:163 
 Dpy 1 
 
 Pebts: a Drama in 
 
 One Act: by Margaret 
 Searle 
 
 In the Vassar Series of Plays 
 Edited by Gertrude Buck 
 
 Samuel French: Publisher 
 
 28-30 West Thirty-eighth St. : New York 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Samuel French, Ltd. 
 
 26 Southampton Street, Strand 
 PRICE THIRTY-FIVE CENTS 
 
Bad Debts: a Drama in 
 One Act: by Margaret fx^A^:^ 
 Searle 
 
 In the Vassar Series of Plays 
 Edited by Gertrude Buck 
 
 Samuel French: Publisher 
 
 28-30 West Thirty-eighth St. : New York 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Samuel French, Ltd. 
 
 26 Southampton Street, Strand 
 

 ^ ,<A«^ 
 
 Gjpyright, 1921, BY Samuel French 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 "BAD DEBTS" is fully protected by copyright, and all 
 rights are reserved. 
 
 Permission to act, to read publicly, or to make use of 
 this play must be obtained from Samuel French, 28-30 
 West 3Sth Street, New York. 
 
 It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a roy- 
 alty of five dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel 
 French one week before the date when the play is given. 
 
 Professional rates quoted on application. 
 
 Whenever this play is produced the following^ notice 
 must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for 
 the play: "Produced by special arrangement v/ith Samuel 
 French of New York." 
 
 ©CI.D 59537 
 
 DEC 3171 
 
 A^tj \ 
 
THE VASSAR SERIES OF PLAYS 
 
 Every play in this series has been written by a 
 member of the Play-Writing Class at Vassar Col- 
 lege. But each play as printed is the product of a 
 group-activity. Not merely an individual seated at 
 a desk, but a community working together in a 
 theater, is responsible for it in its final form. 
 
 Some of these plays have been "tried out" by the 
 Vassar Dramatic Workshop and some by the Com- 
 munity Theatre of Poughkeepsie, New York. By 
 the cooperative efforts of all who were associated in 
 these enterprises — actors, committee workers and 
 financial supporters — these plays have been given a 
 sympathetic and intelligent production before audi- 
 ences also intelligent and sympathetic, whose reac- 
 tion has afforded the writers much valuable criti- 
 cism. In the preliminary readings and rehearsals, 
 also, occasional weak points which had escaped the 
 ordeal of class criticism came to light and were 
 strengthened by the author's revision. In fact, the 
 plays as they appear in this series are literally a col- 
 laboration of the writers with innumerable friendly 
 critics in the play-writing class, the cast and the au- 
 dience. And it would be ungracious to put the fruits 
 of this co^lrboration at the service of the public with- 
 out gratefi-1 acknowledgmf^nt to all those who have 
 in anv way helped to establish and carry on the Vas- 
 spf Dramatic "Workshop or the Community Theatre 
 of Poughkeepsie. 
 
 In recent years there has been an increasing de- 
 
 3 
 
4 THE VASSAR SERIES OF PLAYS 
 
 mand for well- written, dramatically effective one-act 
 plays, suitable for production by semi-professional 
 companies or by amateur organizations of serious 
 purpose and some degree of training. To aid in 
 supplying tliis demand is the purpose of the Vassar 
 Series of Plays. Other plays v/ritten by members 
 of the Play- Writing Class at Vassar College may be 
 secured in typewritten form by application to The 
 Workshop Bureau of Plays, Vassar College. 
 
 All the plays in this series are protected by copy- 
 right. A royalty of five dollars for each production 
 must be paid to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th 
 Street, New York City, at least one week before the 
 date of the performance. 
 
PRODUCING THE PLAY 
 
 "Bad Debts" is primarily a psychological play, re- 
 inforced by strong dramatic action at the close. 
 Chester's entrance is breezy and buoyant, — that of 
 the bluffer to whom his role has become second na- 
 ture. But his reply to Janet's question about the 
 money he so airily refers to as "tied up" — "And 
 what do you know about such things, my girl?" — 
 with its stress on his masculine superiority, indicates 
 uneasiness ; and this is the first direct presentation 
 of the tension which grows from, this point to the 
 end. Chester's manner throug'li this passage must 
 suggest that his disturbance is due to some deeper 
 source than his daughter's judgment of him; and 
 this suggestion must flash into startling certainty 
 with his reaction to the word "failure" : "Hold that 
 back ! For God's sake, stop quick !" This outbreak 
 is the first of three passages of prime importance in 
 his carrying and heightening of the tensio^i ; — pass- 
 ages which must, by the force and conviction of the 
 acting, point clearly forward to some explanation of 
 the mystery whose presence they make manifest. 
 
 With Bannister's appearance the mention of Blair 
 Kenfield is not to be averted, and Chester ardently 
 opposes the idea of Blair's success ; but when the 
 article proving Blair's genius is found, Chester's last 
 chance of avoiding the truth vanishes, and he col- 
 lapses under the knowledge forced upon him. His 
 utter abandonment is not purely horror and remorse, 
 however; it is partly a relief in throwing off the 
 strain of pretence, with perhaps a touch, also, of the 
 
 5 
 
€ BAD DEBTS 
 
 egotist's luxuriating in self-abasement. This is the 
 second passage by which the tension is strongly car- 
 ried forward. The audience must feel that some- 
 thing unexplained lies behind, even before this feel- 
 ing is voiced by Bannister's bewildered question — 
 "What has Blair Kenfield got to do v/ith it ?" 
 
 Norton's entrance, postponing the answer to this 
 question, carries the tension over momentarily to his 
 own appalling situation ; but it swings back to Ches- 
 ter as he conceives the hope of escape from his mis- 
 ery, and rises sharply to the point where he plays 
 his last card by revealing the manner of Blair's death. 
 This is the third high passage in Chester's part, and 
 perhaps the m.ost difficult to present, for in telling his 
 story he almost forgets his urgent motive, and sinks 
 back into the memory now so much more terrible 
 than before. But the thought of his deadly weari- 
 ness brings him suddenly again to the figiit for es- 
 cape, and this dramatic struggle carries the play to 
 its highest point, where the tension is snapped by 
 Norton's sudden insight and decision. Nothing is 
 left for Chester but to return to his old "game," and 
 he does so automatically with his wife's entrance, 
 betraying not at all to her, and only slightly to the 
 audience, the exhaustion and despair under the bluf- 
 fing which must now go on until his death. 
 
 In relation to the tension, Janet is the character 
 next in importance to Chester, for it is she who must 
 first suggest and emphasize it. Seeking a cause for 
 her lover's postponement of their marriage, she 
 pitches at once upon her father's preposterous arro- 
 gance, and then carries the inquiry on still further 
 into the cause for this trait itself : — "Mother, have 
 you ever thought that this peculiarity must have 
 something tragic at the bottom of it ?" Her search- 
 ing tone and pondering look must mark this idea as 
 a forecast of the action of the play. A little later, 
 
BAD DEBTS j 
 
 as she describes the eilect upon her father of watch- 
 ing Macbeth's fea^r of failure: — "But if you could 
 have seen Father's face! There was something 
 
 about it " and "talking fast Hke a man walks 
 
 when he's afraid to look behind him" — she must so 
 imaginatively and vividly present the strangeness of 
 his behavior as to lead the audience not only directly 
 to his entrance and her own probing of him, but to 
 the whole development that is to follow. These 
 speeches must strike the actual note of tragedy. 
 
 Two significant character contrasts should also be 
 brought out. The first, \v^ the scene between Mrs. 
 Chester and Janet, is made by the two v/omen, — the 
 mother patiently, pathetically, enthusiastically blind 
 and credulous in regard ^o her husband's wildest 
 misrepresentations^ feeding on illusion ; the daughter 
 driven by the need of truth before everything, v/itli 
 steady vision seeing her father for precisely what he 
 is, challenging both him and her lover. The second 
 contrast is brought into the last scene by Norton's 
 entrance. His manly, straightforward bearing, his 
 clear-eyed courage in facing the facts throv/ into 
 strong;er relief Chester's moral impotence. In say- 
 ing, "When you do a fool thing, you've got to take 
 your medicine," he sums up unconsciously but un- 
 sparingly the older man's character, and states the 
 whole point of the play. 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 Joseph Chester 
 Emma Chester^ his zvife 
 Janet Chester, his daughter 
 Jack NorvTON, a roomer at the Chesters' 
 Robert Bannistef.^ an eld friend of Joseph 
 Chester 
 
 First produced by the Community Theatre, Pottgh- 
 keepsie, N. Y., June 3, 4, 10 and 11, 1921. 
 
 9 
 
Scene. — The living room of an American home. By 
 way of description, the correct adjective is 
 "shabby-genteel/' The furniture is somezvhat 
 sparse — four or five chairs, a reading table and 
 an upright piano. There are no lamps; the light 
 glares from the globes of an ornate chandelier 
 in the middle of the ceiling. 
 
 Time — The Present. In the Evening. 
 
 Mrs. Chester and Janet occupy neighboring 
 rockers. The former is a middle-aged woman 
 zvith nondescript face and nondescript dress. 
 She is sewing on a pair of trousers and a stack 
 of additional ones lies beside her on the table ; 
 they are new trousers, from all appearances, 
 folded uniformly, as though they had just come 
 from a factory. Janet also is saving on one of 
 them. She is a young zvoman of about twenty- 
 two years, zvith a bright, good-looking face. 
 You mJght class her as an efficient stenographer 
 or bookkeeper of a successful fi.rm. 
 
 Mrs. Chester finishes the pair of trousers on 
 which she has been working, and lays it on the 
 table. 
 
 ^ Mrs. Chester. Another pair done. Guess I won't 
 sit np for the men much longer. 
 
 Janet. Oh, you'd better. You want to hear 
 about the Lodge supper, don't you ? 
 
 II 
 
12 BAD DEBTS 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (After a moment, archly) I 
 s'pose it's not entirely for your father you're sitting 
 up, Janet. My, it's nice we've taken in a roomer 
 daughter can enjoy. 
 
 Janet. (With an air of candor) Yes, I admit it's 
 Jack I want to see. (A door is heard closing in the 
 hall zvithout.) 
 
 Mrs. Chester. I guess this is them now. 
 
 (Enter Jack Norton Left. He is a tall, rather 
 lanky young man; and as is not surprising in 
 the case of a tall, rather lanky young man, the 
 fit of his suit is not all that can be desired. But 
 his countenance is interesting, almost an attrac- 
 tive one; it suggests, on the whole, a clever 
 brain, and the mouth is humorous and a little 
 whiinsical.) 
 
 Jack. (Hat in hand, standing in the doorway be- 
 tween the living room and hall) "Home, Sweet 
 Home !" 
 
 Janet. Hello, Jack. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Oh, is it you, Mr. Norton? 
 Didn't you bring Joe back with you ? 
 
 Jack. No, he said he had to transact some busi- 
 ness with several of the Lodge, so I came on ahead. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (In an embarrassed, comically in- 
 sincere voice, after looking at the other two covertly) 
 Guess ril go out in the kitchen a minute. I — I left 
 something out there. (Exit Right.) 
 
 (Jack looks at her, grinning,) 
 
 Jack. Think your mother realizes she v/as leav- 
 ing us alone together? 
 
 Janet. (Laughing) That was kind of obvious, 
 wasn't it ? 
 
BAD DEBTS 13 
 
 (Jack, a shadow falling over his face again, ad- 
 vances into the room and stands beside Janet's 
 chair, looking down at her.) 
 
 Janet. So poor Jack had to walk home all by his 
 lonesome. 
 
 Jack. Beautiful stars to-night. Wish you'd been 
 along, Janet. 
 
 Janet. Wish I had, Jack. 
 
 (They gaze at each other dreamily for a moment.) 
 
 Jack. Janny ! (Reaches over and takes her 
 hand.) It's hard to wait, isn't it? Let's just as soon 
 
 as we can possibly make it — oh, I forgot (His 
 
 ..face has altered sharply.) 
 
 Janet. Forgot? Forgot what? Jack, what has 
 been the matter lately? 
 
 Jack. (With exaggerated innocence) Matter? 
 Why, nothing. 
 
 Janet. Then why, just a minute ago 
 
 Jack. (Violently, off his guard) Oh, if you knew 
 how it hurts — talking about our love to-night! 
 
 Janet. (In a frightened voice) Why, Jack ! 
 
 Jack. There's something I can't — oh, shoot, for- 
 get what I've been saying, Janny. 
 
 Janet. (In a strained voice) Something you 
 can't tell me, you were going to say. 
 
 Jack. (Laying a firm hand on her shoulder) 
 Look here, Janet, you know enough about my feel- 
 ings to know it isn't that I'm cooling off. 
 
 Janet. Well 
 
 Jack. Say you do. 
 
 Janet. (After looking at him for a minute) Yes, 
 Jack, I do . . . But Jack, tell me. What is it? 
 
 Jack. It's nothing — or — er — it's just that I've 
 been thinking about things a lot the last couple of 
 days, and — er — I just don't feel quite right about 
 
14 BAD DEBTS , 
 
 marrying on so little ; sort of feel obligated to succeed 
 before I ask a girl like you 
 
 Janet. Jack, Fm not being taken in at all. You'd 
 better tell me the real trouble. 
 
 Jack. I tell you, Janny, that's all there is, this 
 financial reason 
 
 Janet. But why just the last couple of days 
 
 Jack. (Embracing her suddenly) Oh, Janny 
 how I want you! What a girl you are, anyway* 
 Janny ! 
 
 Janet. Jack! (Pushing him away after a mo- 
 ment of yielding.) Jack! You act so intense anc 
 funny. 
 
 Jack. Funny ? 
 
 Janet. Oh, tell me, Jack — what is it? 
 
 Jack. Well, there is something, Janet. I can* 
 tell you what it is now, but take my word for it, I— 
 ril tell you soon — soon as possible. ■ 
 
 Janet. That's a promise? 
 
 Jack. Yes. (Kisses Janet rather stormily, the', 
 wrenches himself away and starts toward the door. 
 Guess I'll be going up now. (Returns and kisses he 
 again, tenderly, with a lingering embrace.) Goo- 
 night, Janet — my darling. (Exit Jack Left.) 
 
 (Enter Mrs. Chester Right, soon after, first peep 
 ing in cautiously to see if Jack is really gone.) 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (Innocently) Oh, has Mr. Noi 
 ton gone up ? «^< 
 
 Janet. (Absently) Um 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (After sewing in silence for a 
 moment) Mr. Norton has nice ways around the 
 house, hasn't he? 
 
 Janet. Mother, tell me: have you ever heard 
 Father talking to Jack about the kind of man he 
 hoped his daughter'd marry? 
 
BAD DEBTS 15 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Marry, Janet? Why, have you 
 and Mr. Norton gone that far ? 
 
 Janet. Yes, we're going to be married — I guess. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (Running over to kiss Janet, 
 who receives the caress absenfmindedly) My little 
 girl! You and Mr. Norton! Why, how lovely! 
 
 Janet. I'm glad you're pleased. But, Mother, 
 try and think; have you heard Father saying any- 
 thing to Jack — ^you know what I mean — how he 
 hoped when his daughter married, it would be to a 
 man in the right social position — loyal to the family 
 standards — you know the way he talks. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Why, no, I haven't heard any- 
 thing — you oughtn't to talk that way about your 
 father, Janet. 
 
 Janet. Why, I'm just saying the things he'd be 
 likely to say. You've been hearing Father's talk 
 for twenty-iive years. You ought to know his line. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. His line ? I'm sure I don't know 
 what you're talking about. 
 
 Janet. Don't you ? Well, telling Jack he had to 
 "transact business with several of the men" ; and 
 when he tells us about the supper, he'll call it the 
 "banquet." And he'll act all the time as though he 
 were just a little above the rest of the men. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Janet, you oughtn't to be talking 
 so about your father. 
 
 (Janet gets tip inipctuonsly, then sits down on the 
 arm of her chair.) 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (Indignantly) Your father's a 
 good, upright man, and you ought to be proud 
 
 Janet. Yes, he is good, in a lot of ways. (Slowly) 
 Mother, have you ever thought that tliis peculiarity 
 must have something kind of tragic at the bottom 
 of it? 
 
 Mrs. Chsstsk. "Peculiarity!" 
 
i6 BAD DEBTS 
 
 Janet. (Arising and facing her mother) You 
 know what I mean — this everlasting, life-long — 
 putting up a bluff, even before his own family. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Why, Janet Chester, about your 
 own father ! 
 
 Janet. I don't care, I'm so dead tired of it all ! 
 Ever since I can remember — why, when I was about 
 six, Father was always talking about the land upon 
 land he owned in Montana. We never saw the land, 
 did we? — or the big business deals about to be put 
 over, or the rich friends, or the — oh, Mother, why 
 does he do it? 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (Grandiosely) Janet, am I to 
 understand that you're accusing your father of — of 
 fibbing? 
 
 Janet. Just call it bluffing; bluffing and bluff- 
 ing, and pushing it so far as to snub a man like Jack 
 — I think he must have. . . . Just to keep up a front, 
 before the two people in the v»^orld v*'ho would sym- 
 pathize most. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Sympathize ? What do you mean ? 
 Your dad doesn't need sympathy, I guess. Why, 
 just this morning he was saying how down at the 
 plant they were hinting at him being let in on that 
 new project — that's an honor right there 
 
 Janet. Projects and projects, and honors and 
 honors — but v\^e never see any results. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Your father's had plenty of won- 
 derful successes he's told us about. 
 
 Janet. Told us — y^s. Mother, if he'd only act 
 square ! Just once I saw Father with his mask off. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. "Mask"! 
 
 Janet. It was that night I dragged Father out 
 when Sothern and Marlowe came here in "Mac- 
 beth" 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Only time Father went to a show 
 for years, and you've got to go and talk against his 
 actions. 
 
 Janet. There was a line where Macbeth says, 
 
BAD DEBTS i; 
 
 "And if we fail?" and gives a funny- — wincing kind 
 of look. It v/as the look of a man deathly afraid of 
 failure. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Janet! Stop! (Wincina her- 
 self.) 
 
 Janet. Hm, he's made you afraid of the word, 
 too. 
 
 Mrs, Chester. The word 
 
 Janet. I happened to look at Dad right after 
 that speech and 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Your father was just puttirg 
 himself in it, so maybe he might have been a great 
 actor. 
 
 Janet. But if you could have seen Father's face ! 
 There was something- about it 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Your father isn't a — a — what 
 you said ! 
 
 Janet. And then, going home after, he v/as cock- 
 sure again like he always is, talking fast like a man 
 walks when he's afraid to look behind him.. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. I i€{\ you he's not a — a failure! 
 
 (Steps are heard on the porch, the outer door is heard 
 to open and close.) 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (Alarmed, in a loud whisper) Oh ! 
 do you think he heard ? 
 
 (Janet too looks a little concerned as Joseph Ches- 
 ter enters Left.) 
 
 Chester. (In the doorzvay, perfectly cheerful) 
 Hello, folks. (The zvomen shozv relief.) 
 
 (Chester is a perfectly ordinary looking man in 
 most zvays, except for a pecul'ar alertness of 
 counienance, an expression suggesting a mental 
 state of chronic self-defense. "Plis general bear- 
 ing, though his clothing is not far removed from 
 
i8 BAD DEBTS 
 
 shahhiness, denotes refinement and a higher or- 
 der of intelligence than that possessed by his 
 tvife. His air is one of unusual assurance.) 
 
 Chester. A thousand different things came up ; 
 that's v/hy I've been so long getting- home. I always 
 seem to get in deeper than anybody else around there. 
 Of course, it's always that way with anybody used 
 to organizing. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. YouVe just a born leader, Joe, 
 you know you are. 
 
 Chester. Oh — — (Laughs deprecatorily hut 
 complacently.) 
 
 Mrs. Chester. From all I hear, every man in 
 the Lodge looks up to you, 
 
 Chester. Oh, it's only a small bunch. Still, it 
 does represent quite an elem.ent; it's v/orth my time, 
 all right. (His eye falls on the tarnished brass vase 
 fidl of garden flowers on the table) I guess that 
 vase has seen its day. I'm expecting any minute to 
 be sent by the plant on a commission to New York, 
 and I think when I'm there I'll take time to look 
 around a little at bric-a-brac. Nothing more fas- 
 cinatino-. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. That'll be fine, Joe. . . . Well, 
 v/as the supper nice? 
 
 Chester. The banquet? Yes, yes, very good. 
 Of course, not as large an afiair as the Manufac- 
 turers' Club's and som.e of the others I used to take 
 in when I had more tim.e. But I really don't care 
 for such thing's an}'" more. 
 
 Janet. But, Father, it w^ould be a way to meet 
 those old friends you talk about. 
 
 Chester. Hm, v/hat's that? . . , There's time 
 enough after a man's shelved for him to look after 
 his friends, my girl. Lord, how busy I am. now! 
 Take to-morrow, for instance : I'm booked for three 
 
BAD DEBTS t9 
 
 engagements at noon, when I ought to be eating my 
 kinch. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Oh, is there some big deal on, 
 Joe? Can*t we have some new paint on the house 
 with the money? 
 
 Chester. Certainly, certainly. If prices come 
 down, that is; and I tell you, the only way to get 
 them down is to lay off buying. We owe it to the 
 poorer chaps — -even if we can aiford things ourselves. 
 That's why I've left my money tied up. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Ever^^ tim.e I hear you say that, I 
 think how fine it is. 
 
 Janet, j ust where is the mioney tied up, Father ? 
 
 Chester. Oh, it's a long list. And what do you 
 know about such things, my girl? 
 
 Janet. I've been a bookkeeper in a business house 
 for four years now. 
 
 Chester. Gracious, it doesn't seem that long since 
 you left high school. (Takes to courding the trous- 
 ers in the stack.) Kov/ man}^ does the factory want 
 this week, Mother? 
 
 Mrs. Chester. As many as I can do, as usual. 
 
 Chester. Makes a pleasant little occupation for 
 your hands, doesn't it? And it's in line with my 
 theory that even people of ample means should share 
 the burden of the world's labor. Vva proud to have 
 this stack of work on my tahje. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. And maybe we can get a phono- 
 graph off them in a couple of months more. 
 
 (Pause.) 
 
 Janet. Father? 
 
 Chester. "Yes, my darling daughter." 
 
 Janet. Have you, by any chance, some impressive 
 ideas on the kind of man I ought to marry? 
 
 Chester. Why, yes, of course. In fact, I must 
 tell you X have high ambitions for you ; it seems to 
 
20 BAD DEBTS 
 
 me a daughter of mine ought to make a success of 
 her life. 
 
 Janet. Ever say anything of the sort to Jack Nor- 
 ton? 
 
 Mrs. Chester. They're engaged to be married, 
 Joe, think of that — Janet and Mr. Norton. 
 
 Chester. Not precisely engaged, I think, until 
 my consent has been obtained. 
 
 Janet. Won't you answer ni}^ question, Father? 
 
 Chester. Your question? Oh, yes, I remember. 
 No, I've never talked to Jack on the subject. Never 
 imagined it came so close home. 
 
 Janet. Well, what's v/orrying Jack, theft? 
 
 Chester. Worrying, is he? Poor devil. (Re- 
 gaining himself) Oh — er — when's the great event 
 to take place? 
 
 Janet. (Somewhat impetuously) Oh, I don't 
 know! There's some sort of obstacle now — -Jack 
 won't tell me what. He says it's just that he feels 
 "obligated to succeed" before he marries me. 
 
 Chester. (Absently) ''Obligated to succeed." 
 That's quite a combination of words 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Oh, Mr. Norton'll be a success, 
 all right. I het he'll put through some big invention 
 one of these days. You think it's fine, don't you, 
 Joe? — about him and Janet? 
 
 Chester. (Musingly) It would be a strange 
 trick of fate, wouldn't it, if a daughter of mJnc should 
 marry a poor mechanic — no particular family con- 
 nections — — 
 
 _ Janet. (Angrily) I don't think we are in a po- 
 sition to be fastidious about such things. 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (Hurriedly) She's just talking, 
 Joe. 
 
 Janet. No, — (Chester glances at her sharply 
 and looks azvay) — I should think anybody in this 
 family would be tired of doing that! 
 
BAD DEBTS :2l 
 
 Chestsr. I'm afraid I don't follow you. Mother, 
 — er— have you seen 
 
 Janet. Yes, you do, Father, you follow me per- 
 fectly v/ell. Oh, I've just got to talk about it. 
 
 Chester. Talk about — what? 
 
 Janet. This life-long, silly old game 
 
 Cue ster . Ga m e ? 
 
 Janet. This game of deception ! I've been 
 brought up on misrepresentation. 
 
 Chester. You mean I'm a liar? (Chester's 
 hand grasps the edge of the table until his knuckles 
 are ivJiiie, hut his face is still nonchalant.) 
 
 Janet. No, just a — a — bluiter. 
 
 Chester. (In a strained voice) A bluffer ? 
 
 Janet. Oh, Father, I hate like everything to say 
 it, but I'm so dead tired of it all ! 
 
 Chester. (Strangely) Fo« are "tired of it all"? 
 
 Janet. Don't you think we'd understand, Mother 
 and I? Why can't you be game like other men 
 who're not quite as successful as they might have 
 been? Tliere's nothing criminal about failure 
 
 Chester. (Face suddenly distorted, almost 
 shrieking) Hold that back! For God's sake, stop 
 quick ! 
 
 (The three look at each other aghast. Then the ring 
 of the doorbell snaps the tension. It is Janet 
 who goes out into the hall to open the door.) 
 
 Mrs. Chester. Oh, do you 'spose it's a caller? 
 So late as this? (Chester shakes himself together, 
 visibly resuming his cocksure air. Re-enter Janet, j 
 
 Janet. It's a gentleman v/ants to see you, Father 
 — Mr. Robert Banr:ister. 
 
 (Chester starts violently.) 
 
22 BAD DEBTS 
 
 Chester. Oh ! well, bring him in. (Exit Janet. j 
 
 (Chester looks about the room with an air of com- 
 sternation, then at his zvife.) 
 
 Mrs. Chester. (Noticing his concern) Guess 
 Fd better go out in the dining room. I'm just in my 
 house-dress. (Exit Right.) 
 
 Chester. Well — if you want to. 
 
 (Chester picks up the stack of trousers and thrusts 
 them onto the lozver shelf of the table, which is 
 shadowed. Re-enter Janet with Robert Ban- 
 nister; judged from appearances, the typical 
 wealthy and zvell-fed clubman. His clothes con- 
 trast sharply with Chester's. He zvalks for- 
 ward quickly and grasps the tatter's hand with 
 a hearty "Joe, old boyT ) 
 
 Chester. Why, Bob, of all people ! Oh — let me 
 present my daughter, Janet. This is Mr. Robert 
 Bannister, an ol-'^' college chum of mine, from Pitts- 
 burgh. 
 
 Janet. How do you do, Mr. Bannister? 
 
 Bannister. Joe Chester's daughter! This is a 
 pleasure. You don't look much like him — well, 
 maybe just a little bit 
 
 Janet. People say there*s a resemblance. 
 
 Bannister. Well, it's a pretty good old thing to 
 resemble. (Clapping Chester on the shoulder.) 
 
 Janet. You haven't seen each other for a long 
 time? 
 
 Bannister. Not for years — ^hm, whose fault is 
 it, Joe? 
 
 Chester. I admit the charge! 
 
 Janet. Reminiscences are in order, I s*pose. And 
 since I can't very well join in — g^ood evening, Mr. 
 
BAD DEBTS 23 
 
 Bannister. It's been so nice to meet one of Father's 
 old friends. (Exit Right.) 
 
 Bannister. That's a nice-looking girl of yours, 
 Chester. 
 
 Chester. Yes, isn't she? Got one yourself, have 
 you, Bob? 
 
 Bannister. No, no children. But tell me about 
 yourself. Lord, Joe, how many times I've wanted 
 to look you up ! But you've seemed so damned in- 
 different about keeping up the connection. 
 
 Chester. Why . . . 
 
 Bannister. And after all our Damon and Pythias 
 line in college — ^you and Blair and I. What kas been 
 the matter? You just let yourself drop out of sight 
 after about five years. 
 
 Chester. Just because I've been too busy to live, 
 Bob. It's been the crowded hour. You know, if I 
 were given eight lives to live, I'd put in an order for 
 seven of them as — vv^ell, say a small town druggist. 
 Ore would have so much more time for one's friends. 
 (Akvays speaking rapidly.) 
 
 Bannister. Do you still come to Pittsburgh of- 
 ten ? I used to run across you every now and then : 
 but you never made any effort to com.e and see me. 
 
 Chester. Always there on important business, 
 Bob, and always in a mad rush. 
 
 Bannister. That's been all, really? Well, this 
 time I couldn't resist looking you up. What do you 
 think ? I've run across an article in an English scien- 
 tific magazine about Blair Kenfield! 
 
 Chester. Blair Kenfield! 
 
 Bannister. Where is that clipping, anyway? 
 (Fumbling in his pocket.) Thought I put it in here. 
 Well, accordi*"g to this article, Blair d^*d a really big 
 thing — even in his short Hf-^t-'me — think of it! He 
 must have been working on it his last summer, when 
 you and he were exper-'m-'^nting in Europe — five 
 years after college, wasn't it? . . . Where is that 
 
24 BAD DEBTS 
 
 thing, anyway ? ... It was something in the inven- 
 tion line. Oh, shoot! (Gives up search.) 
 
 Chester. (Hurriedly and a little nervously) Oh, 
 never mind, Bob, I'll look it up myself. Don't — 
 don't tell me about it. I could probably understand 
 it better if I read it. . . . Something Blair achieved 
 — er — well. Fm glad of it if it brought you here, 
 Bob. Er — did you find the house all right? This 
 isn't our regular house, you knov/. 
 
 Bannister. (Glancing around) Oh, isn't it? 
 
 Chester. Heavens, no, I should hope not. We're 
 just tarrying here since — we got back from abroad 
 last — while — while our new place is being built. The 
 doctor suggested this jumping off place — because he 
 thought a suburb was best on account of my wife's 
 health. This — this was the only house we could get. 
 Oh, yes, also the agent made a drastic mistake 
 
 Bannister. (Laughing) Just one thing added 
 to another, wasn't it? 
 
 Chester. Well, we are going to get another as 
 soon as possible. Can't stand this hole long. 
 
 Bannister. But it's comfortable enough for a 
 while — and you're settled as though you've been here 
 since the year i. 
 
 Chester. Oh, yes ; gets on my nerves, though. 
 The way we were raised has made us require the 
 best all along the line, hasn't it? . . . This — this fur- 
 niture isn't ours ; that we stored for the time being. 
 We — we got this house already furnished. Atrocious 
 stuff, isn't it? 
 
 Bannister. Well, of course, it doesn't leave any 
 room for one's personal tastes. But I suppose you 
 can add some of the smaller articles. 
 
 Chester. ^ Why — er — yes. But we haven't both- 
 ered much, it's all so temporary. (His eye lighting 
 on the vase on the table) That's a little antique I 
 picked up — Vienna, I think it was. 
 
 Bannister. Still have a failing for antiques, Joe? 
 
BAD DEBTS 25 
 
 Chester. Yes ; as you see, there are — quite a few 
 in this room. But Bob, let's talk about you. How 
 did Hfe treat you, anyway? 
 
 Bannister. Oh, nothing exciting to tell. I got 
 treated whiter than most, but I guess it was just 
 luck. 
 
 Chester. Still connected with the bar? 
 
 Bannister. I'm mostly a corporation lawyer now. 
 I lieard that was where the big m.oney came in, and 
 went to it. Or rather, my wife heard. Your wife, 
 Joe — do you know, I've never met her. Fancy that, 
 never met Joe Chester's wife ! After all our college- 
 boy discussions on women and the kind we were 
 going to marry. We alvv^ays said you'd do some- 
 thing spectacular, Chester. You v/ere such a darned 
 promising young thing. 
 
 Chester. (Laughing in a forced zvay) Why — 
 I'm sorry you can't meet my wife, but she's — in New 
 York right now, shopping — been gone about a week. 
 
 Bannister. Shopping — that's mine ail over; de- 
 votes her life to it. 
 
 Chester. I suppose most wom.en do, in our class. 
 
 (Pause.) 
 
 Bannister. What's your line of work nov/, Joe? 
 
 Chester. (Glibly) Engineering expert, chiefly 
 consultation work in national projects. 
 
 Bannister. What became of the inventing pas- 
 sion? 
 
 Chester. I — I didn't go on with that. 
 
 Bannister. I always thought you would. 
 
 Chester. No, not enough money in it. I sup- 
 pose I'm. mercenary, but it's the Vv^ay you and I were 
 brought up, Bob. . . . Now I happen to know one 
 young investor who sf^ems to be able to i^o at it in 
 an unworldlv sp^'rit. Krn. he's in an awful fix now, 
 poor kid. (Suddenly eyes Bannister calculatingly) 
 
36 BAD DEBTS 
 
 He couldn't afford himself to pay for a lawyer of 
 your rank — and he's so sensitive I couldn't very well 
 help him — I've given him a good deal of financial 
 aid already. Now, perhaps, if you could knock down 
 your rates some — Bob, I wisli you could. 
 
 Bannister. Why, sure, I will. 
 
 Chester. Will you really? It's a youngster I've 
 been helping along; I hold that it's up to us fellows 
 to help others to the top now, don't you? Well, this 
 boy's been doing some inventing, really deucedly 
 clever stuff— lot of promise. 
 
 Bannister. I see, I'm to be a patent lawyer. 
 
 Chester. No, it's worse than that. What he may 
 need any day now is a criminal lawyer. 
 
 Bannister. Criminal? Lord, that's bad! I'll 
 certainly do my best for him. What's his name, by 
 the way? 
 
 Chester. His name is Norton — ^Jack Norton. 
 
 Bannister. His address? 
 
 Chester. Er — I don't know exactly. I'll see him 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Bannister. Now, tell me — what's the case? 
 
 Chester. Dov/n at the plant — the plant where he 
 works, there's a rather greedy, unscrupulous admin- 
 istration. There was some mix-up about one of his 
 patents-to-be, and when it got lost in the shuffle, he 
 -suspected the Company's safes. Poor chap, he was 
 about desperate — he'd just about thought the inven- 
 tion through. 
 
 Bannister. So he v/ent in the dead of night to 
 sv/ipe them back. 
 
 Chester. Exactly, last night it was. But he got 
 the wrong papers, after all. 
 
 Bannister. What tough luck! 
 
 Chester. And what's more, he shot the guard in 
 the attempt. 
 
 Bannister. You don't mean it ! 
 
 Chester. He'd gone armed in self-defense, and 
 
BAD DEBTS 27 
 
 when he ran up against the guard, he lost his head — 
 Lord, Norton's the coolest fellow alive, too — and 
 (snaps his fingers) — he shot. 
 
 Bannister. Does the guard know who it was? 
 
 Chester. The guard knows a lot less than that 
 now. He v/as shot dead. 
 
 Bannister. Any clues? 
 
 Chester. I wouldn't be surprised. Norton thinks 
 there are. 
 
 Bannister. How do you happen to know about 
 it? 
 
 Chester. He hinted to me once about going after 
 the papers, and when I heard about this, I asked him 
 if it was he, and he owned up. 
 
 Bannister. Has he skipped town? 
 
 Chester. No, that would make suspicion all the 
 stronger. He's just biding his time. 
 
 Bannister. Jove, but he must be jumpy! 
 
 Chester. Not Norton. He's the cool kind. Of 
 course, you can see he has something on his mind. 
 
 Bannister. Well, if he's caught and needs a 
 lawyer, be sure and call on me. 
 
 Chester. You're a regular fellow. Bob. You un- 
 derstand about it, don't you ? Norton's being sensi- 
 tive about accepting so much from me? 
 
 Bannister. Sure thing. Any — er — any time you 
 want any kind of favor — oh, shoot, I'm awkward 
 about these things — what I mean is, if I can ever 
 give you a lift in any vv^ay — you know I've far more 
 than my share and all that sort of thing 
 
 Chester. (Qtiickly) Why, I'm sure it's kind of 
 you, but why offer anything to me? 
 
 Bannister. Oh, well, I thought — I didn't know 
 anything about your affairs or anything 
 
 Chester. (Carefully) Oh, I guess I've been 
 what they call a success. 
 
 Bannister. Of course, of course. . . . Success. 
 . . . Remember, Joe, the night before we left college, 
 
2S BAD DEBTS 
 
 how v/e vowed, you and Blair and I, that we'd give 
 the world three successful men? 
 
 Chester. (In a low voice) Yes, I do. 
 
 Bannister. Poor Blair, who thought he'd go so 
 soon? I guess if he'd survived he would have lived 
 up to his end of the vow. 
 
 Chester. (Suddenly) Oh, I'm not so sure about 
 that. 
 
 Bannister. What? 
 
 Chester. Blair and I were in the same line of 
 work, you know. I had a pretty good opportunity 
 to probe him. I used to wonder about him a lot — 
 especially that last summ.er, when we were experi- 
 menting together in Europe. As an inventor he had 
 one asset, m^ental nimbleness. But he lacked con- 
 centration and synthetic power — which is fatal. 
 
 Bannister. Why, I always thought he was a sec- 
 ond Edison in the bud. You know, with apologies 
 to present company, I sort of thought Blair v/as the 
 very one of the three of us who should have lived. 
 
 Chester. (A little violently) No, Bannister, I 
 tell you you're wrong. Blair Keniield would have 
 been a failure. 
 
 Bannister. Why, Chester. Now, maybe if you 
 
 could have seen that article (Fimihling in his 
 
 pockets again.) Oh, here 'tis ! Why the deuce did 
 I put it in there? 
 
 Chester. (Waving it aside) Oh, never mind. 
 Bannister. 
 
 Bannister. (Reads aloud, Chester glances at 
 him from time to time, zvith a growing dread in his 
 face.) ''It has been recently discovered that the sub- 
 marine model used in the war was for the most part 
 the invention of a man who died almost a quarter of 
 a century ago, before receiving any laurels for his 
 achievement. His plans marked the transition from 
 the original rude models, the Goiihet I and others. 
 After his death, they were used in the construction 
 
BAD DEBTS 29 
 
 of The Intelligent Fish, the first real submarine. It 
 has been only recently that the right name has been 
 attached to the plan, the name of Blair Kenfield, an 
 American." (Bannister continues to look at the 
 article; he does not notice Chester, whose face, as 
 he has read, has become more and more agitated. 
 Chester has arisen slo-wly from his chair and walked 
 a little unsteadily across the floor. He stands behind 
 Bannister J 
 
 Bannister. Well! Don't you think now that 
 Blair would have succeeded ? 
 
 (No reply from Chester. Bannister looks around 
 
 at him.) 
 
 Chester. (In measured accents) The Intelligent 
 Fish, Blair's! 
 
 Bannister. Why, v/liat's the matter? 
 
 Chester. (With a visible effort) Yes, Bannister, 
 Blair would have succeeded. . . . Blair's invention. 
 The first submarine ! But who thought he had it in 
 him? (Leans heavily against the table.) 
 
 Bannister. (Alarmed) Say, Chester! 
 
 Chester. (Suddenly aware of him) Oh, hello, 
 Bob. I think you guessed it before, Bob. / am a 
 failure. 
 
 Bannister. Oh, now, old boy 
 
 Chester. (Abandoncdly) A failure, do you hear 
 me, failure! Lord, how long I've been afraid to say 
 the word ! Failure, failure. . . . The way I've 
 bluflfed you, Bannister. This house — it's the only 
 one I've got — only one I'll ever have! Tem.porary! 
 I've been living here twenty years. This furniture 
 — it's mine and it's all I have. (Picks up the vase 
 from the table.) An antique! Not antique, just 
 plain old ! (Suddenly leans dozvn and pulls out the 
 stack of trousers.) And do you see these, Bannis- 
 ter? They're trousers from a factory — my wife puts 
 
50 BAD DEBTS 
 
 finishing touches on them — gets a lot every week, 
 and slaves over them. Hm — my wife! In New 
 York ! She's out in the dining-room, Bannister, be- 
 cause I was ashamed to have you see her. 
 
 Bannister. Chester ! For Heaven's sake ! 
 
 Chester. No, I didn't do anything '''spectacular** 
 in the marriage line. Do you know how I chose my 
 wife, Bannister? I chose one who'd make me feel 
 superior in my ov/n home- — if it turned out that I'd 
 feel inferior everywhere else. She caters to my ego- 
 tism, she really thinks I'm a success. (Bursts into 
 abandoned laughter.) 
 
 Bannister. Man, you're like a maniac! 
 
 Chester. Maniac? I shall be one if I have to go 
 on bluffing much more. (Si7tks into a chair and lets 
 his head sink into his arms.) 
 
 Bannister. (Deeply moved) My poor old boy ! 
 
 Chester. (Whispering to himself) Blair Ken- 
 field ! 
 
 Bannister. What has Blair Keriiield got to do 
 with it? 
 
 (Jack Norton appears In the door, wearing an over- 
 coat and carrying his hat in Jus hand. Starts to 
 enter, then stops, seeing Bannister.J 
 
 Jack. Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt, 
 Chester. (Jerking to an upright position) You, 
 Norton? S'all right. Come on. I w^as just saying 
 I was a failure, Norton. You never heard that word 
 before in this house, did you? . . . Come on in, I 
 say. Oh — Mr. Bannister's just the person you want. 
 He's a lawyer. I've told him all about you. (To 
 Bannister) This is Norton. Told you I didn't 
 know his address. It's my own, do you see? He's 
 a roomer. My wife and daughter get every stitch 
 of their clothes on the money. 
 
 Jack. Why, I don't understand— but it doesn't 
 
BAD DEBTS $i 
 
 matter. I just dropped in to tell you it's all up. I 
 wish you'd break it to Janet. (Showing emotion) 
 I — I couldn't do it myself. 
 
 Chester. All up ? 
 
 Tack. Yep. I found out to-day that they're wise, 
 and they're sending a deputy to-night. There's a 
 pretext that it's just an examination, but I know what 
 to expect. (Indicating coat and hat) I'm all ready, 
 as you see. 
 
 Bannister. Good heavens, man, why don't you 
 skip? 
 
 Jack. I couldn't skip for the rest of my life. 
 They'd catch me sometime anyway ; sometime when 
 it would mean even more to Janet. 
 
 Chester. It isn't right, Norton. 
 
 Jack. Oh, I don't know. When you do a fool 
 thing, you've got to take your medicine. I'll see you 
 again, I suppose. Not Janet — I couldn't stand that. 
 (Starts to leave the room.) 
 
 Chester. (Leaping up and catching him by the 
 arm) Wait. ... I wonder ... I think . . . 
 
 Jack. Why . . . 
 
 Chester. Norton, you're just the man I want. 
 
 Jack. What? 
 
 Chester. (Elaborately and persuasively ) I hap- 
 pen to want very much to be discommoded of my 
 life. Nov/, suppose you give me the papers, and I'll 
 go to the sheriff with them. They'll think it was I 
 that tackled the safe. And no one could prove it 
 wasn't. 
 
 Jack. Man, what are you talking about? 
 
 Chester. Just give me those papers, Norton 
 (With sudden vehemence.) 
 
 Jack. Why 
 
 Chester. You've got to let me. 
 
 Jack. Why on earth? 
 
 Chester. Because I want t<ig 
 
32 BAD DEBTS 
 
 Jack. You want to? But what difference does 
 that make, anyway? I did it. 
 
 Chester. You're a younger man. You've got 
 your life before you. 
 
 Jack. (Wincing) IVe thrown it away. 
 
 Chester. But there's Janet. 
 
 Jack. (Suddenly moved) Janet . . . (Turns 
 away from both men.) 
 
 Chester. (Insistently) Let me have them ! 
 
 Jack. (Pulls himself together) Why, really, I 
 thank you a thousand times, but of course I couldn't 
 think of it. 
 
 Chester. For God's sake, wait a minute, man! 
 I've got to tell you. . . . You'll see it differently 
 then. 
 
 Jack. Tell me v/hat? Nothing you could tell me 
 could make me accept such a sacrifice. 
 
 Chester. Listen, Jack, that's all I ask. 
 
 (Arrested by his tone, Jack sits down on the edge 
 of the table.) 
 
 Chester. (Turning to BannisterJ You never 
 knew much about Blair Kenfield's death, did you, 
 Bob? 
 
 Bannister. Why, no ; just what everybody knew 
 — that he was in a submarine wreck in Europe. 
 
 Chester. Well, I do. ... I happen to know 
 more than most. . . . You know, Blair and I were 
 doing a great deal of actual navigation in submarines 
 that summer. . . . Well, one day, Blair was invited 
 to dive in a two-man cigar which a — a — certain man 
 was trying out for an English corporation. You 
 know how unreliable the boats were in those days. 
 Well, when they trimmed down somewhere in the 
 middle of the Mediterranean, the motor got a jar 
 and refused to start- up. 
 
BAD DEBTS 33 
 
 Bannister. Yes, and never did start up — we 
 knew that much. 
 
 Chester. This — this man in charge of the boat 
 had been careless about equipment and provided 
 only one diver's suit — only way to get to the surface 
 in those days. The tv/o sat down to figure it out 
 
 Jack. Figure it out? Why, of course it v/as up 
 to the fellow in charge to give up his life. 
 
 Chester. (Eying him absently) The two sat 
 down to figure it out. And this fellow said to Blair, 
 "Listen, I see nothing in this emotion-wrought sac- 
 rifice business. My god is expediency." Blair sig- 
 nified approval and told him to go on. 
 
 Bannister. That was like Blair. 
 
 Chester. Blair told him to go on. "Now, the 
 point is," said this other m.an, "it seems to me in a 
 case like this the man who should take the diverts 
 suit is the one likely to do the most for the world, 
 be the most successful." "Well, I guess you're the 
 one," Blair said right away. You know he had never 
 put a single thing across. 
 
 Bannister. But so promising. 
 
 Chester. The other was just as much so — and 
 he had had results. So they doped it out that he 
 was the one to live. 
 
 Jack. The cheat. 
 
 Chester. (Slozvly) No, he wasn't a cheat. 
 That's the extraordinary thing. You won't believe 
 it — but he was sincere ; a fool, but Lord ! how sin- 
 cere. 
 
 Bannister. And so 
 
 Chester. And so he put on the diver's suit and 
 stood promising Blair he — he'd be worthy of the 
 privilege. (Chester breaks ojf and stares off info 
 space, then shakes himself.) They opened the hatch 
 and he sailed up in his big rubber bubble to crack 
 through the roof of the ocean, and the water rushed 
 in on Blair. 
 
J4 BAD DEBTS 
 
 (Bannister has risen and shows strong emotion. 
 Norton, too, is frozvning.) 
 
 Bannister. The damned scoundrel! How did 
 he knov/ he'd be more successful ? I'll bet anything 
 he didn't come up to what Blair would have ! If he 
 could have seen that article— 
 
 Chester. (In a lozu voice) He didn't come up 
 to what Blair would have. He has seen that ar- 
 ticle ! 
 
 Jack. You know the man? 
 
 Chester. Almost, by this time. It was myself. 
 
 Bannister. You, Joe? 
 
 Jack. You did a thing like that? 
 
 Chester. (In a strange gesture, raising his arms 
 above his head, like a man exhausted, tJien dropping 
 them wearily) That's why I've been afraid to face 
 failure. (Pause, then continues in a zveary, sing- 
 song voice) That's why I've been out of breath in 
 the very dread of hearing the word. Do you know 
 why I've bluffed ? Just trying to fool myself. That's 
 why I've bluffed and bluffed and bluffed, a lifetime 
 of bluffing and blufimg — Lord, how dead I am! 
 Afraid to own I'd failed because I was bound to 
 Blair Kenfield to succeed. (Suddenly zvheels about 
 and faces Jack_, and as he does so a look of positive 
 exultation lights his face.) And now I can stop — 
 at last. 
 
 Jack. You mean — ■ — 
 
 Chester. You're going to give me a way out. 
 
 Jack. No ! 
 
 Chester. Give me those papers. (Makes a move 
 tozvard Jack.J 
 
 Jack. Hold on a minute. 
 
 Chester. Man, you've got to give me this chance. 
 
 Jack. (Holding him off) You say you'd be hap- 
 pier, Chester? 
 
 Chester. I'd be happy. (With violence) Look 
 
BAD DEBTS 35 
 
 the situation in the face, man. We're in another 
 submarine. Two men and one life between them. 
 Who'll get the life? The one who has the most use 
 for it. 
 
 Jack. (Slowly) Perhaps you're right. 
 
 Chester. Of course, I'm right. Now, who has 
 the most use for it? Let's figure it out. You on 
 one side — young, promising, loved by a splendid 
 girl ; I, on the other, older, too late to succeed — and 
 in debt, one life. Oh, what's the use of talking? 
 You want to live, I want to die. 
 
 Jack. It's really been a hell on earth? 
 
 Chester. A hell on earth. Every hour since I 
 first saw I wasn't going to get there. Oh, end it for 
 me, for God's sake, end it for me ! 
 
 Jack. But if / fail? 
 
 Chester. You won't. You'll live, and do the 
 things I failed to do — the inventions I failed to in- 
 vent 
 
 Jack. You can't be sure. 
 
 Bannister. Norton, I almost think it would be 
 the kind thing and the expedient thing 
 
 (The doorbell rings.) 
 
 Chester. There's the deputy now! Hand those 
 over! (Holds out his hand.) 
 
 (Jack slowly begins to take the papers front his 
 
 pocket.) 
 
 Jack. Well '- (Suddenly his eyes focus more 
 
 exactly on Chester, and cramming the papers back 
 into his pockets) Oh, God, I can't! Be another hell 
 on earth ! Look at you ! 
 
 Chester. (Stepping back and dropping head) 
 Yes, look at me. 
 
3^ BAD DEBTS 
 
 Jack. You can't throw it off on me! No sir' 
 (Humes out of the door. Bannister follows him j 
 iiANNiSTER. How about lawyers ? 
 
 (Jack is saying to the deputy, "Yes, this is Norton " 
 as they slam the outside door. Chester leans 
 exhaustedly against the table. Enter Mrs. 
 Chester, Right. Trudges in and places her 
 sewing-hasket again on the table.) 
 
 Chester. You heard- 
 
 Mrs Chester. Yes, I heard the door shut— I 
 knew he d gone. You made a lot of noise for two 
 men. Who was he, anyway? 
 
 Chester ^ (With his original glibness) An influ- 
 ential old friend of mine. Hasn't shown up for a 
 longtime. Big deal he has on. BMt innny-^(With 
 a complacent laugh)~he seemed to think he needed 
 me when it came to putting it through. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 

 i^'Oy 
 
■ LIBRARY OF 
 
 lilllilililllill 
 018 39 
 
 Vassar Series of 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 liiiiiiiiiiia 
 
 018 39 4 159 8 ^ 
 
 SALLIE FOR KEEPS 
 
 Play in 1 act by Frances M. Jackson. 4 males. 1 
 female. Modern costumes. 1 interior. Plays 46 min- 
 utes. 
 
 Double personalities are always interesting and often 
 dramatic, but what of a Triple personality? That is the 
 principal character in "SALLIE FOR KEEPS" a viva- 
 cious comedy, offering marvelous opportunities to a 
 bright young actress. 
 
 In the Vassar Series of plays, with notes on stag- 
 ins and acting. Price, 35 centn. 
 
 THE STORE 
 
 A play in 1 act by Elizabeth Kellam. 3 males, 3 fe- 
 males. Modern Costumes. 1 interior. Plays 50 min- 
 utes. 
 
 A cleverly drawn picture of six human beings, the 
 most ambitious of which struggle to free themselves 
 from the eternal drudgery of everyday existence. Splen- 
 did character portrayal. 
 
 In the Vassar Series of Plays with notes on staging 
 and costumes. Pricet 36 centn. 
 
 MASKS AND MEN 
 
 Play in 1 act by Sarah H'umason. 8 males (4 soldiers), 
 
 1 female. 1 interior. 18th century costumes. Plays 
 50 minutes. 
 
 A clever little play of intrigue and adventure, through 
 which the guiding hand of a woman conducts a thrill- 
 ing plot. 
 
 In the Vassar Series of Plays with notes on costumes 
 and staging. Price* 35 centn. 
 
 BAD DEBTS 
 
 Drama in 1 act by Margaret Searle. 3 males, 2 females. 
 1 interior. Modern costumes. Plays 45 minutes. 
 
 A strong little domestic drama of modern American 
 middle class life. Will appeal especially to advanced 
 amateurs, college groups and little theatres. 
 
 In the Vassar Series of Plays with notes on costumes 
 and staging. Price, 35 centa. 
 
 The Lighting of the Christmas Tree 
 
 Play in 1 act, adapted from a story of Selma Lagelot 
 by Josephine Palmer and Annie L. Thorp. 5 males, 2 
 females. Modern Swedish peasant costumes. 1 interior. 
 Plays 45 minutes. 
 
 A beautiful little legendary play, based upon the fam- 
 ou.s Swedish novelist's story, "THE CHRISTMAS GUEST." 
 A touchingly beautiful play. 
 
 Tn the Vassar series of plays, with notes on costumes 
 ' aging. Price, 35 cents.