V 
 
 ^^ 3513 
 R688 
 
 1910 
 Copy I 
 
 1 
 
 PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS 
 
 I ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 THE 
 RECKONING 
 
 BY 
 B.L. C. GRIFFITH 
 
 THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
SHOEMAKER'S 
 
 BEST SELECTIONS 
 
 For Re&.dings and Recit&.tions 
 
 Nos. I to 27 Now lisued 
 
 Paper Binding* each number* • • • 30 cents 
 Cloth •• .... ... 50 cento 
 
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 have had occasion to use books of this kind, concede 
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 This series was formerly called "The Elocution- 
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 lished under that title. 
 
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 supply the wants of the public reader and elocution- 
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 lection of interesting short stories for home reading. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers and newsdealers, or mailed 
 upon receipt of price. 
 
 The Penn Publishing: Company 
 
 923 Arch Street, Philadelphia 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 warn 
 
 A Drama in Four Acts 
 
 BY 
 
 B. L. C. GRIFFITH 
 
 Author of " BETWEEN THE ACTS," " PRO 
 TEM." etc. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 1910 
 

 Copyright 1910 by The Pknn Publishing Company 
 
 The Reckoning 
 
Ages 
 
 50 
 55 
 30 
 21 
 60 
 
 45 
 
 45- 
 20. 
 
 50- 
 28. 
 
 The Reckoning 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS 
 
 Nicholas Hopper . A wealthy carpet manufacturer 
 Joseph Skinner . . . ... His busuiess agefit 
 
 John Armstead A lawyer 
 
 Henry Stratton Hopper's nephew 
 
 Dr. VVm. McLain . The physician at Hopper ton 
 Robert Andrews A poor tnan living in Hopper ton 
 
 Jerry Hopper's mafi servant 
 
 Barney Armstead' s man servant 
 
 Miss Sarah Hopper . Sister of Nicholas Hopper 
 
 Margaret Hopper Her daughter 
 
 Mrs. Henderson . . A poor woman living in 
 
 Hopperton 
 Mrs. King Her daughter 
 
 Note. — Jerry and Barney may be doubled, and so 
 may Stratton and Skinner, if desired. 
 
 Time of Representation : — Three hours. 
 
 A month is supposed to intervene between Acts I and II ; 
 two weeks between Acts II and III ; and eighteen hours 
 between Acts III and IV. 
 
COSTUMES 
 
 Hopper. Summer costume of well-dressed business man ; 
 
 same suit throughout, if desired. 
 Skinner. Well dressed. Business summer suit, a little 
 
 loud in style, bright colored tie, etc. May double 
 
 with Stratton. 
 Armstead. Well dressed. Business suit, quiet in color 
 
 and style. May wear same summer suit throughout. 
 
 Hat and cane in Acts I, II and IV. 
 Stratton. Same as Armstead. May double with Skin- 
 
 NER. Straw hat in Act ill. 
 Dr. McLain. Dignified dress of professional man ; high 
 
 hat, glasses. Gray hair, and gray moustache or beard 
 
 if desired. 
 Andrews. Shabbily dressed, but dressed a little better in 
 
 later acts than in Act I. 
 Jerry. Servant's costume or livery. May double Barney 
 
 by slight change in costume and make-up of face. 
 
 Jerry a well- trained Irish servant. 
 Barney. Servant's costume. May double Jerry. 
 
 Barney is a green Irishman. 
 Miss Sarah Hopper. Quiet gray dress. Gray hair, 
 
 glasses, etc. 
 Margaret and Mrs. King. Handsome summer dresses, 
 
 hats, parasols, etc. Margaret dresses more simply 
 
 than Mrs. King. 
 Mrs. Henderson. Neatly, but very plainly dressed. 
 
 Gray hair. 
 
 PROPERTIES 
 
 Act I. — For Hopper, packet of letters, sealed note, letter- 
 opener, call- bell, pen, ink, paper, envelope, papers to 
 represent documents, photographs. For Jerry, card- 
 plaie and card. 
 
 Act II. — For Miss Sarah, basket and fruit. For Mrs. 
 Henderson, letter, and pillow or cushion. For 
 Doctor, watch. For Hopper, folded paper. 
 
 4 
 
PROPERTIES 
 
 Act III. — For Armstead, watch, sealed letter, telegraph 
 blank, check-book. For Andrews, large envelope, 
 pen, ink, paper. For Skinner, telegram. For Strat- 
 TON, pen, ink, paper. 
 
 Act IV. — For Jerky, feather-duster, waste paper basket, 
 and telegram. For Hopper, watch, telegraph blanks, 
 revolver, box of cartridges, check-book. For Arm- 
 stead, folded paper. 
 
 STAGE DIRECTIONS 
 
 The player is supposed to face the audience, r. means 
 player's right; L., his left; c, centre; R. C, right of 
 centre; l. c, left of centre. 
 
 SCENE PLOTS 
 Act I 
 
 CAfifOCOAPE Ofi PLA/f^MOf* 
 
 Room in Mr. Hopper's residence, New York City, 
 Doors R. and l. Window in centre of flat. Landscape or 
 plain drop. Table and chairs c. Arm-chair near table, l. 
 Other chairs and handsome library furnishings as desired, 
 
 5 
 
SCENE PLOTS 
 
 Act II 
 
 l.ANO<SCAP£ DROP 
 
 Mrs. Henderson's residence, Hopperton. Door r., 
 window in flat r., door in flat l. Landscape drop. 
 Table and chairs c. Sofa down r. Plainly furnished 
 room. 
 
 Act III 
 
 LANDSCAPE DROP 
 
 Room in Armstead's residence, New York. Doorc. (in 
 flat). Windows r. and L. (in flat). Landscape drop. 
 Fireplace and table and chairs L. Other furnishings of a 
 handsome character, as desired. 
 
 6 
 
SCENE PLOTS 
 
 Act IV 
 
 ZAAU>SCAPS OfiOP> 
 
 
 
 Room in Mr. Hopper's residence, Hopperton. Doors 
 R. and L, and c. (in flat). Windows R. and l. (in flat). 
 Table and chairs l. c. Armchair r. c. Sofa down R. 
 Other furnishings of a handsome character, as desired. 
 
The Reckoning 
 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE. — The library in Nicholas Hopper's New York 
 
 residence. 
 
 (^Enter Hopper, r.) 
 
 Hopper. Yes, I must raise money somehow, even if I am 
 compelled to borrow. I am beginning to think that I 
 was very foolish ever to have attempted to corner the 
 cotton market ; and yet if I can corner it, I shall make 
 a fortune. (Henry Stratton ^//<?^r^L. Graciously.) 
 Walk in, Henry ; walk in and take a seat. 
 
 < 
 {Enter Henry, l.) 
 
 Henry. I do not wish to take your time, sir, but 
 
 Hopper (Jjiterrupiifig). Don't mention it, my boy. If I 
 
 can be of any service to you, I think I can manage to 
 
 spare a few minutes. (^Sits at table c, and takes up a 
 
 bundle of letters J) You won't object to my opening 
 
 these letters, will you? 
 Henry. I — 1 fear I am disturbing you, sir. 
 Hopper. Not at all, I assure you. I simply wish to occupy 
 
 my hands; but my attention is all yours. 
 Henry. You are very kind. {Sits. A pause.) 
 Hopper {opening letters). Well — what can I do for you? 
 Henry {hesitatingly). I — I thought perhaps you — you 
 
 might be willing to help me, sir 
 
 Hopper {encouragins^ly). Yes? Go on. 
 
 Henry. I feel greatly ashamed to ask for — for help again, 
 
 sir, but I — I need money very badly to settle some — 
 
 some {Hesitates.) 
 
 Hopper. Debts? 
 
 Henry. Yes, sir. You see, I — I have lost .some money. 
 
 9 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Hopper {sympathetically). Lost it ? Too bad. 
 
 Henry, i — I lost it at cards, sir. 
 
 Hopper {quietly). I am very glad to hear it, Henry. 
 
 Henry {surprised). Sir? 
 
 Hopper. If you persist in gambling, I am glad you lose. 
 
 Henry. But, Uncle, you do not understand. 
 
 Hopper. Yes — I think I do. This is the second time you 
 have come to me for money for such a purpose, I 
 believe. 
 
 Henry. Yes, sir ; the first time 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). The first time I gave it to you. 
 We had a little talk upon the subject then, and as I 
 thought came to a complete understanding. But it 
 appears that my words had absolutely no effect. 
 
 Henry {quickly). No, no. Uncle; do not say that. You 
 know that you have great influence with me 
 
 Hopper. Your actions do not show it. Henry, my boy, 
 when your father died I felt that 1 had a duty to per- 
 form. ' I have kept you ; I clothe you ; I feed you. 
 You have had every opportunity for fitting yourself to 
 become a useful member of society. You have lacked 
 nothing. 
 
 Henry. Yes, Uncle — one thing. 
 
 Hopper. Nothing, Henry. 
 
 Henry. 1 have never had money to call my own. 
 
 Hopper. Money? You have not needed it. 
 
 Henry. Often, sir. Not for the necessaries of life, per- 
 haps ; but there have been many times — ever since I 
 was a boy — when I have felt unable to share the pleas- 
 ures of my companions 
 
 Hopper. ^ Yes, I never encouraged you. I certainly would 
 have been neglecting my duty if I had placed in your 
 hands what would have led you into temptation. 
 
 Henry. But I have been denied all innocent amusements 
 — everything. My acquaintances have thought me 
 stingy and mean, because I could not return their little 
 gifts and kindnesses. That's what drove me to 
 gambling. Uncle. 
 
 Hopper. Nonsense. 
 
 Henry. You cannot feel as I do, sir. {Rises.) 
 
 Hopper. About gambling — no. I have endeavored to 
 lead an upright life — to do my duty by my fellow 
 man. The money I have accumulated has been 
 
 lO 
 
THE liECKONINO 
 
 gained through my own individual efforts, and I value 
 it and my reputation too highly to risk either on the 
 turn of a card. (^Rises and becomes more and tnore 
 indignant.^ But you — you seem to care nothing for 
 your reputation or for mine. 
 
 Henry. Oh, Uncle ! 
 
 Hopper. You have no money of your own to squander, 
 so you pile up debts, expecting me to pay them". Why, 
 it is ungrateful in you, Henry ! 
 
 Henry. No, no, sir. 
 
 Hopper. Yes, ungrateful. It shows a lack of appreciation 
 of all that I have done for you. If you wish money, 
 why don't you earn it? 
 
 Henry. I have hoped, sir, that with your influence you 
 could obtain me a situation 
 
 Hopper. No, no, my boy. Don't rely on me — on any- 
 body. Depend upon yourself. Seek out some busi- 
 ness position where you can have an opportunity to 
 rise rapidly. {Takes his hand?) There's always 
 
 room at the top, you know And I shall be proud 
 
 of you, and feel that my efforts in your behalf have not 
 been entirely in vain. 
 
 Henry. But, Uncle — my debts? 
 
 Hopper. How much do you owe? 
 
 Henry. About one hundred dollars, sir. 
 
 Hopper. Hum ! Not as bad as I expected. {A slight 
 pause.') Well, give your note for the amount — then find 
 a situation and pay your debts, with your first two 
 months' salary. {Enter Margaret Hopper, r. 
 Hesitates in doorway.) Ah, Margaret ! Come in, 
 my dear. {Banter ingiy.) Here, this naughty cousin 
 of yours has been falling into evil ways again. What 
 shall we do with him — eh ? 
 
 Margaret. He hoped that you would help him, father. 
 
 Hopper. So he has been confiding in you, has he ? I 
 trust you gave him a thorough lecturing and some sound 
 advice. 
 
 Henry. She advised me to come to you, sir. 
 
 Hopper. Indeed ! I am glad she has so much influence 
 with you. {Lays his hand on Henry's shoulder.) I 
 hope you will always come to me with your troubles, 
 my boy. You know the great interest I take in your 
 welfare. Now turn over a new leaf, won't you? 
 
 II 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Make a man of yourself. You will excuse me now ? 
 
 I have some important business to attend to. 
 Henry. Certainly, sir. 
 Hopper. Remember, my boy, I am always glad to help 
 
 you in any way within my power. (Margaret and 
 
 Henry go toward r.) Margaret 1 
 Margaret {stopping). Yes, father. 
 
 {Exit Henry, r.) 
 
 Hopper {going to table c. and sitting). Margaret, I have 
 been greatly perplexed to know just what is my duty as 
 regards Henry's gambling habits. 
 
 Margaret. Harry hoped that you would assist him in pay- 
 ing his debts. 
 
 Hopper. And so I have. 
 
 Margaret. You gave him the money? {Eagerly.) 
 
 Hopper. No. But I have helped him in a far better way. 
 I have shown him how to be independent. When he 
 came to me about two months ago and begged for help, 
 I willingly paid his debts; but 1 fear I only encouraged 
 him to repeat his misdeeds. 
 
 Margaret. But, father, I am sure Harry is very sorry 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Perhaps he is ; though he cer- 
 tainly does not appear very penitent. But this habit 
 of gambling must be stopped before he becomes a 
 disgrace. {Enter ]erry^ l., bearing card plate. To 
 Jerry.) Some one to see me, Jerry? 
 
 Jerry. Yes, sir. {Presents card plate.) 
 
 Hopper. Ah — you may show the gentleman in here. 
 
 Jerry. Yes, sir. 
 
 {Exity L. Margaret moves toward r. ) 
 
 Hopper. One moment, Margaret. (Margaret stops.) 
 There's a little matter of business. You are aware 
 that when your grandmother died last spring, she left 
 you a considerable sum, about fifty thousand dollars. 
 
 Margaret. Yes, sir. 
 
 Hopper. The estate has been settled, and is ready to be 
 divided among the different heirs. What do you in- 
 tend to do with your share? 
 
 Margaret. I have not considered the matter at all, sir. 
 
 Hopper, At present it is in the Depositors' National Bank, 
 
 12 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 of which I am a stockholder. Would you — would you 
 like me to find a good investment for you ? 
 
 Margaret. If you will, please. 
 
 Hopper. Very well. You will be a rich girl some day, my 
 dear. I have sometimes feared that the knowledge of 
 that fact may have influenced your cousin Henry in his 
 professions of love. 
 
 Margaret. Oh, father ! 
 
 Hopper. Such a sum of money would prove a great temp- 
 tation, Margaret. 
 
 Margaret {indignantly). Not to Harry. You do him an 
 injustice, sir. 
 
 Hopper. 1 hope so, my child. I certainly shall never con- 
 sent to your marriage until Henry has established him- 
 self in business and can support a wife. {Enter John 
 Armstead, l.) Ah, Mr. Armstead, I believe? 
 
 {Rises and goes to meet him.) 
 
 Armstead. Mr. Hopper. 
 
 Hopper. Walk right in, sir {shaking hands with him) ; 
 
 you know my daughter, do you not? 
 Armstead. Oh, yes; 1 think 1 can claim Miss Hopper as 
 
 one of my friends. 
 Margaret {shaking hands with Armstead). I hope so, 
 
 Mr. Armstead. {Moves toward R.) 
 Armstead. I am not driving you away? 
 Margaret. Oh, no, — please excuse me. 
 
 {Exit, r.) 
 
 Hopper. Housekeeping duties must be performed, you 
 know. Won't you be seated ? {Draws armchair left 
 of table c.) You'll find this chair comfortable, I think. 
 (Armstead sits left of table c, and Hopper sits right 
 of table c.) My daughter has often sung your praises, 
 Mr. Armstead, and your face is familiar, but 1 never 
 felt that I could claim an acquaintance. 
 
 Armstead. Your name and face are well known to me, 
 too, sir, but our occupations have never thrown us to- 
 gether. 
 
 Hopper. Yon are in the law ? 
 
 Armstead. Yes. 
 
 Hopper. And a worthy representative, I have no doubt. 
 But I have no law case to consult you about to-day. 
 
 13 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Noj it is a matter of business, and business only. You 
 say my name is familiar to you ? 
 
 A.RMSTEAD. Quite so. 
 
 Hopper. Well spoken of, I hope? 
 
 Armstead. Very highly. 
 
 Hopper. Good. Yes, my rating is A No. i. I am a car- 
 pet manufacturer, as perhaps you know. 
 
 Armstead. 1 understood so. 
 
 Hopper. I make a certain moderately priced line of goods. 
 The secret of their manufacture belongs to me alone; 
 and although there has been such a great depression in 
 business throughout the country, I am thankful to say 
 mine has increased instead of diminished. 
 
 Armstead. You are exceedingly fortunate. 
 
 Hopper. Yes; but the credit is entirely due to my 
 specialty. Now I find, Mr. Armstead, that if I am to 
 fill the orders for my goods, my factories must be con- 
 siderably enlarged. That brings me to the cause for 
 this interview. I understand that you represent a 
 number of capitalists who have placed their money in 
 your hands for investment. 
 
 Armstead. It is true that one or two gentlemen have asked 
 me to investigate any good investment I may hear of. 
 
 Hopper. Ah ! Well, 1 think I can offer you a first-class 
 one. 
 
 Armstead {perplexed). You can ? 
 
 Hopper. Yes. 
 
 Armstead, May I ask in what? 
 
 Hopper. My factories. 
 
 Armstead. I — I fear I do not understand. Do you in- 
 tend to form a company? 
 
 Hopper. Oh, no; I've not the slightest idea of such a 
 thing. But as I told you, I wish to increase my busi- 
 ness, and I would like to — to obtain from — well, say 
 seventy to one hundred thousand for say two years — 
 perhaps three. 
 
 Armstead. You wish to borrow ? 
 
 Hopper. Well — yes. I suppose you might call it that. 
 
 Armstead (Jiesitatiiig). But — I — I thought — I — I did not 
 know 
 
 Hopper {interrupting — laughing). That I was so poor? 
 I suppose you wonder why a man who is reputed to be 
 quite wealthy should wish to borrow ? 
 
 14 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Armstead. To be candid, sir, it does seem somewhat 
 strange. 
 
 Hopper. Not when you understand my position. I have 
 a number of securities I can sell, and thus raise the 
 amount needed, but the money market is so low just 
 now that I would have to sell at a considerable loss. 
 Besides, what advantage would there be in sacrificing 
 these investments, which pay me a good rate of interest, 
 when I can obtain all the money I wish at lower rates ? 
 
 Armstead. What security do you offer ? 
 
 Hopper. Well, I have carefully considered the matter, and 
 prefer to give as security some real estate — my factories, 
 for instance. 
 
 Armstead {surprised). You wish to mortgage them ? 
 
 Hopper. Yes, 1 believe that is the only word to express 
 my meaning. I value my plant at two hundred and 
 fifty thousand, in round numbers. Now, if your capi- 
 talists would be willing to advance one hundred thou- 
 sand at five per cent. {Pauses.) 
 
 Armstead. It's a large sum. 
 
 Hopper. They certainly cannot find a safer investment. 
 
 Armstead. No — but I do not know that they care for a 
 mortgage. I will have to consult with them before I 
 can take any steps in the matter. 
 
 Hopper. Oh, of course, of course; but — a — may I hear 
 from you soon — to-day ? 
 
 Armstead. Oh, yes. Within a few hours, I think. 
 
 Hopper. Good. I leave the city to-night upon a business 
 trip. Upon my return, I shall be glad to have you 
 come out to Hopperton and see my property. 
 
 Armstead. Very well, sir, if the gentlemen I represent 
 care to make such an investment. 
 
 Hopper. In any case we shall be pleased to see you. We 
 shall move out there, as usual, in a few weeks. But to 
 
 return to business ( Opens drawer and takes out 
 
 papers.) Here are the deeds and other papers belong- 
 ing to my factories. (6^/z;<fi- Armstead /^/^r^-.) Just 
 take a look at them. {A pause. Enter Dr. William 
 McLain, l.) Why, Dr. McLain ! This is indeed 
 a surprise. 
 
 (Shakes hands with him.) 
 
 McLain. A pleasant one, I hope, sir. 
 
 15 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Hopper. How can you doubt it ? 
 
 McLain. I can't. 
 
 HoPPKR (aside). I wonder what he has come for? (To 
 
 McLain.) Sit down and make yourself comfortable, 
 
 and tell me all about the good people of Hopperton. 
 
 But in the first place, what brings you to town ? 
 McLain. To see you, sir. (Sits.') How are you ? 
 HOPPKR {siiiing). I never felt better. 
 McLain. I thought perhaps you had had more trouble 
 
 with your head 
 
 Hopper {quickly and uneasily). Nonsense, man — nonsense. 
 
 Those attacks were only in your fertile imagination. 
 McLain. Perhaps so, sir; but you should take good care 
 
 of yourself. 
 Hopper. I always do. 
 McLain. As 1 told you last fall, when there is too much 
 
 blood in the head, there's danger, under excitement, 
 
 of a vessel bursting, and then 
 
 Hopper (interrupting — startled). Eh ! {Laughs in a 
 forced manner.) Ha — ha — ha — you are trying to 
 
 frighten me. But come, confess; what has tempted 
 
 you out of your shell? 
 McLain. Well, sir — you are always so kind {hesitating) I 
 
 — I thought perhaps you — that is to say, I wanted to ask 
 
 you if — if you would do something to help a few of the 
 
 families of Hopperton. 
 Hopper. Have they no work ? 
 
 McLain. No, sir. They have lost their positions on ac- 
 count of sickness, and what little money they had saved 
 
 is now all gone. They are in danger of starving, 
 
 unless 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Why, this is too bad. I should 
 
 have been notified long ago. We must do something 
 
 immediately. 
 McLain. I knew you would help them, sir. You are always 
 
 so generous. 
 Hopper. It is my duty. Doctor — a duty to mankind. I 
 
 will authorize you to do whatever is necessary in this 
 
 matter. I shall be glad to pay for- all purchases you 
 
 may make. 
 McLain. Thank you, sir. You are very good. 
 Hopper {rising as if to end the conversation). Nothing 
 
 else I can do for you ? 
 
 i6 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 McLain (rising). Well, sir — there is another matter, but 
 1 — I don't wish to take your valuable time. 
 
 Hopper {seeing that Armstead is still engaged examining 
 papers). Oh, I can spare a few minutes more, 1 think. 
 
 (Armstead finishes examining papers.) 
 
 McLain. I — I wished to speak to you about Mrs, Hen- 
 derson 
 
 Hopper {sharply). Eh ? What of her ? 
 
 McLain {surprised). I refer to the wife of John Hender- 
 son — your former manager. 
 
 Hopper {altering his manner). Oh, yes, yes ; of course. 1 
 — I misunderstood you. {Indifferently.) She's well, I 
 hope. 
 
 McLain. Very poorly, sir, I am sorry to say. {Sits. 
 Hopper assumes an attitude of concern.) Her con- 
 sumption is gradually becoming more pronounced, and 
 1 fear she hasn't many more months of life. 
 
 Hopper. Ah! {Conceals a smile with his hand.) 
 
 McLain. 1 — I beg pardon, sir? 
 
 Hopper. It's a great pity. 
 
 McLain. It is, indeed. Her husband's death was a very 
 great shock to her. People always imagined that he 
 had saved some money, but she seems to be continually 
 in need of help. 
 
 Hopper {somewhat impatiently). And you wish me to 
 assist her? 
 
 McLain. Well, sir — I — I thought that if some one — if a 
 means could be found to send her away to the moun- 
 tains for a while 
 
 Hopper {anxiously). Would she recover ? 
 
 McLain. Not entirely, I fear — but it might lengthen her 
 life a year or two, and life seems very dear to her just 
 at present. 
 
 Hopper. Why now, more than any other time ? 
 
 McLain. On account of her daughter. 
 
 Hopper {anxiously). Her daughter? 
 
 McLain. Yes ; you know she ran away from home about 
 ten years ago, and Mrs. Henderson never heard a word 
 of her until last week. 
 
 Hopper {very anxiously). She — she has not returned ? 
 
 McLain. No, sir. But a man who knew the girl before 
 she left home — that was when the Hendersons lived up 
 
 17 
 
THE BECKONINQ 
 
 the Hudson — thinks that he saw her here in New York, 
 stepping into a carriage on Fifth Avenue. 
 
 Hopper. That is extremely improbable. 
 
 McLain. Yes ; but Mrs. Henderson appears to believe it, 
 and is even anxious to come to the city and begin a 
 search. 
 
 Hopper {rising). Nonsense ! Perfect nonsense 1 Such a 
 search would be the sheerest folly. The girl is dead 
 long ago, I've no doubt. 
 
 McLain. I fear so, sir. (^Rises.^ 
 
 Hopper (returning to his former pleasant manner). Well, 
 I am very glad you called, Doctor ; you should come 
 oftener. Do whatever you think best as regards the 
 poor people you mentioned. Be assured I shall endorse 
 your actions. 
 
 McLain. And how about Mrs. Henderson, sir ? 
 
 Hopper. Well, I — I will try to — to make some arrange- 
 ment. But you need not mention the fact to her. 
 
 McLain. Very well, sir. 
 
 Hopper. You promise me? 
 
 McLain. Certainly, sir, if you wish it. 
 
 Hopper. I do. I don't ask for praise. I try to do my 
 duty ; nothing more. (Shakes hands with him.) 
 Well — good-morning. Thank you for coming. 
 
 McLain. Good-bye, sir. 
 
 (^Exity L.) 
 
 Hopper (to Armstead). I am sorry to have taken so 
 
 much of your time, Mr. Armstead. You find those 
 
 papers all right, do you not ? 
 Armstead {rising). Perfectly so, I think. I will talk the 
 
 matter over with my friends and let you know the result 
 
 very soon. 
 Hopper. Very good. But one moment — I have some 
 
 photographs of my factories and the plans also. You 
 
 might take them along. 
 Armstead. I scarcely think they will be necessary, sir. 
 Hopper. Not necessary, but they will give some idea of 
 
 the buildings. I think they are in the other room. 
 
 (^Crosses to r.) Just wait a moment. 
 
 (^Exit, R.) 
 i8 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Armstead {looking after Hopper). Strange ! Very- 
 strange ! What would Wall Street think if it heard 
 that Mr. Nicholas Hopper, the wealthy carpet manu- 
 facturer, wished to mortgage his factories? {Sits by 
 table c. with his back to l. Thoughtfully.^ His credit 
 is still first class, beyond a doubt. Yet there seems to 
 be something insincere about him — something hidden. 
 I scarcely know why I think so. Perhaps it was his 
 manner when the Doctor spoke of that poor woman 
 whose daughter had left home. 
 
 {Enter Mrs. King, l.) 
 
 Mrs. K. {thinking Armstead to be Hopper). I am sure 
 you will pardon me, my dear Mr. Hopper, for entering 
 
 unannounced, but (Armstead rises and turns.) 
 
 John! 
 
 Armstead {starting; then controlling himself). Mrs. 
 King ! 
 
 Mrs. K. {stepping toward him impulsively as if to shake 
 hands, but stopping ; nervously). I — 1 — it has been a 
 long time since — since we have met. 
 
 Armstead {imder constraint). Yes. 
 
 Mrs. K. {after pause). I — I did not expect to find you 
 here. 
 
 Armstead. I am here upon business. 
 
 Mrs. K. {recovering her equanimity — laughing merrily). 
 I did not question your right. Probably you won- 
 der what brings me here? I came upon business 
 also. 
 
 Armstead {tender great self-control). Mr. Hopper will 
 return presently. 
 
 Mrs. K. I am very glad he was not present to see our 
 meeting, John ; he might have imagined that we are 
 not friends. {A slight pause.) That was what we 
 agreed to be, was it not ? 
 
 Armstead. Yes. 
 
 Mrs. K. You came to me just before my wedding and told 
 me that — that you would try to be my friend. Do you 
 remember ? 
 
 Armstead. I remember. 
 
 Mrs. K. But you have not acted in a friendly way. I 
 have not seen nor heard of you from that day until 
 
 19 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 this — not even after Mr. King's death. (^Smiles.) 
 You — you used to be a good friend, John. 
 
 Armstead (^b/utitly). Yes ; 1 once asked you to marry me*. 
 And do you remember your reply ? 
 
 Mrs. K. Yes, I told you that I — 1 liked you very much 
 indeed, but 
 
 Armstead {interruptifig). But that you would never marry 
 a pauper — that was about the answer — wasn't it? Yes, 
 1 loved you. 
 
 Mrs. K. {smiling). I wonder ! What do you know of 
 love ? 
 
 Armstead {with intense earnestness). What do you know 
 of love ? 1 brought you mine — the richest gift a man 
 can offer — and you laughed at me; I saw you flirting 
 with men whose reputations had been dragged through 
 the mud ; I saw you marry, for money, an old man 
 whom you could never love. 1 endured all this, and 
 still I worshipped you. (Mrs. K. laughs iiervously.) 
 Oh, I was your slave. You knew you could bend me 
 to your slightest wish. Well, 1 have learned since 
 then, May. I have had some success, and I have 
 learned what is worth while. When I marry, if 1 do, 
 my wife will be something more than a flirt or coquette; 
 she will be a real woman, true to herself 
 
 Mrs. K. {interrupting — angrily). How dare you speak so ! 
 What right have you to judge me ! Why don't you 
 say what you think and call me an adventuress? 
 
 Armstead. Because — I 
 
 Mrs. K. {interrupting sarcastically). Because you are a 
 gentleman. But you implied it. And you think I 
 cared nothing for your love ? 
 
 Armstead. I think you married for money. 
 
 Mrs. K. {defiantly). I did. 
 
 Armstead. Of course your beauty and your power over men 
 tempted you to act as you might not otherwise have done. 
 You longed for wealth and now you have it without en- 
 cumbrance. You are free now to flirt and coquette 
 to your heart's content. 
 
 Mrs. K. Is that what you really think of the woman you 
 professed to love ? 
 
 Armstead {earnestly). Ah, May, if you had ever truly 
 loved, no such judgment could be spoken. Love would 
 have completely changed your life. 
 
 20 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 '•Something the heart must have to cherish; 
 Must love and joy and sorrow learn. 
 Something with passion clasp, or perish 
 And in itself to ashes burn." 
 
 Mrs. K. {repeating — sadly), "And in itself to ashes 
 burn." {Impulsively.) Oh, John, if you could but 
 know how 
 
 {Enter Hopper, r.) 
 
 Hopper {not perceiving Mrs. K.). I am sorry to have kept 
 
 you waiting, Mr. Armstead, but {Sees M.RS. K. 
 
 — surprised.) Mrs. King ! 
 
 Mrs. K. {laughing fnerrily). How frightened you are ! 
 
 Hopper. I — I did not know you were here. 
 
 Mrs. K. Oh, I have been here some time. Mr. Armstead 
 has been good enough to entertain me. 
 
 Hopper. You know each other ? 
 
 Mrs. K. Oh, yes, indeed — intimately— do we not, Mr. 
 Armstead ? 
 
 Armstead {reservedly). I have known Mrs. King for sev- 
 eral years. 
 
 Hopper {Jealously). Indeed ! Then i need not have 
 made such haste. {To Armstead.) Here are the 
 photographs, Mr. Armstead. They were not just where 
 I expected to iind them. {Gives him photographs .) 
 You will return shortly? 
 
 Armstead. As soon as possible, sir. 
 
 Mrs. K. You are not going to leave us? 
 
 Hopper {anxious that Armstead should go). Business 
 calls him, Mrs. King — important business. 
 
 {Exit Armstead, l.) 
 
 Mrs. K. {aside). Not one word of good-bye. {Aloud.) 
 
 What a very interesting man Mr. Armstead is. 
 Hopper {Jealously). I must confess he never impressed 
 
 me as being anything extraordinary. 
 Mrs. K. Indeed ! Perhaps he has changed since I knew 
 
 him so intimately years ago. 
 Hopper {half spitefully). Doubtless it was your influence. 
 Mrs. K. (curtsying). You flatter me. 
 Hopper. I believe you are acquainted with every man in 
 
 town. 
 
 ax 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Mrs. K. Oh, the green-eyed monster — eh ? 
 
 Hopper. Yes, I am jealous ; I acknowledge it. 
 
 Mrs. K. Don't you think it very foolish ? (Si^s L. c.) 
 
 Hopper. Yes ; for you are utterly heartless. 
 
 Mrs. K. (coyly). Oh, no — not quite. 
 
 Hopper. But you delight to add fuel to my jealousy at 
 every possible opportunity. Why do you treat me no 
 differently from the way you do other men ? 
 
 Mrs. K. {innocently). Mr. Hopper! Do 1? Well, you 
 are different, you know. You're a captain of industry, 
 or something like that, aren't you? 
 
 Hopper {impatiently). Bah ! 
 
 Mrs. K. But don't be cross with me, will you? I thought 
 you would be glad to see me this morning. 
 
 Hopper. So I am. 
 
 Mrs. K. You seemed very much surprised. 
 
 Hopper {recovering his good humor). I was. 
 
 Mrs. K. But didn't you receive my note? 
 
 Hopper. No. Did you send one ? 
 
 Mrs. K. Of course I did. 
 
 Hopper {hurrying to the table and searching through the 
 pile of letterSy some of ivhich he has already opened). 
 Ah ! ( Catches up a note and kisses it.) 
 
 Mrs. K. {laughing). Oh, you foolish fellow ! {Rises.) 
 Don't read it now, wait until I have gone. I don't 
 know what ridiculous things I may have written. 
 
 Hopper. But I 
 
 Mrs. K. {placing her hand upon his arm). Please don't. 
 (Hopper puts the letter in his pocket.) That's a good 
 boy. I simply said that if you could spare me a few 
 minutes this morning. Every one acknowledges you 
 an authority upon business matters, you know. 
 
 Hopper. Is that the only reason you came to me? 
 
 Mrs. K. {coyly). I did not say so. 
 
 Hopper {passionately). Oh, you will drive me crazy. 
 You know I worship the very ground you tread upon, 
 and yet you 
 
 {Enter Margaret, r.) 
 
 Mrs. K. {interrupting — to Margaret). Good-morning, 
 
 Margaret. {Goes to meet her.) 
 Margaret {joyfully), Mrs. King ! 
 
 22 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Mrs. K. You see I have remembered my promise to call 
 
 upon you this week. 
 Margaret. I knew you would not forget. 
 Mrs. K. Where shall we go to have a nice, long talk? 
 Margaret. The parlor ? 
 Mrs. K. Yes ; we will not disturb your father there. 
 
 {Puts her arm around Margaret, and they move toward r.) 
 
 Hopper. But — but you said you wished to speak to me 
 
 about 
 
 Mrs. K. {interrupting). About a little matter of business. 
 
 After a while — when you are ready to 
 
 Hopper {inter rupti?ig). I am ready now. 
 Mrs. K. {pointedly). To talk about business ? 
 
 {Exeunt Margaret and Mrs. K,, r.) 
 
 Hopper. I believe an evil spirit is personified in that 
 woman. Sometimes she tortures me so, I feel as if I 
 could kill her. And yet — so great is her power over 
 me, I would do anything to please her. If only I knew 
 that she cares nothing for me — but at times she makes 
 me imagine I'm the one and only — well — I'll show her. 
 Wait until my cotton deal goes through — and I get my 
 yacht. That will fix her. 
 
 {Enter Jerry, l.) 
 
 Jerry. There's a poor woman wants to see you, sir. 
 Hopper. I have no time for beggars. Tell her I am busy. 
 
 {Sits by table C.) 
 
 Jerry. But I don't think as she is a beggar, sir, though she 
 
 ain't dressed very 'andsome. She says she knows you, 
 
 sir, an' 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Nonsense ! Every beggar knows 
 
 me. 
 Jerry. Yes, sir ; I — I suppose so. But she says you know 
 
 her, sir. Her name is somethin* like Henson. 
 Hopper {rising). Mrs. Henderson ! 
 Jerry. That's it, sir. 
 Hopper {somewhat agitated). I — I can't see her. Why 
 
 should she come here ? I won't see her. 
 Jerey. Very good, sir. {Moves toward u') 
 
 23 
 
TEE BECKONING 
 
 Hopper {calling). Jerry ! 
 
 Jerry. Yes, sir. 
 
 Hopper (aside). I suppose this will be as good an oppor- 
 tunity as any to settle the matter. (^To Jerry.) Jerry 
 — perhaps it would be just as well for me to see the 
 woman. You may show her here. 
 
 Jerry. Just as you say, sir. (Aside.) He's sort o' 
 changeable this mornin'. 
 
 {Exity L.) 
 
 Hopper {sitting). No doubt she has come to demand her 
 share of the proceeds from her husband's patent. 
 {Laughs.) Let her. I've been expecting it — but she 
 won't get anything — not one cent. Perhaps she has 
 come to the city to look for her daughter. She'll never 
 find her. If 1 have failed after two months' search, she 
 certainly cannot succeed. But I wonder why she comes 
 to me ? She surely cannot have heard of my efforts to 
 find the girl? 
 
 {Enter Mrs. Henderson, l.) 
 
 Hopper {going to meet her). Why, Mrs. Henderson, how 
 do you do? You are looking well. 
 
 Mrs. H. Then I don't look as I feel, sir; I fear I shall 
 never be well again. 
 
 Hopper. Oh, cheer up ! Cheer up ! Don't be despond- 
 ent. Long road that has no turning, you know. You 
 will regain your strength before long, I have no doubt. 
 
 Mrs. H. 1 am not despondent, sir. But I fully realize 
 my danger. When consumption reaches the stage it 
 has with me, there is but little chance of recovery. 
 
 Hopper {aside — sitting). Just as I feared; she is after 
 money. {Aloud.) But don't you think you are run- 
 ning a great risk of catching cold by coming to the 
 city ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, sir, I couldn't help it. I have come to look 
 for my daughter, sir. [Sits.) 
 
 Hopper {relieved). Indeed ! {Aside.) Then she isn't 
 going to bother me about her husband's patent, after 
 all. 
 
 Mrs. H. I have waited ten long weary years for her to 
 return, but I have never heard a word from her — not 
 one word. 
 
 34 
 
THE BECKONING 
 Hopper (aside). I hope she never will, 
 
 {He nods solemnly to Mrs. H.) 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, sir, if only you knew how I have hoped and 
 prayed during all these years ; how I have looked so 
 eagerly for her return day after day ; how 1 have run 
 to the door at every knock and opened it only to be 
 disappointed. 
 
 Hopper. But your daughter would not return to Hop- 
 perton ? 
 
 Mrs. H. No, sir ; she would go to her old home on the 
 Hudson. But she will find my address if she goes 
 there. 
 
 Hopper. But what reason have you for believing her still 
 alive? 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, sir, I'm sure she can't be dead ! And last 
 week, sir, a man who knew her when she was but a girl, 
 told me he saw her here in New York. 
 
 Hopper. It was probably but a resemblance. 
 
 Mrs. H. But she i)asse(l right beside him, sir, and got into 
 a carriage. I feel sure he was not mistaken, for he de- 
 scribed her so exactly. {Beseechingly.) Oh, please, 
 sir, do try to believe it. It means so much to me. I 
 have come all the way to the city to ask for your help. 
 
 Hopper. My help ! 
 
 Mrs. H. You seem so kind to every one, I thought you 
 would be willing to 
 
 Hopper {interrupting^). But, my good woman 
 
 Mrs. H. {interrupting and rising). Oh, don't refuse, I 
 
 beg of you. I know of no one but you who can help 
 
 me. 
 Hopper. I — I should be very glad to render any assistance 
 
 within my power if — if 1 knew of any way 
 
 Mrs. H. {interrupting). Find my daughter, sir ! 
 Hopper. Find her? How? You must see that to make 
 
 a search among several million people, without even 
 
 being sure that she is alive, would be just throwing 
 
 time and money away. 
 Mrs. H. But I must find her. Oh, what shall I do! 
 
 {Impulsively.) Will you lend me money, sir? 
 Hupper. Lend ? Impossible. 
 Mrs. H. I promise to repay you. 
 
 25 
 
TEE BECKONING 
 
 Hopper. But my dear woman, I never lend under any cir- 
 cumstances. It is against my principles. 
 
 Mrs. H. {hesitating). But — but, sir, have you not some 
 money which — belongs to me ? 
 
 Hopper. I owe you money ? 
 
 Mrs. H. I — I would not have mentioned it, if — if I had 
 not been in such great need. 
 
 Hopper {with dignity). To what do you refer ? 
 
 Mrs. H. I — I thought, sir — my husband often told me 
 before his death that he had invented a kind of carpet 
 while lie was manager of your factories — the kind you 
 sell now, — and that you agreed to pay him something 
 on every yard manufactured. You signed a paper. 
 
 Hopper. Oh, you must be mistaken ; your husband never 
 could have made such a statement. 
 
 Mrs. H. Yes, indeed he did, sir. He said he had a writ- 
 ten agreement. 
 
 Hopper {very uneasily). Eh! You have it? 
 
 Mrs. H. My husband told me he had hidden the paper 
 away safely and that I would find it after his death. 
 
 Hopper {anxiously). And you have found something you 
 thought was 
 
 Mrs. H. No, sir, but 
 
 Hopper {interrupting — angrily). Then what nonsense to 
 come to me with such a statement. The idea of my 
 signing a paper of that kind. 
 
 Mrs. H. But surely, sir, you remember 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). I remember nothing of the sort. 
 I owe you money, indeed ! Why, you occupy a house 
 belonging to me, and haven't paid your last month's 
 rent. This is simply a device of yours to obtain money. 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, sir, I 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Yes, and I believe your pitiful 
 plea for help to find your daughter is nothing but a 
 begging scheme. Your daughter is dead, and you 
 know it. 
 
 Mrs. H. {bursting into tears). Oh ! 
 
 Hopper. Now you needn't pretend to cry. It won't have 
 any effect upon me. {Enter Joseph Skinner, l.) 
 You can go now. And don't come to me with your 
 begging lies again, do you understand ? 
 
 {Exit Mrs. H., l., sobbing.) 
 26 
 
THE BECKONINQ 
 
 Skinner {chuckling). You seem to have moved the lady 
 to tears. 
 
 Hopper. She's a beggar, nothing more. What's the news? 
 
 Skinner. He has returned. 
 
 Hopper. Andrews ? 
 
 Skinner. Right. 
 
 Hopper. Where is he? 
 
 Skinner. At the office, sir. 
 
 Hopper. Fetch him. 
 
 Skinner. I left word that if you wished to see him, I 
 would 'phone. 
 
 Hopper. Very well. Step into the hall and do so. 
 
 Skinner. Right. 
 
 Hopper. And tell Jerry to show the man here as soon as 
 he comes. (^Exit Skinner, l.) Now I shall learn if 
 the search of the past week has proved any more suc- 
 cessful than the former ones. If the daughter be dead, 
 then I have nothing to fear, for even should that agree- 
 ment be found, what could the woman do ? {Sits by 
 table c.) But in any case, perhaps it will be just as 
 well to see Mrs. Henderson after 1 return from my busi- 
 ness trip and pay her something to sign off. I'll do 
 it. (^Laughs.') 
 
 {Enter Skinner, l.) 
 
 Skinner. He'll be here directly, sir. 
 
 Hopper. We have a iew minutes. What's new in cotton? 
 
 Skinner. The market is bullish. (Sits.') 
 
 Hopper. That's good. 
 
 Skinner. But I heard to-day of another lot. I don't 
 
 understand it. 
 Hopper (angrily). But you ought to understand it. It's 
 
 your business to understand it. 
 Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 
 Hopper. I have placed the matter entirely in your hands, 
 
 and you should have known just how much cotton was 
 
 in the market before advising me to buy. 
 Skinner. 1 thought I did. 
 Hopper. That is no excuse. You shouldn't have thought. 
 
 When you came to me six months ago 
 
 Skinner (^interrupting). Seven, sir. 
 
 Hopper. It makes no difference. When you told me that 
 
 the cotton crop was unusually small this season, and 
 
 27 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 advised tne to corner the market, I consented because 
 
 1 thought that you had carefully studied the situation. 
 Skinner. So 1 had. 
 Hopper. Then it was time wasted, for you appear to know 
 
 nothing. {Passionately.) By heaven! man, do you 
 
 know that I had to give my notes for the last three lots? 
 Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 
 Hopper. They fall due in six weeks. If I can't meet 
 
 them, do you know what will be the consequence? 
 Skinner. 1 can guess. 
 Hopper {vehemently). But I shall meet them. The money 
 
 will be raised in some way. This new lot you have 
 
 heard of — who holds it ? 
 Skinner. Smith & Co. 
 
 Hopper. They seem to have it all. Is it a large one? 
 Skinner. Not very. 
 Hopper. What will buy it? 
 Skinner. About fifty. 
 Hopper. Fifty thousand ! {A pause.) 
 Skinner. You will take it? 
 Hopper. I suppose 1 shall have to. 
 Skinner. Right. 
 Hopper {aside). I must raise it, even if I have to mortgage 
 
 the house. 
 Skinner. 1 think you have all the cotton in the country — 
 
 a — a — unless Smith & Co. have another lot. 
 Hopper. If they have I can't buy it. 
 Skinner. It won't maiit-r if ihe lot should be a small one. 
 
 Hopper. No; but if it should be large 
 
 Skinner. Then the bottom would fall out of your corner 
 
 in cotton. 
 Hopper. And I should be ruined. 
 Skinner. You know best about that. 
 
 {Enter Robert Andrews, l.) 
 
 Andrews. Mr. Hopper, sir 
 
 Hopper. Come in, Andrews. (7"^ Skinner.) Mr. Skin- 
 
 nt-r, if you will entertain yourself in the sitting-room a 
 
 ^*i\\ minutes 
 
 Skinner. Certainly, sir. 
 
 Hopper. I wish to see you about another matter before 
 
 you leave. 
 Skinner. Right. 
 
 28 
 
THE BECKONING 
 {^Exitf R.) 
 
 Hopper. Well, my man, what luck? 
 
 Andrews {siuing). Very little, sir. 
 
 Hopper. You have found nothing ? 
 
 Andrews. Nothin' that can be depended on, sir. 
 
 Hopper. Have you been up the Hudson, as I directed? 
 
 Andrews. Yes, sir. The farmers in the neighborhood 
 remember the Henderson family quite well, an' told 
 me how the daughter run away from home. They say 
 John Henderson an' his wife was all broke up over it, 
 an' they moved away from that part of the country 
 about eight years ago. That's when they come to 
 Hopperton, sir. 
 
 Hopper. But could you learn nothing about the girl after 
 she left home ? 
 
 Andrews. I hear she come here to New York. 
 
 Hopper. Hum ! But you have heard nothing to make 
 you believe that she is siill alive? 
 
 Andrews. Nothin' sure. 
 
 Hopper. I scarcely thought you would. No doubt the 
 girl is dead long ago. But you may continue the search 
 here in the city until further notice. 
 
 Andrews. Yes, sir. 
 
 Hopper. By the way, you have never told any one that 
 you are making this search ? 
 
 Andrews. No, sir. 
 
 Hopper. Good. See that you don't — not even your 
 wife. Another thing ; Mrs. Henderson will probably 
 move in a month or two from the house she now occu- 
 pies; how would you like to take it? 
 
 Andrews. I — I — it's much larger than the one we have, 
 sir. 
 
 Hopper. And you think the rent will be too high ? No, I 
 will make it the same as you pay now. 
 
 Andrews. You are very good, sir. 
 
 Hopper. When you move in, I want you to — to make a 
 thorough search of the premises, and bring to me all 
 the papers you may find. 
 
 Andrews Qiesitatin^^. But — but, sir, suppose they belong 
 to Mrs. Henderson ? 
 
 Hopper. Bring them to me. They are sure to be mine, 
 anyway. 
 
 29 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Andrews. Mrs. Henderson was very kind to my wife when 
 she was sick, and 1 don't want to do nolhin' to 
 
 Hopper {ifiterruptitig). Andrews, whose employ are you 
 in, mine or Mrs. Henderson's? 
 
 Andrev/s. Yours, sir, but 
 
 Hopper (interrupting). Very well. While you are in my 
 employ 1 expect you to do as 1 tell you. Whose clothes 
 are those you are wearing? 
 
 Andrews. You bought 'em, sir. 
 
 Hopper. You remember the rags you wore two months 
 ago? 
 
 Andrews. Far too well, sir. 
 
 Hopper. You came to me and begged for work, stating 
 that your wife was sick, and that you were heavily in 
 debt. Have you paid all the money you owed ? 
 
 Andrews. Not half of it, sir. 
 
 Hopper. No; I thought not. You were in my debt for 
 two months' rent. I forgave you ; took you into my 
 employ; paid your wages in advance; and in this very 
 room you took off your rags, and put on decent clothes, 
 purchased with my money. (Rises.) Now if you 
 wish to leave my employ, you are at perfect liberty to 
 do so. But, understand me — you must return the 
 money I have advanced to you ; you must pay me that 
 two months' rent, and take off those clothes. 
 
 Andrews (rising). But I — 1 have spent the money you 
 gave me, sir. 
 
 Hopper. So much the worse for you. Come — you must 
 decide now. My man will give you the bundle of rags 
 you left here, and you may go. (A pause.) Well? 
 
 Andrews (hesitating). I scarcely know, sir. 
 
 Hopper. Very good. (Strikes the call bell, which is upon 
 the table.) I have no time to waste. If poverty is 
 pleasant to you, I am sure you are welcome to it. 
 (Enter ]erry, i..) Jerry 
 
 Andrews (i?iterrupti??g). Oh, sir, I'll do it. Whatever 
 you want, sir. I couldn't stand seeing my wife starve. 
 
 Hopper. There is no reason why you should. (To Jerry.) 
 
 Jerry — a Tell Mr. Skinner I wish to see him. 
 
 He is in the sitting-room. 
 
 Jerry. Yes, sir. 
 
 (Exit, R.) 
 30 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Hopper. Now, my good fellow, do your work faithfully, 
 and you will find it to your advantage. You may go 
 now and renew your search. When Mrs. Henderson's 
 house is unoccupied, I will notify you, and then your 
 family can move in. 
 
 Andrews (Jiumbly). Very well, sir. 
 
 (^Exitj L.) 
 
 Hopper (Jaughmg). It isn't very difficult to know how to 
 manage a man who has undergone the suffering and 
 distress of poverty ; he never cares to repeat the ex- 
 perience. 
 
 (^Goes to table c. ; sits and writes.) 
 
 (^Enter Skinner, r.) 
 
 Skinner {after pause). You wished to speak to me, sir? 
 
 Hopper. Yes. When were you in Hopperton last ? 
 
 Skinner. A week ago yesterday. 
 
 Hopper. The factories were running — full time ? 
 
 Skinner. You know better than I do, sir. 
 
 Hopper, Yes, I was out yesterday. 
 
 Skinner (aside). I wonder what in the deuce he's driving 
 
 at. 
 Hopper. Skinner, here is a note I have written to Mr. 
 
 White, my manager, ordering him to make a ten per 
 
 cent, reduction on the wages of all hands employed 
 
 Skinner {surprised). Sir! 
 
 Hopper. The reduction to go into effect the first of next 
 
 month. 
 Skinner. I wouldn't, if I were you. 
 Hopper. Why? 
 Skinner. The men will strike. 
 Hopper. Nonsense. One-half of the carpet manufacturers 
 
 in the country have done this; the other half have 
 
 closed their mills entirely. 
 Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 
 Hopper. I must have money. 
 Skinner. You'll lose money if you are not careful. 
 Hopper. Why should I? To save is the best way to earn 
 
 in these times. I wish you to take this note to Mr. 
 
 White to-day. 
 Skinner {taking note). Just as you say, sir. 
 
 3^ 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Hopper. And now you had better go, and close with Smith 
 
 & Co., for that lot of cotton, at once. 
 Skinner. Right. 
 
 {Exitf L.) 
 
 Hopper. I fear I have made a great mistake in trusting so 
 much to that man. But it is too late now. I will 
 either make a fortune in this cotton venture, or lose 
 one. 
 
 {Enter Mrs. K., r.) 
 
 Mrs. K. {gnyly). Well — have you time to talk business 
 now, Mr. Hopper? 
 
 Hopper {rising and going to meet her). My time is always 
 entirely at your service. I have been just overrun this 
 morning with beggars, and 
 
 Mrs. K. {interrupting). 1 hope you imply nothing per- 
 sonal ? 
 
 Hopper. You know I do not, Mrs. King. I referred to a 
 woman who came here — begging for help to find her 
 daughter. 
 
 Mrs. K. {interested). Had she — had she lost her? 
 
 Hopper. Yes — the girl ran away from home. 
 
 Mrs. K. Ran away ! Poor girl — I pity her. 
 
 Hopper. Why should you? If she has suffered she de- 
 serves it. 
 
 Mrs. K. {sadly). Yes, she deserves it. 
 
 Hopper. The girl is probably dead long ago. 
 
 Mrs. K. If not, perhaps she would be far better off to be 
 dead. {Resumes her gaiety.) But this is not talking 
 business, is it? I wish to ask your advice about mak- 
 ing an investment. 
 
 Hopper. Ah ! May I ask the amount that you wish to in- 
 vest? 
 
 Mrs. K. About forty thousand dollars. 
 
 Hopper. You couldn't make it fifty? 
 
 Mrs K. Why should I? 
 
 Hopper. Well, I know a — a mortgage — a first-class one in 
 the country; but I — I don't think I could let — I — I — 
 mean I don't believe you could get it for less than fifty 
 thousand. 
 
 Mrs K. Well, money is very scarce nowadays, you know. 
 
 Hopper {aside). I am sorry to say I do. 
 
 32 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Mrs. K. But if you think this investment is safe 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Perfectly so; perfectly. It's gilt 
 edged — but 1 — 1 will have to attend to it for you. The 
 owner of the property is anxious his name should not 
 be mentioned in the matter. The only way to make 
 this investment would be through me. I — I will col- 
 lect the interest from my friend quarterly and pay you, 
 just as if {Hesitates.') 
 
 Mrs. K. As if I had lent the money to you. 
 
 Hopper. Exactly. 
 
 Mrs. K. (rising). Well, I will consider the matter. 
 
 Hopper {rising). You are not going ? 
 
 Mrs. K. Don't you think my visit has been long enough 
 for one day ? 
 
 Hopper. No. But you will come again ? 
 
 Mrs. K. Perhaps — about business. 
 
 Hopper. And can I never talk of anything else ? 
 
 Mrs. K. What could be more interesting ? 
 
 Hopper. You. 
 
 Mrs. K. The subject would become monotonous, don't 
 you think ? 
 
 Hopper {passionately). Never. Oh, why are you always 
 so distant and reserved ? 
 
 Mrs. K. Ami? 
 
 Hopper. You are perfectly indifferent to me. 
 
 Mrs. K. (coyly). Perhaps I only seem so. 
 
 Hopper {eagerly). And you will not always be so cold ? 
 
 Mrs. K. Yes — here. 
 
 Hopper. Not everywhere? 
 
 Mrs. K. I did not say so. 
 
 Hopper {seizing her hand and kissing it passionately). 
 You are an angel 1 (Enter Armstead, l.) I adore 
 you ! 
 
 {Again kisses her hand. Mrs. K. sees Armstead, and 
 snatching her hand from Hopper, stands embarrassed. 
 Hopper glares at Armstead angrily, ") 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 33 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE. — A room in Mrs. H.'s cottage in Hopperton, 
 Mrs. H. discovered reclining upon lounge down r. 
 Miss Sarah Hopper stands by table c, taki?tg fruit 
 from basket, 
 
 Mrs. H. Won't you take a seat, Miss Hopper? Please do. 
 Sarah. Thank you ; 1 can stay but a very few minutes this 
 
 morning. I just dropped in to bring you this fruit ; 1 
 
 thought you might enjoy it. 
 Mrs. H. You are very thoughtful and kind, Miss Sarah ; 
 
 every one is good to me. 
 Sarah. And you will be well enough to go out again very 
 
 soon, 1 feel sure. 
 Mrs. H. Never. 
 Sarah {cheerfully). Oh, yes, you will. Why, you are 
 
 looking better to-day than you have for a week. I no- 
 ticed it as soon as I entered. 
 Mrs. H. Yes ; I feel better and happier than I have for 
 
 many a year, but it is because my mind and heart are 
 
 free from suffering ; not my body. 
 Sarah. And what is it that has acted so like a medicine? 
 Mrs. H. Good news, ma'am ; good news. I have heard 
 
 {Stops abruptly.) 
 
 Sarah. From your daughter? Oh, Mrs. Henderson! 
 
 (Mrs. H. does not answer. A slight pause.) Is she 
 
 alive? Have you found her? 
 Mrs. H. {hesitating). I — I can't tell you what I have 
 
 heard, ma'am ; I — I am sorry — but — but please don't 
 
 ask me, I mustn't tell you. 
 Sarah {pleasantly). Please do not feel that I wish you to 
 
 tell me if you would rather not. 
 Mrs. H. But you have been so good to me, Miss Sarah. 
 Sarah. That is no reason why I should know all your joys 
 
 or sorrows. There are some things that cannot be told. 
 
 {Rises.) And now I must be going. My brother has 
 
 34 
 
rUE RECKONING 
 
 been away from home for a month, and he return? 
 to-day. 
 
 Mrs. H. {startled). To-day 1 
 
 Sarah. Yes, this morning. Perhaps you would like him 
 to come and see you ; I will 
 
 Mrs. H. {excitedly). No, no, Miss Sarah. Don't let him 
 come; please don't let him. 
 
 Sarah {surprised). You do not wish to see him? 
 
 Mrs. H. 1 — 1 ask your pardon, Miss Sarah, if Ihave said 
 anything 1 shouldn't. I — I didn't mean any harm, but 
 — but you won't ask Mr. Hopper to come to-day? 
 
 Sarah. Certainly not, if you do not care to see him. You 
 had better take a little nap. Something has excited 
 you — perhaps I have been here too long, and so wearied 
 you. 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, no, indeed, ma'am. 
 
 Sarah. I must go now, at any rate. {Takes up basket.) 
 
 Mrs. H. But you will come again ? 
 
 Sarah. Oh, yes — very soon. But good-bye, for the present. 
 
 Mrs. H. Good-bye, Miss Sarah, and thank you very much 
 for all your kindness. {Exit Sarah, l. c.) It does 
 seem very ungrateful, but I fear she would tell Mr. 
 Hopper, and 1 don't want him to hear — at least not 
 until I know what is best to be done. {Draws the 
 letter from under the pillow-cushiotiy and kisses it.) 
 Just to think — after all these years ! and she is coming 
 home — coming home to-day ! {Again kisses the letter.) 
 
 McLain {without). Whoa, boy ! 
 
 Mrs. H. Dr. McLain ! 
 
 {Hurriedly hides the letter under the pillow-cushion.) 
 
 {Enter McLain, l. c.) 
 
 McLain {standing in doorway). Good-morning, Mrs. 
 Henderson. {Looks out l. c.) Whoa, boy ! Stand 
 still now. Whoa! {Comes down c.) It's a little 
 risky to leave a horse unhitched, but I've put him upon 
 his honor. {Places his hat upon table c.) 
 
 Mrs. H. So good a master ought to have an obedient 
 horse, sir. 
 
 McLain. Now, none of your taffy, Mrs. Henderson. You 
 must be better. I always think when my patients begin 
 to flatter me tlxat they are well on the road to recovery. 
 
 35 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Let me feel your pulse. (^Feels Mrs. H.'s pulse.') 
 Hum ! a little too high. Anything been exciting you, 
 eh? 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, no, sir; I — 1 {Hesitates.) 
 
 McLain {i7iterrupti7ig). Who has been here this morning ? 
 
 Mrs. H. No one but Miss Sarah Hopper, sir. 
 
 McLain. I scarcely think she is to blame. Have you 
 been taking your medicine regularly ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Yes, sir ; at the time you directed. 
 
 McLain. Hum ! Mrs. Henderson, 1 want to have a talk 
 with you — a very plain talk. {Draws up chair by 
 sofa, down r., and sits.) I think you would prefer me 
 to speak openly, rather than to conceal what is best for 
 you to know. 
 
 Mrs. H. Certainly, sir. 1 think I can guess what you 
 wish to speak about. I know that I am dying. 
 
 McLain. Oh, no, no, Mrs. Henderson — not so bad as that 
 — not nearly as bad. Why, 1 hope to see you consid- 
 erably better in a few days — but it depends entirely 
 upon yourself. 
 
 Mrs. H. How? 
 
 McLain. There must be no more excitement of any kind. 
 Ever since that hemorrhage last week, I have been 
 afraid of another — and another might — might 
 
 {Hesitates.) 
 
 Mrs. H. Kill me ? 
 
 McLain. To be perfectly candid, yes. 
 
 Mrs. H. {quietly). 1 have felt so. 
 
 McLain. Then you must take especial pains to obey my 
 
 instructions. No excitement, you understand ? if you 
 
 hadn't gone to town a month ago 
 
 Mrs. H. {interrupting). But, Doctor, I couldn't stay at 
 
 home. 
 McLain. But it did you harm. You caught cold, and 
 
 this is the result. It did you a great deal of harm. 
 
 Has Mr. Hopper been here recently ? {Rises.) 
 Mrs. H. {shortly). No. 
 McLain. Perhaps he is still away from home. But he will 
 
 visit you soon after his return — I feel sure of it. When 
 
 I called upon him in New York, he said — well, he led 
 
 me to suppose that he takes a great interest in you. 
 Mrs. H. {pointedly). He does. I don't doubt it. 
 
 36 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 McLain. But then that is nothing unusual with him. He 
 
 is so kind. 
 Mrs. H. {bitterly — half aside). Kind ! 
 McLain. And so generous. 
 Mrs. H. {aside). When it forwards his interests. 
 
 {A knock is heard L. c.) 
 
 McLain. Some one is knocking, I think. I will be your 
 man servant if you will allow me. ( Opens door. Speaks 
 off.) Why, Miss Margaret — good-morning. {As if 
 answering a question.) Yes, for a little while. You 
 are not likely to excite her. 
 
 {Enter Margaret and Armstead, l. c.) 
 
 Margaret {to McLain). Let me introduce Mr. Armstead, 
 
 Dr. McLain. 
 McLain {shaking hands with Armstead). I am glad to 
 
 know you, sir. 
 Margaret {going to Mrs. H., r.). Good-morning, Mrs. 
 
 Henderson ; please don't get up. 
 McLain {to Armstead). Seems to me I have met you 
 
 somewhere before, sir. 
 Armstead. I think you called at Mr. Hopper's one day 
 
 while I was there, about a month ago. 
 McLain. In New York? 
 Armstead. Yes. 
 McLain. Are you the gentleman who was examining some 
 
 papers ? 
 Armstead. The same. 
 McLain. I thought I had seen you before. 
 Margaret. Mr. Armstead, this is Mrs. Henderson. 
 Mrs. H. You will excuse me for not rising, sir? 
 Armstead. Certainly ; I would not wish you to do so. 
 
 {Draws up chair by sofa, and Joins in conversation with 
 
 Mrs. H.) 
 
 McLain. Miss Margaret {Beckons her l. Aside, 
 
 to Margaret.) May I ask a favor? 
 Margaret {aside, to McLain). Certainly, Doctor. 
 McLain. Don't stay long. 
 Margaret. No, only a very few minutes. 
 McLain. Mrs. Henderson is quite feverish to-day, and the 
 
 quieter she remains, the better. 
 
 37 
 
THE BECKONING 
 (McLain and Margaret converse together ^ l.) 
 
 Mrs. H. (Jo Armstead). And is this the first time you 
 have been in Hopperton, sir? 
 
 Armstead. Yes. I have come out to see Mr. Hopper 
 upon business. 
 
 Mrs. H. {as if disappointed). You are in his employ ? 
 
 Armstead. Oh, no, I am a lawyer. 
 
 Mrs. H. {interested and pleased), A lawyer ! 
 
 McLain {crossing to R.). Well, friends, 1 must be moving 
 on. {Takes his hat fr 0771 table c.) I'll call again this 
 afternoon, Mrs. Henderson. ( Chances to look out of 
 window R. F. ) By Jingo ! There goes my horse walk- 
 ing quietly down the road. Evidently I have stayed 
 too long. Good-bye all ! Good bye ! (Exit, L. c, 
 crying to horse.) Whoa, boy ! Whoa ! 
 
 Mrs. H. (to Armstead, earnestly). You say you are a 
 lawyer, sir? 
 
 Armstead. Yes. 
 
 Mrs. H. (eagerly). Perhaps — perhaps you could 
 
 (Stops) 
 
 Margaret. I think we had better be going, Mr. Armstead. 
 
 (Armstead rises.) 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, sir, please stay for a few minutes longer. 
 I — I want your advice about — about something. (To 
 Margaret.) You won't object, will you. Miss Mar- 
 garet ? 
 
 Margaret. No, but I fear Dr. McLain would not approve. 
 
 Armstead. It will not be best to weary you. Some other 
 day when 
 
 Mrs. H. (interrupting). No, no, sir; I must speak to you 
 to-day — this morning. It will do me no harm. It will 
 benefit me, I am sure of it. 
 
 Armstead (aside, to Margaret). There seems to be 
 something upon her mind. 
 
 Margaret (aside y to Armstead). Yes — perhaps you had 
 better remain. 
 
 Armstead (to Mrs. H.). If I can do anything for you, 
 Mrs. Henderson 
 
 Mrs. H. Then you will stay? Thank you very much. 
 
 Margaret. Good-bye, Mrs. Henderson. (To Armstead.) 
 
 38 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 I will see you again before you return to the city, Mr. 
 
 Arm stead ? 
 
 Armstead. I hope so. 
 
 {£xi/ Margaret, l. c.) 
 (Armstead sits by sofa r.) 
 
 Mrs. H. Miss Margaret and her aunt are very good to me 
 
 and — and {Hesitates.) Are you intimate with 
 
 the family, sir? 
 
 Armstead. 1 know Miss Margaret quite well. 
 
 Mrs. H. (aside). Perhaps I should not ask him what I 
 had intended. {To Armstead.) Is Mr. Hopper a 
 friend of yours ? 
 
 Armstead. No. 
 
 Mrs. H. (eagerly). You do not like him ? 
 
 Armstead. Oh, 1 did not intend to imply that. I know 
 Mr. Hopper but very slightly. 
 
 Mrs. H. Mr. Armstead, you are a stranger to me, sir, but 
 if you are Miss Margaret's friend, 1 am sure 1 can trust 
 you. 
 
 Armstead. I think you can. (A slight pause.) You 
 said you wished advice. . 
 
 Mrs. H. I am greatly in need of it, sir. 
 
 Armstead. Legal advice ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Yes, sir. I — I scarcely know how to tell you. 
 But — but suppose I — had invented something and 
 made an agreement with — with some one that he could 
 manufacture it, provided he paid me a certain amount 
 upon every sale. And suppose he broke the agree- 
 ment 
 
 Armstead. Well ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Couldn't he be compelled to pay me? 
 
 Armstead. That would" depend. 
 
 Mrs. H. Upon what, sir? 
 
 Armstead. Several things. But have you made such an 
 agreement with any one? 
 
 Mrs. H. No, sir, not exactly. 
 
 Armstead. Mrs. Henderson, I must ask you to speak 
 openly if you wish my help, for not knowing the whole 
 truth, I might advise you wrongly. 
 
 Mrs. H. Well, sir — I will tell you everything. My hus- 
 band invented a certain kind of carpet a year or two 
 
 39 
 
THE RECKOmNQ 
 
 before his death and made an agreement with — with 
 Mr. Hopper 
 
 Armstead (surprised). Mr. Hopper! 
 
 Mrs. H. Yes, sir. He was to manufacture the carpet in 
 his factories, and pay my husband something on every 
 sale. 
 
 Armstead. And didn't he do it ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Only up to the time of my husband's death. 
 
 Armstead. Perhaps the agreement expired then. 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, no, sir; it was to continue with the heirs. 
 
 Armstead. And Mr. Hopper has never paid you any- 
 thing? 
 
 Mrs. H. Not one cent. 
 
 Armstead. H'm ! But you have the agreement, of 
 course. 
 
 Mrs. H. I can't find it, sir. 
 
 Armstead. It has not been lost ? 
 
 Mrs. H. I — I do not know where it is. 
 
 Armstead. Are you sure such a paper exists ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, yes, sir. My husband showed it to me, 
 and during his last illness he told me that he had 
 hidden it in a safe place and that I would find it after 
 his death. 
 
 Armstead. It will be necessary to find that agreement, 
 Mrs. Henderson. 
 
 Mrs. H. Can nothing be done without it ? 
 
 Armstead. Very little — unless your husband patented his 
 invention. 
 
 Mrs. H. I think he did, sir. 
 
 Armstead. You are sure? 
 
 Mrs. H. Perfectly. 
 
 Armstead. Then Mr. Hopper has been using a process 
 that does not belong to him, and can be made to pay 
 heavy damages. 
 
 Mrs. H. I — I would not wish to injure Miss Sarah or 
 Miss Margaret in any way. They have been very 
 kind to me — but Mr. Hopper has been very cruel. 
 
 Armstead. Cruel ! 
 
 Mrs. H. I used to consider him a generous and kind- 
 hearted man, but now I think him kind only when it 
 meets his selfish interests. My daughter left home 
 about ten years ago, sir. She was not a bad girl, but 
 she could not endure poverty, and she was very fond 
 
 40 
 
TEE RECKONING 
 
 of gaiety — far too fond, her father thought, and he was 
 very severe with her. I had waited patiently for ten 
 long years, but I felt that I could wait no longer. I 
 heard that my daughter had been seen in New York, 
 and I resolved to go to the city, and make a search. 
 But I was poor. The money my husband had saved 
 was all spent, and I was even in debt. Then, in my 
 distress, I thought of Mr. Hopper. I went to the city 
 with the purpose of seeing him. I told him that I was 
 ill ; I told him how my heart bled for my dear child ; 
 and I entreated him to help me make a search. 
 
 Armstead. And he refused ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Yes. Then I begged him to lend me money, 
 and mentioned the agreement he had made with my 
 husband. And he — he called me a beggar — a liar, 
 and ordered me from the house. 
 
 Armstead. I can scarcely believe it possible. 
 
 Mrs. H. It is true ; every word of it. 
 
 Armstead (aside). The hard-hearted hypocrite ! 
 
 Mrs. H. He has a very good reason for not wishing my 
 daughter to be found ; but though he has refused to 
 help me, heaven has had pity and answered my 
 prayer. 
 
 Armstead. Have you heard from your daughter? 
 
 Mrs. H. Yes— at last ! 
 
 Armstead. Indeed ! I am very glad. 
 
 Mrs. H. I received a letter in which she begged for my 
 forgiveness — as if I had anything to forgive. And she 
 is coming home. I wrote her a long reply, telling her 
 how I had longed all these years for her, and about her 
 father's death, and his business agreement with Mr^ 
 Hopper. But I did not send the letter, sir ; for I re- 
 ceived a second one from her saying that she was com- 
 ing home — (half aside) coming home to her poor old 
 mother. (Takes the letter from under the pillow.) 
 Here it is, sir — read what she says. 
 
 Armstead (taking the letter, looks at the address and 
 starts). Is — is this your daughter's handwriting ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Yes, sir, that is May's letter. 
 
 Armstead (surprised). May ! 
 
 Mrs. H. That is my daughter's name, sir. 
 
 Armstead (eagerly). INIay ! May what? 
 
 Mrs. H. She married a Mr. King. 
 
 41 
 
TEE BECKONING 
 
 Armstead (rising and letting the letter fall^. King ! 
 
 May King I 
 Mrs. H. What is the matter, sir? 
 
 Armstead {controlling himself ). Pardon me — I — I — sus- 
 tained a — a slight shock. 
 Mrs. H. Do you feel ill, sir? 
 Armstead. Oh ! 1 am all right now. {Picks up letter?) 
 
 You wish me to read this letter? 
 Mrs. H. If you please, sir. 
 
 Armstead {after reading letter^. She is coming home to- 
 day. 
 Mrs. H. Yes, sir; this morning, on the New York train. 
 
 Oh, if only 1 had been well enough to meet her at the 
 
 station. 
 Armstead. Would you — would you like me to go? 
 Mrs. H. You are very kind, sir. 1 — I did not wish Mr. 
 
 Hopper to know of my daughter's return — at least, not 
 
 until we had planned for the future. 
 Armstead. Yes, it will be best to keep it a secret for 
 
 a while, if possible. 
 Mrs. H. And you will meet her ? Perhaps you had better 
 
 go now. 
 Armstead. Yes, I want to be at the station when the train 
 
 arrives, and it is about due, 1 think. 
 Mrs. H. Go out that way by the kitchen door — {pointing 
 
 out R.) there is a short cut to the station through the 
 
 woods. 
 Armstead. Very well, and I shall return the same way. 
 
 {Goes toward r.) 
 
 Mrs. H. But — but, Mr. Armstead, how will you recog- 
 nize my daughter? 
 
 Armstead. Oh, I shall know her. {Aside.) I fear I can 
 never forget her. 
 
 {Exit, R.) 
 
 Mrs. H. Coming home ! I can scarcely realize it. Com- 
 ing home ! Heaven is very good to me. Oh, how 
 much I have to be thankful for. (Hopper looks in at 
 window, then knocks at door L.) Was that a knock ? 
 {The knock is repeated.) Wlio's there? {Enter 
 Hopper, l. c. Mrs. H. , aside — agitated.) Oh ! 
 
 42 
 
TEE BECKONINQ 
 
 Hopper. Good-morning, Mrs. Henderson ; good-morning. 
 incomes down c.) 
 
 Mrs. H. (aside). What if he should remain until my 
 
 daughter comes ! 
 Hopper. How has your health been ? Pretty good ? 
 Mrs. H. {shortly). No. 
 Hopper. Indeed 1 I am extremely sorry to hear it. {^A 
 
 pause.) Has a gentleman named Armstead been here? 
 Mrs. H. He is gone. 
 Hopper. Gone ! Strange I did not meet him on the road. 
 
 Margaret told me that she had left him here. 1 have 
 
 been away from home for about a month, and have just 
 
 returned. Has lie been gone long ? 
 Mrs. H. No. {Eagerly. ) Perhaps you can overtake him 
 
 if — if you go. 
 Hopper. Perhaps I can. No doubt he has returned by 
 
 some other way. I will hasten back again. 
 
 {Goes up toward i.. c.) 
 
 Mrs. H. (aside). He is going. 
 
 Hopper {stopping). Oh, by the way, Mrs. Henderson, 
 while away 1 have been thinking about — about the mat- 
 ter you mentioned to me a month ago. I refer to the 
 agreement you imagined I had made with your husband. 
 
 Mrs. H. {eagerly). You acknowledge there was such an 
 agreement? 
 
 Hopper. Oh, no, no — not at all; such an idea is ridicu- 
 lous. But you are sick and greatly in need of money, 
 and I would like to assist you. Dr. McLain tells me 
 that you should go away to the mountains somewhere. 
 Of course this claim you have made is entirely without 
 foundation, but 1 am willing to pay you say five hun- 
 dred dollars if you will sign this paper 
 
 ( Takes paper from his pocket. ) 
 
 Mrs. H. I will sign no paper. 
 
 Hopper. Eh ! 
 
 Mrs. H. Your anxiety to have me sign a paper proves 
 
 that an agreement between you and my husband did 
 
 exist. 
 
 43 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Hopper (angrily). It's false ! 
 
 Mks. H. My claim is a just one, and you know it. 
 
 Hopper {passionately). 1 know it's a lie ! 
 
 Mrs. H. {half rising — intensely), Nicholas Hopper, you 
 
 are a scoundrel 
 
 Hopper. What ! ! ! 
 
 Mrs. H. An unprincipled hypocrite. 
 
 Hopper {^furiously). How dare you ! 
 
 {Raises his fist as if to strike her.) 
 
 Mrs. H. Strike me ! Strike me, you coward ! You have 
 wounded my heart far more than you can ever injure 
 my body. 
 
 Hopper. Bah ! 
 
 Mrs. H. May heaven treat you as you have treated me ! 
 {Rises and becomes fnore and more vehement and ex- 
 cited.) May you suffer even as you have made me 
 suffer. 
 
 Hopper. Stop ! 
 
 Mrs. H. May your deceitful tongue, with which you make 
 promises only to break them 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Tliat will do — I 
 
 Mrs. H. May your lying tongue be struck dumb ! 
 
 (Yiovv'E.R, frightened and furious, utters an exclamation^ 
 and crumpling the paper ivhich he holds in his hand, 
 hurls it into Mrs. Yi.'^ face. Mrs. H., tremendously 
 excited, utters a cry, and raising her hand to her chest 
 as if in great pain, falls back upon the sofa, where she 
 lies motionless.) 
 
 Hopper {furiously). You refuse to do what I wish? — 
 Good ! I have offered you comfort — and you chose 
 poverty. You shall have your choice. You shall 
 leave this house this very day. You owe me rent ; pay 
 it — or go to jail. I'll make you suffer for your curses. 
 
 {Exit, L. c.) 
 
 {A long pause.) 
 
 {Enter Mrs. K., r. Pauses and looks around the room 
 
 eagerly.) 
 
 44 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Mrs. K. {seeing Mrs. H. upon the sofa r., cries joyfully). 
 Mother ! {Runs to sofa.) Mother, I have coine home. 
 She is asleep, but I cannot wait. 1 must awaken her. 
 {Kneels beside the sofa.) Mother, dear — mother ! 
 Speak to me. Mother! Tell me you forgive me. {Enter 
 Armstead, r.) Mother ! Mother ! ! Mother ! 1 1 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 45 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE. — The study in Akmstead's Ne7v York residence, 
 
 (^Enter Armstead, r., opening a letter.'^) 
 
 Armstead. It is not very often Miss Margaret Hopper fa- 
 vors me, and when she does it is generally a request of 
 some kin(i. Well, I could not ask for a stronger proof 
 of her friendship. {Sits by fireplace L., and reads the 
 .letter — after pause.') Short, but to the point. I am 
 afraid this will prove a rather delicate matter to handle. 
 Henry Stratton is not a boy, and I doubt very much if 
 he will relish my criticism. I scarcely think I would 
 enjoy it — {thoughtfully") and yet — and yet — if, when I 
 was his age, some one had pointed out to me the dan- 
 gers that lay in my path, perhaps I might have avoided 
 them. (Reads from the letter.') *M will try to find 
 some excuse to call upon you on Wednesday" — that's 
 to-day — "and will bring Harry with me. Then if you 
 will detain him in some way, I will leave and you can 
 talk with him alone. I am sure Harry will gladly tell 
 you his troubles if he is at all encouraged. Please help 
 him for both our sakes. I know you can." {Folds 
 the letter and pockets it.) Hum ! That's very flatter- 
 ing to my talents, at any rate. Miss Hopper is cer- 
 tainly quite a schemer. (Rises.) Well, I'll try to 
 carry out my part of the program. I must sustain my 
 reputation. 
 
 (Enter Barney, c.) 
 
 Barney. Be yez to hum, sor? 
 
 Armstead. Unless your eyes deceive you, Barney. 
 
 Barney. Me eyes got nothin* to do with it, sor — beggin' 
 your pardin. I've larnt to put me eyes in me pocket, 
 fur many's the toime at me last place I seen Mr. Brown 
 was to hum an' he sent word to the door that he was 
 out. At me last place, sor, I've sometimes won- 
 nered 
 
 Armstead {interrupting). Is there any one to see me, 
 Barney ? 
 
 46 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Barney. Sor ? 
 
 Akmstead. Is any one at the door ? 
 
 Barney. Not thot I knows on, sor. (^Goes to window r.) 
 
 Armstead (aside). He's one of the dumbest men J ever 
 
 saw. 
 Barney (offer looking out of the window). No, sor, there's 
 
 no one at the door. As I was sayin*, at me hist 
 
 place 
 
 Armstead (interrupting). Is any one down-stairs ? 
 Barney. Sor? Down-steers? 
 Armstead. Yes ; to see me. 
 
 Barney. There was some man, sor, but 
 
 Armstead. You didn't tell him I was out? 
 
 Barney. No, sor, I didn't want to lie. I said ye was in, 
 
 but I didn't know if ye was to hum, an' if he didn't 
 
 keer to wait 
 
 Armstead (interrupting). Is he here now? 
 
 Barney. Faith, I don' know, sor, but 
 
 Armstead {interrupting). Barney, go down and send the 
 
 gentleman here immediately. 
 Barney. He be-ent a gentleman, sor. 
 Armstead (angrily). I don't care if he's a chimpanzee; 
 
 send him up. 
 
 Barney. Yis, sor, but 
 
 Armstead (interrupting). Go; do you hear? 
 
 Barney. Yis, sor, I hears. (Aside.) I'm afeard this 
 
 place won't fit me. 
 
 (Exity c.) 
 
 Armstead. I am afraid he won't fit this place. How he 
 managed to keep his last position so long, I can't im- 
 agine. Why, he will sour my temper in less than a 
 week ; it's beginning to turn now. (Andrews appears 
 c, and hesitates. To Andrews.) Come in, sir. 
 
 {Enter Andrews, c.) 
 
 Andrews. I — I don't want to take your time, sir, but 
 
 Armstead (^pleasantly). Oh, I am not busy. 
 
 Andrews. Miss Margaret Hopper advised me to come to 
 
 you, sir, 
 Armstead. Indeed ! 
 
 47 
 
TEE BECKONING 
 
 Andrews. I wanted to speak to you about — about Mrs. 
 Henderson, sir. 
 
 Armstead (interested). Mrs. Henderson ! You mean the 
 poor woman who died in Hopperton a couple of weeks 
 ago? 
 
 Andrews. Yes, sir. Has she any heirs ? 
 
 Armstead. Why do you ask ? 
 
 Andrews. Because — because I've found a paper that be- 
 longed to her husband, sir, an' — an' I wanted it to get 
 into the right hands. 
 
 Armstead. But I don't quite understand. Where did you 
 find this paper? 
 
 Andrews. At the house she used to live in, sir. It was 
 hid away in the wall back of a picture. 
 
 Armstead {aside). Can it be the paper that Mrs. Hen- 
 derson told me about? {To Andrews.) Do you 
 occupy the house now ? 
 
 Andrews. Yes, sir. Mr. Hopper told me I could have 
 the house — which is quite a large one — at the same 
 rent I paid for the house I was livin' in, provided I — 
 provided — {hesitating) I don't know as I ought to tell 
 you, sir. 
 
 Armstead. I don't ask to know your agreement with Mr. 
 Hopper. 
 
 Andrews. I have no agreement now, sir. Mr. Hopper 
 employed me to — to — I think I had better tell you 
 everything. 
 
 Armstead. Do just as you think best. 
 
 Andrews. He paid me to make a search for Mrs. Hen- 
 derson's daughter May, who had run away from home 
 about ten year ago. 
 
 Armstead {stcrprised). Mr. Hopper made a search ? 
 
 Andrews. Yes, sir. 
 
 Armstead {aside). I don't understand that. {To An- 
 drews.) Why did he wish to find Mrs. Henderson's 
 daughter ? 
 
 Andrews. I don't know, sir, I'm sure. I was very poor 
 an' had been out of work for some time, when Mr. 
 Hopper sent for me an' offered to pay me good wages 
 an' forgive me two months' rent I owed him, if I would 
 do what he wanted. Of course, I was glad of the 
 chance. After I had been workin' about a month, he 
 told me that Mrs. Henderson was goin' to move, an' 
 
 48 
 
THE BECKONINO 
 
 that I could take her house if I wanted to. He said 
 that just as soon as I moved in he wanted me to make 
 a thorough search of the premises, an' any papers I 
 found I was to bring to him. 
 
 Armstead (aside). I begin to understand now, 
 
 Andrews. I told him 1 didn't want to bring him papers 
 that belonged to Mrs. Henderson, an' he became very 
 angry an' insisted that I should bring him everything I 
 found. He said if I refused he would turn me an' my 
 family out in the street, an' make me pay every cent I 
 owed him. I — I was a coward, sir, an' had to give in, 
 for I couldn't bear to think of my wife an' children 
 starvin'. 
 
 Armstead. Then why have you come to me ? 
 
 Andrews. Because my conscience made me, sir. Mrs. 
 Henderson nursed my wife when she was sick. 
 
 Armstead. I am glad that you have felt so conscientious 
 in the matter. 
 
 Andrews. I can't help thinkin' that this paper is the one 
 Mr. Hopper wanted to find. It is some kind of agree- 
 ment he made with John Henderson. 
 
 Armstead. Ah ! Have you it with you ? 
 
 Andrews. Yes, sir. (^Cautiously.) But — but had Mrs. 
 Henderson any heirs ? 
 
 Armstead, Yes; one. 
 
 Andrews (eagerly). Her daughter ? Is she alive ? 
 
 Armstead. I am glad to say she is. 
 
 Andrews. Thank heaven ! Does she know of her mother's 
 death, sir? 
 
 Armstead. Yes, and it was a great shock. She came — 
 she had determined to return home, but too late. 
 
 Andrews. Poor girl ! 
 
 Armstead. I am sure that she will be very thankful to you, 
 and will see that you do not suffer for want of work. 
 
 Andrews. Thank you, sir. 
 
 Armstead. I can give her this paper, if you wish — or 
 would you prefer to keep it until you can deliver it in 
 person ? 
 
 Andrews. No, sir; I feel sure it will be safe with you. 
 
 (Takes envelope from his pocket and gives it to Armstead.) 
 
 Armstead. Very well. (Places the envelope in the table 
 
 49 
 
TEE BECKONINQ 
 
 drawer.^ Now if you will give me your name and 
 
 address 
 
 Andrews. Joseph Andrews, sir. 
 
 Armstead (rising). Suppose you sit down here, and write 
 
 it for me. 
 
 (Andrews sits at table l. c, and writes. Armstead goes 
 
 to window R.) 
 
 Andrews. There, sir. 
 
 Armstead (^looking out of the window). Hello ! Here 
 
 comes Mr. Hopper up the steps now. 
 Andrews {agitated). Oh, sir, 1 — 1 don't want to meet 
 
 him. 
 Armstead. No, it will not be best for him to find you 
 
 here. {Points r.) Step into that room until he goes. 
 
 {Exit Andrews, r. Armstead closes the door after hifn ; 
 theft goes to table L. C, takes the paper tipon which 
 Andrews has written his naine— folds it and puts it 
 ifi his pocket.) 
 
 {Enter Barney, c.) 
 
 Barney. Be yez to hum, sor? 
 
 Armstead. Yes ; show Mr. Hopper here. 
 
 Barney {amazed). Y-yis, sor. {Aside.) How does he 
 
 know the gint's name? 
 Armstead. And, by the way, Barney, if there should be 
 
 any other callers this afternoon, you may send them 
 
 up. I shall be at home until further notice. You 
 
 understand ? 
 Barney. Yis, sor. 
 
 {Exit, c.) 
 
 Armstead. I took him by surprise that time, but I am 
 afraid I will be kept busy manufacturing surprises if I 
 want to keep his tongue quiet. I suppose Mr. Hopper 
 has come to see me in reference to the note I sent him 
 yesterday. {Eiiter Hopper, c. To Hopper.) Good- 
 aflernoon, sir. 
 
 Hopper {appearing luorried). Mr. Armstead, I called to 
 see you about the mortgage on my property. 
 
 Armstead. You received my note? 
 
 Hopper. Yes ; but it will be impossible for me to wait 
 
 50 
 
TEE BECKONING 
 
 until next week for the money. Seventy-five thousand 
 dollars may not mean much to the gentlemen you rep- 
 resent, but at the present time such a sum would prove 
 immensely valuable to me. I must have a check to-day. 
 
 Armstead. But, Mr. Hopper, that will be impossible. 
 
 Hopper. I must have it. 
 
 Armstead. You know that to transfer stocks and bonds 
 into cash takes longer than a few hours. 
 
 Hopper {sharply). If you hadn't the money, why did you 
 offer it to me ? I have some notes which I must meet 
 
 to-morrow, or — or {Decidedly?) Armstead, you 
 
 must raise this money. 
 
 Armstead. I understood that you were borrowing in order 
 to extend your business. 
 
 Hopper {embarrassed). Yes, yes — so I — I am — I intend 
 to. But I — I must free myself from debt first. 
 
 Armstead. I fear I cannot help you. You had better 
 look elsewhere. 
 
 Hopper {excitedly). Man, I'm depending on you. Go to 
 these gentlemen and explain matters. No doubt they 
 have funds at hand from which they can draw. 
 
 Armstead. They are away from the city 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Then telegraph them. 
 
 Armstead {coldly). I'll do it if you wish, but it is useless. 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Yes, do it immediately. Every 
 minute is of value. 
 
 (Armstead sits at table c. and writes. Enter Skinner, c, 
 
 hurriedly.) 
 
 Skinner {to Hopper). You told me to bring all telegrams 
 here, sir. {Gives Hopper the telegram.) 
 
 Hopper {tearing open telegram, reads and utters an excla- 
 mation ; speaks to Skinner). Smith & Co. offer an- 
 other lot of cotton. 
 
 Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 
 
 Hopper {to Skinner). I can't buy it. 
 
 Skinner. Just as you say. 
 
 Hopper {to Skinner). Telegraph them that I can't — no, 
 say that I don't want it. 
 
 Skinner. Right. 
 
 Hopper. And — and ask them to extend my notes for — 
 no, I'll attend to the matter myself. {To Arm- 
 
 51 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 STEAD.) You will send me the reply to your telegram, 
 as soon as you receive it, Mr. Armstead ? 
 
 Armstead. Certainly, 
 
 Hopper. Make them raise the amount somehow. I must 
 have it. 
 
 {Exit, c.) 
 
 Skinner (aside). I'm afraid the bottom of his corner in 
 cotton is weakening. 
 
 {Ex iff c.) 
 
 Armstead (rising). Hopper certainly seems to be badly 
 in need of money. 1 must make some inquiries before 
 he gets any through me. What a scoundrel the man 
 is! (^Goes r. and calls.) Andrews! (Enter An- 
 drews, R.) Mr. Hopper has left, so you can go now 
 without any danger of meeting him. 
 
 Andrews. Very well, sir. 
 
 Armstead. I will let you hear from me in a day or two. 
 When I appoint a time and place to meet me, you will 
 come ? 
 
 Andrews. Certainly, sir. 
 
 Armstead (offering hitn his hand). Well, good-bye until 
 you hear from me. 
 
 Andrews. Good-bye, sir, and thank you for helpin' me. 
 
 (Exit, c.) 
 
 Armstead. I think I should thank him for helping me. I 
 promised to send this telegram, and I will. After that, 
 we'll see. (Calls.) Barney! I had better put the 
 paper Andrews brought in some safer spot than a 
 table drawer. (Opefis table drawer and takes out 
 envelope. Calls.) Barney! Where is that man ? 
 
 (Enter Barney, c.) 
 
 Barney. Yis, sor. 
 
 Armstead (giving him telegram). Barney, take this mes- 
 sage to the telegraph office, and tell them to send it 
 immediately. (Goes toivard r.) 
 
 Barney. Sind it where at, sor? 
 
 Armstead, They will know at the office. 
 
 Barney. Yis, sor, but 
 
 52 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 x'Vrmstead (inter rupfiftg). Now, don't stop to argue. 
 
 Barney. But, Mr. Armstid, sor 
 
 Akmstead {ifiterrupting). Go at once ; do you under- 
 stand ? 
 
 Barney. Y-yis, sor. (Exit Armstead, r.) Well, I 
 niver seen the loikes o' thet. Here's comp'ny down- 
 steers, an' whin I'm after axin' 'im if he's to hum he 
 shuts me mouth loike a trap an' sets on me. Sure an' 
 I don't know whither he's to hum or not. Faith, I'll 
 jist fitch the comp'ny here an' lave 'em, an' if he's 
 not to hum, he kin till 'em so hisself. 
 
 (Exit J c.) 
 
 (Enter Armstead, r.) 
 
 Armstead. I never saw that Irishman's equal for dumb- 
 ness. I believe he would talk himself bhnd asking 
 questions, if I encouraged him by answering one or 
 two. (Enter Margaret and Henry, c. To Marga- 
 ret.) Why, Miss Hopper, this is a very pleasant sur- 
 prise — I mean it would be if I — I — oh, you understand. 
 (To Henry.) How do you do, Mr. Stratton ? You're 
 just the man I wish to see. 
 
 Henry. I am, sir ? 
 
 Armstead. Yes ; about — about a little matter of business. 
 
 Margaret. Then I — I will leave him here and 
 
 Armstead (interrupting). Oh, don't be in a hurry. Miss 
 Hopper. 
 
 Margaret. But, I called only to — to (Hesitates.^ 
 
 Armstead. To see me, of course. 
 
 Margaret. Yes — to — ask if a man has been here. 
 
 Armstead. By the name of Andrews ? 
 
 Margaret. Yes. Evidently you have seen him. 
 
 Armstead. He left but a few minutes ago. 
 
 Margaret. He came to me and appeared very anxious to 
 learn something about Mrs. Henderson's relatives — 
 if she had any — and I thought that possibly you may 
 have learnt something during the confidential talk 
 you had with her the day of her death, so I advised 
 him to go to you. 
 
 Armstead. I am very glad you did. 
 
 Margaret. I — I must be going now. (To Henry.) 
 Harry, will you meet me at the station ? 
 
THE RECKONINQ 
 
 Henry, Yes — when ? 
 
 Margaret ingoing up c). In time for the five o'clock 
 
 train. 
 Henry. Very well, I'll be there. 
 Armstead (^following Margaret up c). I won't detain 
 
 him very long, Miss Hopper. 
 Margaret {aside to Armstead). You are very kind — to 
 
 — detain him at all, sir. 
 Armstead {aside to Margaret — laughing'). Oh, you 
 
 little schemer ! 
 Margaret {aside to Armstead). It's in a good cause. 
 
 Good-bye. 
 
 {Exit, c.) 
 
 Armstead {coming down c). Are you in business, Mr. 
 
 Stratton ? 
 Henry. No, sir. 
 
 Armstead. Studying for a profession ? 
 Henry. No, sir. 
 
 Armstead. A man of leisure, eh ? {Sits.') 
 Henry. I have tried to obtain some business position, sir, 
 
 but have failed. {Sits.) 
 Armstead. Are you particular as to the nature of the 
 
 employment? 
 Henry, No, sir ; I would be only too glad to get anything 
 
 — but it is useless to try. 
 Armstead. Oh, don't be discouraged. 
 Henry. But, sir, I — you do not know — it is absolutely 
 
 necessary for me to earn money, and — and 
 
 {Hesitates.) 
 Armstead. You are in debt ? 
 
 Henry {as if ashamed). Yes, sir. {A slight pause.) 
 Armstead. Mr. Stratton — I think it will be best for me to 
 
 be perfectly honest with you. I have heard of your 
 
 need of money and your 
 
 Henry {interrupting). Has Margaret told you? 
 
 Armstead. Yes. 
 
 Henry. She should not have troubled you. 
 
 Armstead. I am very glad she took the trouble to tell me. 
 
 Do you know that you are a very fortunate young man 
 
 to have this sweet girl take such an interest in you? 
 Henry. Far more fortunate than 1 deserve. 
 
 54 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Armstead. Whatever may happen you know that there is 
 some one in the world who loves you : some one who 
 will sympathize in your disappointments and rejoice in 
 your successes. (Sighs and half aside.) Ah, how 
 happy a man could be with such a woman to love ! 
 (Quickly — as if to check his sad thoughts.) Yes, yes 
 — you are fortunate, truly fortunate. Mr. Stratton, I 
 think I can help you. 
 
 Henry (eagerly). Do you know of a position, sir? 
 
 Armstead. Yes. 
 
 Henry. And can I obtain it ? 
 
 Armstead. I think so. 
 
 Henry. You are very kind. 
 
 Armstead. Not at all. I know a wealthy man who wishes 
 a private secretary. I will recommend you, but whether 
 you will retain the position or not, will depend entirely 
 upon yourself. 
 
 Henry. But — but you know nothing about my habits, sir. 
 
 Armstead. Of gambling ? 
 
 Henry. Did Margaret tell you of that too? 
 
 Armstead. Yes. 
 
 Henry. I am almost ashamed to confess it, sir. 
 
 Armstead. Perhaps — perhaps you had a good excuse. 
 
 Henry. I was driven to gambling through want of money. 
 
 Armstead. But now that you will be able to earn a com- 
 fortable salary, you will give up what injures you, won't 
 you, my boy? For your own sake and for the sake of 
 the girl who loves you ? 
 
 Henry. I promise you, sir. 
 
 Armstead. Thank you. I believe your promise to be as 
 good as your oath. And now in order that you may 
 be able to cut entirely loose from everything that binds 
 you to your old habits, we must pay your debts. (Sits at 
 table and opens check book.) How much do you owe? 
 
 Henry (quickly). I — I couldn't let you give me the money, 
 sir. 
 
 Armstead. Oh, I don't intend to make you a gift ; but I 
 would like to lend you the amount. 
 
 Henry. But, sir 
 
 Armstead (interrupting). We will do the thing in a busi- 
 nesslike way, if you prefer. I will give you a check, 
 and you can give me your note. 
 
 Henry, It is very good of you 
 
 55 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Armstead. No — I consider it an opportunity to help a 
 friend, and I am glad to avail myself of it. How much 
 do you need ? 
 
 Henry. About one hundred and forty dollars, sir. 
 
 Armstead {writing check). " Henry Stratton — one hun- 
 dred — and — fifty " 
 
 Henry. Forty, sir. 
 
 Armstead. I added ten for luck. There you are. 
 
 {Gives Henry the check.) 
 
 Henry. But the note ? 
 
 Armstead. Very well, I will write one for you. ( Writes 
 a note and gives it to Henry, who takes a pefi, signs 
 the note and returjis it to Armstead.) Now every- 
 thing has been done lawfully and in order. You have 
 borrowed money and given your promise in writing to 
 return it six months after date. Of course if you do 
 not pay me, you will expect to be prosecuted? 
 
 Henry. Certainly, sir. 
 
 Armstead. This paper you have signed would give me that 
 right. 
 
 Henry. But I will pay you. 
 
 Armstead (rising). Of course you will. (^Tears in pieces 
 the note Henry signed.) And even if you do not, I 
 shall not prosecute you. (^Goes to fireplace,!..) When 
 a man lends money to his friend, he should not wish 
 any other promise of payment than a verbal one. 
 (^Throws the pieces of paper in the fireplace, L.) Surely 
 that ought to be enough. 
 
 Henry (rising). I — I wish you knew how much happier 
 you have made me, sir. 
 
 Armstead (embarrassed). I — I — but (^Coughs , then 
 
 looks at his watch.) Hello! I had no idea of the 
 time. If you wish to meet Miss Hopper at the five 
 o'clock train, you will have to hurry. 
 
 Henry. Is it so late as that ? 
 
 Armstead. I am sorry to have to acknowledge it. I will 
 write you just as soon as I see the gentleman I told 
 you of. 
 
 Henry. Let — let me thank you, Mr. Armstead, for all you 
 have 
 
 Armstead (interrupting). No ; all thanks belong to Miss 
 
 S6 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Margaret. {They go toward o,. Enter Mrs. K., c.) 
 Mrs. King ! 
 
 Mrs. K. I do not wish to intrude. 
 
 Henry. I was just about to leave, Mrs. King. (To Arm- 
 stead, grasping him by the ha?id.') Good-bye, Mr. 
 Armstead. 
 
 (^Exit, c.) 
 
 Mrs. K. (aside'). I scarcely know what to say. 
 
 Armstead. I — I expected to — to call upon you this even- 
 ing, Mrs. King. 
 
 Mrs. K. Upon me? 
 
 Armstead. Yes ; to — to — about a matter of business. 
 
 Mrs. K. (disappointed). Oh ! 
 
 Armstead. 1 — I wished to see you — about a paper that I 
 have that concerns you. 
 
 Mrs. K. Nothing more ? 
 
 Armstead. I — 1 know of nothing else. 
 
 Mrs. K. Perhaps I should expect no more — and yet 
 
 (Earnestly.) Oh, if you knew how I long for a friend, 
 some one to advise and help me. 
 
 Armstead (after slight pause). If you had returned 
 home 
 
 Mrs. K. (interrupting). Yes, yes ; I know what you 
 would say. 1 should have returned years ago. But I 
 thought she was dead — you know that ? I never should 
 have left my home — I realize it now — now when it is 
 too late; but the yearning for power which has so 
 cursed my life, and the dread of poverty, tempted me. 
 
 Armstead. You have gained the power you sought. 
 (Quietly.) 
 
 Mrs. K. (sadly). Yes ; the power that wealth brings ; but 
 not the power to make true friends. I — I come to you 
 to confess my weakness, and to ask for help — but you 
 — you will never forgive me. 
 
 Armstead (with an effort — after pause). What is it you 
 wish ? 
 
 Mrs. K. (easterly). You vi^ill help me? I want advice 
 about the matter you told me mother had talked to you 
 about the last day of her life. 
 
 Armstead. You mean the agreement between your father 
 and Mr. Hopper ? 
 
 57 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Mrs. K. Yes. 
 
 Armstead. The paper has been found. 
 
 Mrs. K. Found ! 
 
 Armstead. Yes, by the man who now occupies the house 
 where your mother hved. 
 
 Mrs. K. Then it is true that there was such an agreement? 
 
 Armstead. Yes. 
 
 Mrs. K. And Mr. Hopj)er never paid my mother the 
 money that was rightfully hers. (^Rises — passionately.^ 
 Oh, how I hate him ! To tliink of all the suffering 
 dear mother endured ! To think that it was within 
 this man's power to add comfort — yes, even years — 
 to her life, and he refused to help her ! I wish 1 could 
 make him suffer all that she had to bear ! 
 
 Armstead. You wish for revenge ? 
 
 Mrs. K. Revenge? {A pause.') No. I, too, wronged 
 my mother, by leaving her. But — but I wish to take 
 from Mr. Hopper every cent that he stole from her. 
 {Sits.) 
 
 Armstead. Why should you wish tlie money? 
 
 Mrs. K. Just for this. If I can obtain the money that 
 rightfully belonged to mother, I will make it a memorial 
 to her, and use it in helping poor women that have no 
 friends. I am sure she would like that. 
 
 Armstead. Has Mr. Hopper any suspicion that you are 
 Mrs. Henderson's daughter? 
 
 Mrs. K. Not the slightest. 
 
 Armstead. But he knew that you were at the funeral. 
 
 Mrs. K. Yes ; but I went with Miss Ho|)per and Margaret, 
 and they did not imagine the truth. Margaret had 
 asked me to spend a few days with her that week, so 
 that my presence in Hopperton at the time of mother's 
 death was not a surprise. 
 
 Armstead. But you paid all the funeral expenses, did you 
 not ? 
 
 Mrs. K. Oh, yes; but they thought I did it simply out of 
 respect to the memory of a poor woman. The day 
 after the funeral I returned home, and since then have 
 refused to see all callers. During these two weeks I 
 have carefully considered the matter, and now I wish — 
 I am determined that Mr. Hopper shall know who 
 I am. But — but 1 need a friend to advise me. {Plead- 
 ingly.) Will you not be that friend? 
 
 S8 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Armstead. I would gladly help you — if — if {Hesi- 
 tates.') 
 Mrs. K. If you believed me to be sincere? 
 Armstead. Candidly — yes. 
 Mrs. K. (sadly). 1 have no way to prove my sincerity. 
 
 {A pause.) 
 
 Armstead (rising). The paper found in your mother's 
 house has been brought to me. I have it in the other 
 room. 1 will show it to you. 
 
 (^Exity R.) 
 
 Mrs. K. (bitterly). He will not forgive me. Oh, if I had 
 but appreciated the value of an honest man's love, I 
 might have become a true woman. My life would have 
 been of some use, and instead of thirsting for power — 
 the power to bring men to my feet, 1 might have made 
 them my friends. But it's too late now ; it's too late. 
 In the whole wide world there is not one being who 
 loves me — no, not one. 
 
 (^Enter Hopper, c, hurriedly. Perceives Mrs. K., and 
 stops, surprised.) 
 
 Hopper. Mrs. King ! You here ? 
 
 Mrs. K. (aside). The man I have been trying to avoid. 
 
 Hopper. I have just come from your house. Why is it 
 that you have refused to see me every time that 1 have 
 called ? 
 
 Mrs. K. I have not wished to see — any one. 
 
 Hopper. But you have taken no notice of my letters. You 
 know that I adore you, and yet you are as cold as ice. 
 Have you no heart ? 
 
 Mrs. K. (coldly). I don't know. Certainly none for you, 
 Mr. Ho|)per. 
 
 Hopper. Oh, come, it's too late for that tune. You know 
 1 can make you happy. (Passionately.) 1 cannot live 
 without you. Will you marry me — at once ? To-day ? 
 
 Mrs. K. (decidedly). No ! 
 
 Hopper. Yes, you will. Come, let's end our dilly-dally- 
 ing over it. You promised to marry me. Why not 
 now ? Come I 
 
 59 
 
THE BECKON I NO 
 
 Mrs. K. {indignantly). Promised to marry you ? Never! 
 Hopper Qaiighin^). Oh, you remember it well enough. 
 
 Why, you little rogue ! (^Attempts to embrace her.) 
 Mrs. K. {breaking free). How dare you ! 
 
 (^Enter Armstead, r. Stops in doorway.) 
 
 Hopper. What ! You pretend you don't care for me? 
 
 Mrs. K. I hate you ! 
 
 Hopper (^puzzled). You hate me? 
 
 Mrs. K. (^pointing to c). Leave me instantly ! Go ! 
 
 Hopper. You cannot mean 
 
 Mrs. K, {interrupting — vehemently). Go, I say 
 
 Hopper. But — but I 
 
 Mrs. K. {interrupting). Not another word — go ! {Exit 
 Hopper, c. She bursts into tears and throivs herself 
 in armchair c.) Oh, have I fallen so low ! So low 
 that he should dare to insult me ! Oh, that I had one 
 true friend ! 
 
 Armstead {advancing to armchair — earnestly). Mrs. King 
 — May — I will be that friend. 
 
 Mrs. K. {eagerly). You ? 
 
 Armstead {giving her his hand). As far as it lies within 
 my power. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 €o 
 
ACT IV 
 
 SCENE. — The sitting-room in Hopper's country-seat. 
 Jerry discovered^ dusting. 
 
 Jerry. He's got somethin* on his mind. I never seen 
 him act so curious like afore. Why, he can't set still 
 a minute, an' fiery — whew ! I'm dead afeared to go 
 near him. If he'd had a gun handy, I believe he would 
 have filled me full of holes hours ago. (^Goes to table 
 L. c, and begins to dust it J) Just look at that table 
 now. Everything down side up. 'Tain't no use for 
 me tryin* to keep things straight if Mr. Hopper is goin' 
 to act so crazy like. 
 
 {Enter Hopper, l., with hat and coat. ^ 
 
 Hopper {snappishly). Jerry ! (Jerry starts and drops 
 the dusting-brush on the table.) Leave those things 
 alone ! 
 
 Jerry. Y-yes, sir, I — I was just 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Hold your tongue! 
 
 Jerry. Y-yes, sir. 
 
 Hopper. Has Mr. Skinner arrived yet ? 
 
 Jerry. No, sir. {Aside.) That's the third time he has 
 asked me that question this mornin'. 
 
 Hopper {looking at his watch). Why in the deuce doesn't 
 he come? {To jERRy.) Jerry, I am going to the 
 station. If any one calls, say that I will return shortly. 
 
 Jerry. Certainly, sir. {Exit Hopper, c.) Holy smoke ! 
 but I'm glad he hasn't got no gun about him. I'm 
 afeared he ain't just right in his head; leastways he 
 don't act it. 
 
 {Enter Margaret and Henry, r.) 
 
 Margaret. Yes, Harry, I am very much worried about 
 father; he is certainly not at all well. (Jerry goes 
 tip c.) Jerry ! 
 
 Jerry. Yes, ma'am. 
 
 Margaret. Miss Sarah wishes to see you. 
 
 6i 
 
THE RECKONING 
 Jerry. Very good, ma'am. 
 
 (^Exitf R.) 
 
 (Margaret mid Henry sit upon sofa down r.) 
 
 Henry. Uncle appears very anxious about something. 
 
 Margaret. Perhaps he has received bad news. 
 
 Henry. He may have heard something when he was in 
 the city yesterday. I never saw him so restless and 
 excited as he was last evening. 
 
 Margaret. He has so much to worry him. 
 
 Henry. Yes, far too much. 
 
 Margaret. Poor father ! 
 
 Henry {impulsively). I wish he were poor. 
 
 Margaret. Why, Harry ! 
 
 Henry. I know it is selfish — perhaps unmanly in me to 
 have such a wish, but — but Margaret, when I think of 
 my poverty as compared to the wealth you will inherit, 
 I feel as if I had no right to care for you. 
 
 Margaret. Perhaps you think I have no right to care for 
 you? 
 
 Henry. I have often wondered why you do. 
 
 Margaret. Why ? 1 scarcely know. Perhaps because 
 you care for me. But, Harry, you know that whether 
 you are wealthy or poor, it makes not the slightest dif- 
 ference to me. And now that you have made your 
 start 
 
 Henry {interrupting). Yes, thanks to you and Mr. Arm- 
 stead. 
 
 Margaret. You will be independent. 
 
 Henry. And I shall try to prove worthy of Mr. Arm- 
 stead's kindness. 
 
 Margaret. He has indeed been very kind. 
 
 Henry. He said that all thanks belonged to you, and that 
 I was very fortunate to have such a sweet girl to take 
 an interest in me. 
 
 Margaret {laughing). I fear he was trying to flatter. 
 
 {Enter Hopper, c. Henry and Margaret rise.) 
 
 Hopper (;/<?/ perceivift^ them and goi?ig to table l. c). No 
 telegram yet. I'll make Skinner smart for this. 
 
 62 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Margaret {appro achijjg). Father, dear, are you feeling 
 
 111? 
 
 Hopper {shortly). No. 
 Margaret. Can I do anything for you ? 
 Hopper. Yes ; don't bother me. 
 Margaret {reproachfully). Oh, father ! 
 Hopper. Mind your own business. 
 
 (Margaret begins to cry.) 
 
 Henry (aside, to Margaret). Don't cry, Margaret. 
 
 Uncle is greatly worried about something. Don't cry. 
 Margaret {crying). Yes, yes, he is worried. He does 
 
 not know what he is saying. 
 Henry. Come, I think we had better leave him. 
 
 {^Exeunt Margaret and Henry, l.) 
 
 Hopper. It's very strange that I have heard nothing. I 
 especially instructed Skinner to telegraph me the first 
 thing this morning, and to come out on an early train. 
 Perhaps he is waiting for a reply from Smith & Co. 
 They certainly must consent to extend my notes. It 
 
 will be to their advantage. If they refuse, then 
 
 {^Frantically.) Oh, this suspense will drive me crazy ! 
 Why doesn't he come? {Goes to window l. c. and 
 looks out — a pause — coines down C.) Everything seems 
 to be united to ruin me. Companies in which I have 
 largely invested are failing; interests and dividends 
 that I have counted upon have been passed ; and now 
 this strike in my carpet mills. What fools the men 
 are ! They prefer no wages rather than accept a reduc- 
 tion. Very well — let them starve ! {Goes to wifidow 
 L. c.) Why doesn't Skinner come? He has led me 
 deeper and deeper into these speculations, and now 
 that I am in over my depth, he leaves me to drown. 
 He doesn't appear to care whether I am ruined or not. 
 Why doesn't he keep me posted ? {Goes to table l. c.) 
 I'll telegraph him and learn the trouble. {Sits at the 
 table and opens a book of telegraph blanks. Uncon- 
 sciously knocks the duster, which Jerry left on the 
 table, into scrap basket right of table. Enter Jerry, c., 
 with telegram. Hopper, eagerly.) Well, what is it? 
 A telegram ? 
 
 63 
 
THE HECKONJNQ 
 
 Jerry. Yes, sir. 
 
 Hopper. Give it to me, quick ! 
 
 {Snatches telegram from Jerry and tears it open.') 
 
 Jerry (aside). I wonder where I put that duster? 
 Hopper (is about to read telegram^ but notices Jerry). 
 
 Well ! What are you standing there for ? 
 Jerry. I — I was wonderin* if (Hesitates.) Is there 
 
 an answer, sir? 
 Hopper (angrily). No, you idiot. 
 Jerry (scared). Y-yes, sir. (Aside.) He's crazy, 
 
 sure. 
 
 (Exity c.) 
 
 Hopper (reading telegratn and starting — with emotion). 
 What ! Smith & Co. refuse to extend the notes ! 
 (Tears the telegram into pieces. Litensely.) It will 
 ruin me ! By heaven, it will ruin me ! I aimed so 
 high ; I have struggled so hard for power and now — 
 now when success is almost within my grasp, it has 
 burst like a bubble. I shall be laughed at. My ac- 
 quaintances will shun me. Boys will point after me in 
 the street. (Vehemently.) Never! Never! {Opens 
 the table drawer — hesitates ; then closes the drawer.) 
 Were I but sure that there is nothing after death. I have 
 
 tried to believe so all my life, but now Bah ! I 
 
 am a coward. (Opens the table drawer and takes out 
 a revolver.) Why should I hesitate? (Takes a box 
 of cartridges from the table drawer and loads the re- 
 volver.) One should be sufficient ; but two will make 
 sure. I wish I could put the first shot into the brain 
 of the woman who has brought me to this. I have 
 risked everything for her sake. Fool that she has made 
 me ! I thought that by acquiring great wealth I could 
 compel her to love me, but she — curse her ! — she 
 spurned me as though I had been a dog. To-morrow 
 — where will I be to-morrow? My failure will be dis- 
 cussed in the exchange and on the street corners. 
 "Nicholas Hopper has failed." Failed! No: by 
 heaven ! not while there remains the slightest chance 
 of saving myself. I shall fight until every hope is gone, 
 and then — (pointiftg to the revolver) this will end all. 
 
 64 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 (Puts the revolver in the table drawer.') But what is 
 to be done? If I could pay Smith & Co. part of my 
 indebtedness, no doubt they would give me a couple 
 of months to raise the balance. {Sits at table l. c.) 
 Forty thousand dollars would settle two of the smaller 
 notes. Forty thousand dollars ! (^Leans his head 
 thoughtfully upon his hajid. Suddenly appears to be 
 struck with an idea, and springs to his feet.) Ah ! 
 Margaret's money ! Why haven't I thought of it be- 
 fore? But — but I have no right to touch that. Why 
 not? It is lying idle, locked up in the Depositors' 
 National Bank. She would not object. I will borrow 
 it — yes, and pay her interest. It is the only thing that 
 can save me. If I could use it — I shall ! Luckily it 
 is still entered in my name. (Searches for check book.) 
 I'll draw a check and take it to town by the next train. 
 Where is the book? (^Opejis the table drawer and 
 searches.) Perhaps it is in my room. (Goes R.) 
 I'll win the fight yet, and even should I chance to lose, 
 I have a medicine which will cure all my ills. 
 
 (Exit, R.) 
 
 (Enter Jerry, c. Cautiously.) 
 
 Jerry. He's not here — thank goodness ! I wonder where 
 that duster is? I was sure I dropped it on the table. 
 (As if struck with a sudden idea.) Gee Will ikens ! 
 Perhaps the gov'ner found it. I — I'd be afeared to 
 ask him — he'd make me swallow it. If only I knew 
 where he put it. Maybe — maybe it's in the table 
 drawer; but no, that ain't likely. You can't tell what 
 a crazy man would do with a duster, though. I — I've 
 got half a mind to look. (Looks out doors R. and L.) 
 Yes, I'll do it. (Tiptoes to table — stealthily opens the 
 draiver. Sees the revolver and springs back, fright- 
 ened.) A — a — a — gun 1 as sure as shootin' ! A genu- 
 ine gun ! (Carefully takes up revolver.) Loaded up 
 to the muzzle, too. (Examines it.) No, there's only 
 a couple o' shots in her. I reckon he guessed he'd 
 wing me with one an' finish me with t'other. But 
 he'll have to guess again. (Draws out cartridges and 
 pockets them.) I ain't a-goin* to let him do nothin'; 
 he'd be sorry for it. (Puts the revolver in drawer.) 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Hullo, a box of cartridges. I'll gobble them. (^Puts 
 box in pocket.) There. He can shoot all he's a mind 
 to, now. It won't hurt nobody. Well, dog me cats, 
 if there ain't my duster in the scrap basket. 
 
 (Stoops and takes the duster out of the basket. Enter 
 Hopper r., with check book.) 
 
 Hopper {sharply). What are you doing there, you 
 
 rascal ? 
 Jerry {frightefied). N-nothin', sir. (Hopper walks 
 
 rapidly toward table l. c.) By Jingo ! He's after 
 
 the gun. {Makes a dash toward c.) 
 
 {Enter McLain and Margaret, c. Jerry ru7is into 
 
 McLain.) 
 
 {Exit Jerry, c.) 
 
 Margaret. Father. 
 
 Hopper {turning — sharply). Well? What now? 
 
 McLain. Good-morning, Mr. Hopper. 
 
 Margaret. Father, Dr. McLain has come to — we thought 
 
 that — that you might wish to — to see him 
 
 Hopper. Eh ! 
 
 McLain. Mr. Hopper, I'm told you have had several 
 
 severe headaches lately 
 
 Hopper {sneeringly). Oh, they've told you that, have 
 
 they ? 
 McLain. Your sister and daughter sent for me, hoping 
 
 that I might be able to persuade you to undergo a 
 
 treatment 
 
 Hopper. Indeed ! Very kind in them, I'm sure. 
 McLain. You know, Mr. Hopper, that when the blood is 
 
 driven to the head in moments of excitement 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). There is danger of a vessel burst- 
 ing. I have heard all that before. 
 McLain. You do not seem to realize what the consequences 
 
 might be. 
 Hopper. Yes, I do. Death. 
 Margaret. Oh, father ! 
 
 McLain. If you wish the truth, Mr. Hopper 
 
 Hopper {interrupting — angrily). Do you think I wish a 
 
 lie ? You come here and attempt to frighten me with 
 
 66 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 your nonsense. You try to weaken the strength of my 
 
 will, and the activity of my mind at a time when I 
 
 need them the most. 
 Margaret. Oh, father, control yourself. 
 Hopper. You hope to bring me within your power by 
 
 your lies, so that you can enjoy a living at my expense. 
 McLain. Mr. Hopper, sir ! 
 Hopper [furiously). But you will never receive another 
 
 cent from me. Not one cent. You sneaking leech ! 
 McLain. Sir ! 
 Hopper. Now, go ! Go ! Do you hear ? 
 
 {Points to door c. ) 
 
 McLain. I do. And I shall never enter this house again. 
 Hopper. See that you don't. 
 
 {Exit McLain, c.) 
 
 Margaret. Oh, father, father ! {Cries.) 
 
 {Exit, c.) 
 
 {Enter Armstead, c. Hopper sits at table L. c. Without 
 perceiving Armstead, ) 
 
 Armstead. Good- morning, Mr. Hopper. 
 
 Hopper {turjiing). Oh, it's you. {Eagerly.) Well, 
 
 what do your friends say ? Have you the money ? 
 Armstead. No. 
 
 Hopper. Then what are you here for? 
 Armstead. To see you about another matter. 
 Hopper. I have no time this morning. I am going to the 
 
 city by the next train. 
 Armstead. The next train does not leave for an hour. 
 
 The business is of great importance, both to you, and 
 
 to 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). Be quick then. What is it? 
 Armstead. I made an appointment with — a — a resident 
 
 of your town to meet me here this morning 
 
 Hopper. He has not come. 
 
 Armstead {quietly). He's in the next room. 
 
 Hopper {snappishly). AVho is he? What does he wish 
 
 with me? Why don't you tell me your business in- 
 
 67 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 stead of being so mysterious? What's the man's 
 name ? 
 
 Armstead. Robert Andrews. 
 
 Hopper {surprised). Andrews! 
 
 Armstead. I understand he has been in your employ. 
 
 Hopper. Well ? What if he has ? 
 
 Armstead. You employed him to search for Mrs. Hender- 
 son's daughter who ran away from home ten years ago. 
 
 Hopper {agitated). It's false — and even if it were true, 
 what business is it of yours ? 
 
 Armstead. I will answer that later. You offered Andrews 
 the house where Mrs. Henderson lived upon condition 
 that he would search the premises and bring you any 
 papers he 
 
 Hopper {interrupting). He lies ! What would I wish 
 with any of Mrs. Henderson's rubbish ? 
 
 Armstead. Then you take no interest in the matter? 
 
 Hopper. No. Why should 1? 
 
 Armstead. I am sorry, for a paper has been found 
 
 Hopper {ititerrtipting — alarmed). Found! W-w hat pa- 
 per? 
 
 Armstead. A paper that will prove of considerable value 
 to Mrs. Henderson's heirs. It is an agreement John 
 Henderson made with 
 
 Hopper {interrupting — agitated). I — I never made such 
 an agreement. It's a forgery ! A scheme to extort 
 money from me. 
 
 Armstead {quietly). The courts can decide that question. 
 That this agreement is in existence upon paper, there 
 is no doubt. 
 
 Hopper. I do not believe it. 
 
 Armstead {going to c, calls). Andrews ! 
 
 {Enter Andrews, c.) 
 
 Armstead. Andrews, Mr, Hopper is inclined to doubt 
 that a paper was found in the house Mrs. Henderson 
 used to occupy. 
 
 Andrews. I — I found the paper myself, sir. 
 
 Hopper. His saying so proves nothing. 
 
 Armstead. I have the paper. 
 
 Hopper. Bah ! 
 
 Armstead. It bears your signature. 
 
 68 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Hopper. Eh ? A forgery, 
 
 Armstead. And the signature of a witness who still lives. 
 
 Hopper. What ? A — another forgery. 
 
 Armstead (^quietly). I also have another paper. (^Takes 
 paper from his pocket?) Here it is. This was found 
 at Mrs. Henderson's the day of her death. (Hopper 
 utters an exclaiiiatioii?) You tried to force her to 
 sign away her right to royalties under that agreenaent, 
 but she refused, and the handwriting on the paper bears 
 witness against you. You must confess, Mr. Hopper — 
 that 
 
 Hopper {inter ruptiiig). I confess nothing. This is a case 
 of blackmail, nothing more. You hope to frighten me 
 into purchasing these papers from you. Oh, you have 
 made your plans very prettily. Well, how much do 
 you want ? 
 
 Armstead. Nothing. We have come to see you that jus- 
 tice is done to Mrs. Henderson's daughter. 
 
 Hopper. Daughter ! {Laughs.) Why, man, she's dead 
 long ago. 
 
 Armstead. She is not only alive, but she is here in this 
 house. 
 
 Hopper {greatly agitated). It's a lie ! 
 
 Armstead {controlling himself). Andrews, will you 
 kindly call her? 
 
 Hopper. Mrs. Henderson's daughter ! What does this 
 mean, sir? 
 
 {Exit Andrews, c. ) 
 
 Armstead. Now, Mr. Hopper, you wish to know why 1 
 interest myself in what appears to be none of my busi- 
 ness. I will tell you. It is because Mrs. Henderson's 
 daughter is my friend, and I am her legal adviser. 
 She is no stranger to you. You will recognize her as 
 the lady upon whom you have forced your attentions. 
 
 Hopper. What ! Why, confound you, sir ! 
 
 {Threatens Armstead. Enter Mrs. K., c.) 
 
 Armstead. The woman you insulted in my house. 
 Hopper {perceiving Mrs. K.). Mrs. King ! 
 
 69 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 Armstead. Yes, Mrs. King, and the daugliter of the poor 
 woman you so cruelly wronged. (^A pause.) 
 
 Mrs. K. I do not come here as the woman whom you pro- 
 fessed to admire; nor as the woman whom I admit for 
 a time permitted your attentions. No, I am lieartily 
 ashamed of that woman. I come — not as May iving — 
 but simply as Mrs. Henderson's daughter. 
 
 Hopper {excitedly). So you — you have been deceiving 
 me? You — for whom 1 have risked fortune and repu- 
 tation. {Furiously.') Why — I — I could kill you. 
 
 (^Goes toward Mrs. K., l., threate?iingly.) 
 
 Armstead {stepping between Hopper aiid Mrs. K.). Con- 
 trol yourself, sir. 
 
 {Enter Skinner, c, out of breath.) 
 
 Hopper {perceiving Skinner — hurrying toward him). 
 What news? Why haven't you telegraphed? Quick ! 
 Why don't you answer? 
 
 Skinner. Smith & Co. are unloading all their cotton on 
 the market. 
 
 Hopper. What ! {Staggers to table l. c. Supports him- 
 self.) Let them ! So shall I ! But my notes? 
 
 Skinner. But — but your notes are due to-day. 
 
 Hopper {excited). Yes, yes. I know, I know. But I 
 can meet them — two of them, and they will extend the 
 others ; I am sure they will. Here's a check — a 
 check for fifty thousand dollars on the Depositors* 
 National 
 
 Skinner. Eh ? It is not worth a cent. 
 
 Hopper. What ! The bank hasn't — it hasn't 
 
 {Hesitates.) 
 
 Skinner. The Depositors' National has failed. 
 
 Hopper. Failed ! 
 
 Skinner. Right. 
 
 Hopper (intensely). Then I am ruined. 
 
 Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 
 
 Hopper {bursting into hysterical laughter). Ha — ha — ha 
 — ha — ruined ! Ha — ha — ha — ruined ! Not one cent 
 1 can call my own, ha — ha — ha — not one cent ! {Furi- 
 ously, to Mrs. K.) You — you vixen. 
 
 70 
 
THE RECKONING 
 
 Armstead (sternly). Mr. Hopper ! 
 
 Hopper (Jo Mrs. K.). You think to live to gloat over my 
 ruin — but you shall not. (Ope7is the table drawer and 
 takes out revolver.) You shall die ! (Aims revolver 
 at Mrs. K. and pulls the trigger. Mrs. K. screams. 
 Hopper utters an exclamatioti and pulls the trigger 
 again — theft, wild with rage, he raises the revolver to 
 hurl at her. Armstead aiid Skinner spring upon 
 him.) Let me go ! Let me go, I say. I'm no crimi- 
 nal. Let me go ! I have never wronged a human 
 being; I swear it. If I lie, then by heaven, may I 
 never speak again ! ( With a mighty effort he throivs 
 Armstead and Skinner aside aiid again raises the 
 revolver to hurl at Mrs. K. ) Oh ! my head ! {Lets 
 the revolver fall. Reels and is supported by Skinner.) 
 My head ! M-m-y-y 
 
 (Speaks incoherently and is supported by Skinner and 
 
 Armstead, l.) 
 
 (Exeunt Skinner and Hopper, l.) 
 
 Armstead (gravely). It is a stroke of paralysis. Heaven 
 has taken him at his word. 
 
 Mrs. K. (who has fallen on sofa down r.). What a fear- 
 ful judgment. And it's partly my fault. Yes, I have 
 tempted him to be untrue to all his better instincts. 
 
 (Sobs.) 
 
 Armstead (at her side). No; you were but a little fool- 
 ish. He was selfish and criminal. The fire of ambi- 
 tion burnt within him, and he fanned the flame into so 
 fierce a blaze that it consumed him. 
 
 Mrs. K. Oh, I — I cannot remain among my old acquaint- 
 ances. I must go away. 
 
 (Rises a fid crosses to L.) 
 
 Armstead. Why should you ? 
 
 Mrs. K. I feel that I cannot live where I shall meet 
 Margaret and her aunt. 
 
 Armstead. Yet they may need your assistance. You 
 have wealth — why not devote a portion of it to employ- 
 ing the people of this village who are now so greatly 
 
 7,1 
 
THE BECKONING 
 
 in need ? I — I — your friends do not wish you to go 
 away. 
 
 Mrs. K. {smiling sadly). My friends ? I fear I have but 
 one. You have proven yourself a true friend, and if 1 
 could thank you 
 
 Armstead (crossing to her, smiling). Why, I want no 
 thanks. May, I beUeve I know you belter than you 
 know yourself. You've been trying to spoil a noble 
 woman, and you can't. You can't. She will come 
 out in spite of you. 
 
 Mrs. K. You — you really believe in me, after all ? 
 
 Armstead. Believe in you? I have always believed in 
 the real you. Ah, May, <' Something the heart must 
 have to cherish, must love and joy and sorrow learn." 
 We have both known the sorrow. Let us have the 
 love and joy together. Shall we ? 
 
 {Holds out arms to her.) 
 
 Mrs. K. Yes — yes ! 
 
 {She goes to him, and he takes her in his arms.) 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 7« 
 
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