DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS Partial List of Successful and Popular Plays. Large Catalogue Free. Price 15c each, Postpaid, Unless Different Price Is Given DRAMAS, COMEDIES, ENTERTAINMENTS, Etc. M. F. Aaron Boggs, Freshman, 3 acts, ly-i hrs (25c) 8 8 Abbu San of Old Japan, 2 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 15 After the Game, 2 acts, 154 hrs (25c) 1 9 All a Mistake, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 4 4 All on Account of Polly, 3 acts, .214 hrs. (25c) 6 10 American Hustler, 4 acts, 2V 2 hrs :....(25c) 7 4 As a Woman Thinketh, 3 acts, 23/4 hrs. ./,... (25c) 9 7 At the End of the Rainbow, 3 acts, 2% hrs (25c) 6 14 Bank Cashier, 4 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) ........ 8 4 Black Heifer, 3 acts, 2 h. (25c) 9 3 Boy Scout Hero, 2 acts, 1^4 hrs. (25c) ..17 Brookdale Farm, 4 acts, 2 54 hrs (25c) 7 3 Brother Josiah, 3 acts, 2 hrs, (25c) 7 4 Burns Rebellion, 1 hr (25c) 8 5 Busy Liar, 3 acts, 254 h. (25c) 7 4 Civil Service, 3 acts, '2% hrs. (25c) ...... V 6 5 College Town, 3 acts, 2% hrs. (25c) 9 8 Danger. Signal, 2 acts, 2 hrs. . 7 4 Daughter of the Desert, 4 acts, 2% hrs (25c) 6 4 Deacon Dubbs, 3 acts, 2% hrs. (25c) 5 5 Deacon Entangled, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 6 4 Down in Dixie, 4 acts, 2 r <4 hrs (25c) 8 4 Dream That Came True, 3 acts, 2% hrs (25c) 6 13 Editor-in-Chief, 1 hr. ..(25c) 10 Enchanted Wood, \.y x h. (35c) .Optnl. Everyyouth, 3 acts, 154 h. (25c) 7 6 Face at the Window, 3 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 4 4 Fun on the Podunk Limited, g 1% hrs ...(25c) 9 14 Heiress of Hoetown, 3 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 8 4 Her Honor, the Mayor, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 3 5 High School Freshman, 3 acts, 2 hrs. (25c) 12 Honor of a Cowboy, 4 acts, 2% hrs .' (25c) 13" 4 Indian Days, 1 hr (50c) 5 2 M. F. In Plum Valley, 4 acts, '2 J4 hrs (25c) 6 4 Iron Hand, 4 acts, 2 hrs. . (25c) 5 4 Jayville Junction, 1% hrs. (25c) 14 1/ Kicked Out of College, 3 acts, 2% hrs (25c) 10 9' Kingdom of Heart's Content, 3 acts, 2% hrs (25c) 6 12 Laughing Cure, 2 acts, 1^4 hrs. (25c) 4 5 Lexington, 4 acts, 254 li. . (25c) 9 4 Little Buckshot, 3 acts, 2 54 hrs. C5c) 7 4 Lodge of Kye Tyes, 1 hr.(25c)13 Man from Borneo, 3 acts, 2 hrs .(25c) 5 2 Mirandy's Minstrels. . . . (25c) Optn!. Mrs. Tubbs of Shantytown, '3 acts, 2% hrs (25c) 4 7 New Woman, 3 acts, 1 hr. . . . 3 6- Old Maid's Club, 154 hrs. (25c) 2 16 Old Oaken Bucket, 4 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 8 6 Old School at Hick'ry Hollerr 1J4 hrs. (25c) 12 9 On the Little Big Horn, 4 acts, 2% hrs (25c)10 4 Out in the Streets, 3 acts, 1 hr. 6 4 Parlor Matches, 2 acts, \ l / 2 hrs. (25c) 4 5 Poor Married Man, 3 acts, hrs (25c) 4 4 Prairie Rose, 4 acts, 254 h.(25c). 7 4 Rummage Sale, 50 min 4 10 Rustic Romeo, 2 acts, 254 hrs (25c) 10 12 Savageland, 2 acts, 2 l / 2 hrs. (50c) 5 5 School Ma'am, 4 acts, 1)4 krs. 6. 5 Scrap of Paper, 3 acts, 2 hrs.. 6 6 Sewing for the Heathen, 40 min. 9 Southern Cinderella, 3 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 7 Star Bright, 3 acts, 2J4 h. (25c) 6 5 Teacher, Kin I Go Home? 2 > scenes, 35 min..... 7 3 Those Dreadful Twins, 3 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 6 4 Thread of Destiny, 3 acts, 2y 2 hrs (25c) 916 Tonv, the Convict, 5 acts, 2 l / 2 ■ hrs (25c) 7 4 Town Marshal, 4 acts, 254 hrs (25c) 6 3 Trial of Hearts, 4 acts, 2% hrs. (25c) 618 Trip to Storyland, 154 hrs. (25c) 17 23 Uncle Josh, 4 acts, 254 hrs. (25c) 8 3 • Under Blue Skies, 4 acts, 2 hrs (25c) 7 10 Under the Laurels, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 6 4 When the Circus Came to Town, 3 acts, 254 hrs. (25c) 5 3 T.S.DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers,154W. RandolphSt., Chicago The Call of the Colors A PATRIOTIC PLAY IN TWO ACTS FOR FOUR MEN AND TEN WOMEN BY LINDSEY BARBEE it AUTHOR OF 'After the Game," "At the End of the Rainbow*' "The Call of Wohelo," "The Dream That Came True," "The Fifteenth of Jan- uary," "Then Greek Met Greek," "Her First Scoop " "The King- dom of Heart's Content," "The Promise of Tomorrow," "Sing a Song of Seniors" "The Spell of the Image" "The Thread of Destiny," "Tomorrow at Ten," "The Trial of Hearts," "A Watch, a Wallet and a Jaek of Spades," "When the Clock Strikes Twelve" "The Whole Truth" "In the College Days," "Let's Pretend — A Book of Children's Plays," Etc. CHICAGO S. DENISON & COMPANY Publishers THE CALL OF THE COLORS CHARACTERS. Mrs. Hilary .Head of the Gauze Room Sallie Palmer .In Charge of the Desk Miriam Thorpe Who Goes to France Lee Somers . . . \ Lois Moore. . . . >■ Workers in the Gauze Room Laura Jones . . ) Miss Smith. Who is Something of a Mystery A Visitor. Who Does not Approve Cecile Deering Whose Chateau is a Hospital Vilette A French Peasant Girl Sergeant Hilton ^ Of the Royal Rifles Harrison Ray Who Wears Civilian Clothes Billy Not yet Enlisted Rudolph Sergeant Hilton's "Watch Dog" Scene — America and France. Time — The Present. Time of Playing — About an Hour and a Half. Act I. A Gauze Room, near ;an American Training Camp. Act II. A Room in a French Chateau, near the Firing Line in France. COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY T. S. DENISON & COMPANY. FEB I8 ! !9I§©CI.D 48937 THE CALL OF THE COLORS SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAM. Act I — The Red Cross gauze room has various visitors. Sergeant Hilton proves the chief topic of conversation and the strange Miss Smith is cordially welcomed. Plarrison Ray is declared a slacker — and Sergeant Hilton's little black book causes much speculation. Miriam makes an announce- ment ; Harrison offers an explanation — and the boys go marching by ! Act II — Sergeant Hilton -renews his acquaintance with Miriam and learns of the ammunition hidden in the village. The Germans arrive. The Sergeant loses his little black book — and Vilette brings news of the enemy. Miss Smith finds the book and sends a message. By means of the secret telephone Cecile communicates with the other chateau — and the firing begins. Sergeant Hilton returns — in another role ; a bugle sounds, and the Stars and Stripes go by. The Ser- geant, taken unawares, f aces • a revolver. Harrison Ray tells his story, the mystery is solved, and the day is saved ! THE STORY OF THE PLAY. Sergeant Hilton, a young war "veteran," who, disabled, is lecturing for the benefit of war relief, proves to be the chief topic of conversation among the workers of a Red Cross gauze room. His helpless left arm, his engaging per- sonality, and the mysterious little black book which he always carries, excite much comment ; and, in contrast, the conduct of Harrison Ray, who has not enlisted in any branch of the service, and who seems content to wear civil- ian clothes, is criticized. Miriam Thorpe announces her intention of going to France as a nurse, and, impulsively, asks Harrison why he, too, has not answered the call of the colors. He refuses to tell her. The scene shifts to France, where, in a chateau which has been turned into a hospital, and which is the property of a college friend, Miriam begins her work. In a neigh- 4 THE CALL OF THE COLORS boring chateau is hidden an ammunition reserve coveted by the enemy, the hiding place known only to a few, among them Miss Deering, whose hospital responsibilities nat- urally bring her into close association with war authorities. She, in turn, gives this knowledge to Miriam and to a mysterious Miss Smith who has worked with Miriam in an American gauze room and who has followed her to France. Sergeant Hilton appears in the village, and, almost immediately, a German detachment follows him. Through Miriam, who believes him to be a government official, he has already learned of the ammunition repository ; so, on the arrival of the troops, he hastens to impart his news, his treachery unknown to the residents of the chateau. In his excitement he loses the little black book which he always carries, and it is found by Miss Smith, who, after reading it here and there, sends a mysterious message by Vilette, a French peasant girl. Meanwhile,' the guns begin, and Cecile, by means of a secret telephone, communicates with those in charge of the ammunition and directs the firing. Suddenly the Sergeant enters, demands the book whose loss he has discovered and reveals his double personality. In the midst of the excite- ment following the denouement a bugle sounds and the sight of American soldiers insures the safety of the village. The Sergeant hastens to escape, but Miss Smith, in the name of secret service, confronts him with a revolver and holds him at bay until Harrison Ray enters and declares him a prisoner, delivering him into the hands of the law. Explanations follow, and Harrison — in khaki at last — gains his reward from Miriam. CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES. Mrs. Hilary — Middle-aged, with slightly gray hair. Dig- nified and a trifle domineering. Wears large white apron over white gown and red band on her arm. Her cap is a square of thin red material with white band around the face and white square bearing red cross directly in front. THE CALL OF THE COLORS 5 Sallie — Bright and vivacious. Wears pretty summer gown and hat and carries bright knitting bag and parasol. Mtriam — Sweet and serious. In the first act she wears costume similar to that worn by Mrs. Hilary. In the second act her costume is that of the regular Red Cross nurse. Lee, Lots, Laura — Typical modern girls. Prettv sum- mer gowns and hats and regular Red Cross aprons and caps. Miss Smith — Quick, alert and self-poised. In first act she wears white apron and cap over summer gown. In second act, regular nurse's costume. A Visitor — Sarcastic, critical and supercilious. . Gown and hat somewhat out of style. Cectle — Bright, clever and efficient. Regulation nurse's costume. Yilette — Very animated, with many gestures. Simple peasant costume of full skirt, black bodice and white waist. Sergeant Htlton — Very engaging in personality. Plain business suit in both acts. His left arm hangs quite limp. Harrison Ray — Manly, dignified and resolute. Plain business suit in first act. United States uniform in second. Billy — Typical college youth. Wears white trousers, dark coat, white shoes, Panama hat. Rudolph — Rough peasant costume. PROPERTIES. Act I — Three Red Cross tables with scissors, rulers, boxes, gauze, etc. Six straight chairs for each table. Chest of drawers. Flat desk with telephone, papers, etc. Desk, chair. Shelves with cardboard boxes ; hooks for hats. Blackboard, screen, mirror, poster. Hats, sweaters, etc., for girls. Knitting, knitting bag and parasol for Sallie. Large box for Billy. Book for Sergeant. Umbrella for Harrison. Act TI — Table with lamp, library shears, books, etc. Smaller table with painting above. Two large chairs, one 6 THE CALL OF THE COLORS straight chair, desk and desk chair. Allied flags, field glasses and paper for desk. Pedestal and statue. Fireplace, and- irons, mirror and telephone. Rugs, portieres, window cur- tains, etc. Cloak for Cecile. Revolver and small United States flag for Miss Smith. Book and revolver for Ser- geant. Handcuffs for Harrison. SCENE PLOT Act I. / Screen l 1 n y°/Ja / ° 1 1 Q Shel D □ □ □ Chair \ Desk O rT" v - / Door Chest Ki\ Act II. 1 Door //VoChal /Ochair l_l Table r i | Fire-place o\ p. Pedestal \ Chair Ao \\o- VI o DeskA 1 Chair □ □ \ STAGE DIRECTIONS. R. means. right of stage; C, center; R.C., right center; L., left; / E., first entrance; U. E., upper entrance; D. E., door in flat or scene running across the back of the stage ; up stage, away from the footlights ; down stage, near foot- lights. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience. THE GALL OF THE COLORS Act I. Scene: A Red Cross gauze room. Full stage. Prac- tical door dozvn L. Windows R. U. E. and R. 2 E. Three Red Cross tables, one at C ., one dozvi. R. and one at front of stage, with rulers, scissors, pasteboard bowls, etc. Six chairs at each table. Hooks with hats, coats, bags, etc., at L, of C. in F. Shelves with pasteboard boxes for aprons, caps, etc., at R. of C. in F. Screen at R. U. E. Flat desk with telephone, papers, etc., down L. Large and brightly decorated knitting bag, also gay parasol conspicuously dis- played on desk. Chair back of desk. Chest of drawers at L. 2 E. Large poster with "Quiet Please" at C. in F. Mir- ror underneath. Blackboard between windows. At rise, stage is well illuminated. Sallie at the desk is knitting industriously. Lois is seated back of the table at front of stage. Miriam at table down R. Mrs. Hilary, with Lee at her right and Laura at her left, stands R. of table at C. Mrs. Hilary (to Laura). This won't do, Miss Jones. (Holds up .gauze square and regards it critically.) The hem is too wide, the corners are blunt, and (measuring) it is too large by the sixteenth of an inch. Laura. But what is the sixteenth of an inch to a poor, wounded soldier, Mrs. Hilary? Mrs. H. (pompously). We are not considering the sol- dier, my dear, but are merely obeying national orders. Laura (sighing). And a soldier's first duty is obedi- ence. (Takes gauze.) I'll try again. (Turns and as she seats herself back of table at C, makes a grimace behind Mrs. H.'s back.) Mrs. H. (taking gauze which Lee holds out to her). Why have you made laparotomy pads and small sponges when you were told not to make them? 7 8 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Lee. But I wasn't told. Mrs. H. (dramatically pointing to blackboard). Read! (Reads aloud.) No laparotomy pads and small sponges are to be made until further notice. Lee (meekly). I forgot to look at the blackboard. Mrs. H. In Red Cross work, Miss Somers, inattention is as serious an obstacle as inaccuracy. (As she hands back the gauze.) Make these into dust cloths. (Moves to front of stage.) (Lee crosses back of Laura and seats herself L. of tabic, engaging in much silent by-play.) Mrs. H. (standing back of Lois). Do you call that a straight line, Miss Moore? (Points to* gauze.) Lois (stay-tied). Why — yes. Isn't it? Mrs. H. Did you draw a thread? • Lots. Why — no. I just cut it. I've always had a very accurate eye. In the meantime Miss Smith emerges from behind the screen, wearing the Red Cross apron but carrying the cap. She makes her way to the desk and engages in a heated argument with Sallie. Mrs. H. (scornfully). Accurate! One could coast down hill on that edge ! Sallie. Mrs. Hilary? (Mrs. H. turns and walks toward desk.) This lady doesn't want to wear a cap. Mrs. H. Doesn't want to wear a cap? May I ask why? Miss Smith. It's such a nuisance. It gets in my way. and it isn't becoming. Mrs. H. (sarcastically). Are you sure you're in the right place? The beauty parlors, you know, are on the second floor. Miss S. (meekly). Oh. if it's a rule — of course I won't say another word. Mrs. H. (mollified). Surely you understand that we must insist upon sanitation and uniformity. Have you had previous experience in this work? Mtss S. None whatever. THE CALL OF THE COLORS 9 Mrs. H. Then I shall put you at the kindergarten table. (Guides her to table dozen R.) Miss Thorpe? (Miriam looks up.) A recruit! Miriam (smiling and nodding). Then we'll do our best to make the recruiting station attractive. (Mrs. II. and Miriam instruct the newcomer.) Enter Visitor at L. Sallie rises and starts toward her, knitting as she goes. The ball of yarn drops, she dives for it, the Visitor side-steps and becomes entangled in the yarn. Sallie. Oh, I beg your pardon! (Extricating the vic- tim.) I — beg — your — pardon! (As she rises the Visitor stoops and Sallie's needles graze her cheeks.) Oh, I hope I haven't hurt you! (The Visitor glares and Sallie be- comes confused.) I — I — suppose you wish to see one of the workers ! Visitor (grimly). If that needle had gone half an inch nearer the eye, young woman, my chances for seeing any- body would have been diminished. Sallie (examining the scratched check). But it didn't even leave a mark! (Mrs. H. crosses to them.) Mrs. H. Good afternoon. Is there any information we can give you? (Sallie returns to desk.) Visitor (airily). None, thank you. I have just finished the Red Cross course in New York, consequently the details are quite fresh in my mind. (Pauses.) A tour of neighbor- ing towns is proving most — enlightening. Mrs. H. It must be extremely gratifying to note the efficiency resulting from national orders. Visitor (shrugging her shoulders insinuatingly). Effi- ciency? (Gases about her.) Are these all your workers? Mrs. H. (bridling). Certainly not. The hour is late, the afternoon is warm — naturally our attendance suffers. Visitor. Indeed? One imagines that the proximity of a training camp would spur the young ladies to greater effort. (Moves slowly to table at C., reading blackboard as she goes. Turns sharply to Mrs. H.. who is behind her.) Since when have we eliminated laparotomy pads and small sponges? 10 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Mrs. H. (just as sharply). Since the last bulletin, of' course. Visitor: What erroneous reports are spread ! Being right from New York — I knozv. (Feels gauze on table.) Dear me ! What an inferior quality ! Mrs. H. Even as such we prefer not to have it held be- tween gloved fingers. (Visitor critically inspects work at table down R., followed haughtily by Mrs. H.) Visitor. So much depends upon the first instruction. (Looks more closely.) Oh, is that the way you do it? (Shrugs her shoulders and passes on to R. U . E., follozved by Mrs. H., speechless zuith rage. Lois, who has been watch- ing the proceedings zvitli interest, joins Lee and Laura> and they all whisper together quite audibly.) Is your soap antiseptic? (Looks behind screen, then points to poster zvith a glance tozvard the laughing, whispering girls.) Isn't it strange how requests are ignored ! Mrs. H. Not at all, since often the incentive is sufficient to excuse any infringement of rules. Visitor (crossing to desk, pausing and feeling the yarn which Sallie is knitting). Dear me! The soldier who wears this will be scratched to death. Sallie (calmly). Then let us hope that he'll be polite enough not to mention it. Visitor (as she moves to the door). It has been a very interesting and (sarcastically) educational visit. (To Mrs. H.) Thank you — and — good morning! (Exit.) Mrs. H. (who has remained at desk). Back to your work young ladies! (Lois Jiurrics to table at front of stage.) And forget the interruption. Sallie. Wasn't she irritating — and ridiculous ! Mrs. H. So ridiculous that it humiliates me to be irri- tated by her. „ x ■ - J Enter Billy at L. Billy. 'Morning, Mrs. Hilary. (Glances around at the girls, who nod and wave.) 'Morning, everybody! (Hands large box to Mrs. H.) Mother sent this over — said you'd understand. THE CALL OF THE COLORS 11 Mrs. H. Thank you, Billy. I'll look over the contents right away so that you may report. You don't mmd wait- ing a few moments, do you? (Moves down stage.) Billy. Not a bit of it. Mrs. H. {turning). Haven't enlisted yet? Billy. No such good luck. To be within three months of twenty-one and have a training camp which you can't enter right under your nose is too tough a proposition for any fellow to standv Mrs. H. (as she seats herself at table down stage). Go- ing back to college? Billy. Not much. What's a degree compared to shoul- der-straps? (Seats himself on desk end.) Hello, Sal! (Catches up the knitting bag.) Is this yours? (Looks in- tently at it and whistles.) Is there anything in the animal, vegetable and mineral kingdoms which isn't here? Sallie. Yes. The apple of discord. You must have met it outside the door. Billy (swinging the bag vigorously). Sure it wasn't a bunch of sour grapes — or a lemon? Sallie (as a ball of yarn falls out). Watch out — or you'll get tangled up. Billy (stuffing it back into the bag). Heaven forbid. Last night between acts at the show, when I tried to reach the aisle, the web of yarn was so thick that the usher had to extricate my feet. Sallie. Served you right. Little boys should stay put. Billy. Saw your picture today. Sallie. Where? Billy (teasingly). Suppose I should say — on Sergeant Hilton's mantel-piece. Sallie. I'd know that you were handling the truth lightly. Billy. Just the same, I'm willing to wager my best pipe that you girls have given him an art gallery of yourselves. Sallie. If that's all the conversation you can furnish. I beg to be excused. Billy. Well, as I was saying, I saw your picture today. 12 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Sallie (ironically) . Back where you started, aren't you? Well, I 111 follow suit by saying again — where? Billy. In the Post. You were rapturously embracing an old cart horse, swathed in bandages — the horse, I mean, not you. Sallie. Oh, that! Just a demonstration of our work in the Dumb Friends' League. Billy. Where did you get the dumb friend? Sallie. An unreasonable old expressman at the corner loaned him. Billy.. Why unreasonable? Surely his faith was great if he trusted his property to amateur hands. Sallie. Oh, he was all right about that — but it was after- wards. Billy. What happened? Did you maim the animal? Sallie. No. We simply forgot to return him. Billy. Then I don't blame the expressman, for he prob- ably lost a few dollars on account of your forgetfulness. Sallie. But it was all for the good of the cause. The man who has no patriotism in times like these doesn't de- serve to succeed. Mrs. IT. (rising). Billy ?_ Billy (standing). Yes, Mrs. Hilary. Mrs. IT. I cannot accept these things. They do not con- form to the prescribed measurements. I'm sorry, but my position forces me to be frank. Billy (protestingly). But, Mrs. Hilary, I can't spare time to trot back home again. Mrs. H. (firmly). Don't argue. Billy, but hurry off with this (thrusts box in his hands) and tell your mother that I'll telephone her tonight. (Turns to tabic at C. and busies herself with work. Btlly stands motionless for a moment, then angrily claps his hat on his head and bolts out the door, leaving it open behind him.) You see, my dear boy, we must insist upon uniformity and accuracy, just as we must impress upon all workers the necessity of observing the rules even to the slightest degree, and if — Sallie (who has tip-toed to the door). He's gone! THE CALL OF THE COLORS 13 Mrs. H. (wheeling). Gone? (Telephone rings and Sallie hurries back to the desk.) Sallie (taking receiver). Yes. This is the gauze room. 1 can't understand you — shake up your phone. Oil — I'll ask her. (To Mrs. H.) The workers on the third floor want you for the rest of the afternoon. Can you go? Mrs. H. (bustling around importantly). Certainly I can go. Miss Thorpe will take charge. Miss Thorpe? (Miriam comes forward to desk.) Sallie. She'll come right away. Very well. (Hangs up receiver.) Mrs. H. Miss Thorpe, will you superintend as long as the young ladies care to stay? (Miriam assents.) And hefore you go he sure that the gauze is put away, the scis- sors laid in the bottom drawer, the threads and the pins picked up, and the chairs arranged in an orderly way — and — (looks around) well, I believe that's all. I'll see you at the next appointed time, young ladies. (Exit at L.) Sallte (dropping into desk cliair) . Oh-h-h ! I feel like a limp, limp rag! Lois (leaving her table and seating herself at C .) . And von look like a red, red rose, my dear. Use your powder- puff. Sallie (languidly pozvdering her nose). I hate ho! weather. Laura (pettishly). And I hate hot work. I'm fairly sticking to this gauze. Lee. Everything gets on my nerves. I keep seeing the poor, wounded soldier who will need this stuffy and the table changes into an operating board; and the scissors are shining instruments ; and- 1 - Miriam (leaning on desk). That will do, Lee. Visual- izing isn't good for any of you, so let's shut up shop. Lois. Miriam, you're a good old sport. (Rises, goes to slielvcs R. of C. in F. and takes off apron and cap.) Miriam. For as Mrs. Hilary says, it's late, it's warm— Laura. And there's going to be a dance tonight. 14 THE CALL OF THE COLORS (Miriam draws chair from L. of tabic to R. of desk and scats herself.) Lee. It's a shame that more people don't help out, even if it is summer. That snoopy, snippy woman made me angry, but I could see her point when she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Are these all your workers?" Sallie (resuming her knitting). My dear child, haven't you learned that the Red Cross is Society's plaything? Miriam. Well, thank goodness, the most of us take it seriously. Lois (moving L. of C. in F. and taking hat and sweater from hook). Has Sergeant Hilton asked you for a dance, Laura ? Laura (going to R. of C. in F.). Well, rather. Do you suppose I'd be going if he hadn't? (Puts cap and apron away.) Lois (at mirror). How do you suppose he dances? Laura. With his feet, perhaps. (Crosses and takes hat from hook.) .Lois. Don't be funny. You know what I mean. Laura (pushing Lois from mirror). People usually dance with their feet, don't they? Lois. Not everybody has a left arm that won't work and a set of eyes that can't see half across the room. Miss S. (rising and crossing to Miriam). Have I done this correctly, Miss Thorpe? .(Holds out gauze work.) Miriam {examining it). Perfectly. But please don't work so hard,. Miss S. But I have so much to learn before I can com- pete with you people. Miriam. At this rate, a week or so will make you a dangerous competitor. Miss S. But I may not be here that long. Perhaps it was foolish of me even to begin the work. Miriam. Are you a visitor? Miss S. Just for a short time. I'm with Mrs. Raines. Miriam. Then Mrs. Raines should have telephoned us about you. THE CALL OF THE COLORS 15 Miss S. She meant to come with me today but some- thing interfered. Lee. You must think us an unsociable lot. Why, we haven't even asked you your name. Miss S. It's— (hesitates) Smith. Laura. Then I know just how you feel, for mine is Jones. (Conies dozen L. to desk.) Some day we may change them, so cheer up! (Sits on arm of desk chair.) Miss S. But I don't even change the i in mine to y, nor do I have the dignity of an added e. I'm just — plain Smith. Lois (coming dozen C. and seating herself at C. back of table).. We don't quite agree with you about that. Come. (Draws out chair at her right.) Let's get ac- quainted. Miss S. (crossing back of Lois). Are you as nice as this to every stranger? Sallie. I wish I'd heard of you sooner. We're having a dance tonight for our training camp boys — and — would you go at this late hour? Miss S. (hesitating). Oh — I don't — know. Lee (rising). It's very informal, and for once in our lives we have a superfluity of men. (Crosses R. of C. in F. and puts away her. cap and apron.) Please go. Miss S. (impulsively). Oh, I'd love to, if you think it's all right. Lee (adjusting her hat before the mirror). Perfectly. And I'll get you any kind of a man you want, — dark or light, fat or slim, tall or short, smart or silly, rich or poor — Miss S. (laughingly) . Oh, but I'm not so particular as all that! Lee (coming dozen R. and seating herself at Miss S.'s right). We can't afford to be too particular in war times. Lois. Save that we prefer a uniform to a civilian suit. Laura. Speaking of uniforms, why doesn't the Ser- geant wear his? You'd think he would be pining to display it after its marvelous experiences. Sallie. Maybe he's too modest to flaunt his heroism. Lee. More likely the poor old thing is shot to pieces, 16 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Laura. I intend to ask him the next time I see him. Sallie. That will be this afternoon if yon wait long enough. He's coming here for me. Lois. So you're the latest moth to be singed, are yon? Sallie. Not at all. I'm merely the next on the Ser- geant's very long list. Miss S. Who is this Sergeant — or do yon mind if I ask? Lee. Who is the Sergeant? That very question, my dear. ] >rovcs that yon are a stranger. Why, the Sergeant is the sun around which the feminine planets revolve — the blos- som besieged by buzzing bees — the — Miriam (interrupting). Don't mind Lee's nonsense. Sergeant Hilton is a very attractive young war veteran — if there is any such thing. Miss S. (eagerly). Tell me about him. Miriam. When the war began he was at college, but with several other students went to Canada and enlisted in the Royal Rifles. Miss S. But the Royal Rifles were annihilated, weren't they? Miriam. Almost. A few escaped, among them Sergeant Hilton. Miss S. How wonderful! Miriam. Isn't it? His poor left arm hangs quite help-. less — the nerve was pierced by a bayonet ; and his eyes are affected by the poisonous gases. Lois (to herself). I still don't see how he can dance. Miss S. But why is he here? Mtrtam. On a lecture tour for war relief. He's been in many of the cities and is now visiting the training camps. Miss S. I never heard of anything so thrilling. Why, it must be a regular education to talk to him. Sallie. So say we all of us. The feminine portion of the town has never before been seized with such a thirst for knowledge. Laura. Don't blame it altogether on the feminine por- tion. The business men have wined and dined him and the training camp boys are crazy about him. THE CALL OF THE COLORS 17 Lee. Lie fairly lives at the camp ; has taught the hoys how to use the bayonet and has given them a real prac- tical knowledge of the somewhere in France tactics. Miss S. Has he been here long? Sallie. Over a month. He keeps lingering, but declares that tonight's festivity is positively his last appearance. Lois. Then I wonder what lucky lady is his choice for the dance. You, Sal? Sallie. Not I. I'm next on the list, but not necessarily last. Miriam. That honor falls to me. Laura. You, Miriam? Good gracious! Miriam (laughing). Your surprise at his choice is hardly complimentary, my dear. Laura. Well, naturally, we thought you would go with Harrison Ray. Miriam (quietly). Why — naturally? Laura. Because he has singled you out from the first. Miriam. Well, even from the first, it wouldn't be such a long acquaintance. Laura. Two months? In these days that's quite long enough to know a person. Miriam. Is it? Then Harrison Ray must be an excep- tion. Lois (thoughtfully). I'd call Harrison Ray a mystery. Lee. What is there mysterious about him? A clever, well-bred, attractive man, properly introduced, who came here a stranger and has made many friends. Laura. Yes, but has he kept them? Lee. What do you mean? Laura (hesitates). Why — why — Miriam. Don't mind me, Laura. I agree with what vou're going to say. (Rises, and while the others converse, moves slowly around the room, plaees gauze and scissors in the chest of drawers, straightens chairs, picks up thread, etc.) Laura. Well, how can such a splendid fellow be a slacker? 18 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Sallie. Slacker is a pretty hard term to apply to a man in these days. Laura. What else can you call him? He fails to enlist in any branch of the service, isn't drafted, and seems per- fectly content to play around while everybody else follows Uncle Sam. Miriam (from back of stage). Don't judge too hastily. There is always the possibility of extenuating circum- stances. Laura. Not at a time like this. Why, if I had a brother who didn't answer the call of the colors, I'd go myself as a Red Cross nurse. Miriam (coming down stage). Just what I intend to do. This gives me a splendid opportunity to announce it. Lois. W r hat do you mean? Miriam (standing back of chair R. of desk). Just what I say. I've taken a thorough course, as you know, have received my certificate, and have been promised a pass- port. Oh, I'm really going. Lee. Where ? Miriam. Somewhere in France. Sallie. Miriam, surely you're not in earnest. Miriam. Why not? You know it's always been my ambition to go. Sallie. But — to France! Miriam. You remember my college friend, Cecile Deer- ing, don't you? Lois. Perfectly. Miriam. You've heard me speak perhaps of her French mother, who died when she was a child, and her American father, who had her educated in his own country. But I may not have mentioned their chateau, which is situated near the firing line and which has been Cecile's home since her father's death. This has been turned into a hospital — and it's there I'm going. Miss S. (eagerly). It's wonderful — wonderful! Laura (fervently). And how T envy you the chance! (Pauses.) And oh, how I wish I were a man! THE CALL OF THE COLORS 19 Enter Sergeant Hilton at L. Sergeant (laughingly)] We don't, for I speak for my sex when I suggest that we much prefer you as you are. Laura. Sergeant Hilton! {Holds out her hands, which he takes.) Sallie (laughingly). Listen to the man! Is his supply of pretty speeches inexhaustible? Sergeant (as he takes Sallie's and Miriam's hand in turn). Why not? When there is such an inspiration. (Miriam crosses to window at R. U.E. and stands look- ing out.) Lois. • Here's someone who wishes to meet you, Ser- geant. (Indicates Miss S.) Miss Smith! She's a stranger in our town. Sergeant (acknowledging the introduction). And I am leaving so soon ! My misfortune. Lee. Ours too. (As she takes his hand.) We hate to see you go, soldier man. Sergeant. And I hate to go more than I can say. Unfortunately, a soldier must move on. Sallie. Not at this particular moment, I hope. (Mo- tions him to chair R. of desk.) I want to finish this row. Sergeant (crossing to chair R. of desk). Knit as many as you wish. (To Miriam.) Miss Thorpe, isn't this your chair? Miriam (turning). Please be seated and let me stand. It's a real relaxation after the afternoon's work. (Sergeant scats himself R. of desk.) Lois. Where do you go next? Sergeant. To France, I hope. Lee. Then you and Miriam may meet again. Sergeant (in surprise). Really? Miriam (smiling). Possibly. I'm to be an accredited Red Cross nurse. Sergeant (eagerly). At what place? Miriam. Oh, somewhere. Sergeant. Even with that fragmentary address I in- tend to find you. 20 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Miriam (crossing and standing behind Lee's chair). You'll recognize me by my uniform. Laura. By the way, Sergeant, why don't you wear your uniform? Sergeant. It's put carefully away — rags and all. That's why. Laura. But it would he the finishing touch to your lecture. Sergeant {laughing). And the finishing touch to — me. Lois. You're too modest. Why, I'll wager that you have all kinds of medals for bravery. Victoria cross, maybe, or — (mischievously) iron cross! Sergeant. Stop right there — or — Lee. You'll be putting down marks against us in that little black book which you always carry with you. Sergeant (quickly). What do you know about my little black book? Lee. Nothing. That's why we're so curious. Laura. Perhaps — it's a life tragedy. Sergeant. Perhaps. Lois. Or a record of your love affairs. Sergeant. Unrequited. Sallte. Now r we kncm< you're fibbing. Miss S. And it may be that between its covers are — mere statistics ! Sergeant (as lie takes the book from his pocket). Wrong — all of you. So I'll tell you what I've never told to anyone — because most people wouldn't understand. This little old book is my companion. It's been with me in the trenches, and in the long hours of — waiting — I wrote in it what a fellow says only to his friend. It's my com- rade — a real part of me — and that's why it never leaves me. (Returns book to pocket.) Lee (after a pause). We're a lot of inquisitive beasts. Please forgive us. Sallie (putting away her knitting). Well, I've fin- ished — and if it's agreeable to you. Sergeant, we'll be on our way. (Glances out.) It's a bit cloudy. Sergeant (rising). Just as you say. As T expect to THE CALL OF THE COLORS 21 see all you people tonight, it's only au revoir. (Crosses to window at R. U. /:. and looks out.) It is cloudy, and I shouldn't wonder if we'd need an umbrella more than a parasol. (Looks closer.) Hello, there's Ray over there. Lois. How can your poor eyes recognize anybody at such a distance? {Crosses to window at R. 2 E. and looks out.) Sergeant. Only by his civilian clothes. Not many young fellows indulge in them these days. By Jove, it makes me want my uniform. Lois. I don't understand Harrison Ray. Sergeant. Why ? Lois. Because — well, you've just said it — he's wearing civilian clothes. Sergeant. Physical incapacity, perhaps. Lois. Ridiculous ! Sergeant. Under or over age. Lois. Not from appearances. Sergeant. Somebody dependent. Lois. Of course not. Lee. How do you know? Lois. I don't. In fact, when I stop to think about it, nobody knows anything about him. Sergeant. Nobody can afford to be mysterious these days without exciting the suspicion that he is more inter- ested in some other government than in his own. Miriam. That is a cowardly thing to say behind one's back, Sergeant Hilton. What has Harrison Ray ever done to deserve it? {Stands by Lois.) Sergeant. My dear Miss Thorpe! What has Harrison Ray to do with the question? I made the remark thought- lessly and offhandedly without an idea of having it per- sonal. Miriam. And I spoke impulsively. I beg your pardon, Sergeant, and ask you to forget the incident. Sergeant. I'm glad you spoke, for a thoughtless re- mark like that of mine should never go unchecked. Thank you for pulling me up, and let's pretend that our flash of 22 THE CALL OF THE COLORS lightning is just part of the storm which is about to descend upon us. Sallie (who with parasol and bag is waiting impatiently at the door). Well, it won't be a circumstance to the vocal storm that will hit a certain military gentleman if he lingers much longer. Sergeant (hurriedly crossing to her). ( Then, forward, march! (As they pass out the door he turns and zvaves his hat.) Till later! Lee. Isn't he a peach? I'm crazy about him. Lois (sauntering to C). I still don't see how he dances. His poor arm hangs limper than ever. Laura. It will certainly be a relief to all of us, Lois, when you settle that question. (After a pause.) I wonder if there could be anything in what he said — about spies. Miriam. There! I just knew that some of you would keep that thought. It isn't fair. Laura. My word, but you're peppery. Rather a per- sonal interest in Harrison Ray, I'm thinking. Lee (rising). I'm going home before anybody gets any crosser. Lois. I can stand the crossness but my hat can't stand the rain. Come along — all of you ! Miriam. I must see Mrs. Hilary before I go, so don't wait. Laura (turning to Miss S.). Can't we see you on your way, Miss Smith? Miss S. Oh, I'm not ready and I have several errands anyway, — so you'd better leave me. Laura. Well, we'll see you at the dance Lee. And your man will be forthcoming. (With a chorus of goodbyes, Lois, Lee and Laura leave the room.) Miriam (crossing- to Miss S.). I'm on my way to the third floor to interview Mrs. Hilary. If you are not here when I return (holds out her hand), goodbye, and thanks for your help. Miss S. (taking Mtrtam's hand). That's just what I intended to say to you! THE CALL OF THE COLORS 23 Miriam (laughingly). Isn't it fine that we appreciate each other! (Goes out door at L.) Miss S. goes R. of C., takes off her cap and apron, puts them away and goes behind the screen, /inter Harrison Ray and at the sound of his step Miss S. emerges. Miss S. Raymond! Harrison (raising hand). Hush! Remember, that isn't my name — here. (Meets her at C.) Well? Miss S. So far so good. Thanks to Mrs. Raines, I've been cordially welcomed, have been included in their fes- tivities, and as a result feel like the hypocrite I am. Harrison (grimly). Don't think for a moment that I can't appreciate your sensation. Miss S. You were the subject of much discussion today. Harrison. I expected it. Miss S. Miss Thorpe defended you. Harrison. Thank heaven for that. (Lowers his voice.) What did you learn? Miss S. (quietly). Much that will interest you, and I shall do even better tonight. (As Miriam appears at the door her voice changes to an impersonal and formal tone.) But here she is now, so she can answer for herself. (Crosses to L. of C. in F. and takes her hat from hook.) Miriam enters L. Miriam. Why, Harrison, I didn't know you were ac- quainted with Miss Smith. Harrison. Miss Smith, as the only occupant of the room, kindly gave me information of your whereabouts. Miss S. (as slic passes Miriam). And this time, Miss Thorpe, I'm really going. (Goes out door.) Harrison. It's just about ready to storm. I hope you don't mind my bringing you an umbrella. Miriam (crossing to desk). Mind? Hardly. On the contrary, T'm very grateful for your thoughtfulness. Harrtson (looking around). So— this is what claims your time and interest. 24 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Miriam (nodding). To such an extent that I can't see any future without it. Harrison. What do you mean? Miriam (seating herself at desk). I'm sailing for — France. Harrison. For France f [Stands R. of desk.) Miriam. For France. I'm accredited in Red. Cross? work, you know, and friends have made it possible for me to put it to practical use. Hark i sox. But why — France? Miriam. Because I haven't the spirit of a stay-at-home. Harrison. Don't you believe that a stay-at-home has any part to play? Miriam. Every one of us has some part to play in such a world war as this, Harrison. Harrison. Th.cn why not find your work at home? Miriam (shaking her head). I can't be satisfied — here. Aside from the desire to be at the front — to help where there is greatest need — I have the feeling that — (pauses) that I must be a substitute, even a poor one, for some man who is unwilling to heed the call of the flag. Harrison (turning aside). Those are hard words, Miriam. . Miriam. I do not mean them to be hard, Harrison. Perhaps they only ask the question, why have you not en- tered the country's service? Harrison (turning and leaning on desk). Do you' think km a coward? Miriam. I know you are not. Harrison. Do you trust me? Miriam (steadily). I always have. Harrison. Then — listen. T can't explain the situation which is bringing criticism upon me. You must take my word that I have only love and loyalty for my country. (After a pause.) Do you believe me? Miriam.- I believe you, but T cannot understand. I hear only the call for help, for courage, for sacrifice, for hero- ism, and T want you to answer that call! (Sound of drums THE CALL OF THE COLORS 25 without.) Listen! (She rises and hurries to window at R. U. E.) The boys! The boys! They're following the flag! (She gazes steadfastly out the window. Harrison turns away and stands at C. until — ) Curtain. Act II, Scene: Room in a French chateau. Large door L. of C. in F., revealing wainscot drop. Practical door at R. U. F., hidden by tapestry portiere. Curtained window down L. Long table with lamp, books, library shears, etc., down R. Fireplace at 0. in F. with old-fashioned andirons. Mir- ror above fireplace. Large chairs L. of table and near fireplace. Smaller chair at R. 2 F. Table R. of fireplace with large old-fasliioned painting above. Desk and chair at L. 2 E. Paper and field glasses on desk. Allied flags above desk. Pedestal and statue at L. U. E. Rugs for floor. If possible, all furniture should be antique. At rise, stage is well illuminated. Miriam is seated L. of tabic and Sergeant Hilton at R. 2 E. Sergeant. With a stretch of imagination and a disre- gard of the fact that yon have been in France three months, 1 might believe that we are still in America — in the gauze room ! Miriam. In the ganze room? My imagination isn't so elastic as yonrs, Sergeant, for it's a far cry from those days of preparation to this life of activity. Sergeant. Yon have chosen a beantifnl place for your work. Miriam. Wonderful, isn't it? Its quiet, sunshine and its indescribable atmosphere have given peace and healing to the poor, brave boys who have sought refuge under its hospitable roof. Sergeant. Then the new life has brought you all that you anticipated? Miriam. All — and more. For it has taught me to for- 26 THE GATE OF THE COLORS get myself in helping others ; it has shown me the beauty of sacrifice, the unselfishness of suffering and the blessed- ness of mercy; it has given me a true philosophy of life. Sergeant. And this philosophy is — Miriam. That what happens to just one person really counts for nothing; that all life amounts to is the oppor- tunity for service. {Suddenly.) But why should I be telling you this. You have already given so splendidly of yourself ! Sergeant. The standpoint of another never loses its charm for me. Miriam. But rather let us- go on from where we were interrupted yesterday, for it is quite possible that we shall be interrupted today. A nurse is never sure of her time. I was asking you to account for yourself since I last saw you. The portiere at R. U. E. is pushed aside only for a mo- ment, revealing the face of Miss S. She is unseen by the two. Sergeant. A few words will do that. I was detained in the East, called to Canada, and have been on this side a comparatively short time. Miriam. But you can't go back into service. Sergeant. Not military service. Fortunately, there are other ways in which a man may serve his country. Enter Miss S. at R. U. E. and quietly makes her way to desk at L. 2 E. The Sergeant rises and looks at her with a puzzled expression. Miss S. (without looking at him). A memorandum for Miss Deering. Pardon me for the interruption, Miss Thorpe. (Takes paper from desk, crosses and goes out at R. U. E.) Sergeant. I've seen that girl somewhere. Miriam. Eleanor Smith? Of course you have. She attended the dance which we gave on the night before you left. Sergeant. And crossed with me. THE CALL OF THE COLORS 27 Miriam. Evidently she doesn't remember you. (Laugh- ingly.) That must be a novel experience for you, Sergeant, Sergeant (to himself). So it was — she — on the steamer. Miriam (teasingly). Don't be so worried about it. She met you only once, remember. Sergeant. But I seldom forget a face. (Sits.) What is she doing here? Miriam. Helping, of course — just as I am. Sergeant. But how did she happen to come — here? Miriam. Why not? She heard me tell of my plans, trained herself accordingly and wrote me to find a place for her. Cecile needed helpers — and was glad to take her. Sergeant. Sometimes it isn't wise to share such work with — strangers. Miriam. She is hardly a stranger, and in the short time she has been with us we have found her a treasure. But, come — let's go back to yourself. In what particular way are you serving your country? Sergeant. My work isn't definite enough to have a name. I'm on my way to the front now. Miriam. We're beginning to feel that we ourselves are almost on the firing line. Sergeant. Your little village is harboring an ammuni- tion reserve, isn't it? Miriam. How do you know? Sergeant. It's my business to know. Miriam. Then you're — close to the government? Sergeant. Call it what you will. (Pauses.) How can this open country effectively conceal even a small reserve? Miriam. It's more than a reserve — it's a well-filled mag- azine, and its possession would mean much to the enemy. Sergeant. Is it in plain sight? Miriam (rising). Come. (Goes to window, followed by him.) Over 'there. (Points.) Oh, I keep forgetting that you can't see so far. Sergeant. I can always see outlines. Miriam. Then you can imagine its size. It's an old, old chateau whose underground passages, vaults and dungeons make an ideal repository. 28 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Sergeant. How many know of this? Miriam. Very few. The villagers think of the soldiers quartered there as only a convenient home guard. Sergeant. Evidently inside information comes your way. Miriam. Naturally. Cecile belongs to an old and illus- trious French family. Her heart and soul are in the cause, and we are in direct communication with headquarters. Sergeant (looking around). Direct communication! Miriam (gazing intently out the windozv). Something has happened down in the village. The people are running here and there and — (pauses as her expression and tone change) look. Sergeant Hilton, look! There are soldiers — everywhere. Don't tell me that they are Germans ! Sergeant (excitedly). Have you glasses? The distance you know — Miriam. Oh, I forgot! (Catches glasses from desk and hands them to him.) Can you see? Sergeant (kneeling at window and looking intently). Enough to tell me that you are in the hands of the enemy. (He turns and quickly rises. As he does so the black book slips from his pocket and falls un perceived to floor.) Re- main here — admit no one — and we'll hope that it is a false alarm. Miriam. False alarm? From the Germans? Hardly. Sergeant. Well, I'll investigate and report later. (Takes her hand.) Em sure that there's no cause to worry. Goodbye. (Exit L. of C. in F.) Enter Cecile at R. U. E. Cecile. Miriam, have you heard? Miriam (meeting her at C). Eve seen. What are we to do, Cecile? Cecile. Stand our ground, of course. Miriam. They surely would hesitate to molest^a hos- pital. Cecile. They hesitate at nothing. Let us look that fact squarely in the face. THE CALL OF THE COLORS 29 Miriam [moving to window). Can it be that they have heard of the ammunition? Cecile (joining her). Possibly. Rather let us hope that the village is merely a stopping place on their march. Enter Miss S. at R. U. E. Miss S. (at C). From the window in the north turret one obtains an excellent view of the entire valley. As I am not on duty, I can take my stand there and report if necessary. Cecile. If you will, Eleanor. Until we can be sure of their intentions we can make no move. Enter Vilette at L. of C. in great distress and excitement. Vilette. .Les Bodies, Ma'am'selle Cecile — les Bodies ! (Comes down L.) Cecile {seizing her arm). Vilette, have you been in the village? Vilette (half -crying) . Oui, ma'am'selle! Les Boches ( waving arms ) — partout ! Cecile (gently shaking her). Try to be quiet and listen to inc. I must know just what has happened — and I depend upon you to tell me. Vilette (composing herself). Oui, Ma'am'selle Cecile! Cecile. Begin at the first. Vilette. Quand j'eus fini mon ouvrage — Cecile. English, Vilette, so that Miss Smith can un- derstand your story. Vilette. When ze work is finish, I go an marche. We talk, we laugh and zen — tout-a-coup — we hear ze sound of marching, marching. Vite, out from ze dust — comme un eclair — march les Boches ! Cecile. And how many were there? Vilette. Un million, ma'am'selle ! Cecile. Try to be accurate, Vilette. Vilette. So many zat I cannot count zem. Zey crowd in ze - shops — in ze houses — in l'eglise — Cecile (glancing at Miriam) That certainly looks as if they were here to stay. 30 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Vilette. And ze guns! Ze terrible guns! (Clasps her J lands.) Miriam. You were near them? Vilette. Oh, non — non — non — ma'am'selle ! I run — and run — (collapsing on floor) — I arrive! Cecile (motioning to chair by fireplace). Go rest a few moments. (Vilette obeys.) It is quite evident that they have discovered the whereabouts of the ammunition. Thank goodness, they do not know at what building to aim their guns. Miss S. Isn't it possible that they do know? They seem to know everything. Cecile. How possible? So few of us have been told of the hiding place that if the secret is discovered it rather breathes of carelessness — or treachery. The military coun- cil — the men who are on guard — our hospital staff — surely the number of those who are concerned is restricted. Miriam. Sergeant Hilton knows. Cecile. Knows! Impossible. Miriam. Why is it impossible? He is in close commu- nication with the government. Cecile. I don't believe it. Miriam. But he said so. Cecile. Still I don't believe it. Miriam. Cecile! Cecile. We must have further information — and I'll go myself. (To Miriam.) Miriam, will you see that our patients are undisturbed? (To Miss S.) Eleanor, will you keep watch as you suggested? I won't be long — for doubt- less I'll meet someone who is able to tell me what I want to know. (Exit L. of C. in F.) (Miriam crosses to R. U. E. and goes out. Mrss S., in deep thought, stands motionless for a few moments, then hurries to window, kneels and looks in every direction. As she starts to rise she spies the book which has dropped from Sergeant Hilton's pocket. She seizes it eagerly, turns the pages rapidly and reads here and there. Then, rising quickly, she crosses to C.) THE CALL OF THE COLORS 31 Miss S. Vilette ! Vilette (rising quickly). Oui, ma'am'selle. Miss S. Do you love your country? Vilette. Love France — la belle France? Oh, ma'am'- selle ! Miss S. Are you willing to do your part toward saving your village from — the Boches? Vilette. Oh, ma'am'selle — you know I am ! Miss S. Then listen. Go quietly and quickly down the path at the back of the hill — and when you reach the road turn to your left until you come to the cross ways. Then to the right until you see a trail which leads into the woods. Follow the trail and it will bring you to a hut. Knock four times and a man will open the door. You will say "The Stars and Stripes" — and will hand him — this. (Takes a small American flag from her gown.) Do you under- stand ? Vtlette. Oui. Miss S. Then tell me — quickly — just what you are to do. Vilette. Down ze hill — turn to ze left — reach ze cross ways, zen to ze right — follow ze trail — knock at ze door — so (knocks on cJiair four times), and when ze door opens — like zis — (holds out flag to imaginary person and strikes a dramatic attitude) ze Stars and Stripes! Miss S. Exactly. Now off wkh you, and be quick, for every moment counts. Nobody is likely to molest you — and if anybody tries, remember that you are doing your bit — for France ! Vilette hurries out L. of C. in F. Miss S. stands motionless for a moment, crosses to the window and looks out, and then, thrusting the book inside her gown, turns and goes out at R. U. E. Stage is clear for a few mo- ments, then Cecile enters hurriedly from L. of C. in F. SJie tlirozvs off a long, dark wrap on chair near fireplace, then crosses hastily to R. U. /:., looks cautiously out the door, dra7cs the curtains and returns to door at L. of C. in F. After glancing down the hall, she hastens to fire- place and front 7^'ithin draws out a small telephone. 32 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Cecile (at telephone). I have just been authentically informed that the company of Germans now in the village is a detachment from a near-by army, and that this deflec- tion from the main route is for a definite purpose — the ammunition, of course. (She pauses for a few moments.) From the position of the guns there is every indication that the chateau is to be shelled. (Pauses.) We can best observe maneuvers from here — and will keep you posted. (Hangs up receiver, hides telephone and hurries to win- dow. As she does so, there is the sound of a machine gun.) Enter Miriam from R. U. E. Miriam. They have fired at the chateau! (Hurries to window.) Cecile. And have thereby settled the last doubt we may have had concerning their ignorance of the hiding place. (The shot is answered and is succeeded by a volley.) Miriam (covering her ears). If they reach the ammu- nition — the explosion — Cecile. They do not wish to reach the ammunition in that way. They prefer it intact. Miriam. Then why the firing? Why — (another volley sounds and she gazes intently out the window.) Cecile, our men have missed their mark ! Cecile (hurrying to fireplace and taking telephone). Aim directly at the clump of trees to the right of the church. (Pauses and a moment after comes the firing.) Miriam. Splendid! Right in their midst. (Sound of guns.) Wait! That doesn't come from the same place. (Looks intently.) It's just beyond the school house. Cecile (at telephone). Beyond the school house. (Pauses.) What's that? (To Miriam.) The trees ob- scure their aim. Can you direct the shot? Miriam. I'll try. (Pauses and looks intently.) Directly over the gate in the north wall. Cecile (at telephone). Directly over the gate in the north wall. (Pause — and the shot is heard.) Miriam (after a close scrutiny). More to the right. Cecile (at telephone). More to the right. (Guns sound.) THE CALL OF THE COLORS 33 Miriam. Oh, the north wall is shattered! Enter Miss S. from R. U. E. Miss S. (at C). I've been watching every move. The firing is a blind. The shots are not aimed to do damage. For while they are attracting attention in this way, a long line of men is creeping up the back of the hill with the purpose of attacking. Cecile. You are sure of this, Eleanor? Miss S. Sure — oh, very sure. Cecile (at telephone). They are planning an attack. The men are marching up the hack of the hill and evidently the bring is to divert attention. (Pause.) I'll keep you posted. (Hangs up receiver and hides telephone.) Sergeant Hilton and Rudolph appear L. of C. in E. Sergeant (to Rudolph). You will mount guard in the hall, Rudolph, and remember that no one is to pass. (Ru- dolph salutes and withdraws from sight). Ladies, I beg your pardon for this interruption. Imperative business alone excuses it. Cecile {standing back of chair by fireplace). Then will you explain your — unannounced — visit, Sergeant? (Miss S. withdraws to chair L. of table.) Sergeant. It has to do with the loss of a small book which I always carry with me. You doubtless remember it, Miss Thorpe? Miriam. Perfectly. Sergeant. Then you recall its value to me. Miriam. I do — and I am sorry to hear of its loss. Sergeant (his tone changing). If so — return it to me. Miriam {in surprise). I do not understand you. Sergeant. The book is gone and it must have slipped from my pocket when I was here with you. Miriam. But I have not seen it and (looks around) it is not here. Sergeant. Are you quite sure of this, Miss Thorpe? Miriam (haughtily). I do not like your attitude, Ser- geant Hilton. My word is sufficient. 34 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Sergeant. Then I beg your pardon for the annoyance. (Tunis to Cecile.) Miss Deering, may- 1 ask you for some information which will help — our cause? (Cecile nods.) Then — will you put me in touch with the other chateau? Cecile. That is quite outside my province, Sergeant Hilton. Sergeant. But Miss Thorpe informs me that you are in direct communication with headquarters. Cecile. What is your interpretation of direct communi- cation? Sergeant. Well — perhaps — a telephone. Cecile. I see. On the other hand, Miss Thorpe might have been speaking figuratively — or in broad terms. Sergeant. I think not. You deny your close relation with the government? Cecile (coolly). Why should I? I am a very loyal daughter of France and my particular work naturally brings me into touch with authority. Sergeant. Exactly. Which fact creates the natural in- ference that you must have some direct means of commu- nication. Cecile. Even if I had this means of communication, as you choose to call it, why should I reveal it to you? Sergeant. I believe I told you why. Cecile. Then I shall be wholly frank with you. Were there a telephone — here — in this room, I should not give my permission for you to use it. Sergeant. And why? Cecile. Because. I do not trust you, Sergeant Hilton. Sergeant. Very well. Your frankness makes it much easier for me to continue. Laying conventionality and di- gression aside, show me the telephone, Miss Deering, and show me immediately. Cecile. Your tone is insufferable. Please leave the house at once. Sergeant. Not until I discover the source, of the infor- mation which is keeping the chateau apprised of our move- ments. THE CALL OF THE COLORS 35 Miriam. Our movements? Sergeant. The German movements. If the public has chosen to misconstrue my allegiance, it is not my fault. Miriam (in horror). You mean that you have deceived us? That you are a spy — a traitor? Sergeant. If you care to put it that way. All's fair in war times, you know. Your dear Americans were easily hoodooed, Miss Thorpe, for they fell for me without the slightest suspicion of my real lousiness. Miriam. Oh, the shame of it — the dishonor of it — and to think that any man could be so low, so base, so treach- erous ! Sergeant. Cut out the hysterics, Miss Thorpe, and I'll forgive you the epithets, since you did me a good turn today by telling me just where we could find the ammu- nition. Miriam. Cecile! Can you ever forgive me? (Cecile crosses to her.) Sergeant. You see, we knew of the hidden treasure, but not its exact whereabouts. When I discovered Miss Thorpe in the neighborhood I thought that it might be to my advantage to renew the acquaintance. It was — for, through her, I was able to tell my men just where to fire. (Meanwhile the firing continues intermittently. While the Sergeant is talking, Miss S., unnoticed by him, catches up the library shears on the table and quietly moves to fire- place. She takes out the telephone, severs the cord and returns to her former position.) Cecile. My roof never shelters a spy. ^ T ill you go? Sergeant. In my own time, Miss Deering. Or, in other words, when you show me the telephone. It's quite useless to delay — for if you persist in refusing I shall find it for myself — at the sacrifice of your most attractive furnish- ings. Miss S. Suppose you try the fireplace, Sergeant Hilton. Miriam. Eleanor! Cecile. How dare you! (Steps forward.) Sergeant Hilton, I forbid you to take another step. 36 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Sergeant (pushing her aside). I obey orders only from my superior officers, Miss Deering. (Goes to fireplace.) A clever hiding place, indeed. (Draws out telephone and ob- serves severed cord.) Who did this? Miss S. (holding up hand). Guilty. Sergeant (in sudden suspicion). Who are you? Miss S. (still holding shears). You might call us the three Fates. Wasn't it Atropos who held the shears and cut the thread of life? Sergeant {furiously). You shall all pay for this. And do you think for a moment that anything you do can check us or hold us from victory? Why — even now — our men are creeping up the hill ready to attack. (Snapping fingers.) That for any chance you have and your precious patients upstairs ! Miss S. Do you believe in Providence, Sergeant Hilton, or have you ever heard that — sometimes — help comes in the nick of time? (A bugle sounds.) Listen! (Miriam and Cecile rush to window.) Cecile. The Stars and Stripes ! Miriam. Our men — our men! (Seises American flag from above the desk and waves it out the window.) Look, look, Cecile, they see us — they're saluting. (Half crying.) Oh, I'm homesick. I want to go back — I want to be under my own flag! (Excitedly.) Do you see, Cecile? They're marching to meet the Germans — and we're saved — we're saved ! (Sergeant Hilton has joined them at the window. While his back is turned. Miss S. steps quietly to L. of C. in F. and stands there facing the audience.) Sergeant. So this is what you've done! (Furiously.) Then, by heaven, you'll pay for it. (Turns and starts to go through door at L. of C. in F. Miss S. confronts him with revolver.) Miss S. Hands up, Sergeant Hilton ! Sergeant. What nonsense is this? Put down that pistol. Miss S. Put up your hands — (Sergeant Hilton starts toward her. She steps backward, still holding revolver.) THE CALL OF THE COLORS 37 else I'll shoot — and I'll shoot to kill. A secret service woman seldom misses her mark. (Sergeant Hilton steps back in surprise, then holds up his hands.) Ah! That puts quite a different light upon the matter, doesn't it ? You see, I'm not bluffing-. (To Miriam and Cecile.) Look, girls. You notice that the poor, limp arm upon which you lavished so much sympathy is as good as new. And, doubtless, the injured eyes are better — although they did not prove keen enough to foresee this emergency. (To Sergeant Hilton.) As to you, Sergeant Hilton, perhaps you remember now the inquisitive girl who so plied you with questions at the dance ; perhaps you remember seeing me on the ship in which you crossed — although you couldn't exactly place me; and, perhaps (with her free hand drawing book from dress) you remember — this! Sergeant (starting tozvard her). You'll give me this — Miss S. (stepping back). Oh, no, I won't. (As he starts to lower his hands.) Watch out! (He raises than again.) Miss Deering, it will be wiser to take any weapon you may find upon him. (Cecile removes revolver from his pocket.) Thank you. (Holds up book.) It's an interesting little book — exceedingly interesting. When all your friends were hazarding speculations upon its contents, you perhaps will recall that I suggested — statistics. I guessed right, and they are worth while statistics — for your country, Sergeant. All kinds of data about our training camps ; minute maps show- ing intersection of railroads ; exact details of our coast defences. Sergeant. It's a lie. Miss S. At first glance its contents appeared very inno- cent — 4:he philosophical diary of a brave soldier — but I gave it the acid test and between the lines and back of it all written in invisible ink is exactly what I have told you — information invaluable to an invading army, and sufficient proof that there is no room for you in the American com- monwealth. Sergeant. I never again expect to see America. Miss S. I'm not so sure of that. (Listens intently.) 38 THE CALL OF THE COLORS Even now I fancy that I hear the footsteps of approaching fate. {Sound of scuffling off stage.) Sergeant (nervously). What do you mean? Miss S. That your little watch-dog with the German name is by this time probably in the hands of the law ; and that the law, like John Brown's soul, is marching on — in this direction. (Calls, without taking her eyes from the Sergeant.) Uncle Sam? Voice (from off stage). Coming. Miss S. Here's your prisoner. Enter. Harrison in uniform, at L. of C. in F. Harrison. Keep your pose just a moment more, Elea- nor — until I put the seal of approval upon him. (As Ser- geant Hilton struggles.) No use, Hilton, for this pistol can shoot, and if you were to escape you'd run right into the arms of a guard outside that door. We have been after you a long time, Harry Howard, deserter from the United States army and spy in the German service, alias Sergeant Hilton, survivor of the famous Royal Rifles ; but you've been clever and you left our shores before we proved our case. If it hadn't been for this little girl (indicating Miss S.) we might have lost you, and all your fine plans would have succeeded. (Snaps handcuffs upon him.) Miss S. (handing her revolver to Harrison). As it is — well, did you ever hear the little poem which goes some- thing like this : The King of France rode up the hill with full ten thousand men, The King of France did gain the top — and then rode down again. That's what is going on out there (pointing out the win- dow), but it doesn't happen to be the King of France this time. (Harrison seises Sergeant Hilton, pushes him to the door and goes out with him.) Miss S. (running to Cecile). Can you ever forgive me for my erratic career? I'm really Eleanor Harris and I THE CALL OF THE COLORS 39 never want to hear that hateful Smith again. [As Har- rison re-enters.) And this is my brother, Raymond Har- ris. (Holds out her hand and draws him to Cecile, zvho cordially greets him.) You knew him, Miss Thorpe, as Harrison Ray. (Harrison takes Miriam's hand.) He's been doing secret service work, which fact explains many things. Cecile. Mr. Harris, I'm sure you realize just how grate- ful I am, just how much your intervention means to us here in the village, and just what you have done for France. Harrison. I only regret, Miss Deering, that I was forced to stage my arrest in your home. But if you had been chasing this rogue as I have, you wouldn't have hesitated to snatch him — even in the Kaiser's palace. Cecile. Indeed, I do appreciate the situation, and I mean every word when I say that I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Miriam. Won't you tell us about it — from the first? Harrison. For some months the government has had this man under suspicion, but has been unable to obtain any real proof of his duplicity. He seemed frank and above board ; he displayed a patriotism above criticism, and he had a most engaging personality, as you all can testify. I was sent to your particular training camp ahead of his scheduled time, and at this move in the game my sister entered. (Puts arm around her.) She helped me out by discovering that he carried a little black book — and from that time we looked upon this book as the proof of his guilt. Miss S. Tell them, Ray, that I'm not a real secret service person ! Harrison. Well, you ought to be, for all the credit of this capture goes to you. (To Miriam and Cecile.) To go on. Hilton kept eluding us, but by chance we learned that he was booked to sail from Canada on a certain steamer. Eleanor had planned to join Miss Thorpe in the hospital work here, so sailed with him, while I took an earlier boat. When he made his way to this particular village, we thought his movements suspicious, but, fortunately, Eleanor was 40 THE CALL OF THE COLORS on the ground. Today she sent me the message which I had been expecting, in anticipation of which I kept an American regiment ready to go to the defence of the am- munition. The rest you know. Cecile. But — the message? What was it? Miss S. The Stars and Stripes ! It meant the need of the soldiers, and a flag along with it was to signify that I had gained possession of the book, which was the only proof we needed. Miriam. But who took the message? And how did you reach him in time? Miss S. Via Vilette. She waved the Stars and Stripes and did her bit for France. Didn't she, Ray? Harrtson. Exactly. And you should have seen her when the boys gave her the salute. Cecile. Oh, I want to hear her own version of it. "Miss S. And I want to give the boys upstairs my own version of what's happened. Tt will read like a movie with a "they all lived happily ever after" ending. (Glancing mischievously from Miriam to Harrison.) I hope! Cecile. Come, we'll go together. (Hastens to door L. of C. in F., pulling Miss S. after her. At the door slie turns and calls laughingly.) You'll excuse us? (Exeunt Cecile and Miss S.) Harrison (after a moment's silence). T'm wearing the khaki, Miriam. Miriam. You have always worn it — in your heart. Harrison. There are many ways of answering the call of the colors. Miriam. And yours was the hardest, for it brought you misunderstanding, criticism and estrangement. Harrison. You trusted me through it all, Miriam. Miriam. But I said harsh things to you. (Pauses.) Can you ever forgive me? Harrison. I've nothing to forgive. (After a moment.) Miriam, the government has granted me my wish — and I am on my way to the trenches. Miriam. That makes me very proud — and very sad. THE CALL OF THE COLORS 41 Harrison. And when a man faces the Great Adventure, life resolves itself into elemental things — friendship, faith and — love. Your friendship I carry with me, your faith will be my inspiration — Miriam (tremulously, as she holds out her hands to him). And my love. Won't you take that, too? Curtain. Deacon Dubbs By WALTER BEN HARE Price, 25 Cents A rural comedy-drama in 3 acts; 5 males, 5 females. Time, 2*4 hours. One scene throughout, a farmyard, not difficult to set. A play of pathos, clean cut rural comedy, local color and a touch of sensation, making" a truly great offering for amateurs. It is professional-like in construction, yet easily within the scope of any amateur society. The types are true to life, not exaggerated cari- catures. The star role is a comedy old farmer, not the usual stage type of hayseed, but the real, genuine, kind hearted, wise old Deacon, a part as appealing in its way, as Uncle Josh Whitcomb, Nathaniel Berry or David Harum. The heroine. Rose Raleigh, the brave little school ma'am, is a strong, emotional part. A country boy and a Swede hired girl are great comedy parts; also a comedy old maid (almost a star part), tomboy soubrette. A finely drawn hero, character auctioneer, an excellent villain, etc. The characters are almost all equally good. A male quartet and a crowd of villagers will greatly add to the success of the play. A feature scene in each act: A country auction, a country wed- ding, a country husking bee. This play is a sure hit. SYNOPSIS Act I. — Rose Cottage on an afternoon in June. Yennie Yensen, the Swedish hired girl, wants to borrow some yumps and decides to bid on the hired man at the auction, as "he bane a purty gude looking feller." Miss Philipena arranges for the auction sale. Rose and Amos. "Out of the broken ruins of time fair blossoms grow, God's last amen is a white rose." The Deacon arrives from Sorghum Center, State o' West Virginny. "Ding, dong, bell, pussy's in the well." The farm is sold to Rose Raleigh for two thousand dollars. The defeat of Rawdon Crawley. A