y (Notice.— This play is here privately printed and not for circulation. All its dramatic rights are fully protected, and proceedings will be immediately taken against anyone who attempts to infringe them.) Protected Interests OR The Man Higher Up A Drama in Four Acts BY EDWARD STAATS DE GROTE TOMPKINS Author of "Through David's Realm," "An Honest Hypocrite" "The Suffragent" "Holy Lucre," Etc. Copyrighted 1911. BOSTON. Printed by the Blanchard Pt.tnttng Co. 1911 (Notice. — This play is here privately printed and not for circulation. All its dramatic rights are fully protected, and proceedings will be immediately taken against anyone who attempts to infringe them.) Protected Interests OR The Man Higher Up A Drama in Four Acts BY EDWARD STAATS DEiGROTE TOMPKINS. Author of "Through Daz'id's Realm," "An Honest Hypocrite," "The Suffra^cut," "Holy Lucre," Etc. Coprii^hted 1011. BOSTON. Prin'tf-d by the Blanciiard Printing Co. 19 11 PS 353^; . 02^ Ft ©CLD 28177 5i INTRODUCTION. The subject of this play is Probity zrrsus Politics. The endeavor is to show how little probity is worth at the present time to protect the honest American citizen from the increas- ing depreciations of politicians. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. Ambrosius Hartley, cloth merchant of New York, the Man Higher Up. Clarkson Vesey, in the custom house. Stuyvesant Hitt, a typical New Yorker. Renshaw, Hartley's right hand man. Bangs, a politician. Starky. I Custom house officers. POLLON, ToLMAN, secretary. Butler. Officer. Clarice Hartley, Hartley's daughter. Zaidee Hitt, Hitt's sister. SCENARIO. Ambrosius Hartley is a wealthy cloth merchant of New York summoned home because of complications in the custom house, a widower of blameless life devoted to art, with one daughter in love with Clarkson Vesey. Hartley has two friends, Stuyvesant Hitt and his sister Zaidee. In the first act the brother and sister announce their intention of marry- ing the Hartleys, and incidentally dispose Hartley to the same idea. Hartley sees his man Renshaw and learns something of his affairs, and at the end of the act discovers his daughter's love for Vesey. He finally gives his consent to their marriage if Vesey can extricate him from his difficulties with the custom house, in which Vesey has a position. Climax of first act. In the second act Hitt and Hartley both confess their intention to marry and Hartley finding his friend wants to marry his daughter is inclined to give him a chance. Hartley tries his luck with Zaidee and Vesey and Clarice have an interview in which she informs him of Hitt's intentions. Hartley informs his daughter of his wishes. At the end of the act Hartley has a talk with Bangs, the political boss, who indirectly asks for a bribe. Hartley's indignation and Bangs' hurt feelings form the climax of this act. In the third act Clarice and Zaidee have a talk, in which Clarice confides in Zaidee, and she sounds Clarice as to her willingness to have her father marry. Clarice asks Hitt to withdraw and he consents, but after Clarice and Vesey have a quarrel and their marriage is left in doubt. Hitt and Hartley have a talk about political conditions, then Hartley sees Renshaw and learns of his being fined two million dollars. He afterwards sees the two men arrested for taking bribes, and learns of the pathos of their being entrapped by Bangs. Hartley's indignation is vented on Bangs, who comes in to see if the fine has weakened his position. Bangs leaves under a torrent of denunciation, and just after he leaves Hartley learns a warrant is issued for his arrest. Grand Climax. In the fourth act, overcome with terror, they all seek Bangs' office, where the matrimonial difficulties are cleared up, and the warrant is not served 'because Hartley contributes a (half million to the Society for the Protection of American Patriots, in other words. Bangs. PROTECTED INTERESTS ACT I. Scene. — Drazinng room of Hartleys house. Enter Hitt and Zaidee ushered in by Butler. Butler. Miss Hartley will be right down. (Exit.) Hitt. Things look rich here. You wouldn't think the poor fellow is in trouble. Zaidee. Oh! Stuy, is he in such great trouble? Hitt. Pooh ! no, not if he can only think he is not. If I had his money I shouldn't feel I was in trouble. Trouble, so far as I can see, is mostly in thinking you have it. If you have plenty of money, I can't for the life of me see where there is any trouble in this present well-regulated age. Zaidee. Stuy, you are so mercenary. Hitt. Mercenary! Humph! I'd like to know who isn't at the present time? Mercenary, why, Zaidee, self-preservation isn't being mercenary, it's only just trying to keep your head above water and not drown. Zaidee. And are we so near drowning, Stuy? Hitt. Drowning? Why, we are practically swamped, somebody has got to do something, or we shall — Oh ! hang it. where shall we be? I don't know I am sure. It's no small matter being a howling swell with no cash. What I want to know is why those beastly old Stuyvesants didn't have the sense to provide their posterity enough money to go with their beastly old name. Zaidee. Do you know. Stuy, I do hate this present business. Hitt. To tell the truth, so do I, my dear, it's a beastly low down shame, but we have got to have money, and it is either marry it or steal it, and no opportunity for stealing comes my way. as it does to some of our great and good friends the millionaires. Zaidee. Oh ! Stuy, you do talk so ! Hitt. I merely tell the truth, the melancholy truth. Zaidee. But for you to marrj' Clarice, that dear, sweet girl— 9 Hitt. (Turning suddenly.) You don't mean I am not worthy of her. What, a Stuyvesant and all that, not worthy to marry a Zaidee. Don't talk that way. You know I love Clarice, she is my best and dearest friend Hitt. And your brother isn't good enough for her. Well — Zaidee. No, Stuy, dear, you are the best f-ellow in the world, but you mustn't forget Mabel. Hitt. (Uncomfortable.) Yes, I did forget Mabel for a moment. Why did you bring her up? Poor Mabel, she is such a good girl. Zaidee. And would go to the ends of the earth for you, Stuy, you know it. Hitt. (Sadly.) Yes, I know it. Poor Mabel! But hang it, Zaid, I simply can't marry her, I have no money, and she has none. She knows that, she understands. Oh! Zaid, to be poor, to be poor ! I only wish Zaidee. I wasn't thinking so much of Mabel, I was think- ing of Clarice. Hitt. I would make her a good husband. Zaidee. I know you would, Stuy, you couldn't help that, but you wouldn't love her and it isn't fair to marry a girl, when you don't love her Hitt. What is that you say? Zaidee. It isn't fair to marry a girl when you love another. Hitt. (Doggedly.) But I could get to love her. There isn't a girl I respect more, not even Mabel. Clarice is everything she should be. Zaidee. You see it is different with a young girl. Mar- riage is everything to her. The man she loves is a hero, a god, something to worship. Hitt. Zaidee! Zaidee. It's true, Stuy it's true, and to marry a man and find that his heart isn't hers, that he is only a base self-seeker, just looking for her money, well now, to tell the truth, Stuy, I don't, like it I won't have it, there, I won't. Hitt. (Turning around in amazement.) You won't have 10 it! For heaven's sake, I can hardly believe my eyes. The giddy, fashionable, hard-hearted Zaidee Hitt. Zaidee Stuy- vesant Hitt won't let her brother marry for money! What in the name of all that is holy does anyone marry for in our set? I have wondered for years, and I have n^ver discovered any other reason. Zaidee. I think you exaggerate. I may have seemed frivolous to you, but I tell you I sometimes have my serious moments, and I really can't, the more I think of it, let you marry Clarice. Hitt. Well, of all the say, you are a nice one to talk. Here you are doing your very best to catch the old man, and you give me a moral lecture. Zaidee. Do I? Well, some one has got to do a little moralizing. Hitt. Let that be as it may. But for the life of me I can't see any difference between my marrying Clarice and you marrying Hartley. Zaidee. (Quietly.) Oh! you can't? Please remember Mr. Hartley is not a young man, and is not in the first tlush of youth. Hitt. But a young girl's ideas, her idol, her god humph you are a nice one to talk to me. (He catches sight of Zaidec's face, zuho is blushing.) What what for heaven's sake, Zaidee Hitt why, by all that is good and holy, I believe you care Zaidee. Oh ! Stuy, do shut up. You are enough to provoke a saint. (He goes to her and takes her iti his anus and she tries to avoid his eyes.) Hitt. My dear little girl! I can't believe it. that old man! Zaidee. He isn't old, he is only fifty-three, what is that in a man, and such a man. Yes, Stuy (Raising her head), I do care for him, I always have, I I have always felt like a mother to Clarice. (Ptay fully.) Haven't you noticed it? Hitt. That is why you have always been so attentive here. Oh! I see. Zaidee. Now, Stuy, please don't. You are approaching the vulgar. Besides we poor girls have got to look after 11 ourselves but we are not all quite so mercenary as we seem. (Enter Clarice.) How are you, my dear? I just came in with Stuy for a moment to say how do you do. I'm coming back very soon, ta-ta. (Exit Zaidee.) Clarice. What a whirlwind! I suppose you want to see father? Poor old dear, he is so worried. (Seating herself.) Hitt. I don't mind seeing you for a moment. Clarice. (Innocently.) That's nice. I suppose Zaid thinks anyone of a family will do. Hitt. You put it rather generally, don't you? Clarice. Oh! Mr. Hitt Hitt. Can't you ever recover from calling me Mr. Hitt? I detest the name, I wish I could change it. I haven't your luck. (Significantly.) Clarice. (Mockingly.) I am in no especial anxiety to change mine. Hitt. I wish I could only think it might be, in your case, Hitt or Miss. Clarice. (Puzzled at first and then laughing.) Oh ! you horrid man! I never saw such a confirmed joker. Hitt. I'm not joking, I am serious. Clarice. (Looking at him in surprise.) Why, what is the matter with you today? Actually I do believe you are upset. Hitt. I am. I am awfully upset. Clarice. I hope you haven't let papa's troubles worry you? Hitt. Yes, they do worry me, but my own worry me more. Clarice. 1 am sorry you are worried. I wish I could help you. Hitt. You do? (Eagerly.) You can. (Clarice sees some- thing that frightens her.) Will you? Clarice. (Hesitating.) A girl can do so little. Hitt. Humph ! a girl can do a great deal sometimes. Clarice. But we are so weak. Hitt. Thank heaven you are. With your other qualifica- tionis we poor men would 'be simply wiped off the earth, if you were not. Clarice. (Mischievously.) Oh! dear, I should hope not, we couldn't do without you men. It would be simply awful. Hitt. You feel the need of our supporting arms 12 Clarice. I am not so sure about the arms, I hadn't thought of that but we must have something to amuse us just keep us up to the mark something to give interest piquancy to life. Hitt. Then you have never thought about marrying? Clarice. (Frightened and showing it. which Hitt mistakes.) Marrying why I can't say I had (laughing) given it any great amount of attention any more than to zoolog>' for instance. Hitt. Then you think we men are only animals just all beasts, I suppose. Perhaps (thinking) you may just at present think I am one especial kind. (Rather bitterly.) Clarice. Oh! Mr. Hitt What is the matter with you today. I wish Zaidee would come back (Looking around anxiously.) Hitt. Don't get frightened, I am not going to have con- vulsions. Clarice. (Rising.) Xo, worse. Hitt. Worse ! Look here, Clarice, you can't throw me off any more. Clarice. I don't want to throw you off, what do you mean Hitt. Tell me, don't you think you could ever marry me? Clarice. Oh! Mr. Hitt, please don't. I thought you had forgotten all al>out that. Hitt. Well, I haven't. Aud I think more of it every day. Clarice. You mustn't, it's bad for you. Besides, you are much too old. Why you have always seemed just like a brother Hitt. (ll^ith grim humor.) Why don't you say uncle? Clarice. It would be better, I will after this. Hitt. Thank you. I am willing to take anything, even a little. But, Clarice, couldn't you think just a little of the matter? Clarice. (Piquantly.) I can think, but I can't think just that way. Hitt. Perhaps not just now, i)ut later. Clarice. I am sorry. Mr. Hitt. \\\ ! (Holding uf> his finger.) 13 Clarice. I forgot (tmth mischief) uncle! (He turns azmy impatiently.) Hitt. Tell me (turning towards her impetuously) is there another? Clarice. (Embarrassed.) Another, what makes you think that? (Controlling herself.) Another (laughing) you must think I am a kind of story book heroine. Hitt. (Impressively.) You are a heroine all right. I don't know about a story book heroine. Perhaps you think you couldn't care for anyone. Clarice. I fancy I am a little cold-blooded. (Tossing her head to hide her embarrassment.) Hitt. Look here, Clarice, you know very well the customs of our set. We don't do the foolish things that young people love to read of, and which make the fortunes of half-witted writers Clarice. We don't? Why, I thought it was just our foolishness which made those books sell. I am sure the world ought to be very grateful that we can be such idiots, instead of making game of us all the time. The only thing that reconciles me to my present life is the missionary work I am doing for the people who read the penny dreadfuls. Hitt. Clarice, do be sensible. Tell me, is there someone else? If there is I will quit at once. (Pause.) If there isrt't, I tell you now I want my chance. Clarice. A gambler's chance? All right, (laughing) you can have it. You know they always lose. Hitt. No they don't, they sometimes have a run of luck. (Hartley enters.) Hartley. Did you want to see me? Jenks told me you were here. Hitt. Yes. (Stammering a little.) I wanted to know how it was getting on? (Clarice laughs slily and goes out saying) Clarice. Good-bye uncle. Hartley. What did she say uncle for? (Surprised.) 'Hitt. I don't know, unless coming events cast their shadows before. Hartley. (Puzzled.) Com-ing events cast their say, 14 look here, Stuy, you're joking. (Evidently grasping his mean- iftg.) Hitt. Well, old man, I'm not joking, if my feelings have anything to do with it. (Put rather tenderly.) Hartley. But I am an old man, Stuy, Zaidee is a fresh young girl. Hitt. Take an old man's advice. No one likes fresh cheese, unless it's cream cheese, and the girls are the only ones partial to that so far as I know. Hartley. But Zaidee, she would be Shocked. Hitt. You heard Clarice, she isn't shocked at the idea of my being her uncle. I can say, though, it isn't altogether complimentary to my bald head, which is due I have always fondly believed to high-bred, no hair. Clarice seems to think differently. Hartley. Really, Stuy, you give me an idea. Hitt. Don't be silly. At your time of life you should be saying your prayers. Hartley. To tell the truth I think I ought. At least just at present. Do you know, I'm mig'hty glad you came in. I atn glad Clarice calls you uncle. Hitt. I hope you are not going to make that a subject of prayer. I don't. (Rather cuttingly.) Hartley. No, I suppose not, you are naturally proud of your youth. Keep it while you can. But I was going to say say, do you think really that Zaidee Hitt. Do I think that Zaidee 'd what? Hartley. Do you think she would marry? Hitt. Do I think that Zaidee would marry! Do I think that the world is going to turn round! Why. man, what ails you? Don't people marry in Europe? Hartley. (Ez'idently pleased.) Yes, of course, but this is a little different. I am an old man and she a bright young girl. Do you think she would have me? Hitt. Look here, old man, in my new capacity as Clarice's uncle, I feel called upon to say you had better be careful. A stepmother is not always acceptable. Hartley. (With assurance.) But Clarice would be de- lighted. 15 HitL I am not so sure. And then you must respect my feelings. I don't really care to be made an old uncle just to please a friend. Hartley. Oh ! Stuy, you are joking as always, be sensible. Hitt. All right. If you want to marry a girl ask her. She can^t more than refuse you. And Zaid will let you down easy, for I know she is fond of you, couldn't help, being almost brought up in the family. Hartley. (Rubbing his head.) That is just it, it always gets to be the paternal with a man of my age and hang it, I don't feel as paternal as I look. Hitt. Well don't look it then. I can't help looking like an uncle it seems, but I will cure myself or die. You do the same, try, there is nothing like practice. But let's talk business. How about the custom house matter, anything further? Hartley. I haven't heard anything this morning. I am expecting Renshaw any moment. I wrote him I simply would not stand any more of their nonsense, and to send a man here to talk with me. Hitt. I thought you had sent for one. Hartley. Yes, I have, Renshaw wrote me to do so. I don't just understand what I have got to do with him anyway. Renshaw acts as though this man was the whole American government. Hitt. Who is he? Hartley. Bangs. Hitt. He represents about all we have of a government. Hartley. What do you mean? Surely we have a presi- dent, a cabinet, and a congress. We have all the machinery of a great government Hitt. Exactly, that is just it. We have the machinery of a great government but that is about all. A machinery has to be run. Hartley. That is what Renshaw wrote, but I don't see if we have all these men, paid large salaries, what in the name •"of all that is holy do we have to have Bangs for? Hitt. Some one has to oil the machinery. Hartley. On a locomotive the fireman does that, does he 16 not? Hitt. Well, you supply the fuel ha you gave some money to your friend, who wanted office, you probably supply the oil too. Oil is a vast monopoly now. It isn't only one kind of oil that does the business there is another kind. Your oil helped to put your good friend into office. Now, as I understand it, it needs a clever fireman to put the oil in the right spots. He must know just th€ proper holes, their various locations, and the exact amount of oil needed, in fact he must have a large and varied knowledge of the needs of a great machine. We said the government was a machine, didn't we? Hartley. (Thoughtfully.) Xo. machinery. Hitt. Well, there isn't much difference, is there? Now, according to your idea all you think is needful is to pour out the oil anywhere, on top, on the sides, only get enough on and it is all right. Your friend who asked for your check do you think he knew how to put the oil on in the proper places? Hartley. He was elected. flitt. Well, then, he had been studying the machinery and knew the proper holes and the right amount Hartley. You mean he used my money to bribe somebody. Hitt. Xo, I don't mean anything of the sort. We don't call a spade a spade in our set. A social crime in our set, you know very well, is an indiscretion at most, a sad mistake, or possibly a lamentable mistake especially if he has money. Hartley. Oli ! Stuy, don't talk that way, I shall think you are not what you are. Hitt. And that is what? Hartley. A mighty good fellow and an honest man. Hitt. Well, I trust I am all that. But I trust, too, I ajn not a fool. .My l>eloved ancestors gave me a lot of stuff known in the present age as ancestry and social position. It is about all I have got. As those old duffers forgot all al:out the cash. I have to do the best I can with my assets, and I do. Hartley. I don't believe my friend used a dollar of that money dishonestly. 17 Hitt. Nor I. He put it into the campaign fund. There is all the difference between a campaign fund and bribery that there is between the north pole and the south pole. Politics is eminently scriptural, its right hand is in blissful ignorance of what its left hand is up to. Otherwise our senators, our governors, our but hush, we mustn't speak of some things. Hartley. O'h! Stuy, Stuy why do you talk so to me? Hitt. Because you are just a new-born babe. Hartley. That is what Renshaw intimated. Hitt. (With asperity.) Evidently you think I am just a Renshaw record. Hartley. (Laughing.) No, not just that, but your ideas are very much the same. Hitt. They are the same because we both see the truth. There is a great deal of truth in Renshaw, a great deal more than you would suspect. But don't forget, my friend, if we in our set don't always call a spade a spade, those in Bangs* set don't either. And to tell you the truth, I don't see as they are any more to blame than we are. Life seems to be to get there, and the getting there must be made to look as pretty as possible. Hartley. Oh! Stuy, how can you say those things? Hitt. Because it is the simple truth and I hate a lie. Hartley. (With fervor.) I am glad to hear you say so. Hitt. It's such a damned nuisance. (Hartley looks very much surprised. Zaidee enters.) Zaidee. Oh ! I am interrupting. Hartley. Oh ! no, you are not my child. (Hitt laughs.) Hitt. I thought you hated paternity. Hartley. So I do, too much of it. Everything in its season. Hitt. Well, I will be going. Don't be giving Zaid fatherly advice. She doesn't like it. She won't take it from me. (Exit.) Zaidee. (Mockingly.) But I will from you. 'Hartley. That is just why I don't want to give it. Zaidee. (Sighing.) One never gets what one wants in this world. 18 Hartley. (Coming near her.) Do you always crave fatherly advice from me? Zaidce. (Frankly.) Of course. You are quite fitted to give it. Your age Hartley. (Disconcerted.) My age oh ! my age is always against me Zaidee. I don't know. Age sometimes has merits Hartley. (Bitterly.) Yes. like cheese. Stuy was just giv- ing me a lecture on its merits. Zaidee. Like cheese! 1 didn't know Stuy had gone into the provision business. Has he come down to being a grocer? Hartley. Not exactly. He is only assuming the parental role and used this as a figure. My conversations seem always to end on the parental side. ' Zaidee. You don't like it, and Clarice is such a nice child and I too. Hartley. Look here. Zaidee, did you ever think of marry- ing? Zaidee. (Tat>('ing her forehead.) Just how do you think I had spent the last twenty-four years? Hartley. No, but I mean seriously. Zaidce. Well, if there is an>ihing more scrii)us m life to a woman, next to her hack hair. I would like to know what is? Hartley. No, but what I mean to say is, could you ever kt me occupy your thoughts after yuur bad: hair was thoroughly adjusted? Zaidee. (Jutn{^in^ up and ttiniinii toiivrds him.) You mean, ccme now, daddy, could I ever think of marrying you? Hartley. Yes, ihr.t is what I am trying to get at. I Enter Butler. ) Butler. Mr. Renshaw, sir. Hartley. Show him in. (To Zaidee.) Come this way. I will show you out. (Rensh.wv and Tolm.an come in left as they i:o out right.) Tolman. You want to see .Mr. Hartley? Renshazv. Yes, I have got to see him, and sec him at f»; CO ! f.tsidi'.) T wonder w^hat he knows. 19 Tolman. You have an app ointment. Renshaw. I always have an appointment. Tolman. Yes, I know but Mr. Hartley is very par- ticular eh you see his time has many calls and even business must wait sometimes. (Hesitating.) Renshaw. Yes, I know, business has waited yes waited well, I think it has waited loo damn long. Tolman. Bh! what? Renshaw. I mean that business has required his presence and his attention so long that I fear Tolman. Yes, you fear Renshaw. Never mind what I fear. When can I see Mr. Hartley? Tolman. I think penhaps you might see him at once if the business is really urgent. Renshaw. My God, it is urgent. I don't see wfiy Hartley, I mean Mr. Hartley hasn't seen it before. If you can urge him to hurry up you will do him a great favor. Tolman. I will try. (Exit.) Renshaw. Heavens, will tihat man ever wake up? I have tried to warn him that there is a real crisis in his affairs, but no, I never seem to make the least impression. It is always art, art for art's sake, are the noble, art the one and only art art Oh! damn art. These men think if they have a lot of money, no matter 'how they get it, they can always go off in any direction just to suit their fancy, and it will be all right. Why can't they understand that v^rhen they have made their pile that there are a lot of poor devils who want to do the same thing. Now I have worked and worked and lied and Oh! hang it, I am always told business is business. Now let me see, how much did old Hartley make last year? I know, for I keep track, one million two hundred and eighty-five thousand just on his business. Thiat doesn't include his own private interests. And a good deal of this 1,285,000 dollars belonged hum was due hum to the American 'Oh! what's the use? Business is business. (Enter Hartley.) Hartley. What in the name of all that is holy is this thing you want to see me for? 20 Rcnshaw. Well. Mr. Hartley, I am very sorry to trouble you but vou must excuse me if I call your attention to the fact that a business calls for a good deal of attention. Hartley. Exactly, that is what I have you for. Renshaw. True, but just the same while I am willing to do all I can for you, I am not the head, and th^ time has come when only the head can step in and direct. Hartley You mean that that devilish custom house has now interfered and you haven't the grit to undertake the handling of it? .r, > j t Renshaw. I mean that, and just that (Pause) and I mean that owing to peculiar circumstances very peculiar circumstances we find ourselves in a very Hartley. Well? Renshaw. Well! (Looking very significant.) Hartley. Speak out. Renshaw. Do vou want me to use plain English. Hartley. Of course. (Then catching the eye of Renshaw.) Ah hum I want you, of course, to tell the truth the truth Renshaw. I wondi^r if you do. Hartley. (Uneasy.) Com<' now. Renshaw. there must be no hiding things from me. I am aware that it is some time since I have looked into things, I have left that to you. Renshaw. I have done my best. Hartley. I am sure of that, but what 1 do not understand is why the custom house has taken this very unwarranted awl sudden action. Before this we have always had notice. Renshazv. Yes, but political conditions have changed. We have had an upheaval of upstarts. Men who know nothiiTg of politics or conditions, but who wish for the shekels nevertheless, and more particularly for the reputation of being great reformers. Hartley. That is the way they always begin. Renslmzv. You see the only way to oust the old leaders is to turn traitor to the old ways, but they hold out the old inducemeiTts ju^st the same. Hartley. You mean it is only a matter of money? Renshaw. Of course, everything is only a matter of money. 21 Hartley. Oh ! don't say that, there are other thimgs. Renshaw. Yes (In a low voice) yes, art. Hartley. (Hearing.) Oh! more than art, Renshaw 'honor in Renshaw. Honor ! Hartley. You you are sneering. Renshaw. No, Fm not. Hartley. (Uncomfortable.) Come now, Renshaw, we must be frank with each other, just explain. Renshazif. Explain ! why you want me to explain the whole American people. Hartley. Yes, I know we are getting pretty bad. Renshaw. It is worse than bad, it is idiotic. Hartley. As I understand it we are held up because of of— Renshazv. False measurements. Hartley. Under valuations. (Severely.) Renshaw. Oh! well, call it what you like. Hartley. I do call it what I like. Renshaw. So do others. Hartley. What do you mean? Renshaw. I mean, t'hanks to that Hartley. That what? Renshazv. To that high-minded reformer who did not hesitate to buy an election Hartley. Don't talk that way. Renshaw. Wihy not talk that way, it is true. Hartley. True, yes, perhaps to put it in a bald way, but that high-minded reformer is a friend of mine. Renshaw. Quite true, and this is your reward. By the way how much did you contribute to his election? Hartley. Ekotion, did I contribute? Renshaw. Well, if you didn't I did. You wrote me to do so. Hartley. Yes, yes, I remember. And you sent a check? Renshaw. For one hundred thousand. ' Hartley. I remember. I thought at the time it was too much. Renshazv. And I think it was too little. 22 Hartley. Too little? Renshaw. Too much then and too little now. Hartley. I don't understand. Renshaw. Wfell, perhaps I am wrong, but something was mismanaged. Otherwise we would not have been interfered with in this shameless way. Hartley. It's all a beastly shame. Just think of the position in which I am placed. Renshuw. I have. Hartley. My honesty, .yes, my honor even, implicated. (Renshaw looks at him and raises his eyes.) You can't understand it? Renshaw. I can't? I know ^ prison door when I see it. Hartley. (Amazed.) Renshaw, what are you talking about ? Renshaw. Just plain facts facts, I tell you. Hartley. You haven't done anything criminal? (Looking at him with aversion.) Renshaw. Well, they said some pretty hard things to me. Hartley. Thiey did, wliat? RensMw. Now look here, Hartley, there is no use in our trying to bluff eadh other. Hartley. (With dignity.) I have no desire to bluff any- thing, I am shocked to hear you talk this way. You speak of prison in a way I do not like. Renshaw. (With a sardonic grin.) Oh! you don't like it. Hartley. No, I don't. You come here and talk to me in a most extraordinary way, you speak of honor and honesty in a very sneering manner. You why you take unwar- ranted liberties you Renshaw. Well, if you must know it we are both in a hole, an awful hole, and we sink or swim together. Hartley. Rensbaw ! Renshaw. It's a fact, you don't seem to grasp the idea yet. Hartley. No, I don't. Renshaw. Well then I will tell you, (Looking around.) Are we alone? Hartley. Yes, no one can hear, (Looking at Renshaw imth some hauteur not unmixed with contempt.) 23 Renshaw. It is now, let me see, twenty-eight, no, twenty- nine years since I entered your employ. . Hartley. Yes, and I have never had any reason to find fault with you before. Renshaw. (Impatient.) No, nor now. Your business has been carried on entirely to your satisfaction you have said, and it has certainly pirospered. You have expressed no discontent. Hartley. (Eyeing him severely.) No. Renshazv. And you have known how it was carried on. Hartley. (Slowly.) Ye — es. Renshaw. It was e is a little disturbed, but sits down complacently.) Vesey. I suppose you have no intention of mentioning what your discoveries in the anthropological line were. (Sarcastically.) Clarice. Really, that sounds awfully scientific. I never associated you with anything so solemn as an anthropological creature Vesey. (Sarcastically.) Zoological, I suppose. Clarice. No, something much nicer. Oh! Clarkson, don't be sarcastic with me. 46 Vesey. Sarcastic no, I must not be sarcastic. Only a fellow likes to know sometimes. Clarice. Well, I will tell you, it won't much matter. After all I can't keep it from you, you would be sure to know in time. And besides there isn't any love in it, so nobody's feelings will be hurt. Vesey. A proposal, of course I knew Clarice. No, you didn't know. It came to me as a sur- prise and well Vesey. (Eagerly.) You refused him? Clarice. No, I didn't. Vesey. (Hurt.) What did you do? Clarice. I just didn't like to say Vesey. Oh! I see, if your father won't let you marry me you will marry him. Oh! what a fool I have been. Clarice. Please, Clarkson, don!t rush to conclusions so. You are not a woman. Just be calm. Vesey. (Struggling with himself.) Yes, I am calm. Clarice. I did not just like to say how matters stood. I couldn't tell him I was engaged and I couldn't very well explain it as matters stand. Vesey. (Bitterly.) You gave him some hope? Clarice. No, I did not. I tried to fence him off, but Vesey. But what? You led him on oh! T see Clarice. (Laughing.) No, you don't see, you are just a little jealous. Vesey. How could I help it darling (Coming close to her.) Clarice. I don't know, I am sure. It goes with a man. Now you don't want to know any more, I am sure. Vesey. But I am very sure I do. Clarice. You had better not Besides I had better not tell )'ou. (Enter Hartley.) Hartley. How do you do, Mr. Vesey? I suppose you have come to tell me you could settle that custom house business? Vesey. (Uneasily.) I am afraid I have very little to tell you. Hartley. (Impatiently.) But surely you have learned 47 something, you couldn't fail to do that. (Clarice puts her finger to her lips.) Vesey. Something, perhaps, but nothing that seems helpful. Hartley. (Impatiently.) Well, let me hear that. Clarice. (Alarmed.) But, papa, Clarkson really hasn't had time to hear much. Hartley. But, my dear, there is more at stake than this custom house matter. Troubles never come singly, and Clarice. Oh! papa, you don't mean to say you are in any more trouble? Hartley. It looks like it, my dear, when I am threatened with the loss of my only child. Clarice. No, not loss, papa dear. Hartley. Not loss ! I am not so sure about that. I think there is something on that subject which Mr. Vesey ought to know. Perhaps you are not aware, little one, that Mr. Vesey is not the only man who wishes to rob my sheep fold. (Clarice turns away irritated, which Vesey notices.) I think I am only doing right when I tell him my dearest friend asked me this morning for the honor of your hand. Vesey. Stuyvesant Hitt? Hartley. Yes, what have you to say about that? He spoke very highly of you. Clarice. Papa, you didn't tell? Hartley. I certainly did. I think, my dear, I have some rights, and I think, too, you are willing to concede those rights, if I know my little girl at all well. Clarice. Oh ! papa, how could you, how could you ? Hartley. Well, my dear, I think this getting married is a very serious thing, and when you are married I want it to be to the right person. Clarice. You mean I cannot marry Clarkson. Hartley. No, I did not say that. I have not given my permission yet to your marrying Mr. Vesey. I said if he won his spurs he could have you. I merely asked that he showed his ability to do something to win you. ' Clarice. (Frightened.) Then did you mean if he did not settle this custom house matter that he couldn't have me at all? 48 Hartley. No, my dear. You do not understand. Mr. Vesey is an entire stranger to me. I am willing to give him a fair chance. Wlien I said what I did yesterday I had not the faintest idea that Stuy ever thought of marrying you. I feel that in this matter there are at least four people to be consulted. All I ask is for fair play for them all. Vesey. And may I ask who are the four? Hartley. Certainly. First comes my daughter. I wish her to marry the right man- Clarice. But I love Clarkson. (Almost shedding tears.) Hartley. That I do not doubt, but you will probably love more than one man before you die. Clarice. Papa, how can you say such things? Hartley. Because, my dear, it is usually the case. Clarice. But, papa, you why you never loved anyone but poor dear mamma ! (Hartley starts and looks at her queerly.) Just think of such a thing, it would be awful. Hartley. What is that, my dear, I don't think I quite gathered what you said. (Rather confused.) Clarice. Why, I mean it is simply absurd to think you could ever love anybody but mamma. (Vesey smiles.) Hartley. (Slowly.) To be sure, my dear, there is a great deal of difference between you and me, I mean in respect to age. One hum doesn't think about a man of my age falling in love Vesey. (Quickly, so that Hartley starts.) But it has happened, Air. Hartley. Hartley. (Trying to keep his composure.) To be sure, but er er it has been. I fancy, only in the case of a rather, ahem ! weak mind. But never mind me, I think in your case, Clarice, a little careful consideration will do no harm. You asked for the four, I think that Clarice and I, yourself and also Mr. Hitt are to be considered. Vesey. (Severely.) Then I am to understand he enters the lists, and unless I can do as you ask I am out of the running? Hartley. Not exactly. I want you and Hitt to each have a fair show. That is all I ask, and I do not think it un- reasonable to ask it. Do you? 49 Vesey. (Thinking.) No, I do not, only somehow well, if Clarice, Miss Hartley, prefers Mr. Hitt I have noth- ing to say. Clarice. Oh! Clarkson, you don't mean to say you give me up, oh ! Clarkson, please Hartley. Clarice, dear, will you not listen to reason? There is no question of giving you up. You think you love Mr. Vesey, and no doubt you do now. Maybe a little later you may find out you are hasty. I think I have a right to ask you, on the behalf of my friend, to consider carefully before it is too late. Give Stuy a chance Clarice. But he is such an old man. Hartley. Age, my dear, has nothing to do with it. You can just as well love an old man as a young one I feel qui^e strongly on this point I think that there might be more stability, more real happiness gained by a match which appealed to the er the judgment, in short I think it is very proper, all things considered, that a girl should marry a man considerably her elder. Clarice. Shame, papa, to hear you talk so. One would think you had an idea of getting married yourself. Hartley. (Confused.) Eh! what, well suppose I did, it has been done, and if I did marry (Waxing earnest) I cer- tainly should not like to marry an old lady of my age. (Vesey and Clarice stare at him in ama::etnent.) But now that we understand each other, I shall leave the matter just where it is. If Mr. Vesey can show his devotion to you in seme decisive way, in fact prove that he is worthy of you, then I have nothing to say against him. If he cannot, then surely it is only fair that Stuy should have his chance. (Enter Tolman.) Tolman. Mr. Bangs to see you, sir. Hartley. Show him in. (Exit Tolman.) You better go out this way. (Bangs enters opposite as they go out.) How do you do, Mr. Bangs, take a seat. I haven't had the ^ pleasure of seeing you before, but you are well known to me by reputation. Bangs. (Seating himself.) Yes, I guess I'm pretty well known, couldn't escape it in New York. The press seems to 50 take care of that, haw haw. (Hartley shudders, but manages to smile.) Hartley. The press is sometimes a great nuisance. Bangs. (Helping himself to a cigar from the table. Hartley stares.) Yes yes, when it isn't properly handled handled, I say. There is nothing like handling things right. (Hartley strikes a match and hands it to him.) Hartley. (Seating himself slowly.) Yes, I suppose so. Bangs. Now I fancy, Hartley, yer don't know much about that eh? (Hartley jumps.) Hartley. Well (Hesitating) perhaps not. Bangs. Now, as I understand the case, you have been spendin' yer time in Europe, having a good time eh? (Winking hard.) Hartley. (Impatient.) Yes, I have had a good time, it is true. Bangs. Well, nobody blames you, to be sure. We boys have to have our good times here, an' we hev it. (Winking again.) I fancy you have been led to think, with Parkhurst and Anthony watchin' us, we we well have been slightly hampered, but we know how to do it, haw haw. (Hartley jumps up.) This young New York can give old Europe points yet, I tell yer, Hartley, (Hartley jumps again) to be sure I've never been over, didn't hev the time, yer know, had ter look after the boys an' a few little things, yer know. Hartley. (Recovering himself and taking his scat.) Yes, so I understand. It is because Bangs. Yes, I understand. (Winks hard.) Nice little place yer hev here. You rich chaps certainly know how ter do the thing. Nice room yer hev here, must cost a lot. Hartley. Yes, it does cost a little, but we need not discuss that now. You see Bangs. Now I hev never been able ter afford such a table myself. I hev often wondered what they tax one fer that. Hartley. That, oh! that wasn't much. Bangs, No, I suppose not, that is, not for such as you. I never ran a trust. Great things these trusts, makes it damned easy fer us fellows. 51 Hartley. I don't understand. Bangs. (Carelessly.) Oh! just kinder unifies things. Only hev ter deal with one man, much nicer. Hartley. I wish you would not be quite so direct in your remarks. Bangs. Direct in my remarks ! (Pausing with his cigar in hand.) Oh! I see, I hev been a little too outspoken. Didn't know anyone was listenin' (Looks around and draws his chair close to Hartley.) Hartley. I didn't mean that, no one can hear. Bangs. That's good, I never talk business with three people. I , Hartley, (Seating himself and exercising self control.) The fact is I have not paid much attention to my business lately, it has been pretty well managed Bangs. I should think so if one can size a business up by the cash it takes in. Hartley. (Shuddering.) Yes, it has paid, it is true, but then it should pay. Our country, our vast country, is only expanding Bangs. Of course, of course. Hartley. (Amajsed.) It is expanding, and naturally those firms already established should reap their legitimate reward. Bangs. Sure, sure, and in reapin' their rewards they should remember those who hev helped on this expansion Hartley. Ahem Bangs. (Growing enthusiastic.) Those who hev made the country what it is. Hartley. I am afraid I do not understand you. Bangs. Understand me, man, why those who have guided this country into those ways such that a smart man can get the fruits of his labor. Hartley. Fruits of his labor, be so good as to explain. I thought that every man was protected in the possession of his own. Bangs. To be sure, to be sure. But what I wanter know is who protects him? Hartley. (Severely.) The government, of course. What do we have a government for? 52 Bangs. Haw haw the government haw, that is good haw — aw. Hartley. You don't seem to think much of the govern- ment. Bangs. (Pulling himself together.) You are quite mis- taken. I think a lot of the government. It's the best machine I know of, it is the best arranged, the best put together, the best qualified for its work of any I know of. Hartley. But then I would like to have you explain. Bangs. Why, the government, Hartley, is a first class loco- motive, it's all there but that locomotive has gotter be run. Hartley. Yes, I suppose so. Bangs. Well, who is goin' ter run it? You haven't been so damn blind as not to see some one has gotter run that engine. Hartley. Yes perhaps I see. Bangs. You fancy fellers smile at the conductor, invite the president of the road to dinner, but you wouldn't even speak ter the engineer or fireman, either one of these chaps could run you off the track without turning a hair. Hartley. True, but I do not yet quite see. Bangs. No, yer don't see. Yer fellers thinks because yer make yer money easy, an' it is nice over the water, that yer haven't another damn thing ter think of. In other words, yer get spoiled. Yes spoiled by too much prosperity. Hartley. Hum ! Bangs. You don't seem ter realize to whom yer owe the dandy life yer lead. Hartley. (Angry.) I owe what I have to no one but myself and my father. Bangs. Oh! my boy, is that so? How little yer know about life. How little you know how things are done. Things don't just grow an' get rich by themselves, it requires brains brains, I say, Hartley, old boy, ter make things grow, somebody's brains. Hartley. (Jumping up.) Yes, brains, I suppose, but I pay for the brains to do my work. Bangs. Oh ! do you ? 53 Hartley. I should say I did, just look at my payroll. Bangs. Now look here, Hartley, you don't really know anything about it, you are just in the first stages of infancy when it comes ter business. Hartley. (Enraged.) You insult me. Bangs. Nothing of the sort, my boy. I know what I am talking about. You sent fer me ter come ter see yer, didn't yer? (Hartley nods.) Now if I had wanted ter be dis- agreeable I should hev said yer had better come ter see me me do yer understand? (Hartley shows his amazement.) But we fellers know you hev always done the square thing, and we treat gentlemen like gentlemen just as gentlemen should. (Putting his thumbs in his arm holes.) Hartley. (Controlling himself with difficulty.) I confess I am a little confused. I had thought the matter was one easily arranged Bangs. Yes, yes, quite easily arranged arranged be- tween gentlemen. Hartley. Usually my man Renshaw has seen to these things Bangs. Yes, Renshaw is a good fellow. Renshaw is all right. Hartley. (Sternly.) I was greatly surprised to be called home so suddenly. Bangs. Yes, it was too bad I told Renshaw it wasn't necessary but he wouldn't take the responsibility. Hartley. He has always been given free play. Bangs. But yer see, in this case, it was a little too heavy heavy yer see (Looking at him steadily) didn't like just ter do it all alone. Hartley. All alone! Bangs. Yes, all alone, you know. (Very confidentially.) Hartley. (Slowly.) All alone. Bangs. (Getting closer.) You see, it was a little too ex- pensive. Hartley. Too expensive, I don't just understand. Bangs. You don't? (Dropping his cigar in surprise.) Hartley. No, I think you will have to be a little clearer- 54 Bangs. Clearer. (Still eyeing him.) Humph ! clearer ! Hartley. Yes, clearer. Bangs. (Picking up his cigar.) See here, Hartley, I didn't come here ter teach no Sunday school class. Hartley. I did not suppose you did. Bangs. What's yer little game? (Regarding him steadily.) Hartley. Game, I have no game. Bangs. Well, either you are a sly old duffer or art has weakened your mental machinery. Hartley. (Rising.) I am very sorry, Mr. Bangs, that I have troubled you to this extent, and perhaps I need not occupy any more of your valuable time. Bangs. Humph ! Well, yer needn't bother about my valuable time. I never waste my time. (Sits back comfort- ably and smokes complacently.) Sit down and don't get excited. Hartley. (Aghast.) Excited ! Bangs. Ye — es, keep yer shirt on. Hartley. (Almost speechless.) Keep my shirt on ! Bangs. Ye — es, keep yer shirt on. There hain't no need ter strip until yer goin' ter fight. Now yer'n no state ter fight, no no haw — haw, no, no, not just now. Hartley. I don't know what you mean. Bangs. Yer don't know what I mean? Why, man, where hev yer been ? Have yer lived over the old pond so long yer hev forgotten yer great an' noble country? Hartley. (Sitting down slowly.) I utterly fail to under- stand why you should come and insult me in my own house. Bangs. Bless yer, man, I heven't the least intention. Don't mind me. Perhaps I'm not quite so soft as some yer meet when yer hobnobbin' with those princes over there, but I'm all right. I am honest John Bangs, honest every time. Hartley. Hum ! Bangs. Now, I think I see yer little difficulty. Yer've been brought up a little too soft like. Ye're not accustomed ter call a spade a spade Hartley. (Sarcastically.) I certainly have not been ac- customed to calling it a damned shovel, if that is what you mean. 55 Bangs. Haw— haw no. I see ye're not. Well, well, I think we can fix all that. I see I've gotter give you a little lesson in practical politics. Good thing politics. Money in it, if yer know how ter treat a gentleman like a gentle- man. Now yer're a gentleman, an' I'm a gentleman, and there won't be any trouble when yer see things right. It's all in the way yer see it. Hartley. (Patiently.) Perhaps you are right. Pray en- lighten my darkness. Bangs. (Sitting back in his chair and selecting another cigar.) Now, where I made my mistake with you is, I thought you knew a little something about yer business. Hartley. (Impatiently.) I thought I did. Bangs. W^ll, you didn't. (Putting the cigar into his pocket.) You have an idea that business is buying some- thing' ter day and sellin' it tomorroer. That's the good old fashioned idea yer grandfather had. Guess he put a little sand into his sugar once in a while haw — haw. Hartley. My grandfather was an honest man. Bangs. Of course, of course. I haven't a doubt of it In fact I never meet any but honest men. D'yer know I dcn't believe there are very many men who ain't honest. (Hartley is silent, hut contemptuous.) Now the good old days, when our Connecticut friends were selling wooden nutmegs, have all past. Thank God they have. (With fervor.) We hev got now to the time when a man goes about his business in an intelligent manner. He starts in right, d'ye see? Anyone can go home an' cut open a nut- meg, it is foolish ter try such gammon on people, they won't stand it. Hartley. It's dishonest. Bangs. Huh ! Yes, dishonest, of course, it is worse than that, it was damned idiotic. Yer see now we hev learned people ain't fooled so easily. Yer've gotter be honest with people. (Pause.) Yer've gotter obey the law. But yer've gotter make money the same time. No business can get on without making money, and we hev learned we hev gotter be honest an* obey the law. So there was only one thing ter do. (Helping himself to another cigar.) It was to make the 56 law so a man could be honest and get rich at the same time. And we hev. (Pounding his knee and dropping his cigar, which he picks up and puts into his pocket.) You under- stand, you are rich. Hartley. Yes, and I trust honest also. (Severely.) Banks. (Looking around.) Sure, of course, ye're honest. I am honest. I'm known all over as honest John Bangs. Ask the boys, ask the business men, ask all those I come into contact with, an' I tell you they'll all say John Bangs is honest. (Puffing out his chest.) It pays. I can be trusted every time. I thought I had a cigar. (Looking around.) Thank you, I guess I will. (Helps himself to another. 'Hartley hands him a lighted match with a curious smile.) Now, as I was saying, things are a damn sight better than the old days. We hev progressed. Progression, I tell you, is the thing. Always progress, then you will amount to something. Look at our millionaires, look at yourself, why, man, if it hadn't been for progression yer'd hev been sittin' at a desk doin' stunts with figures, instead of spending yer time in Europe advancing in a generous an' noble way the interests of the highest profession we hev. Hartley. (Drily.) And that is? Bangs. Art, art, noble art. Filling our galleries with the grandest specimens of the world's genius. Helping those poor devils, who may be geniuses, but who fail when the dollars are concerned to earn a decent living. Yes, sir, I say it is a noble thing to do, noble. Ahem ! Gotter a glass of water handy? I'm darned thirsty. (Looking around.) Hartley. Certainly. (Rings.) Water in abundance, thanks to the water commission, a few typhoid fever germs mixed with it, perhaps. Bangs. Humph ! Typhoid fever, v/ell a little whiskey won't hurt them. (Butler enters.) Hartley. Whiskey and soda. (Butler exit.) Bangs. Thanks, now yer speak of it water taken plain is bad fer the stomach. Hartley. So I have heard, but please continue your lecture on political economy. Bangs. Huh (Enter Butler.) Thanks awfully. (Butler exit.) King William, not bad. They say it is better 57 than Black and White. (Helps himself liberally.) Yes, political economy, haw haw, that's good. It's political, and in the long run, damn it, Hartley, it's economy. (Winking rather hard.) Now, as I was saying, it requires money to do all these noble things, give libraries, build universities, buy pictures, endow hospitals, and that money has gotter be made. Now yer grandfather couldn't never hev built that new wing to the art museum sellin' sand Hartley. You mean sugar. Bangs. Yes, so I do, of course. Well, as I say, selling sugar isn't goin' ter build any of those things, and those things must be had. What a country this would be if we had no art museums, no hospitals, no libraries. You can't earn them things by workin' by the day, you hev gotter combine, yer hev gotter put together yer energies, and so yer can roll money together an' become rich. Now, what I wanter know is how yer goin' ter roll money together with- out help? You got a business yer dad left yer, that business has growed and growed, and how did it grow? Did it grow all alone? Yer take a boy, he grows, ter be sure, but what kind of boy is he, unless he has the beniffercent education that this great age can give him. We take everything that comes along as all right, without thinking what it is that makes it. Now, what would yer business amount to if just left ter itself. That's what I would like ter know. Hartley. Of course it was managed. Bangs. Managed, managed what's management with- out pertection, that's the point. Do you suppose yer'd have had yer money all right if yer'd not been watched and shielded by some one? No siree. There are too many wantin' the same chance, wantin' ter make the same money, wantin', yes, I believe it, wantin' ter endow hospitals, build libraries, and establish universities. I believe in the good- ness of human nature, and these people hev gotter hev money tei do it. To make money yer hev gotter hev some kind of protection, and, thank God, yer've got it. Yer've got a government that looks after yer interests, and makes yer name an honored name wherever yer go. Yes, yer've got money, an' the world knows it. 58 Hartley. I am aware the government protects me, as it should every American citizen. Bangs. Of course, of course. (Helps himself to more whiskey. Puts cigar into his pocket.) But it isn't just that, don't yer know, the government protects some citizens more than others. Hartley. That hardly seems fair. Bangs. Fair, of course it's fair. Some citizens hev ter endow things, and of course they get more pertection than others, who are too poor or too damn stingy ter do it. Hartley. I had never thought of it in that light before. Bangs. Of course not, you haven't had time. Yer've left that ter Renshaw. Renshaw is a good fellow, he understands business, but he is weak, he lacks grit. Hartley. How do you mean? Bangs. (Taking more whiskey.) He says he doesn't like ter take too much responsibility. He wanted me ter come ter see, so I did. But goodness, man, I supposed he had told you all about business, and yer understood. Hartley. Well, continue your lecture on political economy. Bangs. Haw haw that's good. It's perlitical, and it's economy, as yer will find it in the end. Yer know yer never get anything in this bloomin' world unless yer pay fer it. Hartley. Rather hard philosophy, I fancy. Bangs. Perhaps, but somebody's always gotter pay in the end. Now, you rich fellers get yer money easily, an' yer spend it easily. But there has got always ter be some payin'. Per- haps yer think because yer get a good deal, and pay little, you don't pay at all. But yer do. Ask Renshaw, he knows. Hartley. Well hum I suppose one contributes Bangs. That's just it. Yer contribute. Contribute is a good word. Yer contribute ter charity, it makes yer feel good, yer get a lot of good feelin' fer very little pay, but it is pay all the same, an' yer know it. (Taking more whiskey.) Yer give ter charity ter stop the mouths of those damn fault-finders, those damned rascals that'd burn yer house down if yer didn't. Hartley. I hadn't looked at it in just that light. 59 Bangs. Well then, do. Yer payin' ter keep things straight, an' yer's gotter pay ter keep them straight, and what's more, there is the government that is above it all that keeps every- thing straight, an' yer've gotter pay fer it. Hartley. I should think we did. Our taxes are quite high enough. Bangs. Taxes, what are taxes ter a man like you? Just nothin', but it isn't taxes it's pay d'ye understand? Hartley. I think I have always paid if not one way then in another. Bangs. But yer haven't paid enough. Somethin', yes, but what? Do yer know what yer made last year? Hartley. (With impatience.) Not exactly. Bangs. Well, I do. T know exactly exactly, d'ye understand ? Hartfey. (Indignant.) 1 cannot just see Avhy or how you know exactly my income. Bangs. Yer don't? Well, I wanter tell yer this, this is a benerverlent government, it is a paternal government, it looks after its children, an' if its children get goin' a little too frisky like, I wanter tell you, it steps right in an' regulates things. That's right. But, bless yer, yer don't suppose this paternal benerverlent government is goin' ter do this all fer nothing. The government has gotter live, (Pause, in which he takes another cigar, having put the last into his pocket.) Now, how do yer suppose we can be a paternal government and not keep track of things? There are such things as ungrateful children, (Eyes Hartley severely) and unless I am damned mistaken you are one. (Hartley jumps up, keeping down !:is wrath with difficulty.) These people who think things just come their way are mistaken. Things don't come, they hes ter be brought, (Silence) and there is such a thing as beastly ingratitude. (Still silence.) Well, ain't yer goin' ter say somethin'? Hartley. Say, v/hat have I got to say? I can't say any- thing. Bangs. (Taking more whiskey.) Haw haw, they say money talks, yer've got money, make it talk, man, make it talk. (Hartley starts.) Yer wouldn't keep a phonograph in a box all the time, would yer? Hartley. (Incisively.) No, but I don't like phonographs. 60 Bangs. No, I suppose not, no art in a phonograph, just plain talk, but interestin' talk, yer know. Now money talks two ways, sometimes. Sometimes it is very pretty when it is all art and music, but usually talk means somethin', it means business. You men don't go down on Wall Street ter sing. You come right ter the point, yer do business. (Pause.) Well, it kinder seems ter me it's about time yer turned yer phonograph off from those dance tunes, an' let it do a little plain, straightforward work. Hartley. You mean (Hesitating.) Bangs. Yes, Hartley, I mean it's time fer yer ter stop yer fancy business with yer cash an' come down ter hard facts, get down ter business, like. Hartley. You mean that I should use my money where and in a way in which it will tell. Bangs. Sure, what in hell did yer send fer me for if yer merely wanted ter talk of the spring flowers? I ain't in- terested in botany, I am a business man. I came here at yer invitation, it was your place ter come ter see me, but yer man's alius been a gentleman, an' I treats gentlemen as gentlemen, as gentlemen should. Hartley. I trust I have treated you like a gentleman. Bangs. Sure, (Taking a drink of whiskey) sure, damn fine whiskey, but yer don't seem ter be quite up ter business, that's all. Hartley. Business! that is what you call it? Bangs. Sure, what would yer call it, art? Hartley. (Walking around seeking to check his speech.) I trust you do not mean to be impertinent. Bangs. (Staring.) Impertinent! (Pause.) Bless yer, no, what made yer think that? (Long pause.) Hartley. You come here and ask some very strange things. (Struggling with himself.) Bangs. Strange things. (Takes another glass of whiskey, also helps himself to another cigar.) Hum strange things ! Hartley. Yes, you come into my house Bangs. You sent fer me. Hartley. True, you come into my house and you talk things which I do not understand. (Still trying to subdue his wrath.) 61 Bangs. (With easy self-satisfaction.) I told yer that yer didn't understan' business. Hartley. (Exasperated.) Understand business! I don't understand bribery. Bangs. Yer don't understan' bribery don't understan' bribery ! Hartley. (Sharply.) Yes, bribery. (Bangs rises slowly from his chair and looks at Hartley for a moment.) Bangs. Yer don't understan' bribery. Yer say that ter me, ter Honest John Bangs, ter his face? Hartley. (Defiant.) Yes, why not, that is what you pro- posed? Bangs. An' yer say that ter my face ter me ter Honest John Bangs? Hartley. I don't know what you call it, but that is the way it looks to me. Bangs. To you? (Very quietly.) You have asked Honest John Bangs here to your house to insult him. Hartley. (Hotly.) You came here to insult me. Bangs. (Sadly.) I never insult people. I know better. I never ask a man to partake of my hospitality and then call him a thief. Hartley. I did not call you a thief. Bangs. It is just the same. You said I wanted to be bribed, and I'd like ter know what that is if it isn't stealing, or just as good. Hartley. (Losing patience.) But what do you call it, then, if it isn't bribery, getting money from a man to do dirty work. Bangs. (Aghast.) To do dirty work! I am afraid I do not understand you. Hartley. Well, if it isn't dirty work I would like to know what it is? Bangs. (Eyeing him carefully.) Oh ! you would, yer'd like to know just what it is. Perhaps yer'll know before loijg. Perhaps yer'll hev yer eye teeth cut. Perhaps yer'll know a gentleman when yer see one, perhaps yer won't be askin' a man to take of yer poor hospitality an' then call him a thief. Perhaps yer'll learn somethin' about art, a kind of art that doesn't mean gettin' drunk in Europe, an' jinin' 62 churches in New York. Perhaps yer'll think a little more of Honest John Bangs when yer know more about him. But 1 won't say any more. I told yer money talks. It's done all the talkin' ye ever did, and it'll do a lot more talkin' before yer git through. I tell yer that this great and glorious coun- try isn't goin' ter be run by any of yer for'n folks who call themselves Americans, just because a kind and too benever- lent government lets them. But we've fixed that lately, yer've gotter come back now in tv/o years, or this beneverlent gov- ernment won't own yer. And this spendin' yer money in Europe has gotter stop. It's good old Uncle Sam that's givin' it to yer, and it's good old Uncle Sam that's goin' ter see that it's his children what's goin' ter hev the benerfit. Yer think jes because I'm a patriotic American citizen, laborin' an' strugglin' to help the dear old country along, puttin' up with all sorts of insults from people who call themselves my betters, who think because they live on stealins Hartley. What what do you mean? Bangs. I mean jes' what I say. Live on their stealins Hartley. Do you mean to say I live on stolen money? Bangs. That's jes' what I mean ter say. Hartley. (Exasperated beyond control.) You you hound, you come here and try to bribe me, you come and take my cigars Bangs. (Complacently.) You ask me to yer house, yer treat me to cigars, you then call me a briber, and then a thief Well, as you like. Just as you like, Mr. Hartley. Just as you like. Them's that dance pay the fiddler. I guess you'll know a great American patriot when yer see one next time. He doesn't deal in stocks, or oil, or steel, he is just a hard workin' man, who's trying ter help his poor country- men, who don't steal their bread, but work an' earn it, an' are thankful ter git it. and git it without cheatin'. I am goin* now. Yer'll be wantin' ter see me next time. Yer come ter me an' I'll give yer Black and White, an' I won't call yer a thief either, if yer trust ter my hospitality. Good day, Mr. Hartley. (Exit. Hartley walks around and dumbly expresses his feelings.) Curtain. 63 ACT III. Scene. — Hartlev's library. Time. — Next morning. Enter Zaidee and Clarice. Clarice. Oh ! Zaid, I am so glad you came in. I am in an awful trouble. Zaidee. Over this custom house matter? But don't worry about that, it will all come out right. Besides, Stuy laughs at it. He says it is only a matter of money, and goodness knows, dear, your father has more of that than he can possibly get rid of. Clarice. It isn't money, Zaid, it is something far more it's my father's good name. Zaidee. Your father's good name ! What is the matter with that? (Anxious.) Clarice. Nothing really, but they are trying to take it away from him, and, Zaid, I am so worried, so worried. Zaidee. If that is the case, so am I. Clarice. (Looking at her quickly.) Why? Zaidee. (A little startled.) I ! why not, I hope you don't think I have no interest in the good name of my friends. Besides (Looking at Clarice inquiringly) your father has always been especially near to me, how could it be otherwise? I wonder if I can tell this child? (Aside.) Clarice. You are so kind, you and Stuy, awfully kind, and always have been. And I am in such trouble! (Lays her head on Zaidee's shoulder.) Zaidee. Come now, dear, don't take it so hard, I know it will all come out all right. Stuy says the officials are always making trouble, that is so as to get more money. Clarice. (Sobbing.) It isn't that, no. dear Zaid, it is something else. Zaidee. My dear. (Patting her back.) Clarice. You see, Zaid, I want to marry Qarkson Zaidee. Why, Clarice, you don't mean to say Clarice. I do, and we are having such an awful time 65 Oh ! dear, I am so unhappy so unhappy ! Zaidee. But, Clarice, what is the trouble? He is a splen- did fellow, and everything a man should be. Clarice. But papa doesn't know him very well and, well, he is poor, and, oh! dear oh! dear Zaidee. Poor! Well, most of us are that One can't always marry a person with just the same amount of money, it isn't practicable. I hope he doesn't expect you to marry a man who has as much mone}' as you will have some day. If he does you will have to marry a fool or be an old maid. T am very sure I feel no conscientious scruples in marrying a man who has more money than I have, if I did I fear we should both be in the poorhouse in a month. Clarice. Papa isn't just that way, he doesn't care about the money, but he has got someone else in mind. Zaidee. They generally do have. One's relatives always seem to think your getting married is entirely their business. As for myself. I fancy I am the one to be suited, and I do not intend to let relatives stand in my way. Clarice. But, Zaid, you don't expect to get married, do you? Zaidee. My dear, 1 may be some older than you, but T want you to understand that hope springs eternal in every maiden's breast, quite irrespective of age. Clarice. \ didn't mean that, Zaid, but somehow I never thought of your marrying, it seems so strange. Zaidee. Does it? Just why the fondest idea of my life should have been hidden from your penetration merely shows how careful I have been to conceal a forlorn hope Clarice. Don't talk that way, you know you could have any man you want, but you always trifle so with them all, you frighten them off. I have heard a lot of men say the fellow that undertook to be your lord and master would have his life's work cut out for him. Zaidee. Oh! is that the reason 1 am allowed to vegetate? I will correct the impression. Perhaps, dear, you can help jne. Clarice. \ will when the time comes. Zaidee. (Eagerly.) Will you? You sweet thing! 66 Clarice. Zaid, if I didn't know better, T should believe you were in love. Zaidee. I may be, who knows, but tell me what this is about. You say it isn't money, then what is the objection? Clarice. Papa wants me to marry a man older. Zaidee. I approve of your father's ideas. Clarice. Clarkson is older, he is at least two years older. The man papa wants me to marry is nearly fifteen years older, think of that. Zaidee. (Making a face.) Well, that isn't so very much after all. I have heard of a greater difference than that, that is between an older man and his wife, and I have reason to believe people could be very happy with such a discrepancy. Clarice. But, Zaid, you know very well you wouldn't marry a man so much older, now would you? Zaidee. (Embarrassed.) I think it would depend on the man. For my part I would rather marry a man well settled in life, a man who had had large experience, who had had time to cultivate his intellect, in short, one who would not only seem, but who would be, my superior. Clarice. Well. Clarkson is mine. You don't know Clark- son. Zaidee. Yes I do. I have always known him, but he is a little young for my set, and I really think the best fellow in it. If you are sure you care for him, Qarice, my dear, I should say marry him by all means. Your father will never stand in your way, of that I am sure. Clarice. But you don't quite understand, Zaid I don't know as 1 ought to tell you. Zaidee. Tell what you like, my dear. I think I can keep almost any secret if I have disguised from you for years my mad craving to get married. Clarice. I know you can but this may come rather near home. Zaidee. Oh! did your father mention one man especially? Clarice. Yes. Zaidee. Ah ! I see it is Stuy he has spoken to your father ? Clarice. Yes, how did you know? 67 Zaidee. Because he told me he intended doing something of the sort. Clarice. Of course, then, you don't want me to marry Clarkson. Zaidee. But of course I do, you don't care for Stuy you and he have been like brother and sister Clarice. Why don't you say uncle and niece, that is the way he put it. Zaidee. Oh! then, he has spoken to you? I like uncle and niece better. Clarice. Of course. He seems to think I think him too old, but I couldn't tell him about Clarkson, not just yet. Zaidee. No, of course not, not just yet. But do tell him when you have a good chance. You won't have any trouble from him if he learns the truth. Clarice. No, I suppose not, and he will understand, surely, how impossible it is for a young girl to marry an old man. Zaidee. (Sharply.) I didn't say anything of the kind, quite the contrary. You couldn't have heard what I said. Clarice. Yes I did, and from the way you act I really believe you have an old man in mind. Zaidee. I have, I should think you could guess that much. Clarice. But, Zaid, don't make a fool of yourself, please don't. Zaidee. (Sharply.) I don't intend to. I intend to do something quite the contrary. I don't think it would be so absurd as you try to make out. Do you think a girl would be a fool to marry your father? Clarice. Zaidee, don't make fun of my father, it isn't respectful you know what my father is to me. Zaidee. Oh! I only used it only as an illustration. It wouldn't be at all surprising, however, if some designing female did capture him. Clarice. Never. Of one thing I am sure, he could never forget himself, and he could never forget my mother. Zaidee. Ah! yes, 1 forgot. Pardon me, dear. I do hope ' to teach a few people their duty to their country, and he muttered that if a man wasn't a patriot he had to be made one. He said there weren't going to be much longer a lot of damned Americans wasting their money in Europe when it was so much needed at home. Very sorry that I had had any trouble, but it would come out all right. He's kept it out of the paper, so my wife's not heard of it, and I hope she won't. But, Mr. Hartley, I was an honest man. and I don't just see how I could help it. (Enter Tolm.^n.) Tolmau. Mr. Bangs to see you, sir. Pollon. Bangs here, come, Stark}-, we must get out. He mustn't see us. Hartley. (To Tolm.\x.) Show them out this way. (They go out wit'i ToLMAN.) To come to this. Heavens, what does ail Renshaw. And yet (Tolmax enters, crosses the stage, and shows in Baxgs. He then goes out, while the two eye each other.) Hartley. I thought I was not to have the pleasure of another visit from you. I thought I was to have the pleasure of coming to see you and partake of your hospi- tality Black and White I think you said. Bangs. (Easily, calmly taking a chair and looking around for the cigars. Hartley pushes them towards him with a sneer. Bangs helps himself, lights it, and then looks up at Hartley with a grin. Silence. Hartley stands stupefied, and then takes the whiskey and gives him a glass. Bangs calmly pours out a generous drink and swallows it.) Kinder thought you might like to see me. You certainly are hos- pitterble. 91 Hartley. (Sarcastically.) I am delighted. (Glaring at hii)i, which Bangs ignores.) Bangs. Kinder thought perhaps you might be feelin' like seein' me this mornin'. (Pause.) You didn't think the other day that anythin' was likely tcr happen. Kinder supposed a fatherly government couldn't get up the grit ter spank one of its grown-up children. (Takes some more whiskey, while Hartley continues his satirical glar,\! Pretty bad spanking, huh ? (Pause.) Yer didn't wanter huh ! it's out. (Look- ing at his cigar.) Yer didn't wanter say anything huh say anything about that two million dollar matter, did yer? (Hartley only glares.) It was pretty bad. But I knew what was comin'. I can't say that I was treated any too friendly like fer jes givin' a little warnin'. Some people don't ap- preciate their blessin's. (Looking around for his cigar, which he had laid aside.) Hartley. And some people do. (Snapped Hartley, hand- ing the box. He takes one coolly, and after a while puts it into his pocket.) Bangs. Waal, I can't say but what I do. I was brought up to look on the cheerful side of things. I have always tried to help people out of trouble, not to put them in. But I tell yer, ingratitude is the meanest, low-down, cussedest thing this country has gotter contend with. It's all get somethin' for yerself, never thinkin' about others. Make millions, an' then spend a little bit on charity, an* think ye're generous. Now I don't believe in socialism, but I do believe in some kind of equal distribution of God's gracious gifts. (With unction.) An' I am workin' for that end day an' night. I'm awfully sorry the government had ter put that fine on yer awfully sorry. It could hev been prevented. But yer can't do good every time. One must hev patience an' I've got patience. Hartley. (Bursting forth.) I want to know why you come here and treat me like a thief, insult me in my own house, act as though it was yours (Pausing for breath) tell* a free-born American citizen that he is to be ruled by a lot of scoundrelly foreigners Bangs. (Calmly.) I calculate that I am just as much an American as you arc, with all your grand ideas about birth. 92 We were all emigrants ter begin with, an' so fur as I can see it is only a question of money that makes any difference between us. Yer think because my dad came over when 1 was a baby I can't be a good American. But I am, I am a real patriot. Why, man, I fit in the Cuban war and saved that poor country from the hand of the oppressor I am proud that I stood up fer what was right, an' if I did suffer fer my country it isn't fer yer to tell me I'm no patriot. What scars hev yer got, I'd like ter know, ter show for your dear old country." My country's been a mother ter me and I am no ungrateful hound to go back on my own mother, no sir. Hartley. (Severely.) And what did you suffer the loss of, pray? Bangs. Those two fingers yes, sir, given an' given gladly fer my country. I say my country, right or wrong, my country. Hartley. And your grateful country gives you a pension? Bangs. I am proud ter say she does. There ain't no base, mean ingratitude in this government, and I am proud of it. When I was unable ter work I determined to work fer my country. And so I did. God gave me the chance of goin' inter politics and helping to form the counsels of the nation. Hartley. You miserable, old, canting, snivelling hypocrite! Bangs. Huh ! Yer use pretty strong language. Hartley, ye're a little cantankerous yet but we will see to that in time. Hartley. I'll see to it in time. I want you to understand that I will go to the President of the United States Bangs. Lord bless you, Hartley, the President of the United States hasn't any time ter be foolin' with yer affairs. He has a great and high mission, and he has sworn to obey the law and he has sworn to put the law inter force, an' that's jes what's been done when yer house was taxed two million dollars. No, sir, yer don't run a big hotel and go down inter the kitchen to see if the cook puts salt or pepper in the soup. If it tastes all right yer don't say nothin'. Yer don't monkey with the cook in these days, haw, haw. Hartley. I gave one hundred thousand dollars to help elect him Bangs. Yes. I know all about that. I asked Renshaw for the raone} an' I told him at the time it wasn't enough. Can't expect a big machine ter run well without plenty of grease, plenty of grease, huh I Hartley. That money was used in a perfectly honest v.ay to elect an honest man Bizngs. Who said he wasn't honest. I didn'L Of course he is honest. I guess I oughter know. Do you know who spent that money well. I did. every cent of it. I put it where it'd do the most good, and it did good. -\nd I tell yer money has gotter be used in these ere elections to couA-ince people of what is fer their own good fer their own good. It wouldn't be half the trouble ter run a government if there wasn't a lot of damn kickers. Hartley. (Thoroughly exasf'erated.) You used that money to bribe innocent men. You used my money to bring men down to place where they are no longer men. but slaves. You take money which does not belong to you. or which should not even come into your hands, to make a free man not only a slave, but a miserable, unhappy coward. I know. I have just had those custom house appraisers here, and they told me what you had done. Bangs. (Scou'ling.) Yer mean Pollon an' Starky? Hartley. Yes. 1 mean Pollon and Stark>-. Starkj- told how^ you made use of his necessities, his dying child, his sickly wife, to debauch a free American citizen, a man bom free under a free sky. and in a free land. You enslaved him by his necessities, by his love for his wife, by every art known to a sneaking villain, and then talk about your love for the fatherland. I tell you f'His wrath increasing) there is still the spirit of freedom in our midst, and I at least will not be a slave. My parents gave me one gift, the gift of equality with my fellow men. and I shall fight for my rights. (Baxgs makes a motion to speak, but H.\rtley waves him to silence.) I shall fight to the verj- last cent I possess, and I shall learn if we have a government of men. men who are honest and upright, who can be controlled and dictated to by such as 3-ou. I shall find out if our homes can be invaded under the guise of law. our liberty- violated, and our pros- perity threatened by men who organize under government 94 by which their ver\- possessions can be taken away. Yes, I am still proud of my country, my native land, land of the pilgrims' pride, land where my fathers died, sweet land of liberty. Baugs. (Calmly.) You really mean it? Hartley. I mean every- word I have said I have already unearthed enough to send you to state prison, and I shall do it. A little money will not stand in my way when it is a question of principle, a question of right. Our ver>- homes are crying out for protection in this day of %-ice and wrong- doing, and I am willing to lead the van and I shall. It will be some satisfaction to uncover the corruption which you represent, and to make known to honest people the dangers which threaten them. Bangs. ^Slowly taking another cigar. j You really intend to do this? Hartley. I do. Bangs. Then I had better be going. (Quietly takes up his hai and bcnving gravely goes out.) Hartley. (Pausing out of breath and in anger.) The awful wretch. (Pause. Enter Rensh.^w in great haste and affright.) Renshaw. Hartley what have you been doing ? Hartley. (Grandly.) I have been gi%'ing the greatest rascal on earth just what he desenes. I have told him I \^t11 fight him to the ver\- last. Renshaw. You did. Oh ! idiot, idiot I Hartley. (Amaced.) What do you mean? Renshaw. Bangs just told me the warrant for your arrest has just been issued. Hartley. For my arrest arrest I Great God, what does it mean? Renshaw. Just what I said, your arrest. ( H.artley collapses.) Curtain. ACT IV. Scene. — Bangs' outer office. Time. — Next morning. Enter PoLLON and Starky, escorted by Officer. Starky. Pollon, I don't like it. Pollon. Oh ! cheer up, man, Bangs will get us out all right. Starky. But it will get into the papers. Pollon. No it won't. Bangs '11 see ter that. It's all right. Starky. I don't see why he had to surrender his bail. We could have got other bail if he had only given us a chance. I don't know what I shall do if my wife hears about it it will kill her. Pollon. No it won't, women are tough, I tell yer. My wife has had a lot of things to bear an' she's come out all right. Starky. (Sadly.) It is different with your wife she isn't sick and nervous and perhaps she doesn't think Pollon. (Roughly.) Think what? Starky. Think as much of you as my wife does of me, Pollon. Oh! go along. My wife is no fool, she sees things as they are. She hasn't any high-flown ideas about morality, but she's been a good wife all the same. She knows you can't get on, and go ter church and do as the minister says in these times. One has gotter live, an' she knows it. It tain't no worse than those rich duffers who make their millions waterin' stock an' bribin' people ter get elections. They get all the plums and we do the dirty work, an' then they say we are so bad, and go an' pray somewhere, an' give the minister a lot of money or a new church. It's alius pray, an' prey with them. I think sometimes they get mixed on their spellin', I do. Starky. Oh! Pollon, I really don't know what my wife will think. She will know I been locked up. I know it can't be kept from her, and I have tried so hard so hard. I tell you, Pollon, you don't know don't know OMcer. I guess Pollon's about right. But cheer up, Starky, 97 it may come out all right. I've known Bangs a long time. I never knew him ter go back on a friend. Besides, there is too much up fer yer fellers ter be locked up. You can tell some pretty tales perhaps Starky. That is just the trouble, we can tell the tales, but who will believe them ? The Daily Sensation will pub- lish them and all decent people will say that is the way the Sensation always does. The other papers will say it is very well for us to tell that story now, why didn't we speak before, before we were in a fix, if we are honest and trust- worthy. No, they will say Mr. Bangs enjoys a rather peculiar reputation, perhaps, but in the long run he has always earned the name of being honest, and there must be something in it, or all his friends wouldn't call him that. They will never stop to think that he is the one to talk most, about it. it is all talk that goes. You tell the American people a thing and they always believe it. The rottenest kind of patent medicine will always sell if there is enough advertising. I tell 3'^ou 1 don't like it. and I am afraid of Bangs. (Enter Bangs.) Bangs. So yer've come snivelin' around here, hev yer? Nice time ter come, I should think. (Pollon rises with a grin and Starky gets up anxiously.) Couldn't trust honest old John Bangs, an' this is the bloomin' result. Hope yer feel proud of yerself. Pollon. (Hesitating.) I don't know just what this means, Mr. Bangs, but I've alius trusted yer. an' I am willin' tei do so now. Bangs. Means, you hound, it means that you and that sniveling sneak are goin' ter prison that's what it means. {They start and gasp.) It means I'm tired of havin' patience. It means if yer've got a fatherly government yer've gotter trust it. Yer can't go sneakin' around tellin' a lot of things yer don't know and come here an' expect me ter stan' up fer yer. Yer've ter learn your lesson. Starky. Oh ! Mr. Bangs Bangs. Don't Mr. Bangs me. I am just Honest John Bangs, that's my name, an' if yer call me an3^thin' call me Bangs. But yer won't hev the chance of callin' me much hereafter. The government hes gotter hev an example, an' yer an' Pollon are as good as any. 98 Starky. Oh! Mr. Bangs, my wife my poor wife. Bangs. Well, she ain't my wife. I can't go weeping aroun' for all the sick wives goin'. Guess I'd hev enough ter do. All I can do is ter snivel over my own wife, let alone yours. I say yer've gotter go. Starky. (Horrified.) But you promised Bangs. I never promised. I never do. It's a great mis- take. I merely said it would be all right. So it will. Yer an' Pollon has gotter go ter prison ter show the American people how ter be honest. Yer've gotter suffer for the good of the many that's yer doctrine, isn't it? Yer go ter church. That's what the minister's alius tellin' yer not that he suffers much, unless his pay's held up. Starky. But my wife, my poor wife, why should she suffer for the American people? She doesn't need an example. Pollon. (Getting sulky.) But yer've gone back on us. Mr. Bangs, an' I fer one won't stan' fer it. Bangs. Stand for it, you beast, yer've gotter stand fer it. What can yer do, I'd like ter know? I suppose yer think yer can tell things. Well what can yer tell? Yer never knew me ter do anythin* against the law. I never hev, and I never will. Just because I've overlooked things yer think I am a criminal like yer. But I'm not. I am no member of the government. They can't bring me up fer neglect of duty. I hain't got any duty. There's where 1 am safe. It isn't my fault if the men in power don't do their duty. I'm not a house of correction, nor a nursery governess. They can't touch me, an' they know it. Yer can talk just what yer like, things go as I say, an' no man can be sent ter states prison just because he's a little merciful once in a while. No judge has ter try cases until they are brought before him ; when they are he has gotter do his duty. Now yer case has got so far it's gotter be brought before the courts, an' the courts hev gotter do their duty, if they don't I will make them. I select them an' they do as I say, but Honest John Bangs is the last man in the world ter want a judge to be dishonest. Why, man, our whole great country is based on the integrity of the bench, and the high-minded men I put on it. No, your time fer indulgence is passed. Yer should hev taken that into consideration before. Here, 99 officer, take those men away, yer should never hev brought them here, it's against the law. OMcer. But they asked me so hard, sir, I felt sorry Bangs. Sorry, who asked you ter be sorry when the course of justice is taking place. I will see ter yer later, if yer don't look out. OfUcer. I beg your pardon, sir, I am very sorry Starky. Oh! Mr. Bangs, can't you just remember my wife (Enter Hitt) my poor wife? Hitt (Severely.) What is all this? Bangs. (With his most affable smile.) I am so sorry, Mr. Hitt, but these men have been transgressing the law, and they must suffer the penalty. It's too bad you happened in just at this time. I am very sorry, but what can I do? Hitt. (Severely.) Everything. You can at least do me a little favor. I think that perhaps you are aware you owe me several. Bangs. (Embarrassed.) Of course yer know, Mr. Hitt, that there is nothing I wouldn't do ter serve a gentleman like yer, but I really can't turn aside the course of law. These men have been very unwise very indiscreet like, an' we (Winking at HittJ they hav ter suffer the penalty. But come into my office a moment. (Exit Bangs. Starky and Pollon look perplexed, and the Officer sits down, as though he understood his business. The prisoners do likewise. Enter Clarice.). Clarice. Oh ! Mr. Hitt, you here. Oh ! Stuy, what shall we do, I am almost crazy. (Aside.) What are those men, are they prisoners? Hitt. Yes, my dear, they are. They are the two men who were arrested for passing things in the custom house, the men who got your father into trouble. (Pollon overhears the last remark.) Pollon. No, sir, we didn't get the gentleman inter trouble. It wasn't us. Hitt. Who was it, then? ' Pollon. It was Crillon, he is the one who peached. Starky. Yes, he was the man who went to headquarters and told on us, claiming a reward for doing so. It seems the government pays informers, and he brags he is going 100 to make two hundred thousand by it. We go to prison and he goes free, a rich man, just because he turned sneak and spy. I don't think it is right. Pollon. Yes, an' his wife tole my wife, an' I didn't like it either, that her husband was a patriot, an' that he an' Bangs were the salvation of the country. Starky. My poor wife my poor wife. Clarice. Stuy oh ! Stuy, what is this tell me ! Hitt. Hush! keep quiet- don't get excited It will come out all right. (He tries to sooth her, while she visibly grows terrified.) Clarice. Tell me, sir (Going up to Starky^ what is this about your wife? Starky. Only my wife, Miss, is dying of some disease my poor wife, and can you help her, please? Clarice. (Going to Hitt.j Can I help her, please tell me. Is her husband really going to prison, and is he going for my father my poor father? Hitt. (Agitated.) I don't think so, we will* see. Please do try to keep calm, I will see Bangs. (Goes into the inner office.) Clarice. (Taking a seat near Starky.^ Please tell me all. Starky. Are you Miss Hartley? Clarice. Yes, i am. Starky. Then you will help me. You see I am not so very guilty. It was that creature Clarice. Bangs ? Starky. Yes, Bangs, he got me into it, and now he won't help us out. My wife, she hasn't been well, she she loves me, and she doesn't know. Now she has got to know. I don't see what I am going to do. Clarice. And my father too, is threatened with arrest, how perfectly awful ! I know my father did not do any- thing wrong. Starky. I don't think he did. Miss Hartley. I think we are all led into this unconsciously. I know I was, and I don't see how we are going to get out of it. Clarice. Perhaps Mr. Hitt can do something. (Earnestly.) Pollon. He hain't got the right kind of influence, Miss. He can do some things, but this kind of influence can't be 101 got by a gentleman. Bangs is our man, and if he can't be brought around then we are goners. Clarice. How do you mean? Pollon. (Doggedly.) I mean it is a matter of money. It's all a matter of money, an' if yer father pays we are all right. Clarice. You mean if he will pay the bribe you won't have to go to prison, that is what you mean? Pollon. We don't call it bribing, Miss, we don't bribe any more, we call it contributing, we all contribute. Them that contributes the most gets the most. Seems kind of right like, too. Yer father, it seems, hasn't contributed what he ought, and that is why Bangs is mad. He says the country has gotter be saved, and he's goin' ter save it if every other damn thing, beg yer pardon, Miss, goes ter hell, beg yer pardon, Miss. Clarice. You mean that if father will only pay what they want him to, then all this trouble will be stopped? Oh! is that all? Starky. I am afraid that is about all. Mr. Bangs is very angry^with us because we went to see your father, but what could we do? We didn't mean to do any harm. We thought perhaps he could help us and when you have a wife and a family well, Miss Hartley, you do want to save your good name and then, if T go to prison, who is going to pay for their support? Clarice. (Anxiously.) Oh! don't worry about that, I will see they do not suffer. Starky. Thank you, Miss Hartley, you are very kind. It seems awful to me that you should have to suffer for us, and you never would if T had only understood before this how matters were going. (Enter Zaidee.) Zaidee. Oh! you here, I hoped so, for they told me at the house you had come down, and T knew Stuy was coming where is he? Clarice. He has gone into the inner room. / Zaidee. Oh I then he will do something. Clarice. Oh! can he, Zaid, do you think he can? I have been talking to these men, and they are under arrest, and have got to go to prison, unless something is done. They 102 say that it all depends on father's giving more money. T don't see why he doesn't do it. Zaidee. He thinks it is bribery. Clarice. What is bribery if you are going to prison? And oh! Zaid. this poor man has a sick wife and he is nearly crazy, just think of it? And it all came about because a man in the custom house told on the others in order to get two hundred thousand dollars, did you ever hear of anythmg so dreadful? Why should the government pay a man to cause so much trouble, and give him so much money? Zaidee. (Turning towards Starky.) T don't understand, cc>uld you explain? Starky. All I know, there is a law if a man tells of wrong doing in the custom house he gets a percentage of all the money refunded to the government for amounts due. It seems a little queer that our government should deliberately train scamps to enter its service, to spy on its employees and then make them rich by so doing. It would be caued some pretty hard names if done by a busmess man or a Pollon. (Indignantly.) Yes, and then this man goes around and brags of his success, and when I told him he was a mean sneak, he said the government was on his side, and what the government did was right. I can believe m mv country all right, but I can't understand why one man gets rich by doing a mean thing, and another goes to prison. He was just as guilty as we were. Starky He was more so, Miss, he openly took bribes, he took them until Bangs had to tell him to stop. Then he turned informer and became pious. Zaidee. I never heard anything so awful. I knew the government was bad enough in its outrageous treatment of travellers, but I did not suppose it kept a school for scoun- drels. I don't see what encouragement there is for a man to be honest. . • j 4. Starky There isn't in these days. Miss. I have tried to be honest, but everything has turned against me, and I am where I am now. Zaidee. Clarice, your father must pay the money. He is certainlv in the hands of desperate men. If only for this 103 time, he must. We will persuade him. (Enter Hartley.) Oh! Mr. Hartley, this is too terrible. Hartley. My dear, (Taking her fondly in his arms and kissing her.) have you come down here on my account? Zaidee. (Drawing him aside.) Yes, of course. How- could I stay away? Hartley. Zaidee, darling, do you really care something for me. Say it. It will help me, oh ! so much. Zaidee. (Softly.) I have always cared, couldn't you see it? Hartley. (Beaming and forgetting for the moment his trouble.) You make me so happy. We must tell Clarice. Zaidee. Let me do that. Clarice, dear. Clarice, tell your father about these men. Clarice. (Who has been talking to St ark y, comes for- ward.). Oh! papa, these men have got to go to jail, can't you help them? (Hartley {urns towards them and per- ceives the oiUcer.) Hartley. What is this, are you to be sent to jail? Starky. (Rising.) Mr. Bangs has surrendered his bail and we see no help for it. Hartley. But this is outrageous. 1 will go your bail. (They look at each other, then Pollon speaks.) Pollon. I don't think, sir, the judge would take your bail after Bangs surrendered us, he wouldn't dare to. Hartley. What, not take my bail! Pollon. You see you too are mixed up with the business, and it would look like conspiracy. No, sir. Bangs is furious because we came ter see yer, and he's goin' ter make it hot fer us. Hartley. The wretch ! But I won't have it. it is too much. Pollon. (Slily.) I think yer'd better pay, Mr. Hartley, that'd get us all out of trouble. Hartley. (Distressed.) Pay it's pay, always pay Pollon. I guess it is, when yer deal with politics. I've been in 'em all my life an' I've never seen anything else. Clarice. Oh! papa, if it is just something to pay do pay and' let us be free from this awful nightmare. I can't stand it, I can't. Hartley. But my honor, my integrity Clarice how can T? 104 Pollon. They won't leave yer much honor or integrity I'm thinkin' if yer don't pay. The big milHonaires get theirs by payin' an' I guess you will hev ter do the same. Hartley. But I am not that kind. Starky. Please think of my poor wife, Mr. Hartley, please do. Pollon. Bangs said we'd hev ter go just fer the example. 1 don't like ter be an example fer people who ain't any better than I am. Zaidee. I think, Mr. Hartley, you will have to forgo your principles in this case. Stuy is talking with Mr. Bangs, and perhaps he will be able to do something. But why can't you get some friend to go bail for these unhappy men? Hartley. You are right, Zaid, dear, you are one in a thousand. I will. (To officer.) Bring these gentlemen with me and I will call up someone who will see that their bail is secured. (Exeunt Hartley and Officer with men.) Zaidee. (Going to Clarice^ who is weeping quietly in the corner.) I want to tell you something, Clarice, dear, will you listen? Clarice. Of course, Zaid, but my heart is nearly broken. I have quarrelled with Clarkson, and my father is going to be arrested, and I don't know what to do. (Throwing her arms around Zaidee^s neck.) Zaidee. Let us hope it will be all right. That old Bangs can be brought around and why, if Vesey loves you, he will come around too now you see if he doesn't. (Pause, while Clarice sobs.) But what I wanted to say to you, little one, is that you must come around too Clarice. Come around, what do you mean? Zaidee. (Turning away a little.) There are others who have some feelings just now and you must remember them as well as your own. Clarice. I do, I don't understand You mean my father, I do think of him all the time. It is that that's breaking my heart. Zaidee. Then you would do anything you could for your father? Clarice. Why Zaidee, how you talk, there is nothing on earth I would not do you know that. 105 Zaidee. And if his happiness were greatly at stake are you quite sure? Clarice. Zaidee ! Zaidee. But suppose he should want to get married? Clarice. But he doesn't. (Confidently.) Zaidee. Are you quite sure? Clarice. (Bcojildered.) Sure? what do you mean? Whom would he marry? Zaidee. Someone. Can't you think of someone he knows whc would make him a good wife? Clarice. (Thinking.) No. T can't. And I don't believe he has any such idea. Zaidee. Oh! but he has. Clarice. And you know who it is? Oh! this is too much, to have all this piled on my other trouble. I can't bear it. I can't. Zaidee. (Making a face.) I am sorry you think it so dreadful. You never thought your father might be very lonely after you are married? Clarice. Why no, of course not. he would not be left alone. He would still have me. Zaidee. But still he might be lonely. You would not be just the same to him. you know. Besides this person is someone you used to like. Clarice. Well. I don't now. Zaidee. Clarice, how selfish ! Clarice. (Stopping short.) Am I selfish? Zaidee. You are. If your father is in trouble you ought to be willing he should have all the comfort possible. Clarice. True, Zaidee, I am selfish. I am I see it. But it is hard. Who is this old creature anyway? Tell me quick and get over with. Zaidee. (Who looks a little disturbed.) Well she isn't so very old, she has been trying to get married for years, but she means well. Clarice. A regular old maid. I know. That is just the way things always go. Oh! Zaidee, Zaidee, what shall I do? Zaidee. Humor your father, child. He will like it, and perhaps he may be more inclined to let you marry Clarkson 106 after all. 1 am sure it would be a good argument. You could tell him if he gave his permission you would give yours. Children ought to have something to say in these days about their parents marrying. Clarice. (Thinking.) Perhaps you are right. And would you speak to him, say that I might consent if he would only Zaidee. I will do the best i can. Clarice. And is she such an awful old cat really? Zaidee. Not so very awful. I have known her well, and well, I really believe she is susceptible to kind treatment. Stuy says so. and he thinks a lot more of her than I do. Clarice. Oh ! tell me don't tell me, I don't want to know her name not just yet. It is hard enough to have the blow, without the full force all at once. But (Thinking) you see, Zaid, I quarrelled with Clarkson yesterday, and I I haven't heard anything from him since. (Buries her head in Zaidee's bosom.) Zaidee. (In mock sympathy.) What, not since yesterday, isn't that terrible? But you may hear later. Let us have one thing at a time. After we get your father safely married oflF we will try our hand with you and Clarkson. Clarice. Oh! Zaidee. you are so good. What would I ever do without you? Zaidee. Well, you may not have to do without me. You never can tell. Some friends stick closer than a brother. and I am one. (Enter Vesey. ) Oh ! you too. I am so glad to see you. I suppose you came on the same errand, to see this dreadful matter through. Vesey. (Looking anxiously at Cl.\rice. ) Yes, I heard that Starky and Pollon had been remanded to jail, and that other things had happened, and I was anxious, yes, very, for I knew too well what Bangs' wrath might mean. I do wish I were not so powerless. Good morning, Clarice. (She appears shy.) Zaidee. Oh ! dear. 1 think I will go out and meet your father and tell him the good news I think, perhaps. it may encourage him. (Exit.) Vesey. Clarice (She makes no reply for a moment.) 107 Clarice I hope I have not offended you. (Pause.) I am so sorry for all this, and I am so sorry for my help- lessness. What did Miss Hitt mean when she went out? Clarice. Oh ! Clarkson, just another trouble. Vesey. (Concerned. ) More trouble for you? I am so sorry. Clarice. No, for papa. (Trying to keep back her tears.) Vesey. For your father, what can it be? I thought he had enough between the custom house and me. Clarice. Well, he hadn't. He has got into more. Vesey. More, can it be possible? Clarice. Yes, he's going to be married. Vesey. Married, why that isn't trouble it may mean something different to him. Clarice. Yes, I know. It is trouble to you, and it is trouble, to me. Vesey. His getting married wouldn't trouble me. Clarice. iNo, I suppose not, and just now it isn't troubling me, although Zaidee says she is an old cat. It's my getting married that causes me trouble. I don't see see just (Vesey comes closer) why I must have it all at once and you so disinterested Vesey. (Astonished.) I I am not disinterested. Clarice. Oh ! no, I suppose not that is, not exactly. Having got me into all this worry, you are sorry for me perhaps Vesey. Oh ! Clarice, my darling Clarice. (Brightening up.) Why didn't you say that before? Vesey. I did not think of it. Clarice. Darling, of course. You men never know what 'to say unless we tell you. I I sometimes wonder how you ever got the sense to propose. Vesey. (Eagerly.) So do I, but you were a little more encouraging then Clarice. Oh ! you mean I led you on. Well but, Clarkson, dear, I don't care if I did. A nice man always has to be led on, it is one of the failings nice men have and Clarkson, dear, we like you all the better for not having too much cheek. But (Smiling) didn't you forget some- thing. (Looking around.) 108 Vesey. (Anxiously.) No, did I? Clarice. Oh! well, if you don't miss anything it doesn't matter, I only fancied you had. Vesey. (Seeing.) Oh ! you darling ! (Seising her and kissing her enthusiastically.) Then it will be all right? Clarice. (Tenderly.) Perhaps, but in getting you I lose papa and, dear, 1 can't live without you. Vesey. And he has consented? What joy! Clarice. Not yet, but that dear Zaidee has promised you see papa has put his case in her hands if I do not object to his marrying whom he likes, he will not object to me doing the same thing. Vesey. And Hitt Clarice. Is the best fellow in the world, and will not stand in our way in the least. Vesey. Oh ! I see now I understand what he said yesterday. (Enter Hartley and Zaidee.) Hartley, My sweet child, and you are good to your old father. (He kisses her fondly.) I am so pleased with my little girl. And Zaidee says I must be good to you, and I will be. (Turning to Vesey.) Here, take her, she is much too good for you, but if you are good to her it will be all right. (Clarice throws her arms around her father's neck and sobs.) There, there, my child don't Clarice. Oh! papa papa and is she so awful? Hartley. (Astonished.) Awful who awful? (Look- ing around.) Clarice. That that woman? Hartley. (Bewildered.) What woman ? Clarice. That that woman you are going to Hartley. (Seeing her trouble and looking to Zaidee.) You mean marry? Clarice. Yes, is she so very dreadful? Zaidee said she was an old cat. Hartley. (Laughing.) Well, you should know, she is your best friend. Here is the designing female. (Turning to Zaidee.) Clarice. (Dumbfounded.) Zaidee Hitt you you. (Gasping) you, oh ! Zaidee I am so glad so glad, why did it never dawn on me? 109 Zaidee. Ave you glad, dear child, it makes me so happy. (Enter Renshaw.) Renshaw. Have you seen Bangs? Hartley. Not yet. (Suddenly brought to himself.) Renshaw. Then you had better do it at once. It may be too late soon. He is frightfully angry, and he will give you a great deal of trouble. I have seen everybody I can think of who has influence, and they all say it depends on Bangs. They leave it all to him. In fact everything seems to be left to him. and we have got to work for all we are worth. Hartley. (Getting exvited.) Is it so bad as that? He can't really mean to have that warrant served. Renshaw. Served, hasn't he surrendered Starky and Pollon, and if he will do that he means business. I under- stand he is now on his high horse, and talks about the purity of politics and all that rot, and when he does that something has got to break. Just now it looks as though you might be the one to break, and you have got to come down pretty handsomely too, if I am not mistaken. Hartley. Bribe, you mean, to save myself from prison. Renshaw. Call it what j^ou like. 1 can't for the life of me see the difference between a campaign fund paid before an election, or money paid after, they are all for the same end, in order to get something that someone else ought to have. But what ever you do, don't say bribe to Bangs. You don't use the vulgarest forms of speech when you are ad- dressing society people, but you know they are just as cor- rupt as politicians. Be just, and see things straight. Don't get moral astigmatism and see everything crooked, or you will fall over the bank into the water. If you were drowning you wouldn't wait to buy a life preserver, you'd take the first one handy and run the risk of being sent to prison after, for stealing. Hartley. (Thoroughly frightened, as the others are.) But what shall I do. Renshaw. Give me free hand, and I will see what I can do. . Zaidee. Oh! please do, let him get us out of this strait. Clarice. Papa, do it this time, and let us behave ourselves afterwards. 110 Reus haw. They are right. For my part I want to say right here I am sick of this business. I am tired of the way things are done in what we call trade. I am going to get out. So when you are out of this you can count me out. I'll retire. Hartley. Do you think you can bring him around? Renshaw. Yes, with your check book. Hartley. (Handing it to him.) Take it. Renshaw. You sign the check, he nvouldn't take my signature. He will want it to hold you. (Hartley signs a check and gives it to Renshaw.) Renshaw. Now mind I don't say he will take it. He has got to be handled just right. But whatever you do keep quiet and don't be remembering your Sunday school maxims. They are not used in the custom house for doing business, only for blinding and bull-dozing the public. (Exit.) Hartley. What are we coming to? What are we coming to? Clarice. Oh ! papa, why did you ever have that horrid Mr. Renshaw to do your business. I am sure he is altogether to hlame. Zaidee. Yes, I think so too. He was not the right man. I am glad he is going to leave your business. You would never be safe with him. Hartley. I only hope I shall be safe without him. What would I do if he shouldn't persuade Bangs. 1 was very severe, but what can a decent man do but try to down those wretches. T did my best, but somehow it all went the wrong way my poor dears. (Going up to Zaidee and Clarice, who are trying to comfort each other. Enter Hitt.) Hartley. Well, how is it going? Hitt. I can't say. I came away for Renshaw knows Bangs a great deal better than I do, but as I left things were very doubtful very, I am afraid. Zaidee. Oh ! Stuy you don't mean ? Clarice. Oh! papa, what shall we do? (Hartley is very much agitated.) Hitt. You see, Bangs has got to the point where he thinks it is worth while to teach the business man a lesson. He as much as told me so. You see, if those doing business 111 with the custom house are properly threatened they will be all the more generous in their tips to deserving assistants. Bangs didn't put it just that way, he put it in a much more delicate but positive manner, and that was the deduction I drew from it. He is a past master in the art of saying things which mean a great deal, but which, if retold in court, would sound extremely well in the papers. In fact it has always been his profession, and one must admit, for a politician, he is a genius. Machiavelli himself is but a school boy in comparison with him, in spite of his rough and vulgar demeanor. In fact the politics in those days were only the first struggles for deserving and unscrupulous politicians. Hartley. And you think I am to be a victim of the process of perfecting the political system? Hitt. I am afraid of it (But observing their consterna- tion.) It may come out all right. Cheer up, don't let us worry until we see Renshaw. He is very clever, and is much too well informed for Bangs' comfort, and Bangs knows very well that if all this stuff ever does get into court Renshaw could serve him a very bad turn. But here comes Renshaw. (Renshaw enters.) Hartley. Well, how is it? Clarice and Zaidee. Oh ! Mr. Renshaw, you have no bad news? Renshaw. That depends how you take it. Hartley^ How we take it! Is it so bad? Renshaw. Executive clemency will be used Hitt. Is that all? Must the warrant be served? Renshaw. No, that will be withheld, but the two officers must go to prison to save the face of the authorities. ^Hartley. And I Renshaw. Your misconduct will be overlooked in con- sideration of good behaviour in the future Hitt. Is that all? Renshaw. No, not quite. A little matter of five hundred thousand dollars All., Five hundred thousand dollars! Hartley. (Bitterly.) A bribe. Renshaw. Oh! bless you, no. In consideration of a sub- scription to the A. P. P. A. executive clemency will be used 112 Hartley. You subscribed? Renshaw. I did. I made out your check. Hartley. To whom? Renshaw. To the treasurer of the A. P. P. A. Zaidee. What is the A. P. P. A.? Renshaw. The American Patriots* Protective Association, Hartley. And who is the treasurer? Renshaw. Bangs, Curtain, 113 N 2 1912 One copy del. to Cat. Div. JAN 3 1912 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 928 570 4 •)