ASTE N ALLEGORICAL PLAY GAIL 7 1^' ir.vww-/ sirfABgS'ffinBiTili'i ah Mi im n By WI L S O N RAND McNALLY & COMPANY CHICAGO NEW YORK ;-i 3r^*^r/«>nr/«xir/i»Y.(yj^ir/'AY(r/'*\irirA\if^a74^irr^ WASTE AN ALLEGORICAL PLAY By GAIL WILSON RAND McNALLY <& COMPANY CHICAGO NEW YORK .^ A's ^K>^ ^ .V Copyright, IQIQ, by Rand McNally & Company ^^x ACKNOWLEDGMENT Reproduced through the courtesy of the War Informa- tions Department, Woman's Committee, Council of National Defense, Illinois Division. FEB -8 1919 ^=^ H. ^ WASTE An Allegorical Play Written by Gail Wilson for the War Information Department, Woman's Committee, Council of National Defense, Illinois Division. Reproduced through the courtesy of the Department. PERSONS OF THE PLAY The Master Tool Maker of Earth The Defender of America, a khaki-clad private of the United States Army Waste, a fashionable youth of the cabaret type [These three are creatures of the thought-world, and when Waste descends into the world of men, he is, of course, unseen and un- heard by physical eyes and ears.] Johnny Cook, a Boy Scout Mrs. Cook, Johnny's mother, a housewife A Neighbor Woman LuciLE, eighteen years old, pretty, thoughtless, spoiled Dorothy, Lucile's chum, the same type "Aunty," Lucile's aunt Andrew Philip Haines, father of Lucile, railroad official and owner of large tracts of unused land in the Northwest. WASTE Time : Now Place: Acts I and III, in the realm of Thought Act II, in the American Home — perhaps yours ACT I Scene i : A corner of the shop of the Master Tool Maker at the top of the world. Models and blue prints everywhere, but everything arranged in perfect order. The Tool Maker is busily engaged in checking over orders. He stops at one, his pencil in the air. Master: There's not enough material to fill this nation's order. [Enter the Defender of America. His eye is caught by one of the ships' models.] Defender: What have you here? Master: A dreadnaught for a model. It is mirrored on the seas of earth and carries forty thousand tons. Defender: And this? Master: A superdreadnaught. Defender: This? Master: A submarine to undershoot the superdread- naught; and beside it, almost finished, is the submarine detector and destroyer. It is not completed, for the people ordering have not sent up enough material. Defender: Is that the model of a rifle's shell? Master: It is, and close beside it is a marvelous healing substance that will soothe the jagged, shell-torn flesh and make it grow anew. And here 's the model of a thousand million bandages to bind the broken human forms that fall beneath the rain of lead. I make all things 4 WASTE that man desires, and it were well that he were careful in his wishing. Defender: It were well that man were careful in his wishing. I must needs have greater armies, navies, and a fleet of flying things to guard my country and the cause we've taken up. Master: Your country is — Defender: America. Master : I had your order entered ere you came. Defender: When will it be completed? Master : I know not. Materials come so slowly from yoiir land. Defender: I cannot understand. We are the richest land in all the world. We have enough of everything, that's needed. Master: But it does not reach my workshop to be made up into tools with which to fight. Defender: Why not? I do not understand. Master: All I can do is use the stuff the people send to make the tools they wish. If such a people as your own will harbor the arch slacker, Waste, you cannot hope for victory. Defender: I will intern the traitor — nay, destroy him. Master : Rather would it wiser be to win him to your cause; persuade him that you need his best, so he will change the thing that 's thrown away into some thing that serves. Your country is too rich, too careless of the little things of life that are so big. And you have wished to seem thus careless and extravagant so that the world outside would look with envy on your wealth. And now you pay the price. You cannot yet command the means WASTE 5 to make the tools with which to wage the war your newly wakened conscience bids you enter. It is ever thus with those who live too long in peace and plenty, all forgetful of the rest of earth. Defender: What shall I do? I must protect the honor of my land. I must uphold her pledge to do her part in winning freedom for the world, else she will fail in her great destiny to be the mother of the coming race. Master: It is within your power to win if you but use the forces hitherto thrown in the discard, for your adversary knows the value of the wastage. He it is whose orders I am filling now. [Motions off stage to remainder of workshop.] Materials always come from Germany. They throw no thing away that can be utilized. They know and heed the law of conservation. You must learn it. If you win your wastage back to service, you will win the war, for Right Compassion fights beneath the flags allied in France, but even Love cannot avail in battle if the soldier in the ranks is hungry, cold, or lacking ammunition. [Turns hack to his bench.] I have spoken. I must be about my labor. Defender: He is right. It is the maladjustment. There's the food thrown in the garbage can; the wasted forest trees, burned in the clearing, that would warm the freezing thousands in the winter. Men and women spend their efforts hither, yon, in useless things. They go their separate ways, not caring whether other men and other women, even little children, hold the line for them. It is not well. I must find Waste, the slacker, and he must be shown the way to usefulness. [Enter Waste.] 6 WASTE Waste: Where is the Master Maker of the Tools of Earth? I have a bit for him. A lady whom I serve dismissed her third attendant and the butler's helper, and I bring a coin thus saved. Defender: Who are you? Waste: I'm the surplus of the things possessed by him that has. I am the unsown seeds. I am the weeds. I am the chauffeur waiting all the day to serve his master ten full minutes. I am. all the tons of coal burned up to make the lights that throw a liquor advertisement far across the city, while the homes must go without and cannot even buy for money. Defender: Ah, then, you are — what I want. Waste : You want me ? No one ever wanted me, ex- cept that he could boast he 'd thrown me out. Defender: The times have changed. I need you. Waste: Ha! I'm always needed where I'm not, and useless where I am. If I were where I'm not, I'd not be I. Defender: Are you contented as you are ? Remem- ber, this is the transition time. All things are changing. Even I, who ever held that I should never cross the seas, chafe at the lack of ships that holds me back, for now I know our welfare is not separated from the fate of France, of Italy, of Belgium, and of England. If they fall, we fall. Waste: Do you expect to take me seriously? I say — I — I'm not used to that you know. I'm just the breakfast food that Johnny wouldn't eat and mother threw into the sink. I don't amount to much. I shouldn't be of any use to you, you know. Defender: That self -same moment, in a shell- WASTE 7 wracked cave, a little spark of human life that 'had been kept against all odds for future France went out for want of you. Waste : Oh, I say now, don't make me out a murderer. Defender: What else are you? Waste: Well, I don't know exactly. I suppose I never thought, but I don't want to be that thing. It's just because I never thought. Defender: Well, then, think now. Waste: I can't, if folks won't think. Defender (after a moment's silence) : That's it. The people must be made to think, and you must help me. Waste : Why, I never helped. I never had to work. I don't know how. Defender: Then learn. The order has gone forth to work or fight, and you are commandeered. Why not accept the ultimatum gracefully? Waste: Of course I'll do it gracefully, but where shall I begin? Defender: That is your problem. All that I have asked is that you save yourself, and in the saving help me save my country and the other countries, her allies. The Aryan race will fail if they are lost. Waste: Then Fm of some importance after all! I never thought of that. Defender: Be on your way! The Master Maker who must build our ships and cannon, who must clothe and feed our fighting men, cannot deliver all our order until you return to service. Waste : I will go and see what I can do. [Exit.] Master: He will return. Already I am figuring the added raw material with which to build. 8 WASTE Defender: Then there is hope? Master: Yes, there is hope, but days are precious. We still dwell in time and space, and those who 've fought so long are worn and weary, though unflinching. Pray that every force in all America be mustered swiftly to the colors, most of all the slacker just gone forth to seek his own redemption. Defender: I do pray! My every wish and thought and aspiration is a prayer sent up to Heaven's portals that my people will awaken, that we shall not fail in this great privilege to ser\-e. This is my prayer. [Curtain.] ACT II Scene i: A typical city back yard. At back stage right is the rear of a dwelling with steps down to the ground. A walk {board, or stone, or just a path) leads across back stage to left entrance, where is the garbage can. A board fence runs along back of stage sepa- rating yard from neighbor's. Waste is sitting cross-legged on ground, left down stage, with his back to audience, watching garbage can. Waste: There's lots of me in that old can. I feel it in my bones. [Enter Johnny, the Boy Scout, with roll of posters under his arm.] Waste {aside): Here comes a helper! [Scout unrolls posters and proceeds to put them up on fence, whistling and talking to himself as he works. He has a hammer and tacks, and takes his work very seriously. Waste is, of course, unseen and unheard.] Johnny : Now, maybe I '11 get called for this, but every one of 'em must be put up. [By this time he has the first one up. It reads in big letters: WASTE 9 Food Will Win the War But Whose Food? Germany's or Ours?] Waste (aside) : Well, that's a himimer! Johnny: I'd just like to know how Mother's going to 'member all the things if I don't put these here where she can see 'em when she 's working. Waste (aside) : He must be the younger brother of the man I met back in the Tool Maker's shop— same kind of uniform. I rather like that color, and I should n't mind one for myself. [Johnny puis up second poster which reads: Give Your Garbage Grease TO the Government for Glycerine] Johnny: Most folks don't know that every bit of dirty grease is worth something for dynamite and 'splosives and such like, and my! we have to have a lot. Waste (dancing with excited pleasure) : That boy can give me pointers on the way to make folks think. Now all I have to do is make the housewife read it all. [Johnny puts up third poster, nearest garbage can. It reads: One Ton of Garbage fed to the hogs will yield 100 Lbs. of Pork keep your garbage free from broken crockery and other rubbish] Johnny: There, now, that's done. I'll put the others down the alley fence and let the neighbors see. [Exit Johnny through alley gate. Waste is viewing the posters with intense interest, when Johnny's mother, Mrs. Cook, the house- wife, enters. Comes down steps with garbage pan. She starts down walk, looking straight ahead. She has on near-sighted glasses. 10 WASTE Waste is fearful lest she miss the signs. He skips up to the first poster, pointing to it frantically and beckoning her to look.] Waste {to Mrs. Cook, but unseen by her) : See, see, what Johnny did! [A lock of hair has fallen down on her left temple, and Mrs. Cook pauses, rests pan on right hip, puts up lock with left hand and as she turns her head she sees poster. Goes closer to read.] Mrs. Cook: Well, look what Johnny's done! I s'pose his teacher had him put that up. He 'd do most anything she said. Waste {to Mrs. Cook and pointing to pan) : Look at that bread you've thrown away! Mrs. Cook {looking down) : Well, now, I really oughtn't throw away a crust of bread like that. [Holds up half slice.] I s'pose in Europe now they're starving, and unless we send 'em all the wheat we can — who knows ? But I can't use this now. [Drops it back in the pan.] Waste {to Mrs. Cook) : Don't throw that bread away ! Help me to save myself so I can wear a khaki uniform. Mrs. Cook: You know, I'll just put that aside and let Mis' Dusenberry feed it to her chickens. They can make good use of it, and I won't let Tom be so wasteful after this. [She turns back and puts the bread in a tin pie pan sitting on the back porch. Waste claps his hands.] Waste {aside): Well, this is jolly! If she'll see the others, it will be a fine day's work. Most housewives are near-sighted when it comes to saving me. They'll have to look lots sharper. [Mrs. Cook has come down steps again and starts down walk, looking straight ahead. Waste stands beside second poster.] Waste {to Mrs. Cook): Here's another! Look! WASTE II [Just then on the other side of the fence rises a neighbor woman's head, boudoir-capped and spectacled.] Neighbor: Good morning, Mrs. Cook. Mrs. Cook: Good morning. Here's another of those posters Johnny's putting up. I'm that near-sighted I can't tell 'em off a ways. Neighbor: What does it say? [Mrs. Cook looks carefully at poster and tells her neighbor.] Mrs. Cook: It says to give the Government your grease for glycerine. [She looks down at the pan in her hand.] Neighbor: Now, who would ever think that they could use just everything? Waste {pointing to contents oj pan) : The scrap of bacon rind! And see that bit of lard! Mrs. Cook: Yes, that's just it. Who'd think that they could use what everybody throws away ? Waste {aside) : That 's what Defender said I had to do. He said I had to make folks think. She's thinking. I'm succeeding fine! Mrs. Cook: I know what I will do. [Neighbor woman's head disappears. Mrs. Cook is intent upon her garbage pan.] I '11 take that can that has a cover on and put it right beside the steps. [She goes up steps, off stage, brings back can, sets it near steps. Waste follows to the steps and watches developments.] Mrs. Cook {continuing) : And I '11 just try to keep the greasy garbage all in that, and Uncle Sam can have it for his glycerine and other ammunition. It takes such awful quantities. If all the women did it, 't would amount to something. Waste {delightedly) : Now she 's thinking. She is 12 WASTE overstepping, though. She does n't have to separate the grease herself. If she'll just see the next one! Oh, I'll see what I can do. [Mrs. Cook has transferred several scraps of fat and bacon to new can with aid of stick. She starts hurriedly toward garbage can again.] Mrs. Cook: I must hurry. All this time I've spent in fishing out the waste — Waste (a5i(i^): That's me! Mrs. Cook: and all my work not done! [Waste has skipped down to the last poster, which is nearest the garbage can.] Waste {aside) : If I can land her for this slogan, too, I 'm some instructor. [Mrs. Cook walks straight down walk, and Waste sees that no ordi- nary inducement will make her look. As she comes opposite poster, he stoops and trips her. She stumbles and spills pan, and its contents scatter over the ground. She falls toward fence, and puts out her hand to catch herself, and is face to face with poster.] Mrs. Cook {with a little scream): Ooh-o-oh! [Her eyes are caught with words. Reads:] "One ton of gar- bage fed to hogs will yield one hundred pounds of pork." Well, who'd 'a' thought o' that, now? [Reads further:] "Keep your garbage free from broken crockery and other rubbish." [She straightens herself up and looks down at garbage spilled all around.] There's that broken teacup. Now, I should n't ever put such stuff as that into the garbage. It surely would get stuck in piggie's throat. And Mildred threw those needles from the phonograph into the pan! She oughtn't ever do a thing like that. If Uncle Sam can raise some pork on what I throw away, I surely ought to keep it clean. The paper WASTE 13 said to * ' keep your garbage clean. ' ' It sounded silly then, but now I see. [By this time she has scraped up the garbage, and found an old pan hidden behind the big can into which she puts broken cup. The rest goes into the garbage can. She starts up the walk, swinging the empty pan. Waste pulls his handkerchief out of his pocket, mops his brow, sits down center stage, cross-legged, facing the audience.] Waste: That's hard enough, but something's work- ing in my blood. I'll wear that khaki uniform before I 'm through ! [Mrs. Cook is just entering the house.] [Curtain.] Scene 2 : Sun parlor of the summer home of Andrew Philip Haines, in one of the exclusive suburbs of a great city of the Middle West. Lucile and Dorothy are knitting pretty-colored sweaters for them- selves. Aunty is reading the afternoon paper. Waste is perched on high, watching. Waste {speaking to himself) : Their Uncle Sam needs all that wool. I'll have to start some thinking here, that's sure. The soldiers die and die! Exposure in the trenches, on the marches, and the wounded lying cold and sick in all the countless hospitals, and yet these women knit and knit, just for themselves! Lucile {holding up her sweater) : I saw the swellest one this morning on the links — a lavender with belted-in effect of white and just the swellest edging at the throat and armholes, and — Dorothy: When I get through with this one I am going down and get acquainted with an expert knitter at the Red Cross. She can make the cutest shoulder to a sweater, but she would n't show me — not unless I used 14 WASTE their wool and turned it back to them, so I'll just knit for them enough to learn, and then — Waste {pulling his hair in despair) : How can I get a wedge in? Selfishness and vanity! Lucile: I wonder if they're going to wear those darling little woolen knitted cuffs and collars on the frocks this fall? Waste {aside) : Another of my silly horrors for a fad ! Lucile: Now I have only two sets. If they're going to be the thing, I'll need some more — one set at least for every dress. Waste {aside) : No chance for socks for tired soldiers here. Dorothy : And wouldn't it be cute to have the woolen flowers on the hat to match? Waste {aside) : Ye gods ! Aunty {reading) : I see that Betty Ralston's going to marry Harold Woods. He's just, a private, is n't he? Waste {aside): Maybe there's something in that paper, if she'd only see it. [Skips lightly over and looks over Aunty's shoulder.] Dorothy: Yes. Who'd want to marry just a pri- vate? If I could n't land a captain — at the very least a first lieutenant ! Lucile : I should say as much — Waste {to Aunty, pointing to another column in paper) : Read that! Read that! Lucile: At least a second. Donald Glenn's a second, and — Dorothy: Oh, yes! You think that anything that Donald is just must be right. I wouldn't set my cap for him. His father 's losing all his money. WASTE 15 Lucile: I don't care. He's handsome in his uniform and may be he will be promoted. Dorothy : Maybe ! Aunty: Dear Lucile! How can 3^ou speak so? Donald has n't yet proposed — or has he? Lucile : Aunty, please don't be so personal. Waste (to Aunty) : Read that! Read that! There's an example. See? Dorothy (laughing, slightly sarcastically) : Your Aunty does n't know that it's a toss up — Mary Winton or Lucile. Lucile : Oh, Mary Winton ! She 's — she 's not pretty and I heard she had to go to work. Poor thing ! Waste (aside) : They sneer at work ! And think what England's women and the French have done! These dolls shame even me. Dorothy: Who knows? Perhaps they'll try it in a cottage. Aunty (who has finished one column and turns to next) : Here's an item about Mary now: "Miss Mary Winton, daughter of Mrs. So-and-so, like many other daughters of our best and oldest families, has finished with her busi- ness course and goes into the office of the Winthrop Arsenal. She follows the example of her English cousins, who have done munition work since war began. This venture is of special interest as — " Well ! [Silence for a minute.] Lucile: Go on! Dorothy: Oh, dear! Please put an end to the suspense. Aunty (clearing her throat) : "As her engagement to Lieutenant Donald Glenn is just announced." i6 ' WASTE [A longer silence.] Dorothy: Lieutenant! Must have been promoted rather suddenly. Lucile: I told you he would be promoted. [Exits, banging door.] Waste (aside): Now, she'll waken. Aunty: Poor, poor dear! I knew he was the fickle kind. She is so young, poor dear, it is a shame ! Waste (to Aunty): Read on! Dorothy: What else? Or was that all the paper said? Aunty: No, it goes on to say the romance started when he saw her great devotion to the work among the foreigners. Dorothy: You know she worked at the Exemption Board and talked to all those dirty men, so ignorant they couldn't understand the — what is it? — the questioner. Waste (to Aunty) : She means the questionnaire. Aunty : You mean the questionnaire. Dorothy: Yes, yes, that's it. Aunty : My poor Lucile ! I' 11 go and take her motor riding. [Exit Aunty, leaving paper. Dorothy sits gazing straight ahead in deep study. Her knitting is idle beside her.] Waste {aside): See, the leaven's working. Didn't know that the example came so close. It hit them where they lived. I'm doing fine this afternoon. Dorothy: Poor Lucy! She was surely fond of him. It's mighty hard to be in love and have your rival win. And Mary isn't near as pretty as Lucile, and doesn't care one bit about her clothes. It must be brains. Waste {aside) : And her devotion. WASTE 17 Dorothy: Maybe it's — what's that the paper said? [Reaches for paper.] ''Devotion to the work." Yes, that's the thing that did the trick. [Throws paper aside.] Waste (aside) : I 'm changing all around inside of me. First thing you know I'll get that khaki suit. This girl, you see, she's selfish still but she's beginning now to know what 's really best for her. [Dorothy picks up sweater, puts it carefully in knitting hag.] Dorothy: I don't suppose that Mary'd take the time to knit a pretty sweater for herself. Waste : Nor would she take the wool. Dorothy: And there's the wool, too. Maybe — I don't know — [Exit with knitting.] Waste: That paper's done a lot of good. I hope they'll leave it there. I've got those girls to thinking. That's the thing. Defender knew if everyone would think, even the selfish ones would work. [Enter quietly Lucile. Her eyes are rather red. She goes straight for the paper and reads article for herself. Her sweater is still lying where she left it. Waste watches her closely.] Waste {aside): She'll read it all clear through. I need n't do a thing. [A step is heard. Lucile throws paper aside. Aunty enters, dressed for motoring.] Aunty: Lucile, my dear, I have been looking every- where for you. Come, dearest, we'll go motoring. I've called the car. Waste {to Lucile, pointing to sweater) : There 's something you've forgotten. Lucile {picking up sweater and regarding it thought- fully): Aunty, what's an afghan? i8 WASTE Aunty: I don't know for sure. Some kind of knitted coverlet, I think. Lucile: And don't they make them out of colored yam? Waste {aside) : I told you she was wakening. Aunty: Yes, I beheve they do, for children's cradles and for invalids. What 's on your mind? Lucile: I thought I'd try to make one. Aunty: Yes? For whom? Lucile: I'd send it to the Belgian children, or I'd give it to the charities. Aunty: Lucile, whatever is the matter with you, dear? I hope that you won't pine and fret and show your feelings about Donald jilting you! Lucile: He didn't. Aunty: You mean that you refused? Lucile : I mean he had a right to take the best, and Mary does war work and tries to help and — I — I'm not much good, I guess. Aunty : Lucile ! Waste {to Lucile): You're just beginning to be valu- able, Lucile. Lucile: I mean it. You're afraid I'll breathe a microbe, so .1 could n't be a Friendly Visitor and help that way, and Father thinks I 'd bring disgrace upon the family if I went out and learned what's really going on. Aunty : Lucile ! Lucile: And then, I've just been selfish. Never thought. Waste {aside): She's wide awake at last. Aunty: Come, get 3^our coat. I've called the chauffeur, dear. A spin will do you good. WASTE 19 Lucile: I'd rather not. I've something here to do. You take the spin alone. Please. There 's a dear. Aunty: Where is that car? It should be here by now. I'll call again. [Exit.] [Lucile starts to unravel sweater and wind yarn. Enter Dorothy.] Dorothy: What are you doing? Lucile : Wool is scarce — Waste {aside to Lucile) : Go to it, partner! Lucile : And I couldn't ever wear out all the sweaters that I 've made already, so I 'm going to make an afghan out of two, and— Dorothy, you go out motoring with Aunty. There 's a dear. Dorothy : I won't ! I mean I 'd rather stay with you, and you can show me how. Waste {aside) : They won't make afghans long, but that's a dandy start. [Enter Aunty, excited.] Aunty : Lucile ! Lucile: Why, Aunty, what's the trouble? Aunty : Gone ! Dorothy: What's gone, and why? Aunty: The chauffeur! Lucile: Where? Aunty {now quite red in the face) : To work or fight. Waste {laughs and dances with joy) : Another part of me is done. Two jobs in one. Aunty: They made him go. What is this country coming to? Waste {aside to Aunty) : It 's coming on to victory, my lady, at this rate. 'Lucile: Oh, Dorothy, you be a chauffeur. You can drive, and I '11 get Dad to try you out. ♦ 20 WASTE Aunty : Lucile ! Waste (aside) : A corker ! Dorothy: That's a go! Oh, that's a corking stunt! Aunty : Lucile ! Dorothy: And I can wear a darling of a uniform! Waste (aside) : That does the trick. Lucile : You surely can. Aunty : Lucile ! Lucile: And you'll look simply stunning. Waste (aside) : Kindergarten stage of service — Dorothy : Maybe I can get my picture in the paper. Waste (aside) : but she 's growing. Aunty : Dorothy ! Lucile ! Lucile (oblivious of her exclamations) : They '11 grab it for the Woman's War Time column. Aunty : Dorothy, you wouldn't — Dorothy (ignoring her): Great! Lucile, my dear, you're simply great! But say, Lucile, about yourself? Lucile : You wait ! Aunty: Lucile, you won't do anything ridiculous? Waste (to himself) : I see right now I 've got to stick around awhile. Dorothy: Old Stingy! Tell me now. Lucile: I won't. It's up my sleeve, and hasn't slipped into my hand just yet. You wait! You'll know to-morrow. Then you'll see! Dorothy (with baffled curiosity and admira- Aunty (her last gasp as she sinks in chair exhausted) : Waste (aside): She's simply great! [Curtain.] WASTE 21 Scene 3: The next day. Scene same as Scene 2. Waste is perched, up on some piece of furniture. Andrew Philip Haines is reading his paper and smoking. Waste {with pencil and paper, figuring) : I had to stick around this place another day. Too much to finish up in one. It's hard to figure how to get that man to thinking. He owns timber lands, and fertile valleys, lying idle, and a lot of people could be found to work them. But the transportation is a problem. Still he knows a lot about the railroads. [Looks at Mr. H. perplexedly.] He 's as hard a proposition as I Ve had ! Trouble is, he 's never missed a meal. He doesn't know what thirst and hunger are. He never had to lie in No Man's Land, his wounds iindressed for hours and hours, without a drop of water; then be carried back and back, and then lie weeks and months and have his food all counted out to him in calories, and know the nurse that's waiting on him hasn't had an appetizing meal in years. [Gets up and looks over shoulder.] Wonder what he's reading. Huh! I might have known it! Worrying about the fate of his pet railroad, now that Uncle Sam is busy. [Enter Lucile, knitting a gray sock.] Waste (aside) : Ha! I knew the afghan wouldn't hold her long. Lucile: Daddy, want a chauffeur? Father: Do I want a chauffeur! Where's there one that won't be drafted? Lucile: I know one who has no chance of being drafted. Father: Lame, or halt, or blind, or eighty-five? Lucile: Young, strong, and healthy. Eager for a job — has driven a great deal, but never had a job before. 22 WASTE Father: Why not? What kind of references can he show ? LuciLE : They 're good. Father: I don't believe it till I see him for myself. [Sinks into his paper and cigar again.] Lucile: All right. To-morrow. [Silence for a minute.] Lucile: Daddy, what's a land hog? Waste (aside): Bully! Father : Hiih ? Lucile: What's a land hog? Father: Where were you last night? You didn't tell your aunt where you'were going, and she worried. Lucile: I was out with Dorothy. We went to hear a lady talk. Father: What lady? Where? Lucile: She is an English woman lecturing about — a lot of things. [Father buries himself in his paper again.] Lucile: But, Daddy, what's a land hog? Father : If you learned that vulgar phrase from her, my dear, you'd better stay at home. That's all I have to say. Lucile: She only said that there were hardly any more in England — that the lovely parks and lawns were ploughed and sown, and that there wasn't any idle acreage. Waste (aside): Gee, she's the swellest little partner! She thinks twice as fast as any I 've seen yet. [Father pulls hard at his cigar, puts down paper and squares himself around.] Father: Lucile, look here. WASTE 23 Lucile: Yes, Daddy. Father: You're the only child I have — Lucile: Yes, Daddy dear, and you're a darling. Father: I have worked and thought and planned to have things right for you, and I don't want to hear you throwing back at me the arguments you hear from common trash. Lucile: This English woman isn't common. She's a lady. In the old days you'd do almost anything to have me meet her. Father : I suppose so. Times are changing. Waste (aside) : They are changing. Lucile: Daddy, just before she talked, there was a moving picture of Italian soldiers, and before the scene that showed them at their mess, these words were thrown upon the screen. I won't forget them, ever. [Quotes:] "An Italian soldier fights for you. His breakfast, seven acorns, dried. What did you throw away?" Waste (aside) : The best I ever heard. Father (with a forced laugh) : And I suppose you think that you can save enough to fill a ship and send it off to Italy! A woman's reasoning! Lucile: No, not exactly. I've a few more brains than that or else I shouldn't be your daughter. Waste (aside) : Clever shot I Father: You flatterer! Lucile: It's true, and now's the time to use what brains I have. Father: What's coming now? What do you want? Lucile: Well, you know. Daddy, you have land up north. I saw it once when we were touring. You remember? It was beautiful — some timber hills and 24 WASTE lowlands, and you told me that some day it would be mine. Father: Yes, what of it? Waste (aside) : I see the drift, but Father doesn't. Lucile: And you said that later on the land would rise in price and I'd be very rich. Father: That's true. Go on. Lucile: I want the land right now. Father : Lucile ! Lucile : I want to be a farmerette. Father: What! You? [Waste expresses his hilarity in pantomime.] Lucile: Yes, surely. Father. Let me, please. Then I could raise enough to be worth while — much more than I could .save from breakfasts. Father : You? You think that you could run a farm? Lucile: Why, Father, I'm no dummy. I would hire an expert manager this year, and by the next I'd learn myself. Father : Whatever put this in your head ? Lucile : Oh, I have just been thinking. Waste (aside) : Yes, she thought. Lucile: Why should that land be idle, when the world is starving? Why should you and I grow richer while the ones that fight for us grow poorer ? Waste (triumphantly) : ) Father (questioningly, defeated): j ^ Y- Lucile : Besides, it would be great to try my hand at work, for all the girls are doing something. Dorothy is learning how to do repairing; then you're going to hire her. Father: What? What's that? WASTE 25 Lucile: Why surely, that was what I tried to tell you — that I had a chauffeur for you, and she'd like to have you try her out to-morrow, if you will. Father: And you, you want to farm! And yester- day, or day before at most, you thought of nothing else but just good times and clothes, and everything a young girl wants, and now — what changed you? [A pause] Lucile : War, I guess. I just began to change inside. Waste (aside) : Same time I did. Father: Lucile — you know — it's funny, but it's in the air — Waste (aside) : You bet it is ! Father (continuing) : for I feel different inside myself. I sat here reading, worrying about the railroad — not a bit good-natured — this old government control has got us all. [Stops short.] Lucile, you know I would n't trade you off for any boy I know, and just the same I always wished that you were you, but that you were a boy. But I don't know — I think it would be hard to tell a boy how strange my mind begins to reason things. Waste (aside to Father) : It is your heart that has the upper hand for once. Lucile: Oh, Daddy dear, I understand, I'm sure I do. Father: I know you do, and you're a comfort, more than any boy could be. [Father smokes again, and thinks. Lucile knits on, waiting for him to continue.] Waste (to himself) : I 'm queer, I am. Now I am a conglomeration of a misspent force. And when this war 26 WASTE has taught the world to use me right, I shan't be I. Or shall I? I can't figure out. Now look at him. The power he represents is turning — turning to the right. (Father lays down cigar.) And I'm as eager as the next one is to know what 's going to happen to this part of me. Now listen. Father: Listen — do you really mean it — that you want to farm? Lucile: I absolutely do. I mean it, Dad. I'm tired of being useless. Father: So am I. So just supposing for a lark — -a war vacation, don't you know? — we go together, partners for a while. We'll put on overalls and dig. Lucile: Oh, Daddy, Daddy! Simply great! I al- ways knew you were a trump. Waste (aside) : I 'm almost through with my work here. Father: But wait! That isn't all. I couldn't stay there always. After you are started and I get a lot of exercise, then I will go to Uncle Sam and let him use what brains I have in any way he wants. Lucile: Oh, then you'll be a dollar man! I'll be so proud. Father: It's most as good — as good as if you had a soldier fighting, isn't it? Waste (aside to Lucile) : It 's just as good. Lucile: It's just as good. I'm just as proud. For you '11 be doing all you can. If everyone in all the whole United States does that — Waste (aside, exultantly): They will before I'm through. I'm off to get the rest. [Curtain.] WASTE 27 ACT III Scene i: Scene same as Act I. Curtain rises on empty stage. Enter Defender. Defender: Oho! Where is the Master Maker? Master: Here! [Entering from inner regions.] Your orders are almost complete. Defender : I know. Waste made it possible. He is the best recruiter ever known. Master: Food, woolen clothing, fuel, grease for ammunition, labor, everything is coming now in quan- tities. Defender: Thank heaven! We can see the light, and take our place beside our worn allies. [Enter, with skip and hound, Waste in khaki uniform.] Waste : Oh ! Whoopee, everybody ! Look a'here and see my uniform. [Defender turns, salutes, and kisses him on both cheeks, French fashion.] Waste : I bet you never kissed a garbage can before, Defender. Master: Man will do full many strange new things, and good, before the war is done. Defender: War brings a mighty change within the heart. Waste: That's right. War's just like me. You think I'm bad, but there's a lot of good can come if you know how to find it. Master: War is waste. Waste: I never thought of that. Defender: Nor I. 28 WASTE Master: Through all the ages, as I serve the wishes of all men, both good and bad, I see destruction follow in the wake of selfish wastefulness, for hate is bred by the unnecessary suffering of living things. Defender : And hate breeds war. Waste : Sure, anyone knows that. Master : Yes, anyone knows that — and then forgets. [Defender is inspecting Waste's uniform as an older soldier might that of a new recruit in whom he is interested. Master Maker goes on ^ith his work.] Defender: Your uniform is not complete. Where is your belt? Waste: I couldn't get it all, and that must be the part of me that's all those thousand men in prison. Jails and penitentiaries are full of them — all idle, when they might as well be doing something good and healthy for their Uncle Sam. Master {without looking up, musing over his work): Hate-breeding institutions! Man will learn in time, and then the nations will conserve their moral wastage, too. Defender: And there's a button missing! Waste: Couldn't help it. That's the sugar in the ice cream sodas. Almost everyone forgets, when tired and hot, that there's an army in the trenches, tireder, hotter, hungrier for sweets than they can ever be. I could n't help that button being off just now. Defender : You '11 get it sewed on when the mother- sister instinct truly wakes, as it has done in France and England. Waste: Will the captain reprimand me, do you s'pose? Defender {with his hand on Waste's shoulder): I WASTE 29 think if he knew all you've done to-day and yesterday, he'd recommend you for the War Cross. Waste: I say, now! You don't mean that! What does the old man say? [Turns quesiioningly to the Master Maker.] Master {lifting his eyes from his plans) : I say that he who brings the hope of victory again to tired fighters for the right; who wakens in their eyes new light that flashes back the dawn; I say that he is blessed, and he may meet, as he goes marching down the roadway singing, the White Comrade of the Battlefield. [Waste and Defender stand in rapt attention.] Waste and Defender {together): Who is He? Master: The First Crusader. Waste : Tell us further ! Master: Watch as soldier after soldier marches on and on, from home and factory and field to the long lines of trenches. Some there are that loathe to go; and some that crave excitement with the lust of killing in their hearts ; and there are those that stolidly fight on because they know no other path; but here and there is one whose spirit breathes the lofty air of gods. His body, every act — he gives in duty bound to king and country, fighting true and aiming straight, thus drawing peace the nearer and fulfilling to the uttermost his pledged allegiance to his earthly ties. But in his heart of hearts he serves none other than his Captain Christ. To such as these, who fight but are above the battle, breeding no new hate but paying with their blood the debt of hate, to them is given the password to the mystic brotherhood of those who know His smile, who see His Star shine forth. 30 WASTE [Waste takes off his hat respectfully, and watches Defender. De- fender slowly kneels. If possible, just hack of him making a background for the two soldiers, a large United States flag should descend. Waste takes his cue from Defender, and kneels also. The Master Tool Maker bends closer than ever over his plans.] Defender: O Thou, my Captain Christ, pour down the balm of Thy great love upon the hate-torn hearts of men. Teach us to know all life is linked and kin, for only as we learn the lesson of this tragedy of selfishness shall we deserve Thy overshadowing or dare to pray for victory. I ask it in Thy name, White Comrade of the Battlefield. Amen. [Slow Curtain.]