S" cfmzy PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS MM MM BABY SCOTT A FARCICAL COMEDY IN THREE ACTS LEON O. MUMFORD /y£^ ££> vj^ ^vvv •© \XA £V> /jVS ?d flfif y$ iC^!r ^£r £ft vQ /v7^ «w VA* 5Td fyc y*^ A*Y Mfc*f) IW-*' — A. A. DICK & FITZGERALD PUBLISHERS 18 Ann Street, New York 'IT v§7 ^v^ 5^ JUV B5 S?® cb@ 5® \$2 (5rab ^8r AAA PLAYS FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY 15 CENTS EACH w CRANFORD DAMES. 2 Scenes; 1}4 hours 8 GERTRUDE MASON, M.D. 1 Act; 30 minutes 7 CHEERFUL. COMPANION. 1 Act; 25 minutes 2 LESSON IN ELEGANCE. 1 Act; 30 minutes 4 MAIDENS ALL FORLORN. 3 Acts; 1^ hours 6 MURDER WILL OUT. 1 Act; 30 minutes 6 ROMANCE OF PHYLLIS. 8 Acts; 1J4 hours 4 SOCIAL ASPIRATIONS. 1 Act; 45 minutes 5 OUTWITTED. 1 Act; 20 minutes 8 WHITE DOVE OF ONEIDA. 2 Acts; 45 minutes 4 SWEET FAMILY. lAct;lhour 8 BELLES OF BLACKVILLE. 1 Act; 2 hours 30 PRINCESS KIKU. (25 cents) 13 RAINBOW KIMONA. (25 cents.) 2 Acts; 1}4 hours 9 MERRY OLD MAIDS. (25 cents.) Motion Song .: 11 PLAYS FOR MALE CHARACTERS ONLY J5 CENTS EACH M APRTLFOOLS. 2 Act; 30 minutes 8 BYRD AND HURD. 1 Act; 40 minutes 6 DARKEY WOOD DEALER. 1 Act; 20 minutes 8 WANTED, A MAHATMA. 1 Act; 30 minutes 4 HOLY TERROR. 1 Act; 30 minutes 4 MANAGER'S TRIALS. lAct;lhour „'. 9 MEDICA. 1 Act; 35 minutes 7 NIGGER NIGHT SCHOOL. 1 Act; 30 minutes 6 SLIM JIM AND THE HOODOO. 1 Act; 30 minutes 5 WANTED. A CONFIDENTIAL CLERK. 1 Act; 30 minutes 6 SNOBSON'S STAG PARTY. 1 Act; 1 hour 12 PICKLES AND TICKLES. 1 Act; 20 minutes 6 HARVEST STORM. 1 Act; 40 minutes 10 CASE OF HERR BAR ROOMSKI. Mock Trial; 2 hours.... 28 DARKEY BREACH OF PROMISE CASE. Mock Trial. 22 GREAT LIBEL CASE. Mock Trial; 1 Scene; 2 hours 21 RIDING THE GOAT. Burlesque Initiation; 1 Scene; \% hours 24 DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 18 Ann Street, N. Y. $SS$S$SSSSSS$SSSS$SSSSS$S BABY SCOTT » farcical Comeoie in Gbree Beta BY LEON O. MUMFORD Copyright, 1914, by Dick & Fitzgerald NEW YORK DICK & FITZGERALD 18 Ann Street NOTE. — The professional acting rights of this play are expressly reserved by the author. Theatrical managers who wish to produce it should apply to the author, in care of the publishers. Amateur representation may be made without such application and without charge. BABY SCOTT CHARACTERS. Tom Scott, in society by birth .Juvenile lead Col. Thomas Scott, retired capitalist Old man Burton Rogers, a social favorite Character Ralph Smith, a society idler Comedy James, Tom's valet Low comedy Mrs. Browne-Clarke, society matchmaker Old woman Miss Mae Stratton, a matrimonial sacrifice Emotional Bridget, the Scott's housekeeper Character Geraldine, " The Baby " .Ingenue Time. — The present. Locality. — New York City. Time of Playing. — A full evening. SYNOPSIS. Act I. — A New York bachelor's apartments. Evening. The artist's financial affairs pertinently discussed. Tom's marriage announced. His creditors depart in peace. Foreign society angling for American dollars. The enemy routed. Bridget a friend in need. " The Ba*?y arrives. " My own dear papa ! " Act II. — Same apartments. Next morning. Tom's return. " Babies drink milk." The Colonel backs a supposed matri- monial venture. A case of mistaken identity. James' untimely intrusion. Off to see the baby. Society shows its intentions to force an undesirable marriage. Bridget proves that a woman 2 JAH -3 1914 §)C!.D 35533 Baby Scott. ' 3 can keep a secret. The wager. Mrs. Browne-Clarke ques- tions Geraldine's identity. " My own daughter ! " Act III. — Same apartments. Hallowe'en night eight months later. The fatal wedding dress. Miss Stratton secures the medallion. A question raised as to Geraldine's parentage. Tom throws down the gauntlet to Mrs. Browne-Clarke. The future foretold by the chestnuts jumping into the fire. James dallying with Cupid. " Woman's honor can have no better protector than herself." The Colonel tells a story of a life's disappointment. " No true American girl would barter herself for a title." Geraldine's father comes for his daughter. " An American girl recognizes no authority foreign to that of her native country. "" Geraldine remains " Baby Scott." COSTUMES. Tom Scott. — Act I. Dark trousers, fancy vest and smoking jacket. Change to dark sack or cut-a-way coat. Act II. Gray mixed business suit. Spring overcoat and hat. Act III. Tuxedo or full dress suit. Col. Thomas Scott. — Act II. Black frock coat, light trousers, light weight overcoat and high hat. Act III. Dark business suit. Lounging robe. Change to driving or rain coat. Change again to full dress suit. Burton Rogers and Ralph Smith. — While dressing similarly as to time of day, should vary some as to color of street apparel. Act I. Tuxedo, full dress, frock or dark cut-a-way suits. Act II. Light gray or brown mixed street suits, with light weight overcoats and hats. Act III. Full dress or tuxedo suits. James. — Acts I and II. Butler's uniform. Knickerbockers, fancy or red vest, cut-a-way coat with brass buttons and braid. If not possible to procure such a costume, use a full dress suit. Act III. Full dress suit with a long light overcoat, the longer the better, and a broken high hat. Mrs. Browne-Clarke. — Acts I and II. Street apparel with wraps and hat. If possible have costume for Act I semi- evening, while that for Act II may be more for early morning or shopping attire. Act III. Full evening attire, quite elaborate* Miss Stratton. — Costumes in all acts to follow those of Mrs. Browne-Clarke, except as to age. Miss Stratton, being much younger, it is permissable for her to display any amount of jewel adornment. 4 Baby Scott. Bridget. — Act I. House wrapper of dark blue, red or gray, with shawl around shoulders, and small bonnet with strings tied under chin. Acts II and III. Customary housekeeper's attire, black dress with white apron, cuffs and cap. Geraldine. — Act I. Traveling apparel, with long ulster-like coat and dark hat, either straw or felt, but not elaborately trimmed. Act II. Street suit, different material than Act I, but still quite modest in style and trimming. Hat and short coat. Act III. White silk or sheer evening dress, if fashioned as a wedding dress of a decade past so much the better. INCIDENTAL PROPERTIES. Act I. — Locket. Newspaper on table. Bunch of keys. Cork- screw on side board. Decanter with cold tea or burnt sugar and water to represent wine or whiskey. Three small glasses. Tray. Box of cigars. Pitcher of water. Siphon of seltzer. Calling cards. Box of cigarettes. Card tray. Paper and pencil. Market basket. Telegram. Nursing bottle. Cradle. Bath tub. Tap bell. Several articles of ladies lingerie. Act II. — Several letters. Two each, plates, knives, forks, spoons, cups and saucers. Three glasses. Pitcher of milk. Coffee pot. Bread and food representing light breakfast. Pen, ink, paper, envelopes, etc. on desk. Cheque book. Toys, doll, jumping jack, packages, etc. Jewel case. Small trunk. Two suit cases. Letters. Ring. Locket. Sewing tray or basket. Broom. Feather duster. Table cloth and spread. Act III. — Chestnuts. Candle sticks. Fire tongs, shovel and andirons. Books. Apples. STAGE DIRECTIONS. As seen by a performer on the stage facing the audience, r. means right hand ; l., left hand ; c, center of stage ; d. c, door in center of rear flat; r. u. e., right upper entrance; l. u. e., left upper entrance. Up means toward back of stage; down, toward footlights. BABY SCOTT ACT I. SCENE.— Tom Scott's handsomely furnished 'bachelor apart- ments, c. d. with hall backing, c. d. heavily draped. In l. upper corner writing desk ivith calendar, candlesticks, etc. In r. upper corner a fireplace with usual ornaments, l. c, a side board with dishes, decanter, glasses, cigars, etc. r. c, a table with vase of flowers, newspapers and magazines. Down r., a settee with cushions. Heavy rug on floor. Chairs and small stands to complete the setting, but care must be taken not to overcrowd. Entrances up r. and up l. DISCOVERED Burton reading at table R. c. and James standing c. d. holding back curtains. James. Come in, Mr. Ralph ; shure an' Misther Burt is here awaiting for ye; ENTER Ralph c. d., hands hat to James, slowly removes gloves turns and looks toward r. c. Burton {languidly turns his head towards c. d.). Ah, so it is you " Beauty " my boy. (Rises and crosses to c. d.) How are you? (They shake hands) Ralph (putting gloves in pocket). Aw — deah chappie — I f ee l — aw — like a fighting cock and am quite in trim for this sudden at home of Tom's. (Removes overcoat) Aw — I — wonder what's up? Burton (crossing to table). You know as much as I. Tom merely scrawled me a line saying : " Come to my den to-night, where women cease from troubling and the wicked are at rest." {Sits at l. of table) Ralph (hands overcoat to James. Crosses to R. of table). Aw — chappie that's blooming hard on woman, — I say, old chap. (Sits at r. of table) [EXIT James r. u. e. 6 Baby Scott. Burton. So you see, " Beauty," I was compelled to come. Ralph. Aw — I — say — dean fellah — don't call me " Beauty." It's deuced bad form and I hate nicknames. ENTER James r. u. e. Burton. James, where is Tom? James (crosses to c. d.). Hear him, sor? (EXIT c. d. Tom off stage sings some popular chorus) Ralph. If reports are true — aw — Tom is singing on a limited income. Burton. Income! He hasn't a penny. Ralph. The deuce is to pay. Burton. He would be glad to know His Satanic Majesty held the only due bill. That cousin of mine is an awful plunger. ENTER Tom l. u. e. crosses to table r. c. and shakes hands with Burton and Ralph. Tom. Gentlemen, I feel honored, for this is positively my last appearance as a bachelor. The next drama I shall figure in is called " Matrimony ! " ( Crosses to l. and leans on mantel) Ralph i Burton \ (together). Matrimony! Tom. That is what it is called by a long suffering public. Ralph. Aw — I hear at the club that you are in a hole. Tom {crosses to table, puts hands on Ralph's and Burton's shoulders). Never listen, my boy, not even when charming woman whispers in your ear — sweet nothings. Ten chances to one the idolatry belongs to your tailor. (Rings bell) This is my funeral dirge. No more will I see the morning break on the tippling blinks of departing night. Burton (elbows on table. Face resting in his hands). To whom are you going to will your latch key? Tom ( taking key from trousers' pocket ) . Farewell, latch key ; thou martyred friend of the homeless. (Holds up cork-screw) Farewell cork-screw, thou spiral curve that proclaims the beautiful in art. Farewell all the blessings that have wafted my barque on the phosphorescent waves of bachelor bliss. ( ENTER James r. u. e. ) James, you will find two lone bottles of the elixir of bachelorhood on the upper shelf. Baby Scott. James. Misther Tom, I came to tell ye- Tom. Don't James. {Leans against hack of chair) I know too much already. I am bubbling over. I fell like a gospel measure. [EXIT James b. u. e. Ralph. May I awsk — aw — when — er — love captured you, my deah boy? Tom (standing up). Love capture me? You poor antediluvian creature. Do you not know society has decreed a divorce between love and marriage. (Faces front) A man in love is a whirlwind of emotion, a barque tossed on the tempestuous waves of woman's fancy, a ship rudderless on the sea of hope, then he has a wondrous all-overness ; he cannot tell whatness. Now, do I look like it? (Sits down) ENTER James r. u. e., with tray, two bottles, three glasses. Places tray on table, arranges glasses and then EXIT b. u. E. Burton. Is she a widow? Tom (pours out drinks). A widow! I marry a widow? An obsolete taste mentioned in a back number? Burton. Let us drink to unadulterated love. Ralph. Aw — let — us drink to — er — woman. Burton. The toast, Tom? (All rise) Tom. Here's to matrimony! That triangular, rectangular, unlimited quantity — (ENTER James c. d., crosses to Tom and whispers to him. Burton and Ralph sit down. Ralph picks up newspaper and reads. Tom to James) The Dickens you say. Tell him I want no coroner's inquest here. If emotions don't lay him out, I will. (Sits down) [EXIT James c. d. Ralph. Aw — listen — to this. (Reads aloud) Aw — It — is reported that Thomas Scott, Jr. is about to close his bachelor quarters on Fifth Avenue preparatory to becoming a Benedict. Burton. Did you see that, Tom? Tom. That is how I know I am to marry ! Burton. No ! Tom. Quite true! ENTER James c. d. James. Three min at the dure, sor! (Pantomime to Tom that they are Mil collectors) Tom. Thank heaven it isn't three women. (Turns to 8 Baby Scott. James) Speak out. I am now a public character. All New York is talking out loud. James (stepping forward). They said, sor, as how you had lost iverything. Oi could not stand that and Oi told thim we ware as rich as Jay Pierpont Morgan an' to come to-morrow whin the banks wore open an' we'd pay ivery mithers son on 'em and more too. Tom. Thou art truly the son of the old sod. James. Yis, sor, thank ye, sor; but I'm not done yet, sor. Two wint away, but ould Einstein, not wid all me palaver could I move him, sor. Tom. My ancient friend, old hundred per cent. Burton. Here James. (Hands James the newspaper) Give this society paper to the old Shylock. It will restore his confidence in the matrimonial market, if not in the money market. [EXIT James c. d. Tom. Your usual diplomacy. Oh money, thou instigator, persecutor, and impressionable charmer, thou pivot on which the world revolves. ENTER James c. d. James (lays paper on the table). The ould Jew is gone, sor. As soon as his eye fell on the paper he said, "Tell Misther Scott I only called to extind the toime." Tom. I regret that you didn't gather him to his fathers. [EXIT James r. u. e. Ralph (picking up the paper). Aw — by — Jove. Here's another — er — item. (Reads) It is whispered that the gay bachelor was captured by a debutante of this season. Tom. Luck is dead against me. Burton. It is indeed a bad run of luck. Ralph. Aw — who — do you suppose put it in? Tom. Mrs. Browne-Clarke of course. She is back in New York. Ralph. Aw — er — the devil ought to — er — take Mrs. Browne- Clarke. Tom. She has been his for some time. Burton. Do you intend to submit. Tom (rising). Do I? (Slowly) I don't know. (Crosses R.) I can't fight old Browne-Clarke. I can't fight scandal. (Crosses l.) It looks as if Fate is stirring my pot of destiny and doing it very badly too. (Crosses to c. d. Draws curtains Baby Scott. 9 and looks out) I am not a marrying man and it is infernally aggravating to have a meddling woman link my name with a girl I don't care for, until society gossips pick it up, publish it, and I must marry her or fight a scandal. (Crosses to table) I wish all meddling women were in Halifax. Burton. Phew ! You raked them that time. But the young lady of course will deny it in the next issue. Tom. Oh, no, not she ! Browne-Clarke won't permit it. Burton. What — is it, Miss Mae Stratton ! Old Browne- Clarke's latest London importation? Tom (resignedly). The same. Ralph (rises. Puts arm around Tom's neck very pathet- ically ) . Aw — deah — chappie — you — are — indeed — doomed. (Returns to seat) Burton. What will you do? Tom (pouring out wine). Do — Why, drink to my own health. (All rise) Here's to the bachelor, Who never refuses, To wed the fair maid, That old Browne-Clarke chooses. (All drink) Burton (lights a cigarette, crosses to chair r. and sits half facing c. d.). I suppose now you will give up painting. Tom. Never! (Takes a cigar, cuts end off, turns in hand, looks at it, smells it etc. as if testing brand) What? Give up the only art fit for the Gods for a woman's whim? Nay, nay, not I. At least, not right away. For I now have under way a canvas that will earn me recognition outside of the amateur ranks. Ralph. Aw — er — what — Fame? (Lights a cigarette. Crosses to seat opposite side of room from Burton and sits partly facing c. d.) Why — er — what are you painting? Tom (lighting cigar). It is called "After The Ball." (Burton and Ralph both laugh) Ralph. Aw — er — why not paint " His Master's Breath The Morning After." Burton. That's a very bad joke, " Beauty " entirely too personal. But come, Tom, tell us what the picture is to be. Tom (crosses to l. c. and leans against mantel. Slowly smokes cigar while half facing c. d., blows smoke in puffs and rings, and hesitatingly describes the picture. Sloiv music). It 10 Baby Scott. is a picture of a young society bud. She has just returned to her boudoir after her first ball. Her maid has partially dis- robed her. She sits in a large arm-chair, her bare feet nestling in a large fur robe. Her golden hair is free from the cruel fastenings ordained by society, it hangs in great profusion over her bared shoulder. In her hand she holds a daintily perfumed program which she is studying intently, thinking not of the picture she makes, but of the conquests of the even- ing, and possibly of her first kiss. (All three continue to smoke and slowly blow the smoke in puffs, clouds and rings) NOTE. — If desired, daring Tom's speech, the curtains at c. d. can be slowly drawn back showing a young girl attired and posed as described by Tom. All lights sloivly dimmed until nearly out. Red or green borders on over the young girl. At the end of the speech the curtain is slowly dropped back into place. Stage slowly becomes brighter as the lights are turned on. Burton Ralph Bravo. (Clap their hands in light applause) Burton. Capital. Ralph. Immense. Burton. Great. Ralph. Charming. Burton. Superb. Ralph. Lovely. Burton. Great, my boy, simply great. Never thought such serious sense, even though of artistic inclination, ever reposed in that rattle brain of yours. Ralph. Aw — most remawkable — chappie — but — aw — me deah fellah, who is the model? Tom (waving the smoke away from his face). Celeste. The same who posed for my Venus. (Crosses to l.) But what do you say to a game of billards until my farewell Bachelor Lunch is announced. [EXIT Burton and Ralph arm in arm followed by Tom l. u. E. ENTER Bridget r. u. e. with a large clothes basket contain- ing clothes. Crosses to table. Bridget. Now it be afther a wonder if Missus Casy wouldn't be waiting until afther mid-night before deliverin' the wash. Baby Scott. 11 (Puts "basket on chair and looks through its contents) Well, be jabbers, if she hain't gone an' lift the wrong wash. (Takes ladies lingerie apparel out. Holding up each article and places them on chairs and furniture around room, except on settee) I wonder if there hain't a thing but fa-inale duds in this basket. I'le try me bist not to muss or spile any of dese she-male fol-de-rols. Ah, here at lasht be Master Tom's own clothes now. (Takes up basket starts off r. c.) Sich ex- travagence. All this gas blazing sky high an' him in dar wid Master Burt and Ralph (Tom, Burton, and Ralph laugh heartily) a laughing their heads off an' him never a thought of the expinse of dis gas; and not a minute in the day the dure bell hain't being rung dry wid sum one wanting money. Wall, I'll just turn it down a wee bit, while I goes and put away his fine linen. (Stands with basket on arm and hands on hips) Laugh away you scalla-wags, the divil wid de oxpinse. (During this speech lights way down) [EXIT Bridget r. u. e., laughing. Bell rings c. d. ENTER James c. d. followed by Mrs. Browne-Clake and Miss Stratton. Mrs. Clake. Will you kindly learn if Mr. Scott is in and at liberty? [EXIT James l. u. e. Mae (crossing with Mrs. Clarke to settee and both sitting down). But really, Mrs. Clarke, do you not think it indis- creet, our coming here at this late hour? Mrs. Clarke. Certainly not, my dear. What harm can there be in your calling upon your intended when accom- panied by a chaperon? For all we know he may be ill. He did not call on us in the box at the opera. Mae (picking up paper). Ah, I see he has received the paper containing the notice. Mrs. Clarke. That is capital. We can mislead him by asking who put it in and pretending our honor has been touched, and the only remedy is to do as the article infers. Mae. I am afraid you have taken too strenuous measures to bring this about. Mrs. Clarke. Not at all. Man must be bullied and have his honor appealed to. Mae. I wonder if he takes as kindly to the proposed marriage as stated in the society papers. Mrs. Clarke. Most assuredly not. No man ever does. 12 Baby Scott. They all rebel at the thought of being won instead of winning. But we shall succeed. Mae. How do you intend bringing it about? Mrs. Clarke. He is a man of most delicate honor and we will play upon it. Mae. They say no power on earth can make him stretch his honor into marrying a girl he does not want. Mrs. Clarke. I have yet to experience a failure. Mae. I trust this will not prove to be an exception, as all in our set in London know the object of my trip to America. Mrs. Clarke. I have handled men like him before. There was Sharpe of a sympathetic nature ; all Marie Thayer had to do was to sigh and turn her head pensively and he was hers. Mae. But then they say if he does marry he will suit himself. Mrs. Clarke. The same was said of Greenwood, but Helene Chamberlain, a sensation in dimples and a lisp, he avoided most coldly until at a tea and that settled him. Mae. I do so hope this won't prove a failure. In fact I may as well confess I admire Mr. Scott the most of all the men in his set and I am afraid I could learn to love him. Mrs. Clarke. Never fear I have disposed of less desirable property than you. There was Margie Remmel. Margie's well educated hand got Stearnes, whose fad was palmistry. The most difficult was Lillian Long. When she first came out her hair was black, but the black hair and Lillian went over one season. But Lillian and golden hair caught Jimmie Hawes, a wealthy Columbia freshman. So you see, my dear, there is no occasion to worry. ENTER James l. u. e., Mrs. Clarke and Mae rise. James. Mr. Scott is (Spies clothes on the chairs and backs up to hide them) Mr. Scott — is — er — not Mrs. Clarke. What is it, James? Speak right out. {Turns and notices wearing apparel. Goes and picks up a garment) Ah, what means this? James. I don't know, mim — as I was saying — Mr. Scott is er Mrs. Clarke. Woman's apparel strewn promiscuously around the room! Baby Scott. 13 Mae (looking at clothing etc. In half sobs). I wish we hadn't come. James. Misther Scott wishes me to say Mrs. Clarke. Hadn't come! Why it is an excellent thing we did. For now we have another trump card up our sleeve. James. Me masther is not playing cards, he is Mrs. Clarke. Tell Mr. Scott we do not wish to take him from his (Sarcastically) charming company. He will hear from us at another time. Come, Mae, we must be going. (James holds curtains back c. d.) EXIT c. d. Mae demurely with head bowed down, while Mrs. Clarke sweeps out majestically. Tom (looking through l. u. e.). Has the enemy departed? James. Shure, Masther Tom. The coast is clear. [EXIT James c. d. ENTER Tom l. u. e. and calls off l. Tom. Come on, fellows. The enemy has appeared, fired their skirmish guns and retired in disorderly condition. ENTER Burton and Ralph l. u. e. Burton (crossing to a chair and picking up a garment). Must have been mighty severe fighting to leave such terrible traces of the battle. Ralph (also picking up a garment). Have they camped out in your apartments for the night? Tom. What diabolical scheme is this? ENTER Bridget r. u. e. Bridget. Phwhats phwhat! Why sure didn't ole Missus Casey jist bring ye wash, and yer clothes be afther all mixed up wid sum other loidies and I had jist sorted thim out an' was beyant placing yer own duds in yer own drawers, Master Tom. (With the others helping, clothes are replaced in basket) Tom (hands money to Bridget). Here's an extra dollar. You and Mrs. Casey saved me from a painful interview that time. [EXIT Bridget l. u. e. 14 Baby Scott. ENTER James c. d. with cablegram on tray. Crosses over to Tom. Burton and Ralph sit. James. It is a letter, sor. Tom (turns toward James). A what? James. A cablegram, sor. (Hands tray to Tom) [EXIT c. d. Ralph (crosses to table. Tom takes message from tray and studies the envelope intently). Open it. Burton (rising). Don't try to read it through the envelope. (Tom tears it open and reads it. His hands drop by his side and a look of agony appears on his face) Ralph (going to Tom). Heaven's man! What is the matter? Burton (crosses to Tom). What the Dickens is up now? Tom (sinking in chair. Drops cablegram). It — is — a — baby! Burton (picks up cablegram and reads). "Baby will arrive to-night." Ralph. What! A — baby — coming here to-night? Tom. Hang it. Don't set it to music. I shall be the laugh- ing stock of the clubs. To-day they are whispering and ex- pressing condolence and sympathy. To-morrow they will offer congratulations, and when they hear of this they will all be smiling and looking deuced wise. Damn it, I can manage debts, Jews, mortgages, but not a baby. (Lays head on arms on table) Ralph (puts hand on shoulder at r.). Whose baby is it? Burton (doing the same at l.). Where is the mother? Tom (looking up). The mother! How do I know. The infernal donkey, to saddle me with a baby. Burton. Perhaps it is not as bad as you think. Tom (rising). It couldn't be worse. How do you suppose I will appear? A bachelor with a baby. (ENTER James c. d.) James, there is a baby coming. James. Faith sor Oi'l have nuthing to do wid a baby. Tom (angrily). What's that? James (backing away). I won't be mixed up with a baby. Tom (advancing). You won't! James (still backing up). You know, Misther Tom. I did not hire out as a nursery maid. Burton. Why don't you call Bridget? Ralph. That's it, get Bridget. Baby Scott. 15 Tom. Call Bridget. Don't stand there like a helpless idiot. (James crosses to c. d.) Burton. Tell her we are expecting a baby. Tom. Tell her it is coming from London. Ralph. Tell her it is coming to-night. ^ T [EXIT James c. d. Burton. Is the baby coming from London? manM) ^^ "* ^^ ^ iS tt ° 0ming from? (0oes to Ralph (sitting on chair). I must say you are not very communicative. Tom (hands in pockets). Do you want me to talk myself to death about a baby. All I know the cable is from London saying a baby will be here to-night. Burton. Who will bring her? Tom. Her? Who said anything about sex? Ralph. Oh — ! Burton. Why all this secrecy? Tom. There is no secret ! Burton. Where is the mother? Tom. It has none, I suppose? Ralph. That's odd! Tom. Odd— Did you ever hear of a baby's mother dying? Burton. Oh, then you know something about the mother. Tom. I do. Burton. Is it a friend's baby? Tom. Whose else could it be? Burton. Then why didn't you say so? ENTER Bridget c. d. followed by James carrying small hand basket. Places basket at r. All push a chair forward toward Bridget who takes Burton's chair. Other chairs replaced. Bridget {sitting down). For the love of heaven, give me a dhrop to drink. James (brings a glass of water). Here ye air. Bridget (takes glass and tastes the water. Hands it back to James). Bad luck to ye. Do ye think I'd spile me illegant thirst wid anythin' as wake as wather. Ralph (pouring out a glass of whiskey filled quite full). This is the right thing. (Hands it to Bridget) Bridget (drinks and smacks lips). That be more loike it. 16 Baby Scott. But, Misther Tom, where's the baby? (All smile. Bridget looks around) It's a foine flock o' larks ye are. Here I wuz over to me frind Missus O'Rourke's over on the nixt block, who be afther being loid up wid rheumatiz the pasht four wakes an' I wuz afther saying, says I, as how good a rimidy rid flannel wore, when in rushes that spalpeen of a James an' say as how the baby had come and ye wuz afther wanting me. I jumphs right up on the instint, quick slaphs me bonnet on and runs ivery steph of the way over here and here I am, but, where's the baby, Misther Tom? Tom. It's coming. We expect it every minute. Bridget. It will — well, let it come, I'm riddy. Tom. It will come all right. No such good luck as failure. Burton. Oh, yes, Bridget. The baby will be here to-night. We received a cable. Bridget. Ye did. Me sowl to glory. (Rises, picks up basket and starts for door) Tom (rushes to her. Holds her arms with his hands. Tries to force her to sit). Great Caesar. You are certainly not going to leave me alone with a baby? Bridget. There's no baby to lave yer with, Misther Tom. And if it comes, it can't come by itself an' ye don't nade two nurses. Tom (still holding Bridget). Bridget! Bridget! sit down. The baby is coming. I don't know how. But I won't have a strange nurse about. Now do you understand. The baby is coming from London. Bridget. From London, did ye say? Ye needn't say ye had to sind all the way to London for a baby, Misther Tom. Why, New York is full of them. Tom. But don't go. (Motions to James to take basket) [EXIT James r. u. e. taking Bridget's basket. Bridget. I'm not going and I'll take care of the baby no matter where it comes from. (Removes hat and shawl) Tom. That's right. Bridget. Misther Tom, a baby is a baby and talking don't change it. The darling will come and not a sup have ye for it. Be gorra, if it were a dog you'd have no trouble in finding something for it to ate, a sup to drink, and a soft place to lay. Bekase it is a human bein' ye are all bothered entoirely. (Takes her hat and shawl and crosses to R.) Tom. What do babies need? Bridget. Mostly fathers, sor. Baby Scott. 17 Tom (crossing to Bridget). Don't babies need cradles, bottles, pins, and things? Bridget, why don't you talk, you are a woman? Bridget. Are ye going to let the baby die to-night. Surely it will nade a cradle. Tom. Of course it will need a cradle as it must stay to- night. ENTER James r. u. e. Bridget. Open the dures and let out the shmoke. (James opens doors. Pulls back curtains c. d. Puts furniture back from center of stage assisted by Burton and Ralph) [EXIT Bridget l. u. e. Burton. Send James for the cradle. Tom. That's it; James you go and get a cradle. James. A cradle! Where'll I get it? [EXIT James c. d. Tom. Anywhere; only so you get one. Ralph. Why don't you make a memorandum of what you need. ENTER Bridget l. u. e. with bath tub. Tom. Thunder. You are not going to bathe the baby here. (Crosses to desk preparing to write list) Bridget (hands on hips). Indade I will. This is one baby that will have its rights. Tom. Very well, but what is to go on this list? (Burton and Ralph stand either side of desk) Ralph. Put down cradle. Bridget. Gin, Misther Tom. [EXIT l. u. e. Tom. Wait, where am I? Cradle, pins, gin, and a bottle, of course. Burton. Two. If you have but one and that breaks where are you then, my fine fellow. ENTER Bridget l. u. e., with towel, soap, etc. Crosses to c. d,, and closes curtains. Ralph. Aw, what are you going to put in it? Burton. Whiskey ! Bridget. For bathing! Tom. Well, go on! 18 Baby Scott. Burton. Mellin's food. Ralph. Paregoric ! Tom. Yes, yes, I have got all that ! Ralph. Peppermint. Burton. Mustard, of course. Ralph. Soothing syrup. Burton. Olive oil ! Tom. Hang it, man. You are not going to make a salad. Bridget. Go on, Misther Tom, ye are losing time. Ralph. Bitters. Burton. Cherries. Tom. Neither is it a cocktail. Burton. Proclaim the proclamation. Tom (reads). Cradle, gin, pins, two bottles, whiskey, peppermint, soothing syrup Burton. Powder. ENTER James c. d. with cradle. Crosses to l. c. and puts it down. James. The baby has come. [EXITS c. d. Tom (collapses in chair). At last. Ralph. Where? (Runs around Bridget and falls over "bath tub. Looks out c. d.) Burton. I wonder if it has golden hair and blue eyes? Ralph. I'll hold it first. (Crosses to mantel) Burton. By Cupid, I'll kiss it first. (Starts for c. d., falls over cradle) Tom (rises and goes r. c). Hang it all. I'll both hold it and kiss it first. It is my baby. (Bridget crosses to r. Burton stands at l. near c. d. Ralph in front of fireplace) ENTER James c. d. James (holding back curtains and bowing low). Miss Baby Scott. ENTER Geraldine c. d. Music. Geraldine (crossing to r. c. and putting arms around Tom's neck). My own papa! Quick Curtain. Baby Scptt. 19 ACT II. SCENE. — Same as Act I. The newt morning. DISCOVERED James looking in drawers at desk. Comes down c. puts letters on table, picks up newspaper and sits full length on settee with one foot on settee, the other leg cross knee with foot in air. James. Misther Tom ought to have found out something about the baby and her affairs by this time. He's been out all night. There's a sum-thin' going on. (Looks up from paper) Mr. Burton give me a fiver not to say any thin' er — about it and I won't unless I'm axed. But I should like to know what's going on jes' the same. Well, mealtime's the time to find out, 'cause thin's whin people talks whin thay ate. (Reads the paper again) No noos, not a prize fight nor nothing. (Rises and crosses to R. c.) Well, things are com- ing my way. I've all but arranged to buy a corner grocery I saw advertised. I've paid the deposit, and whin the governor pays me me back wages I kin plank down the rist and com- mence a loife of aise and unadulterated bliss wid Bridget by me soide. La — da — di — da — (Does a little tripping dance up to c. d. Pulls curtains aside and stops looking off r. c.) Ah dar she comes. Bliss her sowl. She's a clever girl! An' she's me steady, (comes down c. looks around and shouts) Hooray ! ENTER Bridget c. d. James at r. c. looking at her admir- ingly for a second or two, then cautiously goes to doors at l. and r. looks, and listens, etc. Bridget ENTERS very demurely in cap, apron, etc., with duster or cloth in hand. She commences dusting things on side-board, looking at James who is listening at door L. He pantomimes " All-Right. ,, She puts doivn duster and they come to c. and have a good hug. Then she resumes dust- ing. All this business done very quietly. Bridget (these first speeches in rather low voice). We've managed splendidly, haven't we. James. Proper. Bridget. Misther Tom back yit? 20 Baby Scott. James. I don't know. I don't think so. Bridget (comes to l. a). I suppose he really would be put out if he knew we were keeping company. (Sits on r. arm of settee) We must kape it quiet for the prlsint. For whin he engaged me he says, you haven't any best fellow have you, 'cause I don't want any lovers quarrels about me premises. James (r. a). Well, any how I'm not going to risk it. I told you what he said whin he engaged me. He's such a peculiar lad. Although you an' I war strangers to each other before I cum here, he'd never belave it. He'd think I got into this place by fraud or something wurse, so we must kape it quiet. Bridget (rising). Right ye are, me bye. James (with enthusiasm). Oh, me lass, jist one more, afore sumone cums. (They go to c. and hug. Then resume dusting. James goes to table. Bridget crosses down l. then up l. then around to c.) Bridget (tickles James' face with the duster). Niver mind me laddy-buck. (Crosses to table where letters are) I wonder if thar's eny bad noos for Misther Tom this mawn- ing? James. It will be a miracle if there hain't. He'll feel as if there wuz sumthin' wrong. (Crosses to l. c, sits on sofa and Bridget goes to dust side-board) I niver knew a man in sich a state o' hardupishness in all me born days. An' the loife he lives. Night afther night and him engaged to be married too. Whin along comes dis slip o' colleen a calling him papa. Oh, wurra, wurra, whar will it all ind. Upon me wurd I think his uncle the colonel ought to be told about it. If he knew of his goings on he'd Bridget (at side-board turning and speaking over shoulder). I suppose you have gone on in your time; haven't you? James. Niver ! Bridget (comes to a). James, don't ye commence court- ing me wid a falsehood ! James. Oh, come now, me darlint, I say — (Rises quickly and comes down c.) Tom (calling off stage). James! James (in ansiver to Tom). Sor ! (To Bridget) Don't you be afther going an' flatter ye-self ye are afther kaping company wid a mon wid a rheumatic past. Tom (off stage). James! Baby Scott. 21 James (to Tom). Coming, sor! Bridget. Well, me bye, I don't care wun bit about ye pasht. It's ye prisint conduct that consarns me, you laddy-buck. Put that in yer poipe an' smhoke it. James. Thim's me sentiments too, me darlint. Give us an- other kiss fur luck, me colleen. Bridget. Can't, here's Misther Tom. (Goes down r. then up r. dusting furiously) ENTER Tom c. d. dressed in street apparel with overcoat open and hat on hack of head. Hair all mussed up. Walks down c. Tom. James ! James. Yis, sor! Tom. Why on earth don't you answer me? James. I hev answered ye, ivery time, sor! Tom (removing hat, overcoat, and gloves). What is the good of that. (Hands each article to James) EXIT James l. u. e. throwing kisses to Bridget behind Tom's back. Bridget (coming to c). Ah, Misther Tom, so ye have re- turned at lasht. I was afraid ye had gone and made away wid ye self. Tom (crossing to mantel in dejected mood). No fear of that, Bridget. Old Browne-Clarke has already disposed of me. Bridget (going up to him). Where did you slape lasht night? Tom. Sleep. I was at the club. Is er — Miss — er — the baby up yet? Bridget. Yis, for the lasht hour a- waiting for yer return. Tom (crossing to desk rings bell). Send her to me. EXIT Bridget r. u. e. kissing her hand as James ENTERS l. u. e. James goes to table and gets letters taking them to Tom who sits at the desk. James. Here's the morning mail, sir! Tom (opens and reads). Sir, unless. (Throws it on the desk. Opens another and reads) Sir, we are very much surprised. (Throws it on the table) 23 Baby Scott. James. Ye, haven't paid 'em; have ye, sor? Tom (opening several). Only circulars from the baker, butcher, real estate agents, florists, and candy makers, solicit- ing my trade after marriage and " please-remits " from those already honored with my patronage. James. Very kind of thim, sor. Tom (opens another). Sir, we would be very much obliged. (Opens another and reads) "Dear sir, would you kindly officiate as steward of a fancy dress ball at Sherrys?" No, I won't. Answer that, James. Say I won't. James. Give any reasons, sir? Tom. I leave that to you. James. Very good, sir. (Looks at letter) Rather influen- tial list, I think I'd better sind yer name in, sor. Tom. Oh, all right. (Reads) "Dear sir, I do beg of you to place a little on Iona Lass to-morrow. She's down for a killing this time. The odds will be unusually long." See to that, James. James. Yes, sir, I'll put you a hundred each way. Tom. And, James, as soon as the lady comes you may serve breakfast. (James arranges table for meal and serves it) ENTER Geraldine l. u. e. Geraldine. Cousin Tom — Good morning! Tom (rises and goes to her). Ah, good morning. I trust you feel rested. Geraldine. I am not at all tired, thanks to your generosity, but am sorry to have turned you out of your house and home. Tom (aside). Wish my creditors felt that way. (To Geraldine) Don't think of it in that light, my apartments at the club and I are old friends. Won't you join me at breakfast? (Both cross to table arranged by James. Tom bows her to seat at r. He sits at l. James serves) James. Will you have it plain this morning or do you wish soda, sor? Tom. None at all. There is a lady present. James (bowing). I begs yer pardon; won't the lady have something? Geraldine. Excuse me. I never indulge in spirituous liquors, but then cousin Tom don't let me interfere with your usual customs. Tom. I occasionally take an appetizer, but with such fair companion one does not feel the need of it. Baby Scott. 23 Geraldine. Oh, you flatterer, James. I think you look pale this morning ; and a small one won't hurt you. Tom (speaking to Geraldine). James usually joins me and he is speaking more for his own benefit than— (To James) James you may have yours if agreeable to Miss Geraldine. James. Thanks mum. (Crosses to side-board quickly) I do feel a wee bit wake me-self this mawning and if ye don't mind (Quickly pours out a big one and quickly drinks it) I'll take a small one to your health. (Pours out a second drink) Tom (turns and sees him). Put that dowK. (Turns away) James (drinks it). I am putting it down. (Drinking from decanter) Tom (looks at James). Put it down on the side-board. (Turns and converses with Geraldine) James (looks at Tom. Then at the side-board. Sits on side-board, and drinks from bottle). I am putting it down on the side-board, sor. Tom. I think we have all that is needed, so you may go. James (starts ivith decanter). Thank you, sor. Tom (turns toward James). Leave the decanter. James (looks at Tom, then at the decanter, and then back at Tom, then again at the decanter). Sure an' I don't want the decanter. It is what is in it that I want. (Pours out re- mainder in a pitcher, takes and drinks from it as he EXITS c. d. Geraldine and Tom both laugh heartily) Geraldine. Are you my cousin Tom? Tom. Certainly I am. Will you have coffee? Geraldine. I never drink coffee. Tom. What do you drink? Geraldine. Babies drink milk! (Both laugh) Tom. Why did you think me your father? I am not an old looking chap. Geraldine. Sister Agnes said so. Tom. Sister Agnes? Geraldine. The sister who had charge of me at the con- vent. Tom. Why did she think so? Geraldine. She was certain. She was sure, as " Tom Scott " were the last words mamma said. Tom. And sister Agnes sent you to me? Geraldine. Yes, cousin Tom, you cannot realize what it is to be alone in this world, with no mother and no home. Your father lost to you and no one to love you. 24 Baby Scott. Tom. But I can sympathize with you. Geraldine (looks at medallion). You must be my papa. (Crosses and embraces Tom) Tom (trying to get away). Sit! Geraldine (returns to chair). I really thought you were my papa. (Puts handkerchief to eyes) Tom (rising). Don't cry. Geraldine (looking up). I'm not a cry baby, I'm a laugh- ing baby. Tom. I am indeed glad you are not crying. What would you like to do this morning? Geraldine. Go shopping. Tom. What is it you wish to get? Geraldine. Well the first thing I want to get is some dresses and all that sort of things. Tom. We will go to Redferns, Lord & Taylors, Wanamakers, and Altmans. Geraldine. Then I shall want some jewelry. Tom. Tiffany's for that. Geraldine. You are rich, cousin Tom, are you not? Tom (aside). Rich in debts. Geraldine. Then we can get them on credit. Tom (aside). Oh, how original. Thank goodness I haven't any accounts at these places. (To Geraldine). Very well. You go and get your coat and hat. (Crosses to l. opens door). And I will order my car. [EXIT Geraldine l. u. e. Colonel (off stage). Is that young rascal up yet? I must see him at once. Tom. Great heavens, my uncle. Now I am in for it. ENTER Colonel c. d. followed by James. Tom goes up c. to meet him. Colonel (shaking hands). Ah, you young reprobate. (Re- moves hat) Now I have got you. (Puts hat on chair) What is this about your being engaged. (Removes overcoat) I only read about it last night, (Hands coat to James) and came to town at once this morning to learn all the particulars direct from you. (Removes gloves) The article itself was very vague. (Hands gloves to James) Who is the young lady? (James picks up hat from chair and with coat and gloves EXITS c. d.) Tom (aside) . If I keep the game up possibly I may raise Baby Scott. 25 gome money. (To Colonel) Why, Mrs. Browne-Clarke's pro- tege, her niece who just arrived from England. (Sits on sofa with hands in pockets) Colonel (sitting down at desk). What, one of that set! Well, I don't take much stock in the British either. Would much prefer that it was an American girl. But then, if she is a sensible woman, it is just what you need to keep you from jumping over the traces. Tom. I am sure she will be all that is required in that way. Colonel. But, my dear boy, don't put too much confidence in women, especially of the Browne-Clarke stamp. For they are too fond of gold, society, splendor, and ease to make man a happy home. Remember why all these years I have re- mained single, so that the same unhappiness doesn't fall to your lot. Tom. I am fully aware your being a bachelor is due to dis- appointment in women, but I feel sure the same is not in store for me. It pleases me that you look with favor upon my pro- posed intentions of marrying. Colonel. If you propose investing in matrimony when it is toppling on the brink of bankruptcy, at a time too when experience says it cannot meet its liabilities; when its stocks are watered, with shares running below par and a heavy monop- oly of oblivion in the future, why, I suppose you will require some financial backing to float this connubial enterprise, eh, my boy. Tom (winks at audience). Oh, a few hundred wouldn't come a-miss, for there are several little preliminary expenses attached to a venture like this. Colonel. I know it, my boy. How much do you think you will require? Tom (rising). Oh, say five thousand. Colonel. Are you sure that is enough? Tom. Might make it ten; if not asking too much. (Faces front ) Colonel (turns to desk. Takes cheque book out of pocket and starts writing cheque). Well, I'll make it fifteen and if you find you have too much you can return what is left over. Tom (looking over Colonel's shoulder). Thanks awfully. (Turns front and winks at audience) If there is any balance I will surely return all of it. ENTER James r. u. e. and busily takes dishes from table and puts them on tray. £8 Baby Scott. Colonel (rising). There you are, my boy. Take it, (Turns and crosses to c. To Tom. Hands him the cheque) Now I wish to see that new painting Rogers told me about this morn- ing while on my way here. (Starts for l. u. e.) Tom (takes cheque, reads the amount and puts it in his pocket-book. Stands in front of the Colonel excitedly). You cannot go in there. Colonel. Why? Tom. Because — er — because you will disturb the baby. Colonel. The what? Tom (aside). Now I will get it. (To the Colonel) Why, the baby ! Colonel (angrily). Now what kind of a scrape have you gotten into? What is the baby doing here? Tom (aside). That is just what I would like to know. Shall I tell him all about it and make a clean breast of the whole affair? It won't do any good. He wouldn't under- stand; and Colonel (stamping foot). Well sir, why don't you answer? Tom (to Colonel). Answer what? (Aside) Now for a big lie. What will it be. (To Colonel) Oh, yes, er — the — baby — (Goes to James) Say, what is the baby doing here? (To Colonel) Why you see sir (Looks at James) James (in a hoarse whisper). How the devil do I know? Tom (to Colonel). You — see — sir — er — the — baby — (To James) Tell me quick some lie about a baby. (To Colonel) Oh, yes, it was, it is, er — about the baby you were asking about? James (in hoarse whisper). Why ter — paint its pictoor ; shure now that's an aisy one. ( Winks liis eye and EXITS c. d.) Tom (straightening hands in pockets, chest thrown out, rock- ing on heels) Oh, yes, yes, indeed. Why, I am painting a picture of Moses in the Bull Rushes and wanted a baby to use for Moses, but couldn't borrow one from the Orphans Home, so you see I had to adopt it and the dear little thing is here now ; it came last night. (Laughs in a forced ivay. Aside) Well, now I am a " beaut " of an Annanias. Colonel. Hum, took a deuced long time for you to tell it. Tom. Did it? Well, you see a fellow in love cannot collect his thoughts readily when called upon to converse about an- other subject. Colonel. Quite true; but, does the future Mrs. Scott know of this baby? Baby Scott. fe7 Tom. Oh, yes, certainly, it is one she picked out herself. Colonel. And does she take kindly to the idea? Tom. Yes indeed. Thinks it is so original to start married life right off with a ready made baby; she is of such a moth- erly disposition. Colonel. I am glad to hear it, for such women make the best of wives. Now, I have some letters to write. (Crosses to desk) Do you mind my using your desk? Tom. Certainly not. (Goes to desk and arranges things) You will find everything you need I think. There are pens, paper, and ink, (Opens a drawer) and stamps in this drawer, and a blotter in that pigeon hole. Geraldine (off stage l.). Tom, Tom, I am ready. Tom (crosses to l., hurriedly and softly). Yes, yes, I am coming. (To Colonel) I will have to leave you for a while, you will excuse me. It is a little business matter you know. Colonel. All right. I will wait until you return. (Puts on glasses. Looks up at Tom) Ah, who is the lady in there? (Glances toward l. u. e.) Tom (crosses to l. u. e.). Only one of the models who called about an appointment. [EXITS l. u. e. bowing. Colonel (sits down. Turns face front). I am afraid that nephew of mine is getting to be sort of a bad one. (Chuckles) But then, he is only a chip of the old block. (Turns and ar- ranges papers on desk preparatory to ivriting, and commences to write) ENTER Mae c. d. in street attire. Looks around, sees the Colonel, goes up to him on tip toe, throws arms around his neck and kisses him. Mae. Say, dear Tom. You darling boy, I am so glad to find you here alone. I couldn't sleep at all after what hap- pened last night, so rushed over here all alone the first thing this morning to see you. (Kisses and hugs him again) Colonel (struggles and frees himself). That is all very nice and kind of you, my dear woman, but I don't happen to be your Tom. (Mae screams and runs towards c. d. Ris- ing) That is all right, I am his uncle. (Goes to her) Don't run away, I wish to talk to you. (Takes her to a chair at l.) I suppose you are to be my niece? (Returns to desk) Mae (aside). Phew, Tom's uncle. I must be careful or I will spoil it all. (Sits down. To Colonel) Yes, sir. 28 Baby Scott. Colonel (sitting at desk). Well, I am glad Tom has de- cided to marry. He is a good boy in principle. But a trifle inclined to be wild. But, then, all men must sow their wild oats, you know. His greatest fault is his extravagance. Now, you look like a sensible little woman who I am sure will put on the brakes and steady Tom over the rocks. Mae. Tom is indeed extravagant. He is too good natured for his own good. Always doing so much for others at his own expense. (Aside) Poor Tom! You saint ! Colonel. And as for the baby. Is it not rather strange for a young couple to start in with a baby? Mae (to Colonel). Sir — I do not quite understand. (Aside) The old gentleman must have been drinking. Colonel. Don't be angry. I suppose you wished it kept a secret, but Tom told me all about the baby this morning. The one he adopted for the picture, it came last night. Mae. What? The picture? Colonel. No, the baby, the one you picked out at the home. Mae (aside). He is talking in riddles. I had better humor him; then I may learn just what it is, about this baby of Tom's. (To Colonel) Oh, yes, I quite forgot. Yes, it is quite strange about the baby I must admit, but then you know, anything to be of assistance to Tom. (Aside) Wish I knew more about this baby. Colonel. That's the proper spirit. I am quite sure you two will be most happy together, you seem so well adapted for each other. Mae. I am pleased to know that you think so. (Aside) Tom doesn't, I'm sure. (To Colonel) I must be going. (Ris- ing) You won't tell Tom, will you, er — about — my Colonel. About what? Mae. About the mistake I made when I came in. Colonel (rising). On one condition. Mae. And that is? Colonel. That you make the same mistake again right now. ENTER James r. u. e. James. Did you ring, sir? Colonel (shaking his fist at James). I'd like to wring your neck. Where's Tom? Mae (to James). And where is the baby? James. The baby, shure an' Misther Tom has her out in the park for an airing, mim. Baby Scott. g& Mae. He has ! Well, then out in the park I go to see this mysterious child. [EXIT Mae c. d. followed by James. Colonel (returns to desk and commences to write). A nice sensible little woman. ENTER Mrs. Browne-Clarke c. d. in street attire. Mrs. Clarke. He is there! (Points at Colonel. Goes up l. as if to go to Colonel) Oh, dear! I almost wish I — (Stops, turns and comes to c.) but courage! Here goes. (Crosses to Colonel and puts hands over his eyes) Guess who it is? Colonel. Bridget ! Mrs. Clarke. You are wrong my dear Tom, guess again. Colonel. The washerwoman ! Mrs. Clarke. Sir! Colonel. Ah, excuse me; but you must admit you have a very unfair advantage of me. Although I must acknowledge, being blindfolded by such soft hands as those is a sufficient pleasure to warrant a man being held prisoner by them until " death-do-us-part." Mrs. Clarke (removing hands). And such is in your power to be, my dear Tom. Colonel (turns facing Mrs. Clarke). I beg your pardon, madame. Mrs. Clarke (retreating. Aside). Tom's uncle, the Colonel. (To the Colonel) I thought you were Mr. Thomas Scott. Colonel (rising). And so I am. I am the uncle. The other is my nephew, whom I take it you are looking for. (Aside) Seems a nice, old girl. (Aloud) Be seated. (Mrs. Clarke sits on sofa up stage. Colonel aside) Girl's mother, I suppose. (Aloud) You are a relative of my nephew, I pre- sume. (Sits on sofa l.) Mrs. Clarke. I — er — yes Colonel (aside). I thought so. (Playfully) I am afraid I shall have to be very angry with your daughter. Mrs. Clarke. My daughter. Colonel. There, there, don't be alarmed, I dare say I can put things right; but she's a sad, little puss, isn't she? Mrs. Clarke (feebly). I — I — don't know. . Colonel. But I dare say she's very fond of him, Mrs. Clarke. Who is? Colonel. Your daughter. SO fcaby Scott. Mrs. Clarke. Fond of whom? Colonel. Tom. Mrs. Clarke (faintly). I haven't a daughter. Colonel. I beg your pardon. (Turns away l.) A tender subject. (Turns to Mrs. Clarke) Your grand-daughter prob- ably? Mrs. Clarke. Sir! Colonel (aside). There's something wrong. (Rises. Aloud, bending well forward toward Mrs. Clarke) Did I not un- derstand you to say that you were a relative of Tom's? Mrs. Clarke. I did — er — say so. That is — you know Colonel. Will you not enlighten me as to your identity? Mrs. Clarke. At present you may call me Laura. I sup- pose you are the colonel. I trust we shall be friends. Colonel. Why? Mrs. Clarke. Because, you know, I am soon to be related to you. Colonel (alarmed). In what manner? Mrs. Clarke (simpering). By marriage. Colonel (aside). Great guns, is Tom engaged to two. (Falls back on sofa) Heavens and earth. (Appears overcome) Burton was right I should have taken a little something. Mrs. Clarke (with great dignity). Did you not see it in last night's society news? Colonel. Oh, yes, — er — Tom has just confided to me his in- tentions of becoming a Benedict. (Aside) Good gracious what kind of a scrape has Tom got into now. The other one was young and fair, while this one looks as if she might be a grass widow. (Aloud) Well, this is the biggest staggerer I have ever had in my life. No offense to you, you know. Mrs. Clarke (frigidly). Quite so. Colonel. But really it is too absurd for a lady of your age to marry. I beg you will acquit me of any wish to be rude. Mrs. Clarke. Oh, certainly. Colonel. But there must be something about you to cap- tivate a man, though where it is, goodness knows! I don't in- tend this unkindly. Mrs. Clarke. Oh, of course not. Colonel. Perhaps you were a beauty when you were younger, you perceive I possess a certain amount of delicacy. Mrs. Clarke (sarcastically). Any one could easily per- ceive that. Colonel (awkwardly). Just so. Baby Scott. 31 Mrs. Clarke ( awkwardly). Certainly. Colonel {awkwardly). Of course. (Pause) Now I think we had better change the subject. Mrs. Clarke. If you wouldn't mind. Colonel. Now you must not encourage this extravagance. It is simply ruining the boy. Mrs. Clarke (half in tears). Am I? Colonel. You know you are, now, you know it won't do. If you were a young and giddy girl; which you are not, you admit that, don't you? Mrs. Clarke. It is needless to raise the question. Colonel. There might be some excuse for you, but, what do you want with showy dresses, jewelry, plays, parties, at homes, and such affairs, at your time of life. Mrs. Clarke (reduced to absolute misery). What — indeed! Colonel (taking her hand). Come now; you speak like a sensible old lady. (Sentimentally) I may have appeared harsh to you. Mrs. Clarke (brightening up). No, not at all. Colonel. I hope not. I hope not. But, I may — but then — let's say no more about it. Mrs. Clarke (kittenishly). I have not said anything about it as yet. Colonel (rising). You have not, that's a fact, and it shows your common sense. But I'll never say another word to hurt you — I think we understand each other — and we are friends, eh? (Shakes her hand and crosses to desk) Mrs. Clarke (rises quickly and wosses to l.). Where is Tom? (Aside) Oh, what I am suffering in trying to save Tom for Mae. Colonel. James just advised me that Tom was in the park giving the baby an airing. Mrs. Clarke (excitedly). The baby! Colonel. Yes, it came last night. I understood you knew all about it. Mrs. Clarke (confused). A baby! — oh — yes — I think I un- derstand. (Crosses to r. and looks out of door) Colonel (aside). But I guess she doesn't. This is getting too deep for me. Think I'd best surrender and withdraw be- fore I make a mess of it. (Picks up letters. To Mrs. Clarke) If you will excuse me, I have some important letters to mail. I'll find Tom and the baby and send them right up here. {Crosses to c. Aside) I'll just get hold of Tom and tell him 88 Baby Scott. what an ass he is to marry such an old hen— but hold, there's the other one — I wonder which one is the future Mrs. Scott. [EXIT Colonel c. d. Mrs. Clarke (bows to Colonel. Then paces slowly around room). What does it all mean? Last night his apartments strewn with female apparel, now he's out in the park airing a baby. (Crosses to c.) Can it be he has clandestinely mar- ried and is just about to make it known. Oh, no, it must be some huge misunderstanding. ENTER James l. v. e. Mrs. Clarke (turning). Has Mr. Scott returned? James. No, mum, he's out with the baby. Mrs. Clarke. Now James ; I want to know what it is about this baby? James. Well, mim, you see, he got a tiligram last night saying as how a baby was coming here. Mrs. Clarke. And did it come? (Crosses to c. d.) James. Yes, mim; but it won't Mrs. Clarke. And where is it now? James. Down in the park with Mr. Tom. (EXIT Mrs. Clarke hurriedly c. d.) Well ivery body's seems to be going dippy over that baby. Now for an hour's study in me litereary pursuits. (Pulls novel from his back trousers' pocket. Sits on upper end of settee with feet drawn up, book on his knees) Let me see — Did the girl run over the train or did the hand- sum hero arrive in time to remove the train and save the million lives on board. ENTER Bridget r. u. e. Bridget (standing with both hands on hips). Now me laddy- buck; put down that book, (emphatically) put down that book, I say. (James puts book down on settee) Do ye know the front dure is open? James. Yis ! Bridget. Phwat's that fur? James (slowly removes feet from settee, turns and faces l.). Saves going an' answerin' the bell ivery time it rings. Bridget (after an admiring pause). This is not your first situation, I persoom? James (rises and slowly walks toward l. u. e. ). No, I have been out before. Baby Scott. 33 Bridget. And you'll be out agin pretty sharp if ye don't watch ye p's and q's better. Come now, move about and don't let me hev to tell ye about it agen or else there'll be a row. D'y hear? (Bell rings) Go and answer that. James (slowly moves up c.) There; that's phwat I mean. (Arrives at c. d. turns to Bridget) I've got to go all the way now on purposes. (Pauses) Oh, Bridget, me darlint, ye have a lot yet to larn. [EXIT c. d., sighing Bridget (busy straightening up furniture etc.). Aw — go along ye lazy bones; ye will be the death o' me yit. But, (Lovingly) he's such a gude bye ye can't help luving him wid all his faults. ENTER Burton and Ralph c. d. They keep taking chairs and endeavor to keep out of Bridget's way. Burton. Good morning, Bridget. Has Tom succeeded in getting rid of the baby? Bridget (pausing with her work). She wouldn't go. Ralph. Why, how is that — Aw — er she surely must have seen her mistake by now. Bridget. She is not an English girl, an English maiden is commanded, an American commands. That is why Miss Baby is still here. Ralph. But the message from London. Bridget. Is there any harum in an American returning from London? Ralph. Won't his uncle, the colonel, make a row when he hears of it? Bridget. Ye naden't wurry yer head about that, sor. Burton. It strikes me, you know the young lady. Who is she? Bridget. That's a sacret, sor! Ralph. Aw, er — it is the women that tell secrets! Bridget. If I wanted anythin' towld all over New York City I'd whisper it to sum mon as a dead sacret, sor ! Burton. But Bridget, you can trust us as men of honor. Bridget (crosses to l. Stands with hands on hips). Do the wimmen inform on Ireland ! [EXIT l. u. e. Burton. There's one woman who wouldn't if she had a chance I am sure. Ralph. Tom is surely in a blooming hard fix now. Burton. Yes, with a young lady he cannot get rid of, Mrs. B4 Baby Scott. Browne-Clarke with another he must marry, and no one ever escaped from old Browne-Clarke. Ralph. Aw — er — yes — indeed, chappie. I — aw — understand she is the greatest matrimonial stock broker in America. Burton. But she has a heavy contract lassooing Tom into matrimony. Ralph. Aw — er — but — me deah fellah — she will do it, nevah feah. I — er — say — chappie — I'll wager you my Damascus sword against your statuette of Pysche that she marries him to Mae Stratton before snow flies. (Rises and comes to Burton. They shake hands) Burton (rising). Done. I've long desired to possess that sword of yours. ENTER James with two suit-cases or a small trunk c. d. and crosses l. Burton. I say James where are Tom and the baby? James (sets the baggage down sloioly). Down in the park for an airing. [EXIT l. u. e. Ralph. Aw — er — let's go to the park and see how Tom looks playing nurse. (Crosses to c. d.) Burton (crosses to c. d. Laughing). I'll bet you " Beauty" we'll find him neglecting his charge and flirting with a police- man. [EXIT Burton and Ralph c. d., laughing ENTER James l. u. e. crosses to r. u. e. James (looking after Burton and Ralph). There goes two more dippys gone daffy over one baby. I never did see such people. [EXIT r. u. e. ENTER Tom and Geraldine r. u. e. Geraldine (taking letter from coat pocket). I must give give you this letter, cousin Tom. (Hands him the letter) Tom (takes the letter). What, a letter for me? Geraldine. Yes, the one mamma wrote you before she died. Tom (opens the letter and reads. Pause. Looks at Geraldine). I understand it all now. You were sent to my uncle. He will be here shortly and you can give him the letter yourself. (Hands letter to Geraldine) Geraldine. I trust it won't be long, as I am very anxious to see him. [EXIT l. u. e. Baby Scott. 35 Tom (sloivly removes gloves, places them in his hat, then on a chair. Deliberately removes overcoat, lays it across back of same chair that hat is on). How fortunate she didn't lose that letter. To think it is her child and sent to him. The colonel, I fear, will get into a great rage when he learns of it. Still, I think it best they meet alone. For woman can best win the heart of man. ENTER Colonel c. d. all out of breath and arms full of small packages, toys, etc., for a baby. Colonel (pausing). Here you are now. You rascal. What a chase you have given me, where is the baby? I bought some toys and jim-cracks for it on my way back — (Crosses to table lays toys down. Pushes hat back on head. Cross to Tom at c. pokes him in the ribs) Oh, by the way is it a boy or girl? ( Chuckles ) Tom (startled). It's a girl! (Mechanically takes cigar from upper vest pocket and hands it to the Colonel) Colonel. But Moses wasn't a female. Tom (confusedly). Yes, I know, in fact, I wish it was a boy — I think you too would enjoy it better if it was a boy. Colonel. Well, trot it out; I can soon tell you. (Crosses to table at c.) Tom. I will send her to you. [EXIT l. u. e. Colonel (removes hat, coat and gloves, hangs them over back of a chair same as Tom did. Sits down b. side of table facing l.). Well, I declare if I am not all out of breath. I cannot race around like I used to. Old age is beginning to tell on me. ( Undoes packages revealing dolls, toys, etc. Picks up a jumping Jack) There, I guess that will amuse the baby. ENTER Geraldine l. u. e. with box and letter. Colonel (rising and looking at her with toy held up in the air). Geraldine! Geraldine (lays box and letter on the table and rushes to the Colonel). Oh, papa, I am so glad you know me. Colonel (collapsing). My God! Who are you? Geraldine (throwing herself on him with her arms around his neck. Kisses him). Baby, your own baby, Geraldine. (Kisses him, holds back and looks at him) Papa, you are a handsome man. (Colonel tries to release himself) Oh, you 86 Baby Scott. are not used to girls kissing you are you? (Kisses him again) You will soon become used to it. Any one I love I am always kissing. (Hugs him) There, I've forgotten that letter again. (Jumps up and goes to table for letter) Colonel. What letter? Let me see it. (Geraldine hands him the letter and returns to table) Colonel (takes letter and reads). Great Gods, from my long lost Geraldine. She begs forgiveness of the man she had so grievously wronged, and requests that I be a father to her little Geraldine and never let her know her father. Geraldine (rummaging through box). Papa, here is your engagement ring. (Holds it up) And the locket with your picture and a lock of your hair. Colonel. Geraldine. This letter was written by your mother. Geraldine (goes to Colonel, sits on his lap and caresses him). Poor papa, poor papa. Sister Anges said your name was the last dear mamma called when dying. How she must have loved you and you could not even be with her when, sfre died. What a cruel fate it was that separated you. We shall never be separated again, papa. I shall be compensation for your cruel loss of mamma. Colonel (looking at letter). But you must never claim your father. Geraldine (jumping up). But I shall. You are my own dear papa ; and I shall not disown you. Colonel. My God! What am I to do! (Buries his face in his hands) Geraldine (kneeling at his feet. Hands clasped around his knees). I have always been taught to love you. My earliest remembrance is kissing your medallion good night. I could not sleep unless I kissed you. On moonlight nights, when all slept, I would creep to my dormer window to see you and holding the medallion in the light of the moon you looked a perfect benediction. And then I would ask you to bless me. When I read your letters to mamma I adored you. You love me don't you? Colonel (raising head in despair). I was never married Geraldine (quickly rising). Sir! (picks up box. Crosses to l.) To-morrow I return to the land where each man con- siders himself the individual guardian of woman's honor. Colonel (rising. Holding out both hands). Come back to me, Geraldine. (Crosses and meets her at c. d. Puts arm around ivaist, draws her to him in fond embrace and walks Baby Scott. 37 down stage to c. ) Your mother was legally married. You shall be my own daughter. ENTER Mrs. Browne-Clarke and Burton, Mae and Ralph conversing low c. d., Tom l. u. e., James and Bridget r. u. e. Tom (looks first at Colonel and Geraldine then at c. d.). Damn Mrs. Browne-Clarke! Mrs. Clarke (pointing to Geraldine). Who is that young lady? Colonel (defiantly). My daughter! (Mrs. Clarke holds hands up in horror, Tom starts for Geraldine at a, Bridget shakes her head in a satisfied manner, All look up in surprise) SLOW CURTAIN. Second Curtain.— Mrs. Clarke in faint in chair, Mae kneeling at her feet rubbing Mrs. Clarke's hands, Bridget fanning her with apron, James bringing a glass of water, Ralph standing in c. d. mouth open, hands in pocket, feet stretched far apart. Colonel down stage with arm around Geraldine protectingly, Tom at one side holding her hand, Burton off front, bowing and shaking hands with Geraldine as if just introduced. ACT III. SCENE.— Same as Acts I and II, but arranged more as a parlor or living-room. Hallowe'en night, eight months later. Usual furniture including tables, chairs, etc. A screen in r. u. e. comer and a mirror on easel in l. u. e. corner are very necessary. DISCOVERED Colonel Scott seated l. of table at r. and Bridget standing at c. d. Bridget. Colonel Scott, I begs yer pardon, but I'd like to ask ye a few questions about the dinner for to-night. Colonel (turns and faces Bridget). I didn't hear you enter, Bridget, I was deeply engrossed in thought. Bridget. There's no nade of tellin' me that, Colonel, but what were ye a-scheming about, now? 38 Baby Scott. Colonel. No, I cannot tell even you that, — until I see that it brings happiness to all concerned. Do you remember this night, twenty years ago? Beidget. Goodness, Colonel, don't be after bringing up such thoughts as them. 'Twill be different this time, I knows 'twill be. Why, Miss Geraldine, towld me only to-day how happy it made her to be able to call yer " father ; " an' she's been " fatherless " so long. Colonel. And, motherless too, but for you, Bridget. Bridget. The darlin', how could wan but help a-lovin' her, But what of Misther Tom? Colonel. He will arrive here to-night all the way from California. Bridget {jumping up and down with glee). An' he will, will he ! Ah, Colonel, be that wan of yer schames ye were just dreamin' about whin I cum in? Colonel. Oh, how long the last eight months have been to me, with Tom away ; it seems almost a life time. Bridget. I must go at once an' fix another place at the table for Misther Tom. Colonel. That's right, Bridget, for the bridegroom cometh. Bridget. An' Colonel, do ye too want this marriage of Tom's an' Miss Stratton? Colonel. It is a man's duty to wed. Of course, I do not approve of ill assorted marriages. There is one woeful ex- perience as fresh in my mind as though it occurred but yester- day. Bridget. I don't think, Colonel, there's any need of worryin' about Misther Tom, 'cause he knows of that woeful experience and probably dreads the fire like a burned child. Colonel (crosses to divan). Ah, Bridget, I trust that Tom thinks well of the little girl that has come into my heart and home. Bridget. Colonel, how can ye doubt it? True, he is a Scott, an' willing to sacrifice himself for a woman's happiness; but to be hoodwinked into marrying agin' his wishes by such a schaeming old trollop as Missus Browne-Clarke, never! Colonel. God knows, Bridget, I hope you are right. Bridget. But does Miss Geraldine know that Misther Tom is coming home to-night? Colonel. No, indeed, her surprise is the most charming feature of my plans. (Aside) Geraldine, my darling little girl, I never thought it possible I could ever love another as I loved your mother. Baby Scott. 39 Bridget. Ah, Colonel, I never thought your heart would go out to another as it has to Geraldine. Colonel. Is it any wonder, her sweet ways, her innocent manner? They have wound themselves around my heart until I forgot everything, until now, even the past is blank. I only know that she has come into my heart like a ray of sunshine, and I love her as though she were my own daughter. Bridget, I can never part with her. Bridget. An' it is glad I am to hear you say that you love her. Colonel. Love her, how can I help but loving her, because day by day she reminds me more and more of the Geraldine that was so dear to me. Bridget. But, Colonel, won't ye come with me an' see if I've got the table fixed all right? ENTER Burton Rogers c. d., hat in one hand, suit-case in the other. Burton. Oh, don't mind me, good people. I wouldn't disturb such a delightful tete-a-tete for the world. Colonel (crosses to l. c. and shakes hands with Burton). You young warrior, tell us what has happened, you really seem in a hurry for once in your life. Burton (shaking hands with Bridget ivho has taken his suit- case). Hurry, did you ever see me when I wasn't in a hurry? I am taking records. A regular time directory. (Hands his hat. to Bridget. Takes note book out of vest pocket) Re- ceived your telegram, Colonel, at Philadelphia, at just 1 : 45 P. M. Train left at 2 : 10 P. M. How much time do you sup- pose I lost in getting my presentable clothes into a presentable suit-case to get here presently to present myself in your presence at just 6 : 00 P. M. Bridget (laughs). Ah — Misher Burt, ye are just as funny as ever. [EXITS at c. d. and returns and listens. Burton. Has Tom made a better record than that and is he here ahead of me? Colonel. No, Tom's train, if on time, is not due at the Grand Central until seven o'clock. Burton. Then I'll finish it up presently by presenting my- self at the Grand Central to assist in presenting, presently, your present nephew once more in your presence in a present- able manner, 40 Baby Scott. Colonel. My dear boy, I greatly fear for your presence of mind after all that. Bueton. Don't be alarmed, Colonel, that never went back on me yet. Bridget. Go then, Misther Burt, an' may me prayers an' blessin's go with ye. Burton. One moment! When do I see this fair cousin of mine? For six months I have been on the anxious seat but Dame Fortune has not favored me as yet. Colonel. Oh, you will see her sure; but not until you re- turn with Tom. Burton. That's right, feed a hungry man on expectations. Bridget (laughing). An' be jabbers, I'll see that the hungry man gets his rations all right when ye return with Masther Tom. Burton. Then, I go to yon depot; and if I return not with light step and flashing eye, I will not ask for a second piece of pie. [EXIT c. d. Bridget. Off wid ye, ye bundle of nonsense. Colonel. He and Tom have been friends since boyhood. When Tom started for California, the illness of Burton's mother prevented his accompanying him. I can look back and fancy them still children with their toys and ambitions. Bridget. But, Colonel, the table Colonel. Yes, yes, Bridget, I'll go and see it at once. (EXIT c. d., Bridget follows to c. d.) ENTER Geraldine r. u. e. She crosses to mirror and stands and examines her gown. Bridget turns and stands, with hands on hips, admiring her. Geraldine (walks up and down stage before mirror, still admiring her gown, but having difficulty in handling her train. Sees Bridget, parades up to c. d. and stops in front of her) How is my hair? Bridget. Foine as silk, me darlint. Geraldine. No, I don't mean that. I mean the arrange- ment. (Turning around) Bridget. As ye stand there, me darlint, ye are a pictoor to be seen. Geraldine. Bridget, how many engagements does it take to make a marriage. Bridget. How many engagements does it take to make a Baby Scott. 41 marriage is it ye be after axing? It doesn't take an engage- ment a-tall, a-tall, me darlint Geraldine. Oh, but it does. Bridget. All it takes to make a marriage, darlin', is love. Geraldine. Love! (Goes up to Bridget and takes her face in her two hands) Now, Bridget, look me in the face and tell me how many kinds of love there are. Bridget. That depinds! Geraldine. There is no harm in my loving cousin Tom is there? Bridget. But, I wouldn't love him too hard. For min will be min. Geraldine (resumes walking around showing off her dress). Bridget, you haven't said how you like my new dress. It was my mother's wedding dress. Bridget (throwing up both hands). Saints and martyrs, yer mither's weddin' dress! Geraldine (stopping in front of her. And turning around). Isn't it lovely, Bridget? I intend to surprise papa. Bridget. For the love of Hiven, don't wear it, child. Geraldine. Mamma didn't wear it. It was not quite finished. I had it all re-arranged. Won't papa be surprised when he sees me. You are not admiring me; not once have you looked at me. (Turns and poses) Now, am I not like my mother? ENTER Colonel Scott c. d. Stops and looks at Geraldine. Bridget (crossing herself). May all the saints defind ye. Geraldine (turns and starts). Dear papa! (Stops. Colonel drops in chair l. and covers his eyes) Bridget (goes to Colonel). Look up, Colonel; shure an' it's only Miss Geraldine who wouldn't harm ye for the .world. Geraldine (throwing herself at his feet). Oh, papa, I am so sorry I put the dress on. Won't you forgive me, I'll take it off at once, if it pains you to see me in it. Only say you will forgive me. Bridget (goes to Geraldine and tries to take her away). Miss Geraldine, ye will kill him if ye ask him to forgive ye. Shure ye niver harmed him at all. Colonel (rising). Let her alone, Bridget. There is no cause for alarm. (He puts his arm around Geraldine and crosses to b.) I came in to tell Bridget (Looks at Bridget) that the 4£ Baby Scott. table was satisfactorily arranged. (EXIT Bridget l. u. e. Colonel looks at his icatch) I must hurry and dress for din- ner. So there, little one, don't worry about the dress; for I freely forgive you. (Aside) As I did your mother years ago. (Crosses to r. u. e.) Geraldine. I will go to the conservatory and get a bright red rose for you or would you prefer a carnation to-night? Colonel. Suit your own dear self, little one. [EXIT Colonel and Geraldine. Arm in arm r. u. e. ENTER c. d. Mrs. Browne-Clarke and Mae Stratton. Cross to settee. Both sit. Mrs. Clarke. I have been looking for you the last half hour. How did you make out? Mae. Capitally, I am to have the trump card. I asked Miss Geraldine for a brooch to wear claiming the pin on the only one suitable that I had with me was broken and she has just now gone for the medallion. Mrs. Clarke. That is excellent. Affairs are shaping them- selves just as I've planned. For with you wearing the medal- lion upon the home-coming of Mr. Scott and in his own home, will give those in our set additional faith in the rumor of you two being engaged and influence him to stand by his honor. Mae. I wish I shared your confidence in Mr. Scott's sense of honor. He is a man, I know, above compromising himself by idle statements, but, I am told, will never marry except as directed by love. In fact, I fear his affection for Miss Geraldine is more than friendship or even cousinly. Mrs. Clarke. I too have been noticing that ; and if I find that Miss Geraldine is becoming too dangerous an obstacle to my plans, I shall set up such a hub-bub of scandal about her fair name that, both the uncle and nephew will gladly do any- thing to silence the tongue of the scandal mongers. This last plan will surely bring about what we desire, the alliance by marriage of young Scott and you. I have learned who this mysterious protege of the Scotts really is, her parentage, her relationship to the Scotts, in fact, I am at present in com- municaion with her lawful father and can instantly bring him here to claim and carry away his daughter. ENTER Geraldine r. u. e. Baby Scott. 43 Geraldine. I trust I am not intruding. Mrs. Clarke (rushes up and Icisses Geraldine). No, not at all. We came over a trifle early. (Puts arm around Geraldine's waist and both cross to settee) Mae (rises and goes to Geraldine and Mrs. Clarke just before they reach the settee). I hope I did not cause you excessive trouble by my request. (Mrs. Clarke resumes her seat on settee) Geraldine (hands Mae the medallion) . You really offend me, by the mere mentioning of the word trouble. Mae (takes the medallion). I promise never to repeat the offense, so pray forgive me for this time. (Crosses to mirror and fastens the medallion at her neck) Geraldine. Then mind your p's and q's from now on. (Laughs) Mae (turns and crosses to settee). I never saw a medallion that I admired more. Don't you think it looks well as I have it on, Mrs. Clarke? Mrs. Clarke. You've done remarkably well, my dear, with- out your maid. (To Geraldine) Come sit down, dear. (Geraldine sits in chair near settee) Mrs. Clarke. You are just in time. We were discussing honor as the motive of marriage, and Mae, the poor girl, I dis- like to say, is so unsophisticated as to think some men are actually influenced solely by the dictations of the heart, rather than by that of ambition. Geraldine. Many a man has been trapped into marriage by the infatuation of ambition masquerading as love. Mae (has resumed her seat on settee by Mrs. Clarke). Then how would you marry? Geraldine. By marrying the man I loved and respected. Mae. But he might not wish to wed. Geraldine. Ah, there you give the greater reasons for my choosing him. Mrs. Clarke. Man's first thought should be woman's honor. Geraldine (pausing). Woman's honor can have no better protector than herself, mark you. Who will guard the honor of woman who willingly barters herself for gain, be it for wealth, for social position, or for any advantage gained through mar- riage. Woman should protect herself. She should be fortified by womanly dignity that would make error pause in her presence. American women have been educated and brought up in a different school from that of our European cousins. 44 Baby Scott. They all are queens and they reign in the hearts of men and consequently govern them. Mrs. Clarke. Then you do not believe in love? Geraldine. My belief is so strong that I would not marry a man unless he loved me. Mae. Ah, but you just said you would not marry a man who wanted to marry you. Geraldine. Very true. The one who wants to marry is not necessarily the one who loves. I will say, however, that love is occasionally wedded. In such a marriage the thought is divine and is the only true marriage sacramental. Believe me, woman has a higher life than being the mere serf of man. ENTER Ralph c. d. Stands and looks at the ladies through his monocle. Mrs. Clarke. Come and sit down " Beauty." You will wear yourself out. Don't you know one should never stare. One well poised is never guilty of such vulgarity. Ralph. Aw — I say — my deah — Mrs. Clarke — don't call me names. Such an array of beauty — don't cher know — and I never could gaze upon beauty — unmoved — by Jove. Mrs. Clarke. So much greater is your sin. But, won't you join us? Ralph {crosses to them). Aw — weally — are you sure — I'm not de-trop. Mrs. Clarke. Such a silly question. We are only discussing the merits of different motives of matrimony. Mae. And your views will greatly influence our decision. Ralph. By Jove — that's a compliment — weally it is — don't cher know. Mrs. Clarke. And as your views will be those of a man of the world the greater will be their importance. Ralph (puffed with pride). Aw — my deah Mrs. Clarke — by — Jove — you weally flatter me — don't cher know. Geraldine. I am afraid our discussion upon love, honor, and obey is becoming rather too personal. - Ralph (crossing to back of chair by Geraldine). Aw — by Jove — do you know this is indeed a pleasure — don't cher know — to have an opportunity to chat with you before the others arrive. Mae. Especially the gentlemen, one has so little chance when they are around. They monopolize her so. fcaby Scott. 45 Ralph. Aw — er — even I cawn't get a five word conversation with you — don't cher know — aw — er — yes ; I think the limit is— aw — two words — aw — yes, and no ! Geraldine. As a reward for that pretty speech I'll set out a dance or two with you to-night. Ralph. Weally Miss Geraldine you're not chaffing me. Mae. What do you say, Mrs. Clarke, to our playing the rubber with Ralph? Mrs. Clarke (rising). A most agreeable suggestion. (Mae rises and with Ralph crosses to l. u. e. followed by Mrs. Clarke) Won't you come, Miss Geraldine, aud keep score? Geraldine. No, thank you. I have to wait here for uncle. I have a commission to perform. A floral offering as it were. [EXIT Mae, Ralph and Mrs. Clarke l. u. e. Burton (off stage at c. d.). Ding, dong, ding, the wanderer at last. ENTER Burton c. d. followed by Bridget, who remains at c. D. Burton. Well, we got here at last. (Sees Geraldine r. Makes a rush for her, stumbles) Confound it, that is the fifth time I've stubbed my toe to-day. Bridget. An', now I suppose ye wants yer hungry man's rations. (Motions her head towards Geraldine) Geraldine (crosses to c. Meets Burton). Why, cousin Burt, this is indeed a surprise and a pleasure. When did you come, how is your dear good mother, when did you leave Philadelphia, why didn't you write so that uncle could have met you with the car? Burton (takes both her hands). One question at a time my fair cross-examiner. (Holds her from him. Looks her all over) My, but you beauty, you grow prettier every day, ye God's 'tis every minute. (Turns her around) How perfectly gowned you are to-night. That dress becomes you so. Geraldine. I am glad that you think so. It was one that Bridget. Come, Mr. Burton, you haven't much time to dress for dinner. You know the colonel is very particular about his meals being served on time. Burton. Thanks awfully, Bridget, for bringing me back to earth. (To Geraldine) I'm off, fair charmer, fittingly to prepare the outer man for the inner man's feast. EXIT l. u, e. Geraldine crosses to fireplace, sits on hassock and puts chestnuts in the fire, 46 Baby Scott. ENTER Tom Scott r. v. e. Tom. Bridget, where is Miss Geraldine? (Bridget silently points to the fireplace) Geraldine (rises and turns). Oh, cousin Tom. (Starts to- wards him hut suddenly stops and looks at him) Tom (holding out both hands to Geraldine). Cousin Geraldine, are you not coming to kiss me? Geraldine (laughing). Bridget says it is wrong to even kiss one's own cousin. (Bridget stands at c. d. ivith hands on hips laughing) Tom. The chaperon. Be so good, Bridget, as to request your charge to receive her cousin becomingly. Bridget (reprovingly). Misther Tom Tom. I claim all my cousinly rights; you kissed me when we first met. Geraldine. Oh, cousin Tom, you know I thought you were my papa then, and I have been sorry ever since that I kissed you. Tom (starts for her). Very well. I shall give it back to you. Geraldine (running back of chair). But I do not wish to part with it. (Tom sits on settee laughing. EXIT Bridget c. d. laughing. Geraldine returning to seat at fireplace) Cousin Tom, your fortune is over here. Tom. I am well aware of it. Geraldine (pointing with tongs at chestnuts in the fire). This one is Mae and this one is you. If they burn together it is all right, if you should jump into the fire or should she, then you will not marry. Tom. I am afraid there will be some jumping in this case. Geraldine. She is going, cousin Tom. Look she is getting ready to jump. Goodness, Miss Stratton is going — no — yes. Who would have believed it, cousin Tom, it is you who jumped into the fire. (Looks at Tom. Goes and sits by him) Are you in trouble? Tom. Yes, I am. Geraldine (slowly rises). I am coming back. (Goes to fireplace and inspects chestnuts, turns and looks at Tom, returns back to settee and lays her hand on his head, laugh- ingly) Cousin Tom, you have an attack of the blues. (Tom moves so hand falls off) You are a real old bear and won't let your cousin sympathize with you. Do you not want sympathy? Baby Scott. 47 Tom (turning and taking her hand). No, I am not in want of sympathy. It is starvation to a man who is Geealdine (running to fireplace). Oh, cousin Tom, Mae Stratton has jumped into the fire. Tom (rises and crosses to l.). Hang Mae Stratton! Will no one take her out of my life? Geealdine (holding chestnut in tongs). Look at Mae! Tom (crosses to her and takes hold of tongs as if to wrest them from her). Is there no law ancient or modern that can govern American girls? Geealdine. What an odd question. (Nut drops) Oh, Mae has fallen on the floor. Tom. Do they ever fall in love? (Takes tongs) Geealdine. No, if you fall, you will have to pick yourself up. American girls love naturally ; just as I love you, cousin. Tom (puts tongs in place and quietly sits on settee). But do you? Geealdine (taking seat beside him). Indeed I do. I can prove it by the medallion, which is a perfect picture of you. That is the only love I have had for eighteen years. Tom. But where is the medallion? Has your love ceased? Geealdine. No indeed, it has not, I let Mae Stratton take it to wear this evening. Tom (rising). You did— ( Walking) Then I am lost. Geealdine. Cousin Tom, come here, let us play cats cradle. Oh, do, you will get so tangled that Tom. Good heavens. Am I not tangled enough now? (Leans over back of settee) Will you never learn? Geealdine. Learn what? Tom. Can't you see? Geealdine. See what? I see that you are an old bear, but I love you. Tom. Is it possible that an American girl can only be won by an English nobleman? Geealdine. Cousin Tom, why don't you learn, can't you see, that true American girls would not barter their birthright for a foreign title, I mean those who marry for love. Tom. Love. You don't know what love is. Geealdine. Yes, I do. It is an untaught mysterious sympathy. Tom. Not known by cousinly affection. It's melodies awake in the heart of the stranger— (Geealdine jumps up. Tom rises and walks away) 48 Baby Scott. Geraldine (starts to follow him). Why, cousin, you are angry with me. (Tom turns. She goes up to him) Cousin Tom, you do not love me any more. Tom (clasps her to him). By the eternal. I could not love you any more. (Geraldine breaks away from him) Do you not believe me? Geraldine (laughing). No, Bridget taught me not to be- lieve one word a man said to me. [EXIT r. u. e. Tom. You little vixen. I wish you had some of the educa- tion of the Browne-Clarke school, so one could find you more approachable. ENTER Ralph c. d. Ralph. Why, here's Tom. Tom. How are you, old chap? (Tom and Ralph shake hands as they meet. Tom sits at r. of center table. Ralph sits opposite him) Ralph. Where is your man, James? Tom. I am worried about him. Ralph. Didn't he come with you? Tom. No, when I arrived at Buffalo I had some business to attend to, so I let him have the afternoon to himself and that is the last I have seen of him. Ralph. Aw — but chappie boy — weally you have no reason to worry about him. Aw — he'll find his way here all right, don't cher know. Tom. I suppose he did not know of the change of time at Buffalo which caused his missing the train. James (singing off stage at c. d.). Whin yer up, yer up, an' whin yer down, yer down, an whin yer in the middle, yer nayther up or down, tra-la-la-le. Ralph. By Jove — old chap — there he is now. ENTER James c. d. Crosses to Tom. Ralph. James — aw — old chap — what time is it? James. Begorra, an' me watch is an hour slow. It never did that afore, by jabbers, I'll have to get a new wan. Tom (severely). Come, give an account of yourself. James. I begs yer pardon, Misther Tom, but I'se no count, I'm just plaihn James. Tom. That will do. Where were you in Buffalo? Baby Scott. 49 James. It's where I hain't bin, 'twould after be aiser tellin'. But you see, Misther Tom, ye be afther twoldin' me Oi could have the afternoon off, so Oi wint to the foot ball game up at the Base Bawl Park. Did ye iver go to a feet ball game, Misther Tom? Sor? Yis sor. There wuz a hump back mon in the grand sthand what calls a full back mon on the blaychers a moss back, an' thin he goes way back an' sits down and niver comes back eny moore. An' we's all gets our quarter back Misther Tom; Sor. Yis, Sor — an' we's — Eh? Tom. Well then where did you go? James. Shure, sor, and Oi didn't go. Oi lift, sor, yis sor. Oi lift. An' as Oi was a coming out o' the merry go round mas-chine at the front dure — of the base bawl park Tom. That's not a merry go round. That's a James. No. Well phwat the divil was it then, but a merry go round. Oi goes in it — an' eround an' eround Oi go until Oi'm that dizzy Oi thinks me name is Izzy, when a gossoon grabs me by me lift arum and pulls me out, or Oi'd be afther going eround the blame owld mas-chine yit. Tom. That is the turn stile. James. The turn stoiyle did ye soy. Well, meb-be it 'twas. But Oi don't think mooch o' the stoiyle, me-self. Sor. No, sor. Oi don't sor. An' jist as Oi gets loose, Oi looks at me watch an' I sees Oi've got tin minutes to catch the train, and Oi hustles tew the hotel, an' finds ye hev gone. Thin a messanger bye cums in an' sezs, sezs he, sign the book. Not on yer loife, sezs Oi. Oi don't sign no ignorant doky-ments. Oi didn't want him to know Oi couldn't read writing, Misther Tom. So Oi axes him pwhat the yillow bit o' paper do be afther saying. So Oi sticks me two fingers in his two ears while he tells me pwhat the devil bit O' pace of yellow paper do be afther saying. Tom. What did you put your fingers in his ears for? James. Shure an' so he coo'dn't hear pwhat the letter said, sor, yis sor ! Tom. Well what did the letter say? James. As how me watch was slow an' that ye had lift an' hour ago for Noo York. An' fur me to come on at wunce; an' here Oi be an' me watch is still wun hour slower dan it's here in Noo York, sor, yis sor. Tom. Well, you may go now, James. Bridget will be anxious to interview you. [EXIT James l. u. e. ENTER Burton c. p. and takes a seat on settee at R, 50 Baby Scott. Tom. You two are just the ones I want to see the most. I have a favor to ask. Burton. Granted. Ralph. What is it? Tom. Miss Stratton has borrowed from cousin Geraldine the medallion that so much resembles me and I wish one of you would get it before all the world sees it and talks. Ralph. Why don't you do it yourself? Tom. I am afraid I might say something intentionally unkind and the good will of even a dog is better than the ill will. Burton. Why have you invited them here? Tom. Simply for this reason. Instead of fleeing to the frozen regions of the Klondyke or Saskatchewan or surrender to this matrimonial match-making Blue Beard, I have had my uncle invite them as guests for the week end and walked into the social arena and thrown down the gauntlet to Mrs. Browne- Clarke. Burton. Good for you. I admire your courage. We will do our best to secure the return of the medallion. Tom (rising). I knew you would, old boy. (Takes Burton's hand) And you can do it so much better than I. You are so much more diplomatic. [EXIT r. u. e. Ralph. Aw — er — who all is going to be here to-night; chappy-boy? Burton. Everybody. Ralph. And soon the time will be set for the wedding and presents, my dear fellow, don't cher know. Burton. Whose wedding? Ralph. Quit your chaffing, chappy. Why Tom's, of course. It's all settled, my deah fellah. He is going to marry Miss Stratton, aw — er — it's the talk of the club, don't cher know. Burton. Never. Ralph. Aw, but I say yes. My deah boy. There's nothing surer. She is here an honored guest and have they not been walking, riding, driving, and talking altogether all the time. 'Pon my word, where are your eyes. Why, hang it, I've even seen them whispering. So my good fellah, you can just hand over to me your Psyche affair. That was the wager, don't cher know. Burton (rising). So you say. But that doesn't make it so. As for Pysche, that is not yours as yet. Come, get up " Beauty " and call forth your latent energy. Here come the ladies. Baby Scott. 51 ENTER Geraldine and Tom c. d. followed by Mrs. Clarke and Mae, who in turn are followed by Bridget and James. The ladies take seats about the room. Bridget and James stand together at c. d. Burton and Ralph, join the different ladies and carry on conversation in pantomime. Mrs. Clarke. Since all seems sunshine once more, let us begin the merry-making of the evening. Ralph, remember you are master of ceremonies. How shall we begin, with a dance? James (at c. d. starts to dance). A dance. Bridget. James, you know I never allow you to dance. (Music cue. A Virginia Reel) The Others. A dance, a dance. (Tom and Geraldine, Burton and Mrs. Clarke, Ralph and Mae all take their positions to dance the Virginia Reel, but finish by all joining hands in a circle. James dancing in corner at r. when Bridget is not looking breaks under hands in c. of ring at end of dance of the others and dances a break down. Bridget joins James in c. of ring. They dance together until Bridget dances James out and he drops on the floor at l. corner. All laugh heartily) Burton (crossing over to l.). I told you, James, that Bridget was the only dancer in this house. Bridget. You blessed bye jest for that ye git a second piece of pie. Burton. Well, come, come, let's see what's next. Oh, I know, a tub of apples. Tom (goes to c. d.). Here they are now, I have been wondering what sort of a contrivance they were. (James assists Tom to bring in the tub of apples) Tom (at l. u. e. calls off stage to Colonel). Ho, Colonel, come and join us, we are about to celebrate Hallowe'en in proper style. Colonel (off stage at l.). You'll have to excuse me for a while longer, Tom, I've some important business letters to write. Mae. What's up now? Ralph. Aw — er — Miss Stratton, don't cher know, aw — we first bob for apples — that is — you know; the first two that get the apple, man and woman are fated to wed each other before this time next year, by Jove, (Looking lovingly at Mae) do you know I hope you and I get the apple. Mrs. Clarke (disapproving of Ralph's advances). Absurd. Everybody Else. Good, good, 62 Baby Scott. James. Fine. Bridget. James, you will not bob. James. Why, Bridget, it'll be easier than proposing. Bbidget. If you bob, I'll not bob, the idea of being tied up to you with a marriage knot all the rest of my days. (Tom and Bubton bring the tub down c. of stage) Burton. Now here you are, go at it. Tom (to Mae). Now our fair guest, you bob first. Mae. Please don't let me fall in. (Tom and Burton hold her hands. She makes several attempts. All laugh heartily. Supposed to get her face in the water. Does not get apple. Goes up stage) Bridget. Now I will try. (Starts for tub) James. Bridget, let me hold you. (Bridget stoops and starts to bob for the apples. Burton holds her hands back. Bridget bobs and gets all wet) James (coming over to tub). Look out! Bridget (with a mouthful of water). Silence! (Makes another attempt. James watches her and Bridget goes way down in tub) James. That ain't fair; to wade in after the apple. Bridget (gets up making a great fuss. Shakes her fist at James). Oi'm half a mind to wade into ye, ye blathering spalpeen ! James (seats Bridget in a chair and wipes her face. Fanning her with the towel ring side fashion). Riddy be ye, Bridget, for the second round. Burton. Now, Ralph, you try. Ralph. Aw — pawdon — me; but I don't think it good form to bob for apples, don't cher know. All. Oh, come on, Ralph, don't be so fussy ! Ralph. All right. I'll try. (Bobs three times and is not successful. Crosses to Mae and in loud whisper) Aw — Miss Stratton — do you know — had you got the apple, I'd died before I would have given up, bah Jove, I would, don't cher know. All (laugh). Sour grapes. Sour grapes. Tom. Now, Geraldine, you must try. Geraldine (comes to tub). You want me to snap at one of those things, that's easy. (She does so and brings up an apple the first time. Laughs) All (laugh). Good. Good. Burton. Good, good, Geraldine is the bride and now for the groom. Baby Scott. 53 James. Me, me, let me be the groom. (Starts for the tub) Bridget (jumping after him and pulling him back). James, if ye git that apple Oi'll sue ye for breeches of promise; after me hevin' ye propose to me three times a day the past tin years. Tom. All right, James, you may try it. Bridget. Don't ye do it, me darlint, ye'll be drowned. James. Certainly. (As he starts for the tub) Bridget (standing before him). Misther Tom, would ye be afther robbing Bridget Malone of her treasuer? (Embraces James) Tom. Well then, Burt, you're next. [EXIT James c. d. Burton (goes to tub). The God of Love knows I hope to win. (Smiles at Geraldine) Mrs. Clarke. And I pray to the same God that you do win. Burton (bobs three times and is not successful. Arises and crosses to Geraldine). Somehow, I've displeased the Court of Cupid. Bridget. Now, Misther Tom, it be ye turn. An' it's me that's a hoping and praying ye will win. (With a knowing wink looks at Mrs. Clarke) Tom. With your prayers, Bridget, one can hardly fail. (Goes to the tub and makes one unsuccessful attempt to get the apple) You'll have to pray harder than that, Bridget. Bridget (looking savagely at Mrs. Clarke). Begorra, I'll pray harder than some one else that I know of. (Tom makes another attempt and fails. All laugh) Tom. Oh, I'll do it; if only for the sake of being groom to so fair a bride. (Makes a third attempt. This time he gets the apple) All (general laughter). Good, good, Geraldine the bride and Tom the groom. Bridget (rushes up to Tom). An' shure, Misther Tom, old Bridget's prayers were answered. [EXIT hurriedly l. u. ENTER James c. d. Tom as James ENTERS throws him the apple, which James catches. James. The musicians have arrived, and the colonel is wait- ing for ye all in the dining room. (Music cue for orchestra to play a faint waltz) Tom (crosses to Geraldine). As your prospective liege and lord, I claim the first dance. (Geraldine places her hand on Tom's arm and they EXIT c. d. followed by Ralph and Mae, 54 Baby Scott. who in turn are folloiced by Mrs. Clarke and Burton, after Burton has offered her his arm as Tom did his to Geraldine. The orchestra ivill continue playing the icaltz, faintly, until the re-entrance of Ralph and Mae after the scene between James and Bridget) ENTER Bridget l. u. e. James (going totvard Bridget). Ah, there, me little humming bird, at lasht Oi've notched ye an' Oi'll not let ye eschape so aisly this toime. Bridget. Sure now, be ye spakeing to me or to wan of the nay-burs? James. Oora, oora, none of ye airs me doisy. Shure an' it's ye me swate crature that Oi be afther addrissing. Bridget. Aw gwan an' shure what is it ye wish? James. Aw gwan wid ye. Luk at the loidys' airs, will ye. It's aboot a wee bit o' dibt ye be afther owin' me. Bridget. A dibt, do ye say? Shure an' I wasn't aware of any finonsensical obligations to ye? James. Sich langoo-age; sich talk an' so many free schools. Oi say shurely ye recollect owin' me a kiss fur a blow, do ye not? Bridget. Oh, yis — Oi do, now that you sphake of it. Do ye want me to pay ye right here before all these folks? (Crosses to c.) James. There's nothing loike having a plenty o' witnesses. (Starts to kiss her) No, Oi'll not collict it now. ' Oi'll wait an' get interest wid it. It will be that mooch swater. But Bridget, me darlint.' (Takes her hand and drops on knees) Me own swate colleen. Oi — er — ye take — Oi — Bridget — (Aside) Be- gorra Oi'm stuck all riddy. (To Bridget) Bridget me darlint — me own — me — me — (Aside) Begorra, stuck agin. Where's that book? (Commences looking through his pockets) Bridget (laughing). Have ye lost anything? James. Nothing but me spache. (Producing book from his pocket he holds it in one hand at his side) Here it is. Bridget me darlint, me own swate love, the apple of me oiye. Oi take 1 u ' — u — a-u — au — ' g ' — a-u-g — aug — ' u ' — augu — ' s ' — agus — ' u ' — u — a — u — au — 'g ' — a-u-g — aug — ' u ' dugu — ' s ' — dugus — 1 1 ' — t — august Bridget (winking). But it's not August; ifs October. Baby Scott. 55 James. Oi know that; but this was written for me summer girl down at Cooneys Oile — and, but don't ye be afther in- terrupting. Now once more — Bridget me darlint, me swate love, I take this Bridget. October. Oi'm yer autumn girl. James. Oh, yis. Oi take this October occasion to impart to you the inflamation that's ateing up me heart Bridget (laughing). The what James. The — the — (Loses Ms place) Where was Oi at — Oh, yis the inflamation — didn't Oi say — Quit yer laughing — — Bridget. The inflamation? James. Yis, that's what is written, rotten, wrotten, here. What is the matter with that? Bridget. Oh, nothing. Only if it is sarious ye should use some Omego He. James. Phwaht did Oi soy about interooping. The inflama- tion that is ateing me heart up for ye me darlint — An' — (Loses his place. Fumbles with the book trying to find it. While doing so ENTER Ralph with Mae c. d. Bridget winks and points to James then EXIT l. u. e. James finds place holds book on floor with both hands and proceeds) An' Bridget; Oi'm not a handsum mon for looks ; an' Oi know me face is twisted but Oi've got $500 to start a corner grocery with; an' soon Oi'll be a alderman an' thin ye can have silks and satins and dimonds; if ye'll only marry me. Ralph. The personification of Ireland courting home rule. (Laughs) James, your lady love has flown. (James rises looks crest fallen and sheepishly around, and hurriedly EXIT r. u. e.) Mae. This house seems quite a love bower now. Even James is capering around Cupid. Bridget has riddled his heart. (Crosses to stand and arranges the books and flowers at r.) Ralph. It looks as if hearts were trumps. (Crosses to table by side of Mae) Mae. Now really that is a very bad joke. But I will excuse you this time. Ralph. And you will give me Miss Geraldine's medallion. For surely you do not wish to sail under false colors. Mae (turning). I wasn't aware that I was Ralph. Surely you would not want to marry a man that does not love you? ENTER Colonel l. u. e. 56 Baby Scott. Colonel (excitedly). Tom — where are you? (Sees Miss Stratton. Speaks to her and bows) Miss Stratton, I beg your pardon ; I thought Tom was here. ( Turns to Ralph ) Ralph, do you know where Tom is? (Walks up and down stage) Ralph. I will go and send him to you. Mae. Mrs. Clarke will be looking for me. (Crosses to c. d.) You will kindly excuse me? Ralph (following). The medallion. (Mae hands it to him) Thanks, I am sure, were you and Tom to become better acquainted there would develop a friendship that would demonstrate to the world that there are other relations between man and woman than the marital. Don't think me rude for what I have just said. Will you? (Bows to her) Mae. No, indeed; and I like you better for what you have said. [EXIT both c. d. ENTER Tom r. u. e. Tom (crossing to Colonel). Pray what is it uncle? Colonel. About Geraldine. Tom. About Geraldine. What about her? Colonel. He is coming to take her away. Tom. Take her away! He! Who? Colonel. Her father ! Tom. Her father. Who is her father? Where has he been all these years. (Cross to c. Take seats each side of table. Tom at r. The Colonel at l.) Colonel (sitting in chair). You have doubtless often wondered why I have remained single all these years and I too have often wondered at it myself. But love once misplaced is not readily forgotten. When I was young like you, my boy, I loved as fondly and sacredly as man ever loved a woman. That woman was Geraldine's mother and in Geraldine I see the Geraldine of my youth. She was a distant cousin of the family. Our love seemed mutual and we became engaged. Our bethrothal was looked upon with favor by both families. They took her to Europe for a trip. For a time we wrote con- stantly, our letters filled with terms of endearment known only to lovers. Then came a time they became less frequent and finally they ceased entirely, until one day I received the greatest blow of my life. She asked for her release, as she was about to marry an English nobleman, Lord Lester. I granted it; al- though no one knows what it cost me. They were married only Baby Scott. 57 Six short mohtjis, When she left him, for he proved to be the usual bankrupt member of nobility with all estates mortgaged double their value. She was unable to stand the life of shame and duplicity he led, for he was a licentious man, always in some public intrigue or scandal. She resided in London under a separate roof for a short time, then entered a convent and shortly afterwards died broken hearted, leaving behind her a living minature of herself in the Geraldine you know and whom I have learnt to cherish and love as if she were my own flesh and blood. She left a letter requesting me to be a father to her and never let her know who her real father is. This I have tried to do, but some one has informed him and he is coming for her. Good God, am I to have nothing to love? Must that Englishman step in again between me and the object of my affections? (Head bows down into his hands on the table) Tom (clenching his fists and rising). This is some of Browne- Clarke's devilish work. Colonel (raising his head). Tom, my boy, what are we to do? Tom. Do, uncle? Why, leave it entirely with Geraldine, when he comes for her. Her heart will decide for the best. If she wishes to go with her father, for the sake of her happi- ness, we will not interfere. Colonel (rising). You know what is best, Tom. My head is all confusion. But if she goes, my God, it will kill me. [EXIT Colonel r. u. e. Tom. So Geraldine's father is an English Lord. Will she go with him? Will she leave her new found friends for one whose claim is just; but she knows not. I hope Browne-Clarke is satisfied. (Crosses to l.) She has raised the question of Geraldine's parentage and proceeds to answer it herself by producing her father to claim and take her away from those who have learned to love her most dearly. (Crosses to c. d.) It is all in interest of her designs to capture me for a husband. But she shall not gain by it. For if Geraldine leaves us my apartment shall ever be that of a bachelor. (Lights turned down dim) ENTER Geraldine l. u. e. Tom hides behind screen. Geraldine (goes to mirror. Holds lighted candle up high) My true love, my love true love Whoever you be Come and look into this mirror with me. 58 Baby Scott* (Tom comes from behind screen and stands behind her) Geraldine. It is cousin Tom. Tom. No, it is not cousin Tom. Geraldine. But I know it is you. Tom. How do you know? Geraldine. I saw you peep over my shoulder. {Lights turned up) Tom. Tradition says your future husband will do that. Geraldine {placing her hand in his). It is you ! Tom {clasping her to him). Yes it is. This is my chance and by all the Gods of Cupid and Hymen I know my opportunity. ENTER Burton and Ralph l. u. e. Burton. Well, " Beauty " I have been hunting everywhere for you. I want you to hand over that sword. My boy, you need not look so innocent. I have just met Miss Stratton and she told me you were subject for congratulations. (Geraldine and Tom go up to them) Geraldine. You are not going to marry Miss Stratton? Ralph. She has said she would marry me. Geraldine. Then you are subject for congratulations and I offer you mine. {Shakes hands with Ralph) Ralph. Thank you, as yours are the most desired. [EXIT Geraldine r. u. e. Tom. You surely are not going to marry a woman who has graduated in the Browne-Clarke school? Burton. In trying to save you from the meshes of matrimony he has entangled himself. As the meshes were formed of threads of gold he forgot the demands of his heart, in satisfy- ing his taste for ease and luxury. Tom {grasping his hand). My dear martyr friend I con- gratulate you. You will have to reduce your life to rule and measure and fit it with scales of proper proportions. {Crosses to mantel and stands) ENTER Bridget l. u. e. Bridget. So it is ye— Misther Ralph, that be afther marry- ing. Do ye understand that marriage cuts y'er loife here and snips it there, lets go this buckle, an' pulls in that strap, until ye become a compound circumstance. Burton. Yes, yes, but you forget, Bridget, Miss Stratton has stocks bonds, and rentals. Baby Scott. 59 Bridget. You modern Hottentot the only safe road to matrimony is love. Ralph. Very good for luncheon, but mighty lenten for dinner. ENTER Mae and Mrs. Clarke c. d. Mae (going up to Ralph. Gushing). Ralphie dear, Mrs. Clarke didn't know. Mrs. Clarke. A thousand pardons my dear, I thought at first it was only a house-party lark. I'll make amends for my dullness by celebrating your bethrothal. It is hard to catch a man. (Looks at Tom) But I will help you to hold on to him. (Ralph and Mae sit on settee. Busily conversing) Burton. Be careful, Bridget. Look at them now. They are in the cooing age. " Beauty " knows what he is about and has feathered his nest. [EXIT Bridget c. d. ENTER Colonel excited l. u. e. Crosses to r. and back. Colonel. Where is he? Tom (advancing). Here I am. My God, what has hap- pened ? Colonel. He has come for her; Geraldine's father. Tom. Geraldine's father. (Crosses to Mrs. Clarke) This is some more of your diabolical scheming. Mrs. Clarke (shrugging shoulders). My dear Mr. Scott, you fly into a passion so easily. My schemeing! Indeed! It seems that every time anything goes amiss you accuse me of being the instigatior of it. Why, if Geraldine has a father — it is but natural he should desire to have her with him rather than residing with strangers. Tom. Have a care. You may go too far. You have failed in one scheme to have me obey your will and, by all that is sacred, you will again fail. (Leads the Colonel to a chair) Mrs. Clarke. We shall see. Colonel. No, I won't sit down; a chair wouldn't hold me. (Resumes his pacing) ENTER Geraldine r. u. e. Stops in amazement. Looks from one to another as if seeking an explanation for their ex- cited appearances. ENTER James c. d. ivith card tray, which he hands to Geraldine. 60 Baby Scott. Geraldine (takes card from tray drops it on the floor with- out reading. Goes up to the Colonel and leads him to an arm chair. Makes him sit down. Sits on the arm. Hand around his neck. Leans her face against his). My own dear, papa. (James picks up card and presents it) I am not ac- quainted with the gentleman. (EXIT James at c. d.) You dear old papa; mamma worshipped you. Colonel. Take her away, Tom. Tom. Geraldine, James handed you a card bearing the name of Lord Geoffrey Lester. Geraldine. My father, yes! {Crosses to table and taps bell) Tom. Why, uncle, she knows that Lord Lester is her father. (Goes to Geraldine) Come, we will go together. Colonel. Who told her? Geraldine. Bridget. ENTER Bridget r. u. e. Bridget (smiling). Yis, Oi'm the sinner as towld. Tom. Bridget, in thy name, may Ireland have all she wants and may the supply of Bridgets never give out. ENTER James c. d. Geraldine. James, tell the gentleman that an American girl recognizes no authority foreign to dictations of her own heart. Mrs. Clarke (crosses to Geraldine). But, my dear, think of the grandeur of being Lady Lester. A lady of title. That will never be yours if you remain here. Geraldine. Mrs. Clarke, you cannot measure an American girl with an English yard stick. Mrs. Clarke (retreating). Failed again. All is lost now. Colonel (rising). What does it mean? Tom. It means that an American daughter recognizes not the right of foreign interference. Colonel (crosses to a). She will remain! Tom. Baby Scott. (Colonel, Geraldine, and Tom down front c. Ralph and Mae l. by settee. Burton and Mrs. Clarke at c. d. Mrs. Clarke with back toward audience. Bridget and James hugging each other at r. u. e.) CURTAIN. $§$@S$S88SS$S$SS$$SSS&$$«$3^^ MILITARY PLAYS 25 CENTS EACH M. BY THE ENEMY'S HAND. 4 Acts; 2 hours 10 EDWARDS, THE SPY. 5 Acts; 2^ hours 10 PRISONER OF ANDERSON VILLE. 4 Acts; 2J4 hours.. 10 CAPTAIN DICK. 3 Acts; 1^ hours 9 ISABEL, THE PEARL OF CUBA. 4 Acts; 2 hours 9 LITTLE SAVAGE. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting 4 BY FORCE OF IMPULSE. 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