
 ica 
 
 Edythe {again interested) . On iht Mayflower? 
 
 Clifton. No, it was later. {Studies paper a mo- 
 ment.) In 1626. 
 
 Edythe. Well, it is nice to trace from there. {With 
 a sigh. ) Only six years late. 
 
 Clifton. But that brother never married, and he 
 died soon after coming over. 
 
 Edythe {disappointed). Oh. And the other brother? 
 
 Clifton. He worked as a wool-sorter in Liverpool; 
 and for several generations the Vanders were 
 mill-workers, living in the poorest section of Liv- 
 erpool. Finally, one of them ran away from 
 home and came to America as a stowaway. That 
 18 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Stowaway, Mr. Van Derr, was your great-grand- 
 father. 
 
 Henry. By golly, I never knew that. 
 
 Edythe. Oh, I wish I didn't. 
 
 Henry. What's the difference? I was readin' the 
 other day that if George Washington had had a 
 son, an' his blood had travelled on 'til now, the 
 present Washington would be about one sixty- 
 fourth George. That proportion o' blue blood in 
 a colt wouldn't cause a Kentucky horse-breeder to 
 fall on his knees in an attitude of adoration. For 
 heaven's sake, quit wallowin' in the past, an' face 
 the future, or the present. 
 
 Edythe. All my dreams go astray. 
 
 {She dabbles her handkerchief in her eyes.) 
 
 Clifton. I have something else which may interest 
 you. Perhaps you have noticed in the Sunday 
 edition of the Review that we are running an ar- 
 ticle each week on the ancestry of some prominent 
 family. Your recent advent in the social set has 
 made you quite prominent — I might say very 
 prominent — in town 
 
 Edythe (graciously). Yes. Yes. 
 
 Clifton. And the editor has asked me to write up 
 your family. 
 
 Edythe. Oh, that is impossible. We must never let 
 what you have told us get out. You won't print 
 it, will you, Mr. Clifton? 
 
 Henry. Why not ? I'd just as soon show what we've 
 risen to as what we've descended from. 
 
 Clifton. Well, Mrs. Van Derr, it places me in a 
 peculiar position. We are paid very well for 
 these articles, and I would be doing an injustice 
 to my partners if I were to omit it. 
 
 Edythe. What is the usual payment you receive? 
 
 Clifton. About a thousand dollars an article. You 
 see it is syndicated all over the country. 
 
 Edythe. We must stop it at any rate. 
 
 19 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 {Goes to desk.) 
 
 Henry. For a thousand dollars? No. Let 'em 
 print anything they like. 
 
 Edythe (writing check). No. I couldn't hold my 
 head up again if it were known. There, Mr. 
 Clifton, that will fix things. {Hands him check.) 
 
 Clifton. Really, you don't know how I hate to do 
 this, but out of fairness to my colleagues 
 
 Henry {sarcastically). Don't mention it — it's just a 
 trifle. 
 
 Edythe. I am so disappointed at your discoveries, 
 Mr. CUfton. I had so counted upon them. And 
 I did want a family crest to turn up. 
 
 Clifton. Perhaps that can be arranged. 
 
 Edythe. How? If it only can! I must have a 
 crest on my stationery ; and I have a new chest of 
 silver just crying for an emblem to be engraved; 
 and the doors of the limousine must be adorned. 
 
 Clifton. On our staff we have a very fine artist who 
 is well versed in heraldry, and for a nominal sum 
 we can design a coat-of-arms equal to any seen 
 in Europe. 
 
 Henry. What d'ye know about that ! 
 
 Edythe. I know that we are going to have a family 
 crest just as pretty as those of any of the snobs 
 we have fallen in with. 
 
 Henry. It ought to have a skull and cross-bones on 
 it, seein' as how your old ancestor was a sort of a 
 pirate, and mine was a stowaway. 
 
 Edythe. Henry! {To Clifton.) How soon can 
 you have one ready? I have a bridge party here 
 next week, and would like it by then. 
 
 Clifton. I knew that you were very anxious to have 
 one, and I have brought along one which I am 
 sure you will like. But this was not designed by 
 our artist. Here is a pencil sketch of it, {Takes 
 up a small drawing.) It is a copy of the carving 
 on a ring which was unearthed in Egypt last year. 
 I have been saving it for someone who v/ould ap- 
 preciate it. 
 
 20 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Edythe. How thrilling, 
 
 Henry {sarcastically). How much extra? 
 
 Edythe. But probably many know all about it. 
 Those expeditions publish detailed news of their 
 discoveries, don't they? 
 
 Clifton. Ah, Mrs. Van Derr, a member of our asso- 
 ciation was with the expedition, and he picked the 
 ring up and pocketed it unobserved. Perhaps 
 Cleopatra herself wore the ring. Just think! 
 
 Edythe. We shall have it. We must have it. 
 
 Henry. Easy. Every word you say is boosting the 
 price fifty dollars, I'll bet. 
 
 Clifton. I can have a copy of it done in colors on 
 parchment within a few days. And the rings you 
 spoke of I have had carved, and I have them with 
 me. (Takes out a small box.) One for your- 
 self, one for your daughter, and a third for Mr. 
 Van Derr. 
 
 Henry. What the deuce is this all about? 
 
 Clifton. Mrs. Van Derr has a very novel idea. 
 Each member of her family is to always wear a 
 seal ring bearing the coat-of-arms of the family 
 whenever he appears in public. It is splendid. 
 The newspapers will make a great story of it. 
 
 Henry. And have I got to cart one of those things 
 around with me ? 
 
 Edythe. Certainly. The Van Derr crest is going to 
 rise like the Phcenix from old Egypt to conquer 
 the city. 
 
 Clifton. It is an innovation which will certainly be 
 copied by the best f amiUes. 
 
 Edythe (with ring on finger). Isn't that attractive? 
 Mr. Clifton, I can never thank you. (Opens 
 check-book.) How much in addition to your fee 
 for the research is the crest and the rings ? 
 
 Clifton (slowly; sizing her up). Well, for the draw- 
 ings by our artist we generally get fifty dollars. 
 But this, of course, is more expensive, as the cost 
 of securing it was great. 
 
 Edythe (agreeing). Of course. 
 
 Henry (dryly). Of course. 
 
 21 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Clifton. The best that I can do is let it go for a 
 
 hundred and fifty, including the rings, which are 
 carved to match the original. 
 
 Edythe {writing check). Then the total affair is 
 eleven hundred fifty, isn't it ? The charge for the 
 research was a thousand? 
 
 Clifton. That is correct. 
 
 Henry. Oh, my ducats ! My filthy lucre ! 
 
 Clifton {pocketing check). Good-bye, Mrs. Van 
 Derr. I trust that our services have been satis- 
 factory. 
 
 Edythe, I am delighted. That terrible slave-beater 
 was rather disconcerting; and Henry's mill-hands 
 — ugh! {Admires ring.) But this is worth it all. 
 Out of the land of Egypt ! 
 
 Clifton. Good-bye, Mrs. Van Derr. 
 
 Edythe. Good-bye. Now be sure that that er — in- 
 formation does not get out, won't you ? 
 
 Clifton. I shall immediately destroy my records of 
 it. I am at your service any time. 
 
 {Exit, c.) 
 
 Henry. I should think he would be. Do you realize 
 that that slicker has walked out o' here with 
 twenty-one hundred and fifty dollars of my good 
 money ? A thousand for a bunch of information 
 that may or may not be true, and the rest for a 
 lot o' worthless junk. 
 
 Edythe. Here ; you put this on. {Hands him ring.) 
 
 Henry. By golly, I won't. 
 
 Edythe. The ring that Cleopatra may have worn ! 
 
 Henry. If you'll give me one with a good American 
 eagle on it, I won't kick. But as for this bunch 
 o' worms and a one-legged buzzard — nothin' doin'. 
 
 {Enter Professor Saiselle and Marianne, r.) 
 
 Prof. S. Ah, Mademoiselle, ze accent eet ees now so 
 
 Parisien, tres Parisien. 
 Marianne. I am afraid that you are flattering me, — 
 
 or trying to encourage me. 
 
 32 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Prof. S. Non. Non. Ah, here ees ze papa! Oh, 
 Monsieur, you have ze clevair daughter. Made- 
 moiselle Marianne soon will speak ze grande Ian- 
 gue as if she were ze native. 
 
 Henry. And how soon will you speak ze English? 
 
 Edythe. Henry! (To Professor Saiselle.) lam 
 so delighted. 
 
 Prof. S. Bon jour, Madame. Bon jour. Mademoi- 
 selle. Bon jour. Monsieur. 
 
 (He bows low to each as he speaks, and then backs 
 out c, still bowing.) 
 
 Henry (bowing after him). So long, froggie. Mar- 
 ion, Mother has some jewelry for you. 
 
 Edythe. Yes. Here is the ring I was telling you 
 about last night. I didn't expect to have them for 
 some time, but Mr. Clifton surprised me. He is 
 such a clever man. 
 
 Henry. I should say so. 
 
 Edythe. All three of us are to wear our rings every 
 time we step out of the house, and always when 
 we have company. 
 
 Henry. I won't wear it on the street, and I don't 
 care for the kind of company you have here. I 
 prefer human bein's. 
 
 Marianne. Please, Father. (To him, aside.) Just 
 for a few days, and then we will get out of it 
 somehow. 
 
 Henry. Well, for you, Marion dear. (He takes her 
 by the shoulders.) I'd do anything for you. 
 (Slips ring on his finger and gazes at it.) They 
 cost so darn much I s'pose we ought to use 'em a 
 little. 
 
 Edythe. That sounds encouraging. Henry, some- 
 times I see a little glimmer of hope that you may 
 be made over into a gentleman. 
 
 Henry. You can thank Marion for any little glim- 
 mers you see. (Bell rings off stage.) That bell 
 again! (Glances at watch.) That must be Dan 
 
 23 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 back again. (To Edythe.) Or is it another of 
 
 your endless procession of peace interrupters? 
 Edythe. Daniel! What would he be doing back 
 
 here? It is probably Count Egozzi. 
 Henry. An' what would he be doin' here ? 
 Edythe. He is to take Marianne and me for a motor 
 
 ride. 
 Henry. Dan is goin' to take Marion for a flivver 
 
 ride, an' there ain't goin' to be any chappyron. 
 Marianne, Well, this is the first that I have heard 
 
 of either arrangement. 
 Henry. Dan told me to tell you. He has to make a 
 
 business trip a few miles out, in the tin Lizzie the 
 
 company lets him run now, and he wants you to 
 
 go along. 
 Edythe. The Count invited us last evening, and / 
 
 accepted. 
 Henry. Then you may go. 
 
 Edythe. Marianne is going 
 
 Henry {interrupting). — to choose for herself. 
 Edythe {to Marianne). You will go with the Count, 
 
 won't you ? 
 Henry {to Marianne). Remember how faithful 
 
 Dan has been to you. 
 
 {Enter James, c.) 
 
 James. Count Egozzi is calling. 
 
 Edythe. Show him in. 
 
 Henry. Show him up, the old money-grabber. 
 
 Edythe. Well, Marianne, which is your choice, the 
 Ford or the limousine ? 
 
 Henry. The Count of no account or a hustling young 
 American? {Enter Count Egozzi, c, from the 
 left. He is small in stature, partly bald, with a 
 fringe of gray hair, and is about fifty years old. 
 His attire is faultless, and he speaks the very ex- 
 act English of a foreigner who has carefully mas- 
 tered the language. Henry, aside.) That for a 
 son-in-law ! Oh-h-h-h ! 
 
 Count. Good-morning, Mrs. Van Derr. {He kisses 
 
 24 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 her hand.) And my dear Marianne. \He bows 
 
 low to her.) Ah, here is Mr. Van Derr also. 
 
 (Another bow.) How charming you are this 
 
 morning, Miss Marianne. 
 Henry (curtly). She always is. 
 Count. I have my car ready at the door. 
 
 (Bell rings, off stage.) 
 
 Henry (referring to the hell; Edythe thinks it is in 
 reply to the Count's remark). Good! 
 
 Count. Which way shall we drive, Mrs. Van Derr? 
 
 Edythe. It makes no difference to me, Count. Just 
 anywhere. 
 
 Count. Perhaps Miss Marianne will decide for us. 
 
 Henry (expectantly watching the door). She sure 
 will. 
 
 Dan (off stage). I know the way all right, James. 
 (Enter Dan, c.) Well, here I am back again, 
 Mr. Vander. 
 
 Henry. And I'm mighty glad to see you just now. 
 Count, I'd like you to meet Dan, — Dan Boggs. 
 He's been keepin' comp'ny with Marion for quite 
 a spell. (The introductions are acknowledged. 
 Edythe gasps "Henry!" and sinks into a chair 
 at right, overcome with horror. Henry promptly 
 steps behind chair, lays one hand firmly on his 
 wife's shoulder, and makes a pretense of smooth- 
 ing her brow with the other.) Count, I'm sorry, 
 but Mrs, Vander has a severe pain in her head, 
 and can't go with you this morning. 
 
 Count. Oh, I am genuinely sorry. 
 
 Edythe (struggling to free herself). Henry, I am 
 perfectly 
 
 Henry. There, there, my dear. Be quiet and you 
 will soon be better. I'll get you some smellin' 
 salts. Marion, ring for James, will you? (She 
 does so.) Dan, Marion is all ready to attend to 
 that business. (He catches Marianne's eye, and 
 speaks urgently.) You had better start right 
 along. 
 
 25 
 
JOB THIRTEEN J 
 
 Edythe {struggling, attempting to speak, hut choking 
 
 with rage). Henry! 
 Henry. You had better go immediately. 
 Marianne {getting his idea). Yes. Yes. Come 
 
 along, Dan. We must hurry. It is important. 
 Dan {bewildered). What in the world is the matter? 
 Henry {industriously rubbing Edythe's forehead). 
 
 Oh, nothin' much. She'll be all right soon. 
 Marianne. Good-bye, Count Egozzi. 
 
 {She takes Dan by the hand and drags him along. 
 Exeunt c. Enter James, r.) 
 
 James. Did you ring, sir? 
 
 Henry. The Count is going. 
 
 Count. Yes. Yes. My dear Mrs. Van Derr, I am 
 
 greatly grieved. I trust that your indisposition is 
 
 nothing serious. 
 
 {With a deep how he takes leave and exits c, followed 
 by James. Henry straightens up with a sigh of 
 relief. ) 
 
 Edythe {after several gasps). How dared you! 
 Henry Van Derr, how dared you ! 
 
 Henry {quietly, with a puzzled air). By golly, Edith, 
 I don't know how I dared to ! {Pause.) I guess 
 it's 'cause I'm blessed if I'll see my daughter run- 
 nin' 'round with that foreigner when there's a 
 good American like Dan around. 
 
 Edythe. Such treatment as that and you will have 
 the dear Count frightened away; and then where 
 will we be? 
 
 Henry. Back to normalcy, as President Harding re- 
 marked. 
 
 Edythe. But think of having a count in the family ! 
 
 Henry. What's he good for? He's almost broke; 
 and he hasn't got a trade. How is he goin' to 
 support a wife? 
 
 Edythe. Don't be disgusting. 
 
 Henry {stubbornly) . He's makin' love to my money. 
 
 26 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 I don't want the rotten stuff, but I'll be blowed if 
 he gets any of it. 
 
 Edythe {weeping). I think that you do your best to 
 crush all my social ambitions. 
 
 Henry {severely). You make me tired with your 
 " social ambitions," Edith. Just because I was 
 unfortunate enough to have some money left to 
 me you want to be the biggest fool of a bunch o' 
 foolish women. 
 
 Edythe. Henry, don't you dare talk to me so ! 
 
 Henry. For six months I've suffered in silence, and 
 now I'm goin' to have my say. And then I'm 
 goin* to have my liberty. I'll walk when I want 
 to ; I'U eat what I want to ; and I'll wear what I 
 want to. In short, I'll be my own boss. And 
 Marion will be hers. 
 
 Edythe. How dare you address your wife like that? 
 
 Henry. I got my inspiration from one of your 
 bloomin' English kings — the one James told me to 
 read up — number eight. 
 
 Edythe {shrilly). Henry! 
 
 Henry. I ain't had much schoolin', but when I was 
 in school we didn't study stuff like that there 
 "Burke's Peerage" — {Pointing to table.) — The 
 Declaration of Independence and the Constitution 
 were more in my line. {Goes to bookcase at left, 
 looks along the volumes, spells " CLEV to EID " 
 on back of one, takes it to table and opens it.) 
 And I don't forget 'em, either. Listen to this; 
 it's from the Constitution of the United States. 
 {Reads.) "Article One. Section Nine. No title 
 of nobility shall be granted by the United 
 
 States " {Closes book with a slam.) I 
 
 guess that the writers of that didn't expect that 
 there would be bootleggers of family crests and 
 auction sales of tin-horn titles in the days to come. 
 
 Edythe {weakly). Henry! 
 
 Henry. You are like a doggone Chinaman in your 
 
 ancestor worship, and I refuse to be. And the 
 
 past is none of our business, but the future is up 
 
 to us. Dan is goin' to make a future for himself, 
 
 27 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 and Marion's goin' to choose the man to help her 
 make hers; you're not. 
 
 Edythe. Henry, you never talked like this before. 
 
 Henry. It took a lot of courage to do it. I've got 
 something else to tell you. Listen to this: I've 
 got a job. I start in to-morrow, 
 
 Edythe. This is terrible! Terrible! 
 
 Henry. It's not much of a job, but it'll keep me from 
 loafin' myself into a grave. 
 
 Edythe {fearfully). Wh-what is it? 
 
 Henry. Messenger boy for the biggest jewelry store 
 in town: Bigelow and Smith. 
 
 Edythe {pleading). No! No, you can't. All the 
 people I hope to get in with trade there. You 
 can't. I won't let you. 
 
 Henry. Listen, Edith. I'm goin' to work ; and Mar- 
 ion is goin' to marry Dan. I'm out after my 
 rights, and I'll get 'em. 
 
 Edythe. You cannot upset my weeks and weeks of 
 planning. 
 
 Henry. Who will stop me? 
 
 Edyth:e {again defiant). I will! 
 
 Henry {calmly). I've been readin' hist'ry, the way 
 the butler advised me. 
 
 Edythe. Oh-h-h ! The butler ! 
 
 Henry. About Henry the Eighth. You know that 
 guy had six wives ; three Catherines, two Annes 
 and one Jane. {Checking off on his fingers.) 
 One of 'em he divorced ; he had the marriage with 
 another annulled ; one died after livin' with him a 
 few years; and two he had beheaded! I've only 
 got one wife to look after ! 
 
 (Edythe swoons into a chair, and Henry stands sur- 
 prised at his own bravery as there is a 
 
 QUICK CURTAIN 
 
 28 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE I. — Office of Robert Cutter; Wednesday 
 morning. The entrance is an opaque glass pan- 
 elled door, on which the reverse of the inscription 
 "Robert Cutter, Insurance" is seen. The door 
 opens directly into the public hallway of the 
 building. The room is meagrely furnished, and 
 has no air of prosperity. Cutter's desk and chair 
 are placed diagonally r. c, and at the left of stage 
 is a typewriter desk and chair. A hat-tree stands 
 in the upper right corner. Three or four plain 
 office chairs are placed about the room. 
 
 (Cutter is at the telephone as the curtain rises. He 
 is a crafty-looking man of about thirty-five, and is 
 a sharp-spoken, suspicious individual. A huge 
 black cigar, which he chews incessantly but never. 
 lights, protrudes from his mouth.) 
 
 Cutter {at 'phone). I don't know who to get. Chi- 
 cago Jim said that he would send someone if he 
 could dig up a man, but he was pretty doubtful 
 
 about it Yes Sure. . . .Come around and 
 
 we'll try to dope it out ourselves. G'-bye. 
 {Hangs up.) A quarter of a milHon, perhaps; 
 and no one handy to swing the deal. 
 
 {Enter Grace Keene, c. She is a clever woman, who 
 can be refined or coarse, as she deems it best. 
 She is rather attractive, and is eight or ten years 
 younger than Cutter.) 
 
 Grace. Morning, chief slicker. 
 
 Cutter {turning quickly). Shut up, Grace. Some- 
 one might be in the hall. 
 
 Grace. Don't you worry. Has little Gracie ever 
 pulled a boner since we teamed up ? 
 29 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Cutter. No ; of course not. But I'm a little nervous 
 
 over this grand finale. 
 Grace. It's needless. Everything is going as slick as 
 
 a whistle. 
 Cutter. I'll be glad when we're out of here. 
 Grace. So will I. I'm sick of being a stenographer. 
 
 {Laughs.) Last winter I was a guest at the 
 
 Coronado; and now I have been a stenog for 
 
 nearly four months. 
 Cutter. Cheer up. We will work that hotel gag 
 
 again in a few months. I guess it will be in 
 
 Florida next time. 
 Grace. Say, wouldn't insurance be a rotten game to 
 
 work? Imagine staying in a dingy office week in 
 
 and week out, year after year. 
 Cutter. Now don't you begin to act up. We are 
 
 going on one long, grand and glorious vacation, 
 
 with plenty of money, pretty quick. 
 Grace. Is everything all set? 
 
 Cutter. Everything — except someone for this thir- 
 teenth job. 
 Grace. I feel superstitious over this thirteen thing. 
 
 I wish it had never bobbed up. 
 Cutter {with enthusiasm). Think what it will add 
 
 to the haul! This latest job will more than pay 
 
 our expenses for arranging all the rest — and the 
 
 rest will be all gravy. We'll dip our bread in 
 
 gravy for one long while, kid, before we work 
 
 again. 
 Grace. I hope so. I'm sick of pounding this darned 
 
 typewriter for the benefit of those in the next 
 
 office. 
 Cutter. We must make 'em think that this is a 
 
 regular office with lots of business 'n' everything. 
 
 Oh, I've just been talking to Harry over the 
 
 'phone. He can't seem to get hold of anyone to 
 
 look after the inside work on job thirteen. 
 Grace. Isn't there anyone left in Chicago? 
 Cutter. No. We have cleaned that town out in 
 
 order to svv^ing this lot. Thirteen jobs at one 
 
 swoop is some proposition. 
 
 30 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Grace. Let's pass up this last one. It is only going 
 to cause us a lot of trouble to get it figured out in 
 time. 
 
 Cutter. And pass up that lot of coin? 
 
 Grace. We will have enough without it. 
 
 Cutter. We can never have enough — while you wear 
 clothes. 
 
 Grace. Well, we can't swing this latest job unless we 
 have another man, and where are we going to get 
 him? 
 
 Cutter. I don't know. If Chicago Jim can scare up 
 one more man we will be all set. But we are go- 
 ing to do it somehow. When we were tipped off 
 that that woman had ordered the Trust Company 
 to send her seventy-five thousand in cold cash that 
 added job thirteen to our list right off. We won't 
 bother with any junk there; just the filthy lucre. 
 Seventy-five thousand iron men ! Think of it ! 
 
 Grace. It makes me dizzy. But how are we going 
 to get inside dope on it? 
 
 Cutter. I don't know. But, believe me, we are go- 
 ing to do it. Job thirteen is too big to get away 
 from 
 
 {A silhouette appears on the door, and the knob is 
 turned. Grace is seated so that she sees this and 
 she promptly interrupts Cutter.) 
 
 Grace (in a zvarning tone). Mr. Cutter, the physi- 
 cian's report on applicant thirteen hundred thir- 
 teen is here. 
 
 (The door opens and Henry enters, carrying a small 
 package.) 
 
 Cutter {rustling the papers on his desk). Good. 
 
 The applicant will be in this morning. 
 Henry. Is Mr, Robert Cutter here ? 
 Cutter. Right here. 
 
 {Betzveen speeches Grace works the typewriter indus- 
 triously. She listens to the conversation.) 
 
 31 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry. I am from Bigelow and Smith. Here is a 
 
 package for you. 
 Cutter. Oh, yes. A watch I left to be repaired. 
 
 (Henry hands over the package, and draws receipt 
 hook and pen from his pocket.) 
 
 Henry {pointing with right hand). Will you kindly 
 sign the receipt here? 
 
 (Cutter takes pen, then starts violently and gazes at 
 the ring on Henry's finger. ) 
 
 Cutter (with suppressed excitement). Why, what a 
 
 peculiar ring, man. Where did you get it? 
 "Henry {with a groan). Shade of Cleopatra! That 
 
 rmg again 
 
 (Grace turns suddenly around in her chair.) 
 
 Grace. What ? 
 
 Cutter. At last! {Shaking Henry's hand vigor- 
 ously.) Man, you don't know how glad I am to 
 see you. 
 
 Henry {confused). I don't understand you. I am 
 a messenger from Bigelow and Smith's, 
 
 Cutter. You are a good actor, my comrade ; but you 
 may speak out now. You have identified your- 
 self — the password — " Shade of Cleopatra." 
 Now, so that you may be assured that you speak 
 to one of the syndicate I reply — " Shade of Marc 
 Antony." 
 
 Henry. What are you talkin' about ? 
 
 Cutter. Aren't you convinced by my answer to your 
 password that we are O. K. ? This will prove it. 
 {Takes ring from vest pocket and holds it beside 
 Henry's ring.) See. It is identical. 
 
 Henry {surprised). So it is! 
 
 Grace. And look here. 
 
 {She pulls a gold chain which is around her neck, and 
 reveals a ring which was concealed in her cloth- 
 ing.) 
 
 32 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry {interested). The same! 
 
 Cutter. Now are you convinced? 
 
 Henry {cautiously) . How can I help bein'? 
 
 Grace. You are a sight for tired eyes. Now number 
 thirteen will go over in great shape. 
 
 Henry. Number thirteen? 
 
 Cutter. I don't suppose that Chicago Jim told you 
 anything ? 
 
 Henry. Chicago Jim? {Slowly.) No, not a thing. 
 
 Cutter. Except to come here. 
 
 Henry {his curiosity aroused). Oh, that, of course. 
 
 Cutter. What name do you wish to assume while 
 working this city ? 
 
 Henry {half to himself). So I join the rest of the 
 family and change my name ! 
 
 Grace. Certainly. We must leave the city without a 
 clue behind us. 
 
 Henry. Of course. Of course. Call me — call me 
 Landry. {Glances at ring.) And never mind 
 my ancestry. {Laughs.) 
 
 Cutter. Very well, — Landry. {He puts his ring in 
 pocket. To Grace.) Tuck that ring away, 
 Grace. {She does.) 
 
 Henry {wondering what it is all about, and deter- 
 mined to find out). I suppose that I had better 
 put mine away, now that it has done its work. 
 
 Cutter. Yes. We don't want them to be too com- 
 monly seen. (Henry pockets his ring.) Well, 
 how do you like our layout? Some insurance 
 people, huh? {Laughs.) I wouldn't know how 
 to make out a policy insuring the Atlantic Ocean 
 against fire. Oh, Landry, this is the wife, known 
 here as Miss Keene, my stenog. 
 
 (Grace and Henry exchange greetings.) 
 
 Grace. You don't know how welcome you are just 
 
 now. 
 Cutter. Oh, by the way, I had word yesterday that 
 
 after the first of the month we are to have new 
 
 rings — a new design, I mean. 
 
 33 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry (blankly). Is that so? 
 
 Cutter. You see, last year when we relieved that 
 Indian Mail steamer of the big gold shipment 
 when she was going through the Suez Canal, the 
 boys had to run all over Egypt to evade the au- 
 thorities — that was the closest call we have ever 
 had, — and one of these rings was lost. 
 
 Henry (eagerly). In Egypt, you say? 
 
 Cutter. Yes. That venture gave rise to our pass- 
 word of the year — " Shade of Cleopatra." 
 
 Henry. Well, ain't that rich ! 
 
 Cutter. It is unique, at any rate. Lately we have 
 talked it over and decided that perhaps we had 
 better change our emblem of recognition. There 
 is always a bare possibility that someone might 
 find that ring in Egypt, and as the world is a 
 pretty small place, we might unwittingly welcome 
 a stranger within our fold ; hence the change. 
 
 Henry. It is an excellent idea. (With a laugh.) 
 We don't want any strangers among us, do we ? 
 
 Cutter. Ye gods, man ! Don't speak so lightly at a 
 critical time like this. 
 
 Grace. Thirteen jobs framed. Nothing must go 
 wrong. 
 
 Henry. Absolutely nothing. (Feeling his way.) 
 Chicago Jim wasn't — er, wasn't very definite, — 
 before I left. Just what is job thirteen? 
 
 Cutter. We had twelve of the best jobs ever pulled 
 arranged for next Friday. Everything all set. 
 Inside people on every job. We were absolutely 
 sure of cleaning up at least a quarter of a million 
 — mostly cash, and the rest easily negotiable. 
 
 Henry (awed). By golly! 
 
 Cutter. And then we got wind of something that we 
 must put over. A job that will net us perhaps 
 half again what we will get from all the rest. 
 
 Grace (fervently). If we can only put it over! 
 
 Cutter. Sure we can. (Indicating Henry.) Here 
 is the man to do it. 
 
 Henry. Wh-what? (Nervously.) Yes, here I am. 
 Let's — let's hear about job thirteen. 
 
 34 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Cutter. As I said, we were all set for our twelve 
 jobs, when one of our men who has been a janitor 
 at the Trust Company brought us the info, that 
 some woman had given the bank notice to deliver 
 her seventy-five thousand dollars on the day of 
 our big play, and, queerly enough, she wanted it 
 in cash. (Henry gives a whistle of surprise.) 
 You have got to get that money ! 
 
 Henry {startled). Wh-what! 
 
 Cutter. We were desperate for another man to look 
 after that, and you have come in the nick of time. 
 
 Henry {dazed). How can I do it? 
 
 Cutter. You must have pulled some pretty big jobs 
 in the past, or Chicago Jim would not have sent 
 you. You can dope this one out. 
 
 Henry. Where must I — er, pull off this job? 
 
 Cutter {writes on slip and hands it to Henry). 
 Here you are. Name and address of victim thir- 
 teen. 
 
 Henry {reads; amazed). Henry Van Derr, 1^20 
 Riverview Boulevard!! Is that the place I am to 
 rob? 
 
 Cutter {complacently). That is job thirteen. 
 
 (Henry is speechless; he struggles to show no sur- 
 prise, and thinks intently. Finally a look of tri- 
 umph lights his face. He speaks slowly and 
 calmly.) 
 
 Henry. I guess I can manage it. {Pause. Then 
 slowly, as he thinks out his plan.) By the way, 
 Cutter, perhaps you would like to know who I 
 really am. 
 
 Cutter. The name Landry will do. 
 
 Henry {takes card-case from pocket). No. Have a 
 card. {He hands one over.) 
 
 Cutter {reads and starts suddenly). Henry Van 
 Derr! {Quickly opens desk and takes out re- 
 volver.) See here, what kind of a game is this? 
 Where did you get this card ? 
 
 35 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 (Grace runs to door and locks it.) 
 
 Henry. Don't get excited. 
 
 Cutter. Who the devil are you ? 
 
 Henry. A member of the — the syndicate. 
 
 Cutter. I don't know whether you are or not. 
 
 Henry. Didn't I give you the proper password, — 
 and haven't I shown the ring? Didn't Chicago 
 Jim send me? 
 
 Grace. I should hope so ! 
 
 Cutter. But where did you get those cards? 
 
 Henry (^playing for time in which to think}. Do you 
 know anything about these Van Derrs? 
 
 Cutter. Just what I've been able to learn since yes- 
 terday when we got word from the man at the 
 bank. I can't find out much except that they 
 loomed up on the social horizon a short time ago ; 
 and that they are well off. 
 
 Henry. You have never seen 'em? 
 
 Cutter. Wouldn't know one of 'em if I was talking 
 right to him. 
 
 Henry. Is that so ? I'm about to tell you the wildest 
 tale you've ever heard. 
 
 Cutter. Shoot it. Gee, you're a mystery. {Scratches 
 his head.) But you must be all right. That ring 
 and the password have been carefully guarded. 
 
 Henry. When did you see Chicago Jim last? 
 
 Cutter. Not for about three months. He's busy 
 fixing something for the Western crowd. 
 
 Henry. Well, some months ago, he stumbled across 
 the fact that Mrs. Van Derr, my wife 
 
 Cutter {gripping revolver nervously). Man, what 
 do you mean ? 
 
 Henry. Give me time to tell you. — That she had 
 been left somewhere around half a million; and 
 next he found out that her husband had disap- 
 peared some years ago, and never been heard 
 from. {He pauses and takes a long breath.) 
 The long and the short of it is that — that Chicago 
 Jim, playin' up as a lawyer, convinced Mrs. Van 
 Derr that / was her long-lost husband. {Watch- 
 
 36 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 ing them closely. ) I have been livin' in her home 
 three months as a — a sort o' returned prodigal, — 
 and waitin' for a chance to make a rich getaway. 
 
 Cutter {with amazement) . Is that true? 
 
 Grace. You're not spoofing us ? 
 
 Henry {replying to Cutter), It is! {Wiping his 
 brow.) I've sure had one uncomfortable time 
 livin' on the Boulevard, — and that's no lie. 
 
 Cutter. Well, if this isn't luck. 
 
 Grace. We must notify Jim that the Van Derr coin 
 is our thirteenth job. 
 
 Hei^ry {earnestly). No! Let's surprise him. Wait 
 until you report the success of the other — er — 
 jobs. 
 
 Cutter. All right. 
 
 Henry {with a sigh of relief). Fine! I can tell you 
 something else to interest you. 
 
 Grace. Well? 
 
 Henry. There will be much more than seventy-five 
 thousand in cash on hand next Friday. 
 
 Cutter. You can fix that? 
 
 Henry. Well, it's a mite hard to handle the old lady, 
 but I'll do the best I can. 
 
 Cutter {unwrapping watch). Say, how do you ex- 
 plain this? Why is the husband of the wealthy 
 Mrs. Van Derr running errands for Bigelow and 
 Smith? 
 
 Henry. By golly, I didn't explain that, did I? 
 {Meditatively.) Let me see how I can — the 
 quickest way. {Explaining.) I got this job some 
 time ago. Jim supplied me with references. 
 
 Cutter. But what does your wife say about it? 
 
 Henry. I've had a hard time keepin' the news from 
 my wife, but I've done it. 
 
 Cutter. But what's the idea of such a munificent 
 position ? 
 
 Henry. The day we blow with the Van Derr coin, 
 I am to see to it that my missus — ahem! — has a 
 terrific amount o' junk sent home for inspection. 
 And — er — I will be assigned to carry it up, and 
 we will just add that to our collection, see? 
 
 37 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Cutter. This is immense. The biggest clean-up we 
 
 have ever made. 
 Grace. You will excuse our suspicions. Now that 
 
 we have talked it over, we know that you are all 
 
 right. 
 Henry. Oh, do you? I'm glad of that. 
 Cutter. We have to work cautiously. 
 Grace. Thank goodness, everything is all set for 
 
 Friday. 
 Henry. Friday, is it? 
 Cutter. Friday, and the thirteenth job, 
 Henry. I always said that half a million was too 
 
 much money for the Van Derr family. We'll 
 
 clean 'em out. {With sudden inspiration.) By 
 
 golly, I've got it. There can be two of us on the 
 
 inside, {To Grace.) My wife has been wantin' 
 
 a French maid. Can you be one? 
 Grace {dropping a curtsy). Oui, Monsieur! 
 Henry. You're hired. Report at my mansion this 
 
 afternoon. 
 
 curtain 
 
 Scene II. — Same as Act I. Wednesday afternoon. 
 (Henry and James are discovered.) 
 
 Henry. By gollv, George, I never lied so fast in my 
 
 hfe. 
 James. Hi can believe you. 
 Henry. I don't know how I stumbled on to their 
 
 password. There had been so much talk about 
 '' Egypt and Cleopatra 'round here since those old 
 
 rings came that I guess I just naturally said 
 
 " Shade of Cleopatra." 
 James. Hit sounds himpossible. 
 Henry. They started in the minute they saw that fool 
 
 ring, and before I knew what was bein' done I 
 
 was roped in as a pal o' them crooks, and was 
 
 lyin' faster 'n a horse can trot to keep in good 
 
 with them. 
 
 38 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 James. 'Adn't you better put the ring back hon your 
 finger before Mrs. Van Derr discovers it is hoff? 
 
 Henry. Yes, I guess I had. {Places it on finger.) 
 But I can't wear it long; and I must get hold of 
 my wife's ring, and Marion's, too, before long. 
 I'll explain why later. 
 
 James. You say that they are to attempt to carry 
 out their plan on Friday ? 
 
 Henry. Yes. It seems that they have been layin' 
 elaborate plans for the last three or four months. 
 They have headquarters down-town all rigged up 
 as an insurance office. Next Friday twelve of the 
 wealthiest homes in the city are to be robbed, and 
 this will make the thirteenth. 
 
 James. 'Ow fortunate that you accepted that posi- 
 tion. 
 
 Henry. The job at Bigelow and Smith's? Yes. 
 And how lucky that the missus had that ring 
 idea. 
 
 James. What a coincidence ! One ring lost over a 
 year ago in Egypt brings about all this. Just 
 think ! It will save thirteen homes from being 
 robbed. 
 
 Henry. There, my dear George, is where you are all 
 wrong. 
 
 James. What do you mean? 
 
 Henry. I mean that on next Friday the Van Derr 
 fortune will take leave of these premises. 
 
 James. My word ! 
 
 Henry {arm around James' shoulder'). To-day I 
 have become an honored member of the Interna- 
 tional Wealth Syndicate. (Edythe enters c. and 
 hears his next remark.) The password is " Shade 
 of Cleopatra." 
 
 Edythe {sternly), James, you may go ! 
 
 James. Yes, Madame. 
 
 {With great dignity he exits c.) 
 
 Edythe. Henry, that ends it. 
 Henry. What ? 
 
JOB TEIBTBEN , 
 
 Edythe. James' services. 
 
 Henry. No, No, 
 
 Edythe. Yes, / say. His month ends Friday, and 
 he is going then. You may inform him. 
 
 Henry {imth a sigh of relief). Oh, that's all right, 
 if he will be here 'til Friday, 
 
 Edythe. You are a disgrace to the family, chatting 
 so with the servants. And acting as a messenger 
 boy for a store. What were you talking to James 
 about? What was that Cleopatra business? 
 
 Henry, Oh, nothin' at all. 
 
 Edythe. I won't have things going on behind my 
 back. Out with it. 
 
 Henry. Well, dear, I — er — ^you — er — we {With 
 
 inspiration.) You have wished so much lately 
 that you had a French maid that I — I stopped in 
 at the agency on my way home, and bought one — 
 I mean hired one. 
 
 Edythe {beaming). Oh, Henry! 
 
 Henry. And — and her name is Cleopatra ! 
 
 Edythe. You dear boy. I believe that you are com- 
 ing to your senses. Cleopatra! I shall call her 
 Cleo. That sounds real Frenchy. 
 
 Henry. She'll be here pretty soon. 
 
 Edythe. She shall serve my breakfast in bed to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Henry. Edith, how would you like a nice summer 
 estate at the seashore? 
 
 Edythe {staring in amazement). Henry, are you 
 crazy ? 
 
 Henry. Well, we might as well enjoy livin'. Look 
 at the money we still have in spite of your spend- 
 ing. Now I have got wind of a nice place in 
 Plymouth County, Massachusetts, that has acres 
 and acres of land, and also has the ruins of an 
 old block-house those Pilgrim fellers used to fight 
 the Indians with. 
 
 Edythe. Plymouth County! Historic ruins! We 
 must have those ruins at any price, 
 
 Henry. The price is kinda steep, Mother. 
 
 Edythe, We will fill the house with expensive an- 
 
 40 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 tiques and call it the Pilgrimage, — Pilgrim Age, 
 see? And every summer we will make a pilgrim- 
 age to Plymouth County to do honor to those 
 brave souls of three hundred years ago, — and to 
 meet all the biggest people we can get acquainted 
 with. 
 
 Henry. What a quick thinker you are. 
 
 Edythe. It runs in my family, 
 
 Henry {absent-mindedly). After this mornin' I 
 guess it runs in my side, too. 
 
 Edythe. What do you mean? 
 
 Henry. Why — er — er — I mean the dicker I made 
 with the feller who owns it. It's really a bargain, 
 but it's pretty steep at that. 
 
 Edythe. How much? 
 
 Henry {with a gulp). Only one hundred thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 Edythe {zvith a gasp). Oh, Henry! 
 
 Henry. Can we do it? 
 
 Edythe {thoughtfully). That ruined block-house. 
 The " Pilgrim Age." Henry, we must do it ! 
 
 Henry {elated). Fine. I must close the deal Friday 
 evening. Now you go to the bank in the mornin' 
 and tell them to send the money up here in cash 
 Friday just before the bank closes, 
 
 Edythe. A hundred thousand in cash? 
 
 Henry. Yes. Big bills. They are too nosey at that 
 bank about what you do with your money — al- 
 ways want to invest it for you — so I don't want 
 'em to have any cancelled checks as clues to our 
 business ; it's none o' theirs. 
 
 Edythe. All right, I'll attend to it. I have a little 
 pocket money being sent up Friday, too. 
 
 Henry {aside). Seventy-five thousand pocket money ! 
 {To Edythe.) And say, I wish you'd bring up 
 all the negotiable stuff there is in the vault, — all 
 those unregistered bonds and stufif. 
 
 Edythe. Henry, I do believe that you are beginning 
 to take an interest in your financial affairs. 
 
 Henry. I want to look everything over Friday. Will 
 you bring 'em ? 
 
 41 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Edythe. Yes, I'll do anything for you since you have 
 told me about those ruins of the Pilgrims. {In a 
 wheedling tone.) Oh, Henry, will you do some- 
 thing for me ? 
 
 Henry {suspiciously). What d'ye want? 
 
 Edythe. Will you kindly resign your — ^your — er — 
 position ? 
 
 Henry. I'll think it over and let you know Friday. 
 
 Edythe. I believe you will! Well, I must run up- 
 stairs and write some notes; got two invitations 
 to real recherche affairs to-day. 
 
 Henry. Huh ? 
 
 Edytpie. Oh, Henry, I am so happy to know that 
 at last you are beginning to catch on to things. 
 
 {Exit c.) 
 
 Henry. Yeh. There's goin' to be considerable 
 catchin' on to things around here. 
 
 {He impatiently rings electric hell, pushing the button 
 several times. After a pause James enters c.) 
 
 James. Did you ring, sir? 
 
 Henry. No, I was just exercising my thumb and it 
 hit the bell by accident. I want to finish explain- 
 ing things to you. Let me see, where did we leave 
 off when my wife interrupted? 
 
 James. You had just declared your intention of help- 
 ing the robbers. Really, I was surprised, sir. 
 
 Henry. Don't " sir " me. How many times must I 
 tell you ? And from now 'til Friday we are pals. 
 
 James. Why, really, you don't expect me to join the 
 robber persons, do you ? 
 
 Henry. Yes, I do, to some extent. 
 
 James. Really, Hi don't 
 
 Henry. Now Hsten to me. Of course I haven't 
 really joined that gang — only partly. I'm only 
 one-thirteenth as bad as they are, for I am only 
 goin' to help in one job, and only share in the 
 benefits of one. 
 
 James {awed). And whose 'ome do you rob? 
 
 42 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry. My own. 
 
 James. Are you in your right mind, sir? 
 
 Henry. I was never more so. See here, George, you 
 have got me all wrong. I am going to give the 
 police complete information on twelve of the 
 jobs, just as soon as I can get it, so that there 
 will be a warm reception for that phoney insur- 
 ance man and his outfit. But the police are not 
 to know of the plan to clean up this place. 
 
 James. And why not? 
 
 Henry. Because my happiness an' peace o' mind, and 
 that o' my daughter an' Dan Boggs, depend upon 
 my wife bein' penniless — or 'most so. 
 
 James. And you are going to let your wealth be 
 stolen ? 
 
 Henry. So far as my wife is concerned. That 
 darned money is an awful trouble maker, so if we 
 can get her to think that it is stolen, that we are 
 dead broke, we will be back where we started. 
 Then I'll get me a job, and I can have my pay 
 accordin' to what I think best — for I'll stow this 
 money away where she won't know an3^thing 
 about it, and I can draw on it to regulate the 
 happiness an' comfort of all concerned. 
 
 James. 'Ow will y©u get 'old of the money? 
 
 Henry. I have fixed it so that about all we own 
 will be in the house Friday, and we will figure 
 out before then the best way to get away with it. 
 
 James. Hit sounds simple. 
 
 Henry. Here's the hitch. In order to get all the 
 dope I need for the police, I have arranged for 
 that insurance guy's wife to come here as a maid 
 to Mrs. Vander. She's a slick one, an' we'll have 
 to watch out that she doesn't really get away 
 with the stuff. 
 
 James. And Hi must associate with a — a crook mas- 
 querading as an honest lady's maid ! What low 
 company ! 
 
 Henry. Perhaps a little present of a hundred dollars 
 will help you stand the degradin' company until 
 Friday. 
 
 43 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 James. Thank you. I'll stand it somehow. 
 
 Henry. I'll tell you what to do from time to time. 
 To begin with, as soon as this here combination 
 maid and crook comes, you must be very cordial 
 to her. And don't forget to gossip. Tell her all 
 about the long lost husband's return and how bad 
 his mem'ry was on things he ought to know, et 
 cetery, so 's she'll swallow the story I made up 
 for 'em. 
 
 James {slapping Henry on the hack). I'll do the best 
 I can to earn the hundred, old top. {Enter 
 Edythe, c. James, formally; seeing her.) I 
 shall do my best, sir. 
 
 {Exit c.) 
 
 Edythe. Oh, Henry, you will dress for dinner to- 
 night, won't you ? 
 
 Henry. You mean put on that hack driver's outfit 
 for supper? {Carelessly.) All right, if you say 
 so. 
 
 Edythe. My dear, what has changed you so lately? 
 
 {Enter James, c.) 
 
 James. Your maid has arrived, Madame. 
 
 Edythe. Send her in. {To Henry.) Oh, Henry, 
 
 you were a perfect jewel to get me a maid — and 
 
 a French one, too. 
 
 {Enter Grace, c, in street costume.) 
 
 Grace. Madame Van Derr ? I am ze maid Monsieur 
 has engage zis aftairnoon. My name ees Suzanne. 
 
 Edythe {to Henry). You told me her name was 
 Cleopatra. {To Grace.) Did you say Suzanne? 
 
 (Henry wildly signals to Grace, as his wife turns to 
 her. She comprehends.) 
 
 Grace. Oh, ze full name ees Cleopatra Suzanne 
 Gaudet. My las' meestress dislike Cleopatra, so 
 she call me Suzanne. 
 
JOB THIBTEEN 
 
 (Henry wipes his brow in relief.) 
 
 Edythe. I much prefer Cleopatra. I have already 
 
 decided that we shall call you Cleo. 
 Grace. Verr good, Madame. 
 Edythe (rings bell). I will have James show you to 
 
 your room. 
 Henry. Cleo had most excellent references. 
 Edythe. I know she is dependable. Her face is so 
 
 honest. (Henry winks at Grace. Enter James, 
 
 c, very pompously.) James, you will show Cleo 
 
 to her room. 
 Henry. James, this is the latest addition to our 
 
 household, Cleopatra. 
 
 (James winks at Henry, and bows low before Grace 
 as he speaks.) 
 
 James. Qeopatra, your Marc Antony greets you ! 
 
 (Grace winks at Henry over the bowing James.) 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 45 
 
ACT III 
 SCENE. — Same as Act I. Friday. 
 
 (Grace is dusting the furniture. James critically 
 looks on.) 
 
 James. Now don't slight any of the bric-a-brac. 
 
 Grace. I would lov' to smash eet. I did not expect 
 to do zis when ze job he com' to me. 
 
 James. Hit's good exercise. Well, I must toddle 
 along. 
 
 Grace. Oh, James, you hav' not tol' me — was Ma- 
 dame glad to see Monsieur? 
 
 James. At first she wept copiously, and then she gave 
 'im a terrible tongue lashing. 
 
 Grace. Mon Dieu ! Such a tongue she has ! 
 
 James. Well I know it ! Do you know, Cleo, 'e was 
 most forgetful of some hincidents that 'appened 
 before 'e went away. 
 
 Grace. You have worked for ze family before he go 
 away? 
 
 James. No. {Scornfully.') They are some get- 
 rich-quicks. Six months ago she 'ad nothing; 
 not even an 'usband — at least she didn't know 
 where 'e was. Someone left 'er a comfortable 
 fortune, and soon after 'er 'usband returned. 
 
 Grace. To see ze wife or ze money? Eh? 
 
 James. Ah, you get the idea. Would 'e 'ave come 
 back for the wife alone ? 
 
 Grace. Sacre! I would nevair wish so naughty a 
 wife for any man. 
 
 James. Neither would I. {With a deep sigh.) I 
 'ave 'ad a terrible time these past six months. 
 But I leave to-day. {Another sigh.) 'Ired hon 
 a Friday; fired hon a Friday! Hi shall be glad 
 when the day is over. 
 46 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Grace {half to herself). I, too, will be verr glad to 
 see zis day end. 
 
 James {watching her closely). Why? 
 
 Grace {with a shrug). I cannot put it in words. I 
 am verr superstitious about Friday. 
 
 James. Well, Cleo, ma cherie, Friday will soon be a 
 thing of the past. I shall enjoy a vacation. 
 
 Grace. I am going on a long one, too, verr soon. 
 
 James. But you 'ave just come 'ere. 
 
 Grace. I shall not care to stay verr long. When 
 one has heard all ze family affairs eet ees time to 
 look for ze new place and ze new scandals. Ze 
 Van Derrs have been somebody only these six 
 month. Before that they were nobodies. You 
 have tol' me all there is to know in two days. 
 Eet ees good that I go soon. 
 
 James. Hi must go now and deliver a message to 
 FranQois. 
 
 Grace. Sacre! A Greek called Frangois! Eet ees 
 too terrible. He should not run ze motor car, but 
 ze restaurant. 
 
 {Bell rings off stage.) 
 James. There's the bell. Au revoir, Frenchy. 
 {Exit James, c.) 
 
 Grace. Au revoir, Jimmie. Gee whiz, I'll be glad 
 when I can talk United States again. That 
 bloomin' Henghshman has talked me almost to 
 death. I wonder if that's Landry who just rang. 
 It's time for him. Boy, won't we clean up to-day ! 
 
 {Enter Henry, c.) 
 
 Henry. Hello, Cleo. {In a low voice.) Anyone 
 
 around ? 
 Grace. No. The coast is clear. Did you bring up 
 
 the jewelry for your honored wife to look over? 
 Henry. About half the stock of Bigelow and Smith. 
 Grace. Where is it? 
 
 47 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry. James has taken it to my room. It's all in 
 a suit-box. I told him it was a couple of new 
 shirts. 
 
 Grace. Everything seems to be O. K. 
 
 Henry. Everything. What's the news from Cutter? 
 
 Grace. All the stuff is to be mailed to him to-night, 
 addressed to him as Insurance Broker. I will 
 send what we get from the little postal station 
 around the corner. He has been sending himself 
 packages for two weeks, so that the postman 
 won't suspect anything at a sudden rush of mail. 
 Ours is to be mailed here in the city; the others 
 will send theirs from surrounding towns. Every 
 little detail has been planned. 
 
 Henry. There is no possibility of a slip-up. 
 
 Grace. The plans are the most perfect that we have 
 ever laid. The police will be paralyzed when 
 thirteen reports of theft are turned in. They 
 won't know how to make headway with all those 
 cases. 
 
 Henry. And that's where the get-away comes in. 
 
 Grace. Here's the dope on the get-away. Those on 
 the inside are to stay at their jobs for varying 
 lengths of time, and leave the city one by one. 
 You see the advantage of not knowing all the 
 members of the outfit. Of course the bulls will 
 give all the servants of these robbed joints the 
 third degree, and as we don't know which one of 
 Mrs. Gold-brick's servants — for instance — is in 
 with us, there won't be any chance of our giving 
 anything away by word or look, even if they 
 should round up all the servants at the station- 
 house. 
 
 Henry. It's a great system, all right. 
 
 Grace. Has the money arrived from the bank yet ? 
 
 Henry. No. It was to be sent up just at closing 
 time, so it should be here at any time now. 
 
 {Enter James, c, with telegram.) 
 
 James. A telegram for you, sir. 
 
 48 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry. All right. {Winks at ] awes, who returns it 
 and then exits c. Henry opens telegram and 
 reads it. To Grace.) Listen. (Reads.) Duti- 
 ful husband to stay on job three weeks after goods 
 are shipped. Signed, Jim. 
 
 Grace. Then you are not to blow for three weeks. 
 Poor Landry. Can you stand that woman three 
 weeks longer? 
 
 Henry. It's an age, but I'll do my best. 
 
 Grace. There is something else we can add to the 
 haul. 
 
 Henry. What ? 
 
 Grace. Your ivife — get that ? 
 
 Henry. Yes. I've got her, all right. 
 
 Grace. — Is going to the opera to-night, and I have 
 convinced her that the gown she is to wear will 
 look better with very little jewelry; so milady's 
 jewel casket will be well laden, — and it just fits 
 my hand-bag. 
 
 Henry. Let's plan to take the house right off its 
 foundation. 
 
 Grace. You slip me the money as soon as it arrives, 
 and I'll do everything up and have it ready to 
 mail. 
 
 Henry. All right. 
 
 Grace. I must beat it now. 
 
 (Edythe appears in door, c, hut is unnoticed.) 
 
 Henry (bowing low over Grace's hand). I bid you 
 a fond au revoir, Cleopatra, Queen of the Smile. 
 
 Grace. My Marc Antony, adieu! I wonder if the 
 old boy was an easy Marc! (Sees Edythe.) 
 Oh, oh. Monsieur! 
 
 (She hurriedly exits r.) 
 
 Henry. Hey, Cleo, what's the idea? 
 Edythe. That is exactly what I wish to know ! 
 Henry (startled). Oh! Are you here, my dear? 
 Edythe. I most certainly am. I came! I saw! I 
 heard! Now you explain if you can. 
 
 49 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry. What is there to explain? 
 
 Edythe. You are carrying on most shamefully, 
 Henry. The more servants we have the worse 
 you become. Cleo has been here just two days, 
 and already you are treating her as one of the 
 family. You are impossible on the servant ques- 
 tion. 
 
 Henry. Don't be so fussy. 
 
 Edythe {reproachfully). I thought that you were 
 improving in the matter. You have treated 
 James as becomes his station the last two days; 
 but now I see it was only that you have trans- 
 ferred your attention to Cleo. 
 
 Henry. Yes; it was only on account of the girl. I 
 didn't want her to think that I wias familiar with 
 the other servants. 
 
 Edythe. You brazen thing! 
 
 Henry. Now be careful. If you get your temper 
 up, I will send that money back to the bank, and 
 you will go without your old Massachusetts ruins. 
 
 Edythe. Oh, Henry ! I don't mean to scold. If 
 only you were not so — so playful with the serv- 
 ants, 
 
 Henry. I'll try not to be — after to-day. 
 
 Edythe. Henry, dear, Marianne and I are going to 
 dinner with Count Egozzi to-night, and then to 
 the opera. This afternoon we are going autoing 
 with him. 
 
 Henry. You're not rushin' the Count, are you? 
 
 Edythe. He should be here very soon. 
 
 Henry. I don't suppose I can stop him from comin*. 
 
 Edythe. The Count intends to speak to you this 
 afternoon. 
 
 Henry. Then I'll speak to him. 
 
 Edythe. You don't understand. He is going to ask 
 you for Marianne's hand. 
 
 Henry. Well, he's got his nerve. Let him ask her. 
 I'm not sellin' slaves. 
 
 Edythe. But the dear Count says that in his country 
 it is customary to consult the parents before 
 speaking to the girl. 
 
 5° 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Henry. Marion has plenty o' good common sense, 
 and it's entirely up to her. 
 
 Edythe. You tell that to the Count, then. But don't 
 do it in an insulting way. I'll talk Marianne into 
 saying " Yes " to him. Henry ! I think that it's 
 the queerest thing about those rings. They 
 haven't turned up yet. Missing two days. You 
 don't suppose Cleo took them, do you ? 
 
 Henry. Cleo? She is as honest as the day is long. 
 What would she want of that worthless junk 
 when all the other stuff is lying around ? Haven't 
 missed anything else, have you ? 
 
 Edythe. No. 
 
 Henry {with a studied carelessness). They'll turn 
 up somewhere. 
 
 Edythe. I hope so. I don't suppose that we could 
 drag you to the opera, could we ? 
 
 Henry. Not with a team of wild horses. 
 
 Edythe. You are slowly improving. Soon you will 
 reach the opera stage. I will give the cook orders 
 about your dinner. 
 
 {Exit R.) 
 
 (Henry rings hell for James, and impatiently paces 
 hack and forth while waiting for him. Enter 
 James. ) 
 
 James. 'Ere Hi am, old topper. 
 
 Henry. Things are getting near the breaking point. 
 
 We have got to be darned careful that friend Cleo 
 
 doesn't light out with some o' the stuff. She has 
 
 her eye on my wife's jewelry now. 
 James. Oh, she won't get anything. And the minute 
 
 that money comes from the bank Hi shall make 
 
 a dupHcate package. 
 Henry. Cleo fell for the telegram I sent myself. 
 James. We'll put it over, old thing. 
 
 {Slaps Henry's shoulder.) 
 
 Henry. By golly, I like you, George. Say, after I 
 
 51 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 rob myself, what do you say if you teach me to 
 buttle, an' we'll get a job together in some nice, 
 quiet place ? 
 
 James {with great dignity). You 'ave to be born to 
 hit. My father and my grandfather hand me 
 great-grandfather were in the service of the same 
 family. {Proudly.) Yes. One must be born to 
 hit. ■■■^'■^. ifi^ 
 
 Henry. I'm sure of my old job as foreman at the 
 fact'ry, anyhow. {Suddenly.) Say, I feel a lit- 
 tle nervous about Cleo and those jewels. Sup- 
 pose she gets 'em? How am I goin' to stop her 
 from runnin' off with 'em? 
 
 James. Now don't worry. The moment the money 
 comes Hi shall make up that duplicate package, 
 and 'ide the real stuff hin the coal-bin; hand Hi 
 shall get the jewelry somehow. {Enter Mari- 
 anne, c. James sees her, and stands at atten- 
 tion.) Yes, sir. Hi shall hattend to hit himme- 
 diately, sir. 
 
 {Exit c.) 
 
 Marianne. Father, can't I give those rings back to 
 Mother now? She is frantic. Count Egozzi is 
 coming soon, and Mother must have those rings. 
 
 Henry. No. No. She mustn't. 
 
 Marianne. What made you think of torturing 
 Mother that way? You know how important 
 those rings are to her peace of mind. 
 
 Henry. She can have 'em to-morrow. 
 
 Marianne. But the Count is coming this afternoon; 
 and it was for his especial benefit that they were 
 bought. 
 
 Henry. You don't care if he doesn't see 'em, do you ? 
 {Seriously.) Marion, you haven't canned Dan 
 for the tin-horn Count of no account, have you? 
 
 Marianne. Don't you worry about Dan, Father. I 
 can handle the Count, all right. 
 
 Henry. That's what I told your mother. But don't 
 let her have her say too loud; she might help old 
 down and out to kidnap you. 
 
 5* 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Marianne. Don't you worry. I'd — I'd run away be- 
 fore I'd be kidnapped. 
 
 Henry. There's so much stealin' goin' on in town 
 lately that I thought the Count might catch the 
 fever. {Proudly.) By golly, I feel sorry for the 
 " bally beggar," just the same, because he can't 
 have you. 
 
 Marianne. You old silly. {Kisses him.) Well, I 
 must run along and sympathize with Mother over 
 the loss of those rings. 
 
 Henry. You can give 'em back to her in the mornin'. 
 My little joke will be over then. 
 
 Marianne. All right. 
 
 {Exit c. Enter Grace, r. She is excited.) 
 
 Grace. Landry, do you know that there is a thief in 
 
 the house? 
 Henry. Two of 'em. Let's look in the mirror and 
 
 see 'em. 
 Grace. I don't mean us. 
 Henry. What ! Who ? 
 Grace. James ! 
 Henry. No ! 
 Grace. Yes. I was sneaking into Mrs. Van Derr's 
 
 room to get that jewelry and I closed the door 
 
 behind me. Just as I was reaching for the stuff 
 
 I heard someone at the door. I hid in the closet. 
 
 Then I saw James come in, and he cleaned out 
 
 that dressing-table in a jiffy. 
 Henry. Did he see you ? 
 Grace. No. 
 Henry. Then keep quiet about it. We will get the 
 
 stuff back by-and-by. 
 Grace. The dirty crook! 
 Henry. Keep mum about it. Now get out of here 
 
 before my wife catches me talkin' to you, or I'll 
 
 be in hot water. 
 
 {Exit Grace, c. Henry is elated. He runs to bell 
 and rings. At the instant he presses the button 
 James pops his head in door r.) 
 
 53 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 James. Psst ! 
 Henry. You're prompt ! 
 James {in a whisper). Are you alone? 
 Henry. Alone as an alligator at the North Pole. 
 James {coming into room. His pockets are bulging'). 
 Where shall Hi put this stuff ? 
 
 {He takes several articles of a silver toilet set from 
 his pockets and then various pieces of jewelry.) 
 
 Henry. Yes, that is the question. 
 
 James. We must save it. 
 
 Henry. I'll say so. 
 
 James. Hit was a narrow hescape. She saw me take 
 
 hit ! Hi couldn't 'elp hit. 
 Henry. That's all right. She told me, and I've fixed 
 
 it for the time bein'. 
 James. Hi saw Cleo sneaking hinto the room. As 
 
 soon as she closed the door. Hi rattled the knob, 
 
 gave 'er time to 'ide, hand then went hin hand 
 
 gathered these hup. {With a moan.) Hand then 
 
 she saw me ! 
 Henry. I've fixed it, I tell you. 
 Edythe {off stage, at a distance; in a shrill, excited 
 
 voice). Henry! Oh, Henry! 
 James {terror stricken). There she comes! 
 Henry. Why, that's my wife. 
 James. Don't Hi know it ? Oh, she saw me I 
 Henry. My wifef 
 
 James {looking zvildly about). Yes. Yes. 
 Henry. Ye gods ! I thought that you meant Cleo. 
 Edythe {off stage, nearer). Oh, Henry! 
 James. What shall Hi do? 
 
 {Dances around with the toilet articles.) i 
 
 Henry. Quick, put it all in the coal-bin. 
 
 {Exit James, c, on the run.) 
 
 Edythe {as she rushes in). Do you know that there 
 
 is a thief in the house? 
 Henry. Yes — er — I mean 
 
 54 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Edythe. What? You know it? 
 
 Henry. Your rings disappeared, didn't they? 
 
 Edythe. And I know who took them. 
 
 Henry. No ! 
 
 Edythe. James ! ! 
 
 Henry. Is it possible? 
 
 Edythe. I just now saw him leave my room loaded 
 down with my jewelry. Everything in the room 
 is stolen. I don't think he saw me. {Starts for 
 'phone.) We must call the poUce before he gets 
 away. 
 
 Henry. No, Er — he might hear you and run out 
 before they get here. You leave it to me. If he 
 thinks that no one knows about it he will stay. 
 
 Edythe. I feel so upset about it. I am afraid I am 
 going to faint. 
 
 Henry. No. No. Don't. Please don't. {Runs to 
 door, R., and calls.) Cleo. Cleo. Come here. 
 {To Edythe.) Don't get excited. I will fix 
 everything. 
 
 Edythe. The wretch must have taken the rings, too. 
 And the Count is coming. Oh, I must have those 
 rings ! Someone must find them. Help ! Help ! 
 
 {Enter Grace, r.) 
 
 Henry. Help Mrs. Vander to her room. She is not 
 feelin' well. 
 
 (Grace assists her.) 
 
 Edythe. Oh, Cleo. If only you or I had been there. 
 Grace. I do not understan', Madame. 
 
 {The two women are In the doorway, r. Enter 
 James, c, with package.) 
 
 James. A messenger from the bank left 
 
 {He sees Grace and stops.) 
 
 Grace {to Henry; meaningly). I shall return at 
 once, Monsieur. 
 
 55 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 {Exeunt Grace and Edythe, r.) 
 
 James. Hi didn't see them. 
 
 Henry. Fake up another package now, quick. Then 
 take this and add it to the collection in the coal- 
 bin. 
 
 James. Hi 'ave already done so. {Draws duplicate 
 package from his pocket and gives it to Henry.) 
 See, they are hidentical. Hi 'ave put a pencil 
 mark hon this one so we shall not get them con- 
 fused. " D " stands for " dummy." 
 
 Henry. Good. Now hide the real one down cellar. 
 {Bell rings off stage.) Who in tarnation is that? 
 
 James. Hit must be the Count. 
 
 Henry {pulling up his sleeves). Show him in. 
 
 James. You take care of both packages 'til Hi re- 
 turn, 
 
 {Exit c. Henry takes up both packages and holds 
 them side by side.) 
 
 Henry. Well, well. That's what I call pretty clever. 
 
 {Enter Grace, r.) 
 
 Grace. What's so clever this time? 
 
 Henry {startled). Oh, I didn't know that you were 
 coming back so soon. 
 
 Grace. Your wife — ahem ! — heard the bell ring, and 
 suddenly felt better. She is very anxious to see 
 the Count. {Sees the tzvo packages.) Why did 
 the bank send it up in two packages ? Give them 
 to me. 
 
 Henry. Wait a minute. I have made a false pack- 
 age. 
 
 Grace. What's the idea? 
 
 Henry. I am afraid of James. 
 
 Grace. We had better watch James and find out 
 where he put that stuff he stole. 
 
 Henry. We'll get that back, all right. He knows 
 that a package has come from the bank, and may 
 attempt to get it, so I've made a dummy. 
 56 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Grace {taking a package in each hand). Just think. 
 I am now holding thousands of dollars in one 
 hand. But which? They look exactly alike. 
 
 Henry {pointing). See that little pencil mark? 
 Everything depends upon that. That " D " means 
 — dollars ! What you want is in there. 
 
 Grace. Oh, what a dream! 
 
 {She puts the dummy package in her apron pocket; 
 Henry breathes a sigh of relief. ) 
 
 Henry. Leave the other on the table so James can 
 get it if he wants it. 
 
 {She places the real package conspicuously on the 
 table.) 
 
 Grace. I have it. I shall hide behind the screen until 
 I see him take it. I feel nervous about being fol- 
 lowed around with all this money in my posses- 
 sion. If I see him take that dummy I can breathe 
 easier. 
 
 Henry. All right. He will probably come here to 
 look for it as soon as the room is empty. {Aside.) 
 I'm sure he will. 
 
 Grace. And I shall follow him and find out where 
 he put all the stuff he took out of the boudoir. 
 
 Henry. I feel it in my bones that you will find out. 
 
 Grace. We must. I can't let that stuff get away 
 from me. 
 
 Henry. And I can't let it get away from me ! 
 
 Grace. Good. We are agreed on that. 
 
 Henry. So it would seem. I'll get out. You watch 
 for him. 
 
 {Exit c. Grace wanders around room; peers rest- 
 lessly out of both doors; fixes screen to suit her 
 in upper left corner; then looks out doors again. 
 She takes package from her pocket and gazes at 
 it.) 
 
 Grace. Worth almost half a million ! 
 
 57 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 {Puts it hack in pocket. She listens at center door, 
 
 and then rushes noiselessly behind screen. James 
 appears in door, c, with a box under his arm. 
 Henry tiptoes beside him, but stands hack in the 
 hall, away from the door. He silently points in 
 direction of screen; James nods comprehension; 
 then walks into room and peers cautiously around 
 for Grace's benefit. Henry silently withdraws 
 from sight.) 
 
 James. Alone. — And there is the money ! {He takes 
 box from under his arm.) And 'ere is the jeweh^y 
 from Bigelow and Smith, with the contents of the 
 missus' dressing-table thrown in for good meas- 
 ure, all tied hup nice and neat, ready to take 
 away. {He regards box. At intervals during the 
 scene Grace peeps cautiously around the left side 
 of the screen. ) Shirts ! Old Van Derr thought 
 he was putting something over on me. Let me 
 see, where shall I 'ide this 'ere truck? {He looks 
 around the room, then opens the bookcase down 
 left and puts the box behind the hooks on the first 
 shelf. ) Stay there 'til you're wanted. 
 
 (Marianne and Edythe are heard talking off stage. 
 James listens a second, then grabs package from 
 table and goes out center door to the right. As 
 soon as he is gone Grace rushes to bookcase, pulls 
 out books and secures box.) 
 
 Grace. You're wanted, right now. 
 
 {She dashes out door R., with the box, just before 
 Marianne and Edythe enter c, coming from 
 left.) 
 
 Edythe. Isn't it terrible? After all the money I 
 have spent, and all the effort I have put into en- 
 tertaining the Count, the psychological moment 
 arrives, and still those rings have not turned up. 
 
 Marianne. They really don't make much difference, 
 Mother. 
 
 58 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Edythe. Yes, they do. The Count must be im- 
 pressed. 
 
 Marianne. Leave it to Father to make an impres- 
 sion on him. 
 
 Edythe. I'm half afraid to let the dear Count see 
 Henry; but how can we avoid it? The Count 
 expects us to do things in the Continental way. 
 Oh, dear, those rings. (She commences to cry.) 
 If I only had them. 
 
 Marianne. There, Mother, they don't matter. 
 
 Edythe. They do, 1 tell you. (Sobbing.) We must 
 give the Count something to be proud of. 
 
 Marianne. Well, I like that. Aren't you proud of 
 me? 
 
 Edythe. Marianne dear, I didn't mean that. Dear, 
 you will marry the Count, won't you ? 
 
 Marianne. Mother, dear, calm yourself. 
 
 Edythe. You will marry the Count? 
 
 Marianne. I will marry Count Egozzi next month if 
 it is possible. 
 
 Edythe. I am so happy. (Drying her tears.) You 
 are sure that you won't marr)^ Dan ? 
 
 Marianne. I promise you that I shall not marry 
 Dan. 
 
 Edythe. Oh, what a relief ! Your father thought 
 that I would have a hard time to make you think 
 as I do. 
 
 Marianne. I think that Father and I understand 
 each other pretty well. 
 
 Edythe. I wish that I understood him, or perhaps I 
 had better say that he understood me. 
 
 Marianne. What's the matter now? 
 
 Edythe. I am sure that I can explain the disappear- 
 ance of those rings, and he won't lift a hand to 
 help get them back. 
 
 Marianne. You can? 
 
 Edythe. Yes. And I'm going to get them back, if he 
 won't. 
 
 (Goes to 'phone.) 
 
 Marianne. What do you mean? 
 
 59 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Edythe {at 'phone). Give me the police station. 
 ( To Marianne. ) Wait and see. Hello ! Police 
 Station? This is Mrs. Van Derr, 1320 Riverview 
 Boulevard. Two days ago two valuable rings 
 disappeared from my dressing-table; and I have 
 every reason to suspect someone here in the house. 
 
 Marianne. Oh ! 
 
 Edythe. Yes .... Yes .... Very well. 
 
 {Hangs up.) 
 
 Marianne {anxiously). What did they say? 
 Edythe. The officer on this beat is just leaving the 
 
 station, and he will come here and talk it over 
 
 with me. 
 Marianne {uneasily). Mother, what did you mean 
 
 — about someone here in the house ? 
 Edythe. I absolutely know who took those rings ! 
 Marianne. Mother! {In a small voice.) Who? 
 Edythe. James ! 
 Marianne {with a sigh of relief). Oh! How do you 
 
 know? 
 Edythe. I saw him take all my jewelry not fifteen 
 
 minutes ago. 
 Marianne. James a thief ! And he came so well 
 
 recommended. Does Father know? 
 Edythe. Yes ; but he wouldn't let me call the police. 
 Marianne. Why not ? 
 Edythe. I don't know. He acted very queerly when 
 
 I told him about James. 
 Marianne {with some hesitation^ . James may have 
 
 taken your jewelry; but he did not take the rings. 
 Edythe. I am morally sure that he did. 
 Marianne {positively) . But he did not. 
 Edythe {interested) . What makes you so certain? 
 Marianne. This. 
 
 {She draws the two missing rings into view on a chain 
 around her neck.) 
 
 Edythe. Where did you get them? I have them 
 in time. Give them to me. {She takes them and 
 60 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 places one on her finger.) How thankful I am 
 that I have them back in time. But how did you 
 get them? 
 
 Marianne. I — I Well, you see 
 
 Edythe. How long have you had them? 
 
 Marianne. Since Wednesday afternoon. 
 
 Edythe. What? {In a high pitched voice.) What? 
 And you have let me suffer, actually suffer, for 
 those rings, and you had them all the time. How 
 could you be so cruel ? 
 
 Marianne. I hated to do it, but 
 
 Edythe. You hated to do it? Oh, I see. Your fa- 
 ther was back of it! That is why he was so in- 
 different to my loss. 
 
 Marianne. I promised him that I wouldn't give them 
 to you until to-m.orrow. 
 
 Edythe. In other words, after the Count's call. {In 
 a rage.) Wait until I see that wretch. 
 
 (Rings bell.) 
 
 Marianne. Don't say anything, please. Mother. 
 
 Edythe. After the suffering — the torture I've gone 
 through? I certainly shall. I am surprised that 
 you would be an accomplice to such cruelty. 
 
 (Enter James, c.) 
 
 James. Did you ring, Madame? 
 
 Edythe. Send Mr. Van Derr to me immediately. 
 Tell him it is important. (James bows and exits, 
 c.) What did he say when he suggested this low, 
 mean trick to you ? 
 
 Marianne. It was Wednesday afternoon — just be- 
 fore Cleo arrived, if I remember rightly. He 
 said that now that you had a maid, and were going 
 to acquire some run-down real estate in Massa- 
 chusetts, perhaps in the excitement you wouldn't 
 miss your ring for a f evv^ days ; and that when you 
 didn't have yours he would have an excuse to stop 
 wearing his, and give his finger a rest. 
 6i 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Edythe. Oh-h-h ! I feel as if I could give him eter- 
 nal rest. 
 
 Marianne. So I took yours from your dresser, and 
 told you mine was stolen, too. That's all. 
 
 Edythe. That's enough. 
 
 Marianne. I wish that you wouldn't say anything to 
 Father. I was going to give them back to you in 
 the morning; but I promised that I wouldn't be- 
 fore then. 
 
 Edythe. I'll protect you, dear. 
 
 Marianne. I wouldn't have told you if you hadn't 
 called the police. 
 
 Edythe. Good heavens. I had forgotten. 
 
 Marianne. Are you going to tell them about James 
 and the jewelry? 
 
 Edythe. No. Your father can handle that in his 
 own way. The rings mattered the most. We 
 can buy other jewelry any day. 
 
 Marianne. But the policeman will be here soon. 
 
 Edythe. I shall tell him it was a mistake, and send 
 him away. 
 
 {Enter Henry, c.) 
 
 Henry {very meekly). Did you send for me, Edith, 
 
 dear? 
 Edythe. I'll say I did. 
 Marianne. Now, Mother. 
 Henry {with a smile). Here I am. 
 Edythe. And see what else is here. 
 
 {She holds her bejewelled finger up.) 
 
 Henry. Marion, you promised me 
 
 Marianne. I know that I did. But Mother was so 
 upset that I couldn't hold out any longer. What 
 difference does a few hours make? 
 
 Henry. Ye gods! If Cleo {With a mirthless 
 
 latigh.) Ail right. Ha-ha. You see, Edie, my 
 finger was so weary carryin' that piece o' junk 
 around, that I just had to get out of it somehow. 
 
 Edythe. And you chose a critical time to decide that. 
 
 62 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Could any time have been more inopportune for 
 those rings to disappear? 
 
 Henry. Or to return? 
 
 Edythe. What ? 
 
 Henry. Er — nothing. 
 
 Edythe. I know what you meant. You still think 
 that Marianne and the Count are not going to be- 
 come engaged. That is why you wanted the rings. 
 You hoped to spoil my plans to have a titled son- 
 in-law. 
 
 Henry. Cool off. You have your rings, and your 
 Count of no account is here. 
 
 Edythe. Now I shall have the Count come in. Soon 
 Marianne and I shall leave the room, and the 
 Count will ask you the fatal question, 
 
 Henry. It may be fatal — to him. 
 
 Edythe. You be careful that you act like a gentle- 
 man, {SJie goes to door c.) 
 
 Henry. Marion, dear, I'll kill him with my bare 
 hands, if you will only say the word. 
 
 Marianne. He doesn't bother me, Daddy, 
 
 Edythe {calling from door). Count. My dear 
 Count, do come here. {To Henry and Mari- 
 anne.) I shall show him the ring without delay. 
 
 Henry. Some game o' quoits. Tryin' to ring the 
 Count with that jewelry. Now I'd like to wring 
 his neck with these. {Holding out his hands.) 
 
 Edythe. Henry ! 
 
 {Enter Count Egozzi, c.) 
 
 Count. Ah, good-afternoon, Mr, Van Derr. I am 
 
 most charmed to see you, 
 Henry {gruffly). Hello, Count. 
 Edythe. Oh, Count, here is something I wish to 
 
 show you. See, our family crest, 
 
 {Holds hand out to him, shoiving ring.) 
 
 Count, How very fine. How beautiful, 
 Edythe. Each one of the family wears a ring like 
 that whenever he goes out. Perhaps you haven't 
 
 63 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 noticed them before, as they have all been at the 
 jeweler's being reset. 
 Marianne {slipping off her ring). Perhaps you 
 would like to inspect it closer. 
 
 {He takes the ring and slips it on his finger.) 
 
 Count. Ah, my dear lady, how exquisite. Your 
 family crest. Ah ! What an honor to be ac- 
 quainted with such a family. 
 
 Edythe. Henry, don't forget what I told you to do. 
 Count, will you excuse us if Marianne and I leave 
 you a few minutes? We will be back soon; and 
 Mr. Van Derr will entertain you. 
 
 Count. Certainly. {Bows lozv. Exeunt Edythe 
 and Marianne, c.) Mr. Van Derr, you certainly 
 have a fine daughter. 
 
 Henry. I can agree with you on that. 
 
 Count. It must grieve you to think that some day she 
 will marry, and you must lose her. 
 
 Henry. Oh, no. When the right man comes along 
 I shall gain a son. 
 
 Count. H'm! Now we come to the discussion of 
 who, in your estimation, is the right man. 
 
 Henry {bluntly). I'll tell you. A good, honest, red- 
 blooded, one hundred per cent. American ! 
 
 Count {embarrassed). Oh. 
 
 Henry. But it is up to Marion whom she marries. I 
 have faith in her judgment, and her choice will 
 immediately become my choice. 
 
 Count {much relieved). Oh! That seems very 
 magnanimous to me. In my country the wish of 
 the parents is always paramount. 
 
 Henry. Things 're different over here. Take work, 
 f r instance. Here you are considered a bum if 
 you don't work, while I understand in your land 
 you're a bum if you do 
 
 Count. There are many queer things in this world. 
 
 Henry {looking him tip and down). You said it. 
 
 Count. What did I say? 
 
 Edythe {off stage). Henry! Henry, come here! 
 
 64 ' 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 No, you can't ! You take that right off. / sent 
 for you. 
 Marianne {off stage. Excitedly). You have made 
 a mistake, I tell you. 
 
 (Edythe and Marianne both talk together. There is 
 considerable commotion. Henry rushes off c, to 
 left. Count stands still in the center of the 
 stage. ) 
 
 Count. What an eccentric household. 
 
 (Grace rushes in c, from the right, carrying the 
 dummy package. She runs violently into the 
 Count. He grasps her by the wrists to save him- 
 self from falling. ) 
 
 Grace (struggling to free herself). Let me go. 
 (Speaking roughly.) Let me go, I tell you. 
 
 Count. Why the undue haste, young woman? I 
 thought that you were French. Where has your 
 accent gone? 
 
 Grace. Oh, Monsieur, please let me go. Eet ees verr 
 important. (She sees the ring, which still re- 
 mains on his finger, and stares in amazement. In 
 a whisper, dropping her accent.) The ring! 
 Shade of Cleopatra ! Saved ! We're saved ! 
 Listen. (The Count is speechless in surprise.) 
 The bulls are here. I don't know just what the 
 rumpus is about. I guess it's over a couple of 
 rings that disappeared. I don't know anything 
 about them, but I am sure to get the third degree 
 because I've only been here a couple of days, and 
 that will upset our plans. If I get away from 
 here I'll beat it to the office. Tell Landry. 
 (James appears in door, r., but is not noticed.) 
 Here's most of the stuff. (She puts the dummy 
 package in his pocket.) I don't know where you 
 came from so suddenly, but I was sure glad to see 
 that ring. 
 
 (Rushing to door, r., she collides with James.) 
 
 James. My word, what is the disturbance? 
 
 65 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Grace. Get out of my way, you bloomin' limie. 
 
 (She pushes him aside and dashes out.) 
 
 Count. What is this all about ? 
 
 {Enter, c, Edythe, Marianne, Henry and Police- 
 man, all talking at the same time. Edythe's 
 right wrist is encircled by a handcuff, the other 
 end of which is held by the Policeman.) 
 
 Edythe. You take that off instantly. The very idea ! 
 
 I send for the police, and they seize me like this. 
 
 Henry. Say, officer 
 
 Count. How terrible. What has happened, Mr. Van 
 
 Derr? 
 
 {He daintily places monocle in eye. Policeman looks 
 
 him over carefully.) 
 
 Henry {persistently). Say, officer, I'm 
 
 Policeman {indicating Count). Who is this bird? 
 
 Edythe. This is Count Egozzi. 
 
 Policeman. Pleased to meet you, Count, Shake 
 
 hands. {He seizes the Count's hand and scruti- 
 izes the ring.) What have we here? Well, 
 
 well, if it isn't more of the queen's jewels. 
 
 {He deftly slips the second half of the handcuffs over 
 the Count's wrists.) 
 
 Henry. Count, what does this mean, — you an' my 
 
 wife hitched up together? 
 James. If Hi might so state, Mr. Van Derr, Cleo 'as 
 
 just left the premises. 
 Henry. She has ! She is the one you want, officer. 
 Edythe {pointing at James). There is the one you 
 
 want, officer. 
 James. Oh, no. 
 Edythe. Oh, yes ! I saw that man steal my jewelry. 
 
 That is why I sent for you. 
 Policeman. You and the Count here are what I am 
 
 interested in. 
 Marianne {indignantly). This is an outrage. My 
 
 66 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 mother is the one who sent for you. Don't you 
 understand ? 
 
 Policeman. I don't care who sent for me. Those 
 rings tell the tale. Every officer on the force had 
 instructions this morning to nab anyone seen with 
 a ring like that. The lieutenant showed us one 
 which was a double of that one. 
 
 James. The young person who 'as just departed 'ad 
 one, sir. And she slipped 'im — {indicating the 
 Count) — a package which looked like the one the 
 bank messenger left, sir. {Winks at Henry.) 
 
 Policeman. We can soon find out, 
 
 {Starts to search Count.) 
 
 James. In 'is coat-tail, sir. 
 
 Policeman {drawing package from Count's coat-tail 
 
 pocket). Here it is, sure as shootin'. 
 Henry {taking package). The money saved. How 
 
 glad I am. 
 
 {Opens package. He is hack to Edythe and beside 
 
 James.) 
 
 James {with a nudge at Henry; in apparent alarm). 
 
 Oh, my good 'eavens, sir ! 
 Henry. Holy smoke ! 
 Edythe. What is it ? 
 Henry. It is a dummy package. 
 Edythe. Where is the money? 
 Henry. Qeo must have stolen it. If we can only 
 
 find her. Officer, how can we get her ? 
 Policeman. Search me. We are busy rounding up 
 
 all the gang. Perhaps we will get her with them. 
 Henry. It would be like looking for the old needle 
 
 in the hay. 
 Count. Perhaps I can be of aid. When the maid 
 
 forced that package into my coat she said to me, 
 
 " I'll beat it to the office. Tell Landry." 
 Policeman. What office? Who is Landry? 
 Henry. I'm Landry. The office is in the North 
 
 Building. Robert Cutter is the name it's under. 
 Edythe {too excited to wonder how Henry knows so 
 
 67 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 much). Saved! Saved! Our fortune is not 
 lost. Officer, go arrest Cleo and bring back my 
 money. 
 
 James {with a glance at Henry). Mrs. Van Derr, 
 the Cleo person must 'ave given your money to a 
 man at the door. A suspicious looking person 
 called not an hour ago and hasked for 'er. I saw 
 'er give 'im a mysterious package in a most suspi- 
 cion arousing way ; hand the package was shaped 
 just like this one. 
 
 Edythe. Oh-h-h-h ! Lost again. 
 
 Policeman {to Henry). How do you know so much 
 about that woman's destination? 
 
 Henry. I am Mr. Vander. 
 
 Policeman. How do I know you are? Why didn't 
 you say so before ? 
 
 Henry. There was so much excitement that I didn't 
 get time. {Takes a paper from pocket.) Here's 
 a duplicate of the letter I sent to the station givin' 
 'em the full list of places to be robbed ; so you see 
 that I am all right. 
 
 Policeman {respectfully). Oh, you're the bird that 
 tipped us off. You certainly did a good job in 
 gettin' that information. Now you can tell me if 
 these people I have the bracelets on are O. K. 
 
 Henry. Sure they are. It's my wife and a friend o' 
 the family. 
 
 Policeman {removing handcuffs). I'm sorry that 
 you got mixed up in this, but those rings are the 
 secret sign of the gang of crooks we are rounding 
 up. How in the world did you get hold of 'em? 
 
 Count. Your family crest a bandit's symbol, Mrs. 
 Van Derr? 
 
 Edythe. Let me explain, dear Count. They — they 
 must have been stolen from me. 
 
 Policeman. I'm not needed here any longer. I'll go 
 along. I'm sorry the mistake was made. 
 
 Edythe. We don't expect the police to do anything 
 but make mistakes. 
 
 {Exit Policeman.) 
 68 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Count. Ugh ! Those horrible handcuffs. Do you 
 feel all right, Mrs. Van Derr? 
 
 (Edythe seems ready to faint.) 
 
 Marianne. Mother, pull yourself together. Every- 
 thing is all right now. 
 Edythe. Do you suppose that they will get the 
 
 money back? 
 Count. Did they get much ? 
 Edythe {bursting into tears). Every cent we have in 
 
 the world. 
 Henry {solemnly). And in my opinion we'll never, 
 
 never see a single copper of it. 
 Count {anxiously). You don't really mean that? 
 James. They may catch the Cleo person, but never 
 
 will they find out who the mysterious person was 
 
 that got that money. 
 Count. Perhaps they will. Some of these detective 
 
 fellows are really clever. 
 James. I saw the man who took that money from this 
 
 very room, and I can tell you that 'e is clever. 
 
 They'll never find out about 'im. {Winks at 
 
 Henry.) Never. 
 
 {Exit, c.) 
 
 Count. Are you sure that all your money is gone ? 
 
 Edythe. Yes. We were transferring it, and had it 
 all here, very foolishly in cash. 
 
 Henry. We are dead broke. We'll sell the place and 
 the auto, and I'll have to get my old job at the 
 fact'ry back again. 
 
 Count. How horrible. 
 
 Henry. We'll have to fire James and the other ser- 
 vants. And perhaps Marion can get a job — as a 
 stenographer or something. 
 
 Count. How terrible. (Suddenly.) I must be go- 
 ing. 
 
 Edythe. What an unfortunate afternoon. Count 
 Egozzi, perhaps you can come to-morrow? 
 
 Count (coldly). I am afraid not. 
 
 69 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Edythe {eagerly). The next day? 
 
 Count. To tell the truth, I don't know when I shall 
 
 be at Hberty. My social calendar is very full. 
 
 Good-afternoon. 
 
 {With a formal how he exits, c.) 
 
 Henry. Of all the cheap pikers ! 
 'Edytth^ {hysterically) . Oh, the Count! The Count! 
 We have lost our money and the Count. 
 
 {She sinks into a chair and sobs violently.) 
 
 Henry. I knew we'd lose him all right, when the 
 
 money went. 
 Edythe. How terrible. 
 Henry. Wasn't he ? 
 Marianne. There, Mother. It is all right. I'm 
 
 perfectly happy. 
 Edythe. Marianne ! You promised me but a short 
 
 time ago that you Avould marry the Count. And 
 
 now you are happy that he's gone ? 
 Henry. You promised whatf 
 Edythe. Your very words were " I'll marry the 
 
 Count next month if it's possible." 
 Henry {stunned; to Marianne). Did you say that? 
 Marianne. Yes, Father. 
 Edythe. And she also promised that she would not 
 
 marry Dan. 
 Dan {ojf stage). I'll find my way, James, as usual. 
 
 {Enter Dan. He seems overjoyed at something.) 
 
 Marianne. Dan ! 
 
 Dan. Well, well. A little family gathering. Just 
 
 what I hoped to run into. 
 Henry {soberly). I'm afraid that you'll want to run 
 
 out again. 
 Dan. Why? 
 Henry. I guess that we were all wrong, Dan. ( With 
 
 a grimace.) Marion has just confessed that she 
 
 will marry the Count next month if possible. 
 Dan {not disturbed). Is that so? 
 Henry. Yes. 
 
 70 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 Dan. // possible, she said? Well, it isn't possible, 
 
 Henry. And she promised her mother that she 
 wouldn't marry you. 
 
 Marianne. You folks must be careful to quote me 
 correctly. I said that I would marry Count 
 Egozzi if possible, and would not marry Dan in 
 the future. (Shyly.) It is impossible to marry 
 the Count, and I cannot marry Dan, because — 
 because 
 
 Dan (putting his arm around her). We were mar- 
 ried this morning. 
 
 EdYTHE ) . , .1, \ j WHATf 
 
 Henry f ^^^getner). | You don't mean it ! 
 
 Dan. Yes, sir. We thought it the best way to do 
 away with the Count. 
 
 Henry (after a moment of silence). I'm darn glad of 
 it. 
 
 Edythe. What a terrific series of shocks I've had 
 to-day. (She is silent a moment, and then speaks 
 softly.) Dan, I've had my eyes opened to the 
 Count's real nature, and — and I'm mighty glad 
 that you two are married. 
 
 Marianne. Mother, do you really mean that? 
 
 Henry. The end of the world is comin'. 
 
 Marianne. I'm so happy. I wanted to please you, 
 but you chose such queer things. 
 
 Henry. The Count sure was a queer thing. 
 
 Edythe. The last few minutes have been to me like 
 a blow on a crazy man's head — they have brought 
 me back to my senses. I realize now the things 
 happiness depends upon — and it is not upon things 
 which are so easily lost as titles and money. If 
 we ever have any more money I won't let it be 
 my god. 
 
 Henry. Do you mean that, honest an' true ? 
 
 Edythe. I do. 
 
 Henry (runs to door and calls). James. James, 
 come here quick. 
 
 James (off stage, just out of sight). Yes, sir. 
 
 Henry. Go down cellar and get that stuff out of the 
 coal-bin. 
 
 71 
 
JOB THIRTEEN 
 
 James {off stage). Yes, sir. 
 
 Henry. You're certain you mean that, Edith? 
 
 Edythe. Yes. Yes. I promise you that I'll live like 
 
 a normal human being, no matter how Httle or 
 
 how much we ever have again. 
 Dan. What has happened? 
 Marianne. We've been robbed. — But I don't care, 
 
 I have you. 
 Henry. Edith, I've a confession to make. I swung 
 
 the hammer that hit the blow that brought you 
 
 back to your senses. It was the only way out that 
 
 I could think of. And it worked. 
 Edythe. What do you mean? 
 James {off stage). Oh, sir, just as Hi reached the 
 
 coal-bin they started three tons of coal down the 
 
 chute. 
 Henry. Did it bury the stuff? 
 James. No. Hi got the stuff — hand the coal. 
 
 {He enters c, carrying the package of money and the 
 toilet articles and jewelry. His face and clothing 
 are covered with coal dust. His hair and collar 
 are disarrayed. Henry takes the package of 
 money. James puts the other things on table and 
 then exits.) 
 
 Henry {handing Edythe the money). Here's the 
 
 money. Mother. 
 Edythe {amazed). The money! 
 Henry. Shall we buy the Massachusetts ruins ? 
 Edythe. No, siree ! Make it a bungalow for Marion 
 
 and Dan. {Looks at package.) But how — why 
 
 — what 
 
 Henry. I hope you'll forgive me. Mother. You see, 
 
 it was like this 
 
 {His speech is cut off by the) 
 
 curtain 
 
 72 
 
Successful Plays for All Girls 
 
 In Selecting Your Next Play Do Not Overlook This List 
 
 YOUNG DOCTOR DEVINE. A Farce in Two Acts, 
 by Mrs. E. J. H. Goodfeli.ow. One of the most popular 
 plays for girls. For nine female characters. Time in 
 playing, thirty minutes. Scenery, ordinary interior. Mod- 
 ern costumes. Girls in a boarding-school, learning that a 
 young doctor is coming to vaccinate all the pupils, eagerly^ con- 
 sult each other as to the manner of fascinating the physician. 
 When the doctor appears upon the scene the pupils discover that 
 the physician is a female practitioner. ' 
 
 SISTER MASONS. A Burlesque in One Act, by Frank 
 DuMONT. For eleven females. Time, thirty minutes. Costumes, 
 fantastic gowns, or dominoes. Scene, interior. A grand expose 
 of Masonry. Some women profess to learn the secrets of a 
 Masonic lodge by hearing their husbands talk in their sleep, 
 and they institute a similar organization. 
 
 A COMMANDING POSITION. A Farcical Enter- 
 tainment, by Amelia Sanford. For seven female char- 
 acters and ten or more other ladies and children. Time, one 
 hour. Costumes, modern. Scenes, easy interiors and one street 
 scene. Marian Young gets tired living with her aunt, Miss 
 Skinflint. She decides to "attain a commanding position;' 
 Marian tries hospital nursing, college settlement work and 
 school teaching, but decides to go back to housework. 
 
 HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy 
 in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For ten female characters. 
 Time, half an hour. Scene, an easy interior. Costumes, modern. 
 Mabel Sweetly has just become engaged to Harold, but it's "the 
 deepest kind of a secret." Before announcing it they must win 
 the approval of Harold's uncle, now in Europe, or lose a possible 
 ten thousand a year. At a tea Mabel meets her dearest frieiid.- 
 Maude sees Mabel has a secret, she coaxes and Mabel tells net. 
 But Maude lets out the secret in a few minutes to another 
 friend and so the secret travels. 
 
 THE OXFORD AFFAIR. A Comedy in Three Acts,: 
 by Josephine H. Cobb and Jennie E, Paine. For eight female 
 characters. Plays one hour and three-quarters. Scenes, inter-> 
 iors at a seaside hotel. Costumes, modern. The action of the 
 play is located at a summer resort. Alice Graham, in order to 
 chaperon herself, poses as a widow, and Miss Oxford first claims 
 her as a sister-in-law, then denounces her. The onerous duties 
 of Miss Oxford, who attempts to serve as chaperon to Miss 
 Howe and Miss Ashton in the face of many obstacles, furnisb 
 an evening of rare enjoyment. 
 
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