1066 
 
THE TRIPLE WEDDING; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE FORGIIS^G OF THE KIKG. 
 
 V r?^ - 
 
 A PLAT, DESIGNED FOB A SMALL COMPANY, 
 
 BY 
 / 
 
 CHARIiES ^ARl^ABD. 
 
 Address : 
 Care of " Tlie Century," 33 East 17th St. N. Y. 
 
 PS 1066 
 .B3 T7 
 1883 
 Copy 1 
 
 JUN 19 188; 
 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION ONLY 
 
.BaT? 
 
 Copyriglit, 1883, IDy Charles Barnari>. 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Theo, L. De ViNNB & Co. New Yobk, 
 
THE TRIPLE WEDDING; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE FORGING OF THE RING. 
 a play, designed for a small company. 
 
 By Charles Barnard. 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 Clara Sturgis— leading lady. 
 Slome; } -^e^' y^'^^'Ser sisters. 
 Monday Greenfield — a self-made man. 
 Theopulus Vesuvius Fogge — a lawyer from Australia. 
 Frederick Daudle — an unfledged author. 
 Ceifton Muddle— a would-be lawyer. 
 Servant. 
 
 SCENE. 
 The United States at the present time. 
 
ACT I 
 
 THE TKUST. 
 
 Scene. A plainly furnislied lodging-room in a city tene- 
 ment. Old talble and three cane-cliairs. Some coarse sew- 
 ing materials and lamp on table. Entrances first right and 
 left, and at hack. 
 
 TisiE. Night in winter. 
 
 \_Cu7'tain discovers Salome and Cecely Btvrqi^ seated 
 Jjy table sewing. Both plai^ily dressed.^ 
 
 Salome (wearily). Oh, I'm so tired. I hate pov- 
 erty. I 'd give anything or do anything to be rich. 
 
 Cecely. It is not much we can give. Nobody- 
 cares to marry a poor girl. 
 
 Salome (shivers as if cold). Get my shawl, deary. 
 It's dreadfully cold here. 
 
 Cecely. You forget, sister; we ate the shawl for 
 breakfast. Clara sold it yesterday, and the money 
 paid for our milk and oatmeal. It was a rather thin 
 diet, in spite of its origin. I called the oatmeal the 
 shawl, and the milk the trimmings. It was a pity you 
 had a square shawl, for the meal did n't go round. 
 
 Salome. What do you mean ? 
 
 Cecely. Why, sister Clara had no breakfast. 
 
 Salome. No breakfast — nothing to eat ? 
 
 Cecely. Not a thing. She pretended she was n't 
 hungry. She starved herself to help us. 
 
 Salome. Do you think Mr. Greenfield intends to 
 marry Clara? 
 
 Cecely (rises). I 'd die before I would marry a man 
 called Monday — or take in plain sewing, which is only 
 dying to slow music. (Earnestly. Takes stage.) Oh! 
 Everything is put together with a lock-stitch. I can't 
 unravel our seam. I can only sigh (sings). Sigh for 
 a man — sigh for a man 
 
 Salome. My love ! 
 
 Cecely (singing). Sigh for a man — sigh for a man- 
 sion and a carriage. 
 
\_Enter Clara at 'back. Appears pale and 
 weary. Very poorly dressed. 
 
 Salome (rising, tliroicing doivn her toorJc, and Mssmg 
 Clara). Oh, you precious sister — you little mother ! 
 To think you had no breakfast. 
 
 Clara. That was a small affair, deary. (Takes up 
 work.) Not done yet ? 
 
 Cecely. There are thirty-two more button-holes to 
 be made yet, and it's nearly eight o'clock. 
 
 Clara (dropping the ivork wearily). What does it 
 matter ? Four cents for a dozen button-holes. (Bit- 
 terly.) A dozen or two more or less will not help us 
 much ? Dearies ! The end has come. This is the 
 worst pass we have come to since father and mother 
 died. I paid all I could on account of the rent to-day, 
 and this is our last night here. I have sold every- 
 thing. No. There is your mother's portrait in the 
 next room. I shall sell that to-morrow, and then 
 (pause). 
 
 Salome. I do wish our case could be laid before a 
 jury. 
 
 Cecely (to Salome). Too much law has made you 
 mad, Salome. Better think less of Mr. Muddle and 
 more of our position. He does n't mean anything. 
 He will never marry a poor girl. 
 
 Salome (with spirit). You needn't edit me, Cecely 
 Sturgis. I dare say your Mr. Daudle's intentions are 
 like his books — not published yet. 
 
 Clara. Oh, girls ! How can you ! Neither of the 
 young men who call on you are able to marry, and I 
 sometimes have grave doubts of their sincerity. 
 
 Salome and Cecely (indignant). Oh ! Oh! 
 
 lEnter slatternly servant at right. 
 
 Servant (laying cards on table). Two men to see 
 yez. \_Exit Servant B. 
 
 Clara (reading cards). Mr. Dandle and Mr. Green- 
 field. (Bleased.) My dears, the natural man has a 
 
weakness for good clothes. I go to put on sucli gor- 
 geous raiment as my poverty permits. lExit left. 
 
 Salome (inspecting Jier dress — to Cecely). Do you 
 think that darned place in my skirt will show ? 
 
 C'EC'ETuY (horrified). Oh! Oh! 
 
 Salome. Mercy ! What have I done ? 
 
 Cecely (laughs). Nothing, you dear innocent. 
 The natural depravity of the English language is too 
 much for you — that 's all. llSxit bad'. 
 
 Salome. The spiteful thing! She prides herself 
 on her language just because her lover wants to be 
 an author. I would like to see the thing laid before 
 a jury. IJExit hade. 
 
 lEnter Daudle and Greenfield at right. 
 
 Daudle. Literature, sir, is one of the noblest of 
 the professions. I mean to follow it as a business. 
 It elevates the mind, clears the heart, and softens 
 the head. 
 
 Greenfield. How comes on your new book? 
 
 Daudle. Well, you see, I have not yet decided on 
 the style in which I shall write. There is the diffu- 
 sive-didactic style, and the closely-connected-collo- 
 quial style. Which do you prefer ? 
 
 Greenfield. A man who means business makes 
 his own style. 
 
 Daudle. That 's just what Miss Cecely says. She 
 said to me yesterday that, if she (meaning me) had 
 anything to say, she would say it. 
 
 Greenfield. Then I wonder she (I mean you) 
 don't. It seems to me you are playing a rather sorry 
 game here in calling on these girls when you cannot 
 marry either of them. 
 
 Daudle (offended). Indeed, sir, and may I inquire 
 what are your intentions concerning these poor girls? 
 
 Greenfield. I 'm glad you put it that way. They 
 are poor and I 'm well off. I hope to marry one of 
 
them — if she will accept so poor and imfortunate a 
 man as I. 
 
 Daudle. Your style is paradoxical, at any rate. 
 
 Greenfield. No doubt. I '11 make it clear. They 
 call me Monday Greenfield. I have no other name. 
 I was horn of a Drab, on a fi'osty Monday morning in 
 the Greenfield Asylum. I got the name in derision. 
 I never saw my father or mother. I have an old 
 d-dgMeweotype (takes out 2}ictu re). There it is. (Shotvs 
 it to Daudle.) That is supposed to be my father. 
 The picture was found sewed into the bosom of my 
 mother's dress. 
 
 Daudle (looking at picture). It looks like Ceeely. 
 
 Greenfield (takes picture and looks at it). I never 
 noticed it before. There is a suggestion of her ex- 
 pression. Quite accidental, of course. (Puts it 
 mvay. Takes out letter.) There is part of an old 
 letter, also found among my mother's effects. No 
 name signed, but it appears to be written by the man 
 who ruined my mother. (Puts it away.) I keep 
 it safe. I 'm looking for that man. Now, I put it to 
 you. Have I a right, with all my wealth, to seek any 
 girl's hand ? 
 
 Daudle. Yes ; you worked your way up from the 
 orphan asylum. Any woman would be glad to marry 
 the richest mill-owner in town. 
 
 Greenfield. But not Monday Greenfield — the waif. 
 
 lEnter Clara at left. Partly clianged dress.'] 
 
 Clara (hows to Daudle, and takes Greenfield's 
 hand). Good-evening, gentlemen. (To Greenfield.) 
 I'm very glad you have come. (To Daudle.) Salome 
 and Ceeely are in the next room, sewing, Mr. Daudle. 
 Will you find your way to them ? 
 
 Daudle (moves up). Thank you. I came to see 
 Miss Ceeely. \_Exit hack. 
 
 Clara (to Greenfield). Have you learned any- 
 thing more about these young gentlemen ? 
 
8 
 
 Greenfield. I hear they have no visible means 
 of support, and depend wholly on their parents. 
 They are not bad or vicious, but merely idle and 
 selfish. 
 
 Clara. I 'm glad it is no worse. However, it makes 
 no difference. To-morrow we shall move, and they 
 will not follow us. 
 
 Greenfield. Why must you give up this comfort- 
 able flat ? 
 
 Clara. Because I cannot pay the rent. 
 
 Greenfield (takes her ann). Now, Clara, this has 
 gone far enough. It is time we understood each 
 other. You know my history ? 
 
 Clara. I know it well enough to respect you, sir. . 
 
 Greenfield (earnestly). Eespect! Can you give 
 me nothing more than respect, Clara ? 
 
 \_Enter Servant altruptly, followed hy Fogge 
 atB. 
 
 Servant (to Fogge.) That's Miss Sturgis, mis- 
 ter. It 's lucky you came to-night, for she has got to 
 clear out to-morrow. lExit Servant. 
 
 Fogge. Beg pardon! Any party named Sturgis 
 live here ? 
 
 Greenfield (presenting Clara.) This is Miss 
 Sturgis, sir. Can we be of service ? 
 
 Fogge (staring at Clara. Aside). Found at last. 
 CTo Clara.) You have your Uncle's nose. Impor- 
 tant point in the case. Your father's name was John ? 
 Your mother was a Mann ? 
 
 Clara. My mother's name was Anna Elizabeth 
 Mann. Mann with two n's. 
 
 Fogge (takes off things and sits). Just so. I'm glad 
 of it. Excuse me if I take a chair. I 've traveled 
 fifteen thousand miles, and broke my leg, and been 
 shipwrecked on a desert island for six months, and 
 all for the sake of seeing you. I call it deep devotion. 
 
 Greenfield. It is, sir. We rather admire it, and 
 
9 
 
 will be glad to tell you so wlien you inform us who 
 you are. 
 
 FOGGE (aside). Lovers ! They '11 be married within 
 a week when they hear the news. (Direct.) That is 
 important, I admit. I am Theopulus Vesuvius Fogge, 
 Attorney-at-Law, Melbourne, Australia. I knew your 
 uncle, Miss. Tough customer. We called him the 
 American savage. Bless your soul ! good at heart — 
 good as gold. Had it, too, in plenty. Made it in 
 sheep. 
 
 Clara. Are you from my uncle, Edward Mann, — 
 my mother's only brother ? I hope he is well ? 
 
 Fogge. Yes, Miss ; he is well — that is, he is better 
 off than ever before. He 's dead. 
 
 Clara (surprised). Dead. 
 
 Fogge. Yes, Miss — quite comfortably dead. 
 
 Greenfield. Excuse me, sir; but your manner of 
 stating the fact is a trifle roagh. 
 
 Fogge. Dare say. Dare say. My client was rough. 
 Such fellows generally do the graceful thing by dy- 
 ing. I did not love him ; but I agreed to do my duty. 
 He instructed me, the day he died (he died in his 
 boots), to come to America, and find you and give 
 you his property — a little matter of fifty thousand 
 pounds — and here I am. The money is in trust — 
 for his son. 
 
 Clara. His son, sir? I never knew Uncle was 
 married, much less that I had a cousin. 
 
 Fogge (rises). To make the story short, this money 
 is in trust for the boy till the first of next June. If 
 you fail to find him by noon of that day, the money is 
 all yours. I 've been more than a year coming half 
 round the world to find you. If you will call one of 
 your servants to show me the way to the hotel, I '11 
 get the proper dociiments. 
 
 Greenfield. I '11 go with you to the hotel, sir. 
 
 Clara (to Greenfield). Thank you, Monday. 
 That was kind in vou. 
 la 
 
10 
 
 FoGGE. Monday ! What a queer name ! 
 
 Clara (presenU Greenfield). Allow me to present 
 my friend, Mr. Monday Greenfield. He will return 
 with you ; and if there are any business matters to be 
 arranged, he will represent me in them. (Green- 
 field turns to speak to Clara.) 
 
 FoGGE (aside). I knew they were lovers ! (To 
 Greenfield.) I 'm ready, Mr. Sunday. (To Clara.) 
 We shall return in a few moments. 
 
 Clara. I shall be here with my sisters. 
 
 FoGGE. Are there sisters? 
 
 Greenfield. Miss Sturgis has two younger sisters. 
 
 FoGGE. The American savage never mentioned 
 them. I dare say they were born after he left home. 
 Have 'em out. I 'd like to see how they stand the 
 shocking news I bring. Fifty thousand pounds and 
 a lost boy. [Exit Fogge and Greenfield right. 
 
 Clara (solus). Thank Heaven ! It is not too late. 
 Now that our poverty is at an end I feel its sting. 
 Poor Uncle ! He led a sad, wild life, but he made 
 amends at the end. He must have repented. If he 
 has left a child, it shall be found. 
 
 [Enter Salome at hacJc. 
 
 Salome (comes down — Utterly). 1 hate it. I hate 
 it. Oh, sister, why are we so poor? Mr. Dandle 
 made fun of my darned skirt. 
 
 Clara (kisses Mr). Bless you, deary; we are not 
 so dreadfully poor. 
 
 Salome. Anyway, you went without breakfast this 
 morning. 
 
 Clara. I never did like oatmeal. (Embraces her.) 
 Oh, you little simpleton ! Can't you see how happy 
 I am. Behave with dignity now, while I give you 
 some dreadful news. Your poor — no, your rich Uncle 
 in Australia is dead. 
 
 Salome. Mother's brother, vfho ran away ? 
 
11 
 
 Clara. Yes. He died more than a year ago, and 
 a man has been here who says Uncle left lae a large 
 estate in trust for his son — our coiisin. 
 
 Salome. Is n't to be all yonr own ? 
 
 Clara. I believe not. It is for the son ; but now 
 that we have one lo^"ing relative, we can go to him, 
 and he will helj) us find a place where we can earn a 
 living. 
 
 Salome (disappointed). Earn a li\dng! I don't 
 want to earn a living. I want a nice house and a 
 carriage, and all that. I think Uncle behaved shame- 
 fully, and I do wish it could be laid before a jury. 
 
 IJEntcr Servant at B. 
 
 Servant. Mr. Muddle, to see the ladies. 
 
 I Exit Servant. 
 Clara (to Salome). Here 's your judge at any rate. 
 
 \_Enter Mr. Muddle at right. 
 
 Muddle (comes down). Good evening, ladies. (To 
 Salome.) Glad to see you, Salome. 
 
 Salome. Oh, Clifton, such jolly news. Uncle has 
 died — I never knew him, you know — and left Clara 
 a lot of money. 
 
 Muddle (pleased). Indeed ! I congratulate you. 
 Have you the legal documents here ? 
 
 Clara (to Muddle). Salome is a trifle hasty, Mr. 
 Muddle. The property is all in trust. 
 
 Muddle (dejected). Ah, that 's bad — very bad. 
 (Offers card to Clara.) Take my card. Miss Sturgis. 
 You may need the advice of a legal friend. 
 
 IJEuter Servant, ivho holds the door open F. 
 
 Clara (to Muddle). Thank you, sir. I have al- 
 ready secured an attorney. Here comes my Uncle's 
 representative. 
 
 lEnter Greenfield and Fogge. Exit Serv- 
 ant «i right. 
 
12 
 
 FoGQE (comes to table and takes out papers — others 
 gather round, — speaks to Clara). This thing is very 
 plain. There is your Uncle's will, in his own hand- 
 writing. By this document, the sum of fifty thousand 
 pounds is to be paid to you for his son. With this 
 provision : if you do not find the boy by noon of the 
 first day of June, you are to keep all the money. Of 
 course, you are to use all due diligence in searching 
 for the child. 
 
 Clara. I will do my best, you may be sure. 
 
 FoGGE. If the boy is found, he is to pay you for 
 your trouble. Your Uncle died a year ago. He 
 thought, I suppose, I should find you within two 
 months, and that would give time for the search. 
 But I slipped and fell, and was laid up three months 
 with a broken leg. When I did start, the steamer lost 
 her screw and drifted about in a dead calm till she 
 ran ashore on a desert island. We spent six months 
 on that island, living chiefly on oysters in all styles, 
 till a ship picked us up and set me down in San Fran- 
 cisco, and here I am with the trust nearly run out. 
 I suppose we need no further proof that you are the 
 right Clara Sturgis ? 
 
 Clara. Oh, now I think of it, my mother and 
 my Uncle were twins, and much alike. I have my 
 mother's portrait in the next room. Suppose you 
 look at it ! 
 
 FoGGE (7'ises and leaves papers on table). G-ood 
 idea ! Let 's see if she looks like the savage as I saw 
 him on his ranch. 
 
 Clara (moves up). Come this way. 
 
 \^Exit Clara at hade, followed by FoGGE, 
 Salome, and Greenfield. 
 
 Muddle (I'mgering behind and slyly looking at papers 
 on table). It 's the biggest thing out. (Tries to read 
 papers). Can't make head or tail of it. (Lays paper 
 down). I suppose it 's all straight. Eather fancy 
 I 'm in for a good thing. 
 
13 
 
 lEeenter Greenfield at hack with daguerre- 
 otype in his hand, much excited in manner. 
 Does not observe Muddle. 
 MvDDhE (aside). CJtw<?mY7 Greenfield). Hallo! 
 Wliat's up ? Mr. Monday been drinking? 
 
 \_Exit slyly at hacJc. 
 Greenfield. (Solus). I knew it in an instant. 
 The two portraits are as near alike as a man and 
 •woman can be. Ah, the letter! the letter! (Puts 
 away picture and hastily pulls out letter and compares 
 it with handwriting of will on tahle). It is the same. 
 Every letter is alike. Edward Mann. Edward Mann. 
 Not a bad name, after all. Ah I Then I 've found the 
 scoundrel. I am the son — the property is mine. 
 And Clara — my Clara — Cousin Clara. Poor old 
 father. I can forgive him now. Cousin Clara — m.y 
 Clara — my wife. Ah, here comes the young vam- 
 pires. They smell the money already. {Moves to side). 
 
 \_Entcr Muddle and Daudle at hacJc. 
 
 Daudle. What shall you do now ? 
 
 Muddle. Sail in, of course. 
 
 Daudle. So shall I. Half a dollar to one cent 
 that I '11 be engaged first. 
 
 Muddle. Taken. (Sees Greenfield. Aside.) Look 
 out ! That old cat is on hand. He '11 have the whole 
 boodle, if we don't look sharp. 
 
 Daudle. Oh, I see him ! Darn him ! 
 
 IBeenter Clara, Fogge, Salome, and Cecely. 
 
 FoGGE (comes down to tahle). There is nothing 
 more to be done, but to sign the preliminary papers. 
 Ah! Wait a bit. There is one matter on which I 
 must seek legal advice. 
 
 Muddle (confidently). Perhaps I can help you 
 I am a lawyer. 
 
 Fogge (looks at him suspiciously). Ah ! Glad to 
 meet you, sir. It 's only a trifling affair, and I hardly 
 like to trouble you. 
 
14 
 
 Clara ( presents Muddle j. This is Mr. Muddle, a 
 friend of the family. I dare say lie can help you. 
 
 FoGGE. Ah, thaiike. (To Muddle J. Do legal pa- 
 pers have to be stamped in this country ? 
 
 Muddle. No ; I believe not. Yes. On the whole, I 
 think they do. 
 
 FoGGE. You don't know, sir. You 're no lawyer at all. 
 
 Greenfield. No stamps will be required. 
 
 FoGGE. Ah, thanke, (To Clara.) You solemnly 
 promise to faithfully caiTy out the requirements of 
 this testament, and to diligently search for the lost 
 child? 
 
 Clara. I do. ('To Greenfield.) You will help me, 
 will you not ? With your aid, the boy can be found 
 and restored to his own. 
 
 Greenfield. (Hesitating.) It is just possible the 
 boy does not care for his own. 
 
 FoGGE (to Greenfield J. Don't be a fool, man. 
 The poor little devil may be dying to find this pretty 
 girl with a pot full of money. Of course, you will 
 assist in hunting up the little wretch. 
 
 Greenfield. It will be useless. The boy will never 
 be found. 
 
 [Curtain. End of Act I.] 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 THE SEARCH. 
 
 Scene. A country boarding-liouse. Room opening at back 
 on piazza with view of garden. Eoom neatly furnished. 
 Table at center covered with papers. Doors open at hack. 
 Entrances first, right, and left and hack. 
 
 Time. First of June, in the morning. 
 
 ICurtain discovers Clara at table looking over papers. 
 Her hat on table near dy. Summer dress. ] 
 Clara. Where can the wretched youngster be ? 
 
 He's a most troublesome child. I cannot find him. 
 
15 
 
 Inquii-ies, advertisements, detectives, everything in 
 vain. (Takes up old letter.) Here is the only clew. 
 She lived in this village at one time. The records of 
 the village church tell me she was married here — 
 and perhaps she died here. 
 
 \_Enter Salome at hack in ivalking suit. 
 
 Salome. Why do yon worry over those wretched 
 papers ? Yon would drag us up to this poky place, 
 and what have you found ? 
 
 Clara. I have found that Uncle really married the 
 boy's mother, and that is something. 
 
 S^iOME. You have n't found the boy. Mr. Green- 
 field was right. He said you would never find him ; 
 and to-day is the first of June. 
 
 Clara. It makes no difference. I shall not give up 
 the search. While I live, I shall think of the money 
 as his. 
 
 Salome (comes nearer). Mr. Muddle is coming to- 
 day, deary ; and he wants me to say when it shall be, 
 and I Ve turned and turned my things until they are 
 quite worn out. 
 
 Clara. I cannot help you, sister. Mr. Greenfield 
 and Mr. Fogge both said I might use some of the 
 money for our support while we kept up the search. 
 I can give you no more money. 
 
 Salome (angry). You 're a little goose, Clara. Don't 
 I tell you Mr. Muddle says the money will be legally 
 yours to-day ? 
 
 Clara. I shall never think of the money as mine 
 till I find the boy or his grave. 
 
 Salome (takes stage, angry). You're a — a hateful 
 thing (begins to cry). Mr. Muddle will soon be here, 
 and you know my hat is — is perfectly — perfectly 
 disgraceful. You 're perfectly heartless and selfish 
 — you know my blue serge is — I declare I 've no 
 patience with your finiky notions about duty, and all 
 that rubbish. 
 
16 
 
 Clara. I dare say not, Salome. You see every- 
 tlung now through legal glasses. I fear, my love, 
 they are a trifle smoky. 
 
 Salome (at door at left). Oh, you — you spiteful 
 thing. Ah, I wish it only could be laid before a jury. 
 
 lExit in a pet at left. 
 
 Clara (sadly — sits, and taJces tip papers). Money is 
 decidedly a bitter root. It has brought the first quar- 
 rel between sisters. Oh, Salome, if the money was 
 rightfully mine, you should share the last dollar. 
 (Pauses.) Why did I not think of that before ? If 
 she died here, she may be buried here (takes up hat, 
 as if to go out). Perhaps the sleepers on the hill can 
 tell. I will go and sit among them. If she sleeps 
 there, she may hear me. She must have loved the 
 boy. She must know where he is now. It's just pos- 
 sible she will whisper something in silence to my 
 heart (moves uj)). 
 
 \_Enter Cecely at right. Summer suit. 
 
 Cecely. Oh, Clara! Clara! wait a moment. Mr. 
 Dandle will be here in a few minutes. I have just 
 time to run over to the village store. I really ought 
 to have a new sash. 
 
 Clara. I have no money, deary. The expenses of 
 the search have been so great that we really must 
 economize. 
 
 Cecely. Why, Mr. Dandle says all the money will 
 be yours to-day. 
 
 Clara. I shall not take it. I shall insist on Mr. 
 Greenfield or Mr. Fogge as trustees of the property. 
 I shall only take enough to live upon till I can find 
 something to do. 
 
 Cecely (angry). You're — a little fool, Clara. 
 
 Clara. Sister! 
 
 Cecely. I don't care. You're enough to try a saint, 
 and I hate you. {^Exit right, slamming the door. 
 
 Clara. Poor girls ! It is hard for them to be de- 
 
17 
 
 nied everything. Now I will speak — in silence — ta 
 the poor sleeper on the hill. lExit lack. 
 
 IJEnter Daudle and Muddle at left in travel- 
 ing suits. 
 
 Daudle. I congratulate you, my boy. This is the 
 last day, and I am glad of it — so is my tailor. The 
 fact is, there is nothing quite so soothing to the finer 
 instincts of my nature as a little ready money. 
 
 Muddle. Yes, sir. The legal aspect of the world 
 is greatly improved by a good financial backing. 
 What do you think she will do for us ? 
 
 Daudle. Oh, she 's a good girl and loves her sisters 
 — and so do we. Should n't wonder if she divided 
 the whole plum on the spot. 
 
 Muddle. Thirds ! Give 'em thirds ! I never knew 
 how dear my Salome had become to me. 
 
 Daudle. Well, my Cecely is rather precious, you 
 may bet your bottom dollar. She 's a noble girl — 
 sweet-tempered, amiable, and — three into fifty thou- 
 sand — one and carry two — sixteen thousand pounds. 
 
 Muddle. A little matter of eighty thousand dol- 
 lars more or less, if that rascally mill-owner does not 
 put in his oar. 
 
 Daudle. Never you fear him. His mother had no 
 name. He does not dare to offer himself, with all his 
 money. 
 
 \_Enter Cecely at right. 
 
 Cecely (to Daudle). Oh, Frederick! I'm so glad 
 you have come. I 've such dreadful news. (To 
 Muddle. ) Morning, Mr. Muddle ; Salome will be 
 here soon. (To Daudle.) Just think, Clara refuses 
 to touch the money. 
 
 Muddle. She must. It is legally hers, and she 
 must be forced to take it. 
 
 Daudle, This will never do. Where is she ? We 
 must appeal to the nobler instincts of her nature. 
 
18 
 
 Slie lias a soft head and a clear heart. She will not 
 turn a cold ear to oiir despairing cry 
 
 Cecely. Oh, Freddy ! You have such a delightfully 
 liquid style. You'll be sure to move her. Let us 
 find her at once. 
 
 Muddle. I fancy, if the legal aspects of the ease 
 are laid before her, she will at once consent to divide. 
 
 Cecely. Divide? Divide what? (To Daudle.) 
 "What does he mean ? 
 
 Daudle (to Cecely). Never mind, dearest. 
 Where's your sister? (Aside to Muddle.) Don't 
 be a fool and a lawyer, too. 
 
 Cecely (moves tq)). She 's taken her hat. I dare 
 say she 's in the garden. Lot 's go find her. 
 
 Daudle (to Cecely). You mustn't mind what Clif- 
 ton says. He has an acute legal mind, but he has no 
 command of style. When we meet Clara, let me do 
 the talking. 
 
 lExit all at hack. 
 
 lEnter Greenfield and Fogge in traveling 
 suits at left. 
 
 Greenfield. You understand my wishes in the 
 matter ? 
 
 Fogge. Perfectly, sir. The money is to be paid 
 to the young lady according to the terms of your fa- 
 ther's will just as if the boy had not been found. I 'm 
 sure it is very creditable in you, sir. I wish the old 
 savage could have lived to see his son. Your mother 
 must have come of good stock, sir. 
 
 Greenfield. We will not speak of her now. I 
 fear she was more sinned against than sinning. 
 (Looks off.) Ah! here comes Miss Sturgis, just in 
 time. 
 
 lEnter Clara at right. 
 
 Clara (to Greenfield;. Oh, Mr. Greenfield. I 'm 
 very glad you have come. I have important news 
 
19 
 
 for you. (To Fogge). Good-morning, sir. Yon, too, 
 will be interested in the matter. I have one more 
 clew about the lost child. 
 
 Fogge. Just the way! A woman always finds 
 something to upset the best laid plans. Have you 
 found the poor little devil ? 
 
 Clara. No ; only his mother's grave. 
 
 Greenfield (surprised). Her gTave ! My mother ! 
 (Trying to recover himself.) Excuse me. I was think- 
 ing of my own mother. 
 
 Clara. You know I came up here because I learned 
 from my father's papers that poor Uncle lived here at 
 one time. 
 
 Greenfield. I'm glad you came. I was born in 
 this village. 
 
 Clara. Then you know the little cemetery on the 
 hill. I found an old gardener at work there. He 
 remembered my aunt and pointed out her grave. 
 There is a stone there half hid in the grass, and on it 
 are her initials, but no date. 
 
 Fogge. Then the American savage was not quite a 
 brute after all. 
 
 Clara. No, my Uncle was an honorable man. Lis- 
 ten; I searched the register in the village church, 
 and I found 
 
 Greenfield (excited). ^Tiat did you find? 
 
 Clara. The date of her marriage. (Greenfield 
 sits by table overcome ivitli emotion.) (Clara con- 
 cerned.) Oh, Mr. Greenfield, pardon me ; pardon me. 
 It was unkind in me to trouble you with these sad 
 things. Of course, you sympathize with the poor 
 woman. I am glad for the boy's sake that the blot 
 on his mother's name is cleared away. I feel now 
 that I care more than ever for him. 
 
 Fogge (to Clara). Never you mind him. Miss. 
 It 's a fearfully hot day, and on the way up we had 
 some — some lemonade — it always affects him. It 
 flew to his head. He can't stand such things — the 
 sugar was too strong. 
 
20 
 
 Greenfield (rises with mi effort). It is nothing 
 serious. I am perfectly well. I am very happy now — 
 more happy than ever before in my life. Come ! 
 Where are your pretty sisters ? Call them both. We 
 need their smiles upon our business meeting. 
 
 Clara (moves up). They may be in the garden. 
 I '11 call them. \_Exit at back. 
 
 Greenfield (to Fogge). You must pardon me, 
 sir ; I never knew before that my mother was mar- 
 ried. I never knew before where she slept. (Moves 
 nj).) I must go and see the place. 
 
 Fogge (going after him). No, stay here. The vult- 
 ures are gathered to the feast. The callow lawyer 
 and the unfledged author are coming. (Speaks off.) 
 Welcome, my gentle lovers ! I fear you will find two 
 can play at that game. 
 
 Greenfield. How so ? 
 
 Fogge (aside to Greenfield). What prevents you 
 now from marrying Miss Clara ? Good, straightfor- 
 ward girl. Said she cared for the boy, and you are 
 the boy. 
 
 lEnter Clara, followed hij Daudle and Cece- 
 LY and Muddle and Salome. Clara 
 to center. Daudle and Cecely to right. 
 Muddle and Salome to left. Just here 
 the village clock outside strikes twelve. 
 
 Fogge. There she goes. Twelve o'clock — first day 
 of June and my duty's done. I 'm glad you found 
 your sisters, Miss Sturgis. We must have plenty of 
 witnesses when the plot against your happiness is 
 unfolded. 
 
 Daudle (aside). What the devil does the fellow 
 mean? 
 
 Fogge (takes out papers). The time is up and we 
 will proceed to business. According to the terms of 
 your Uncle's will the money is now yours. (Daudle 
 and Muddle secretly elated. Salome and Cecely 
 openhj pleased.) 
 
21 
 
 Clara. Oh, no, no ! I cannot take it ; it belongs to 
 my cousin. I shall some day find him, and then what 
 can I say if I have spent his property ? 
 
 FoGGE. He would have no legal claim on you. I 
 dare say the old savage guessed the boy would never 
 be found. (Muddle nods approval.) If he is anything 
 like his father, he has made a fortime of his own by 
 this time. 
 
 Clara (to Greenfield). What do you think ? 
 Shall I ever find him ? 
 
 Greenfield. It seems hopeless. I fear the boy 
 will never be found. (Muddle and Daudle urge 
 Salome and Cecely to go to Clara. ) 
 
 Salome (crosses to Clara). Take it, deary. Why 
 should you care for this unknown cousin ? 
 
 Clara. But I do care for him. I have thought of 
 him day and night, and wished I might find him. 
 Poor, forlorn, little boy! I have begun to love him. 
 
 (Greenfield drops his liandkerchief or cane with 
 an exclamation, and Fogge coughs signifi- 
 cantly.) 
 
 Fogge (aside). Lucky dog ! (Cecely crosses to 
 Clara, and urges her to take the money hy signs.) 
 
 Greenfield". I think you may take the "property. 
 If ever your cousin should want money, you can help 
 him to the full extent of your generosity. 
 
 Clara. Then I will accept. Must I sign any 
 papers ? 
 
 FoQQ-E (offering 2mper). Yes ; sign here. (Clara 
 signs papers and then moves up and speals to her sis- 
 ters. Daudle shakes hands with her and then crosses 
 to left, near Muddle. Shakes hands ivith him. Fogge 
 folds up papers.) 
 
 \_Enter Servant at right. 
 
 Servant (offers letter). Telegram for Mr. Green- 
 field. (Gives it to Greenfield and then exit B.) 
 
 Greenfield (reads tele Jf am). Oh! this is too bad — 
 too bad. 
 
22 
 
 Clara. What has happened, sir ? Have you lost 
 anything ? 
 
 GrREENFiELD. I was thinking of my work-people. 
 There are over three hundred of them depending on 
 my mill for a living. The mill was burned down last 
 night. (To FoGGE, aside.) I suppose I must use a 
 part of the money at once to help my workmen. 
 
 FoGGE (surprised, aside to G.) Part of the money, 
 sir? 
 
 Greenfield (aside to F.). Why, yes. Part of my 
 inheritance. I have n't a dollar now in the world. 
 (Clara and sisters deeply concerned.) 
 
 Daudle (elated. Aside to M.). The fellow is pretty 
 badly winged. 
 
 Muddle (aside to D.). I 'm devilish glad of it. 
 
 FoGGE (to Greenfield). It is too late. She has 
 signed the papers. She has your money. 
 
 Curtain. End of Act II. 
 
 ACT ni. 
 
 the wedding. 
 
 Scene. A wedding reception room. Time : Mglit. En- 
 trances first right and left and at back. Piano, if convenient. 
 Ricli furniture. Gas lamp on table. Gas bracket on wall 
 that can be easily unscrewed. Coals in liod at fire-place. 
 
 ICurtain discovers Cecely and Salome dressed as 
 hrides. Song may he introduced here dy one of the 
 ladies, if desired."] 
 
 (After song.) Salome (talcing stage and admiring 
 her dress). There is something perfectly delicious in 
 a train. 
 
 Cecely (admiring her dress). A little real satin 
 goes a great way to make life endurable. Do you 
 
23 
 
 think that ridiculous lawyer from Australia will 
 come? 
 
 Salome. I 'm more concerned about Clifton. IVe 
 a haunting suspicion he wont come. I 'm sure if 
 there is a time when a man is really wanted it is at 
 his wedding. 
 
 Cecely (studying her dress). I'm so glad the ma- 
 terial will turn. It will make a good street dress a 
 year from now, if poor Daudle's book should fail. 
 
 Salome. Oh, I don't bother about money. Clara 
 will take care of us. (Lool^s off, B.) Oh ! here come 
 the grooms. (Enter Daudle and Muddle, dressed as 
 grooms, at rig tit.) 
 
 Daudle. The occasion is auspicious. I hear some 
 of the guests are beginning to arrive. 1 feel I ought 
 to write a poem on it. 
 
 Cecely (taJces Ms arm). No, sir; none of your 
 poems just now, if you please. You '11 be mooning 
 round the house, tearing your hair for a rhjTue and 
 nobody will be able to find you. Marriage is prose, 
 and you had better attend to me and let styles go. 
 
 Muddle (to Daudle). She 's got the law on you, 
 my boy. Better keep quiet. 
 
 Salome (to Muddle). No special pleading just 
 now. The judge is in the next room and the jury are 
 beginning to assemble. You are up for sentence. 
 
 Daudle. Suppose we go and see the presents. 
 
 Salome. Yes, do ; I 'm dying to see what Clara 
 means to give. She said it would be only paper. 
 
 Muddle (to Salome). It 's a check, my love. 
 Nothing so soothing in the world as a good check. 
 
 Salome. I '11 have to check you, sir. Poor, dear 
 Clara will be left here all forlorn, and I do believe 
 she will half beggar herself to help us. 
 
 {Exit all left, laughing and merry. 
 {Enter Fogge at B., in ill-fitting suit. 
 
 FoGGE. I 'd rather face the American savage any 
 
24 
 
 day. You know where to find Mm — but a woman 
 
 (pulling at his coat). It 's the toughest affair I ever got 
 into. The plaintiff — I mean the coat — is too small. 
 No, sir; there is nothing small about the plaintiff. 
 He is too liberal — and if — if the tailor could be 
 quietly hung, it would be better for all concerned. 
 If the defendant was not a woman. (Looks off, back.) 
 Here she comes. Poor devil. He meant well — I 
 mean the tailor. 
 
 [_Enter Clara, in evening dress, at hach 
 
 Clara (offering her hand). This is an unexpected 
 pleasure, Mr. Fogge. I thought you intended to sail 
 for home a week ago. I 'm glad to welcome you to 
 our double wedding. 
 
 'Foggy:, (fussing with his coat). Thanke, Miss. I'm 
 happy to be here — that is as happy as a man can be 
 with a painful — painful sense of the fitness of things. 
 
 No, I mean the want of fitness. It is a painful 
 
 (pulls at coat and it rips). There ! Now I'm serene. 
 As serene as a man can be with bad — bad news. 
 
 C'LAB. A. (alarmed). What has happened, sir ? Oh, 
 you have news fi'om the boy ? 
 
 Fogge. You Ve said it. Plaguey rough, miserable 
 news. Oh, I wish he had never been born. Excuse 
 me — I meant my tailor. The fact is, Miss Sturgis, 
 I have found the boy. (Clara sits, overcome with 
 alarm.) Bear up, my dear young lady. You must 
 bear up. I assure you the boy is not like his father. 
 He is more concerned about you than you need be 
 about him. 
 
 Clara. Tell me about him. Is he poor? Is he 
 suffering for anything? Poor child. He need not 
 fear me. 
 
 Fogge. Oh, I don't think he does. 
 
 Clara. I will send a carriage for him as soon as 
 the wedding is over. Poor boy. I hope he has good 
 warm clothes this cold weather. 
 
25 
 
 FOGGE (aside). Poor little devil — in a dress-suit. 
 (Direct.) I 've an idea. Why not send for him now ? 
 He 's not far away, and I 'm sure he would be greatly 
 pleased to see his cousins married. 
 
 Clara (rises). Yes, do. Take a carriage at once, 
 and bring him here. Bring him right to me. Oh, 
 I 'm so glad we have found him. Is he a bright boy 
 — a handsome, manly little fellow? I feel I could 
 take him right into my arms and kiss him. 
 
 FoGGE (aside). Just what the poor devil would 
 like. (Direct.) I 'm sm^e, Miss, this does you the 
 greatest credit. I'll go for the — the heir at once. 
 We '11 soon be here. (Moves to R.) Keep the supper 
 warm for us. 
 
 Clara. Everything shall wait till you return. Stay 
 a moment. You know why I took the money. Tell 
 him I shall return it all. Tell him I have searched 
 for him, and welcome him. Tell him — no, bring 
 him to me. I '11 tell him all myself . 
 
 FoGGE. That 's the best way. He is a noble, gener- 
 ous fellow, and I really believe he loves you already^ 
 
 Clara. Oh, I'm very glad. I shall love him dearly. 
 
 FoGGE (aside). I 've done it this time. (Direct.) 
 Ask the bridal parties to wait. It will do 'em good 
 to meditate on the situation. [^Exit Fogge at right. 
 
 Clara (solus). Poor girls. I hope they -will not be 
 disappointed. (Takes out two checks.) I 'm very 
 glad I did not give them the presents. The money 
 rightfully belongs to the boy, and he shall have it. 
 Sisters are all right. They have their husbands, and 
 I can easily earn a living (puts checks in pocket). 
 
 [Enter Daudle and Cecely and Muddle and 
 Salome at hack, talking and laughing to- 
 gether. 
 
 Cecely (to Clara). Oh, Clara, the guests are ar- 
 riving in crowds. I never knew we had so many 
 friends in the world. 
 
26 
 
 Si*>LOME. I 'm sure, when we lived in the Harlem 
 flats not a soul ever came near ns. 
 
 Clara. I fear, dearies, we shall have to delay mat- 
 ters for a few moments. There is one guest who has 
 not arrived, and we cannot go on without him. 
 
 Cecely (to Clara). I 'm sure, sister, we need not 
 wait for Mr. Greenfield. Frederick says he never 
 goes out now that he has lost his money. 
 
 Clara. I do not expect Mr. Greenfield, though he 
 has been invited to come. He is too busy earning an 
 honest living. The expected guest is your cousin. 
 
 Salome (surprised). Oh, impossible ! 
 
 Cecely (startled). Well, I never! 
 
 Daudle (alarmed). Not the lost child ? 
 
 Clara. The lost boy and heir of all the property. 
 
 Muddle. I can't see how he can have the face to 
 appear here. He has n't a shadow of claim on the 
 money. The servants should be instructed 
 
 Clara (interrupts Mm). The servants will welcome 
 him, Mr. Muddle, whether he has a right to the money 
 or not. He is my cousin, and I shall give him the 
 money as soon as he asks for it. ('To Salome.) Sa- 
 lome, come with me to the supper-room. Everything 
 must wait. (To Cecely.) Cecely, you and Mr. Dau- 
 dle may remain here till we return. 
 
 lExit Clara, followed hy Salome and Muddle, 
 both miserable, at bade. 
 
 Daudle. Well, now. I — I — really, I don't see how 
 we can go on. 
 
 Cecely (sliarply). What ? 
 
 Daudle. Now, Cecely Sturgis, you need n't take 
 me up in that style. It 's not my fault that the mis- 
 erable wretch of a boy has been found. 
 
 Cecely. Why, who said it was ? He 's my cousin, 
 and I dare say he 's a very good little boy. I dare 
 say he knows better than to insinuate such dreadful 
 things. 
 
27 
 
 Daudle. I liardly know how to express myself 
 ■under these trying circumstances. 
 
 Cecely (angry, and hegining to cry). For mercy's 
 sake, Mr. Daudle, what are you talking about? It 
 will soon be over, and you said only a few moments 
 ago that you enjoyed being married. 
 
 Daudle. Oh ! bother style. Can't you see, Cecely, 
 if this wretched child has been found, he will claim 
 all the money, and Clara, like a fool 
 
 Cecely (very angry). Like a what, sir ? 
 
 Daudle (meeldy). Like a good girl, will give it to 
 him, and then wliat shall we do ? 
 
 Cecely. Do ? Be married and go to housekeeping. 
 
 Daudle. Housekeeping ! Oh, Lord ! I have n't a 
 cent. I thought you — no — Clara — would do the 
 handsome thing. 
 
 Cecely. You mean you can't support me, and you 
 want to back out ? 
 
 Daudle (in despair). That's it, Cecely. 
 
 Cecely. Well, sir, you can't back out. The min- 
 ister is here, and we must go on — if it kills us. (In 
 changed manner.) Have n't you a single dollar in 
 your pocket ? 
 
 Daudle. Oh, of course I 've got something. About 
 two hundred dollars, to pay the minister and our 
 wedding-trip. 
 
 Cecely. Give the minister ten. I'll ask Clara to 
 let us stay here to-night, — I never did approve of 
 wedding-trips, — and to-morrow we'll take what you 
 have left and hire a cheap flat up-town and get a few 
 things. You can write for the papers and I keep 
 house and do the marketing. 
 
 Daudle (pleased). No, I '11 do the marketing. Of 
 course, we'll put out the washing. 
 
 Cecely. Yes, we '11 put out the washing and I '11 do 
 the cooking and make the 
 
 Daudle (embracing Jwr). Oh, Cecely, what a treas- 
 ure you are ! How could I think of leaving you ? 
 
28 
 
 Cecelt (pushing Mm off and hrusJiing dress). Don't 
 crusli me. It 's a lovely material, and I shall take off 
 tlie trimmings and use it for a street dress. It will 
 turn beautifully, and I'll make it over for a house 
 dress for next year. We can get a brass-mounted — 
 oh, and I know where to get the kitchen things very 
 cheap. 
 
 Daudle (kisses lier). We shall be very happy, my 
 love. 
 
 Cecely. Oh, very — particularly if we get a brass- 
 finished (Sees ^K-LOME, entering.) Oh 
 
 \^Enter Salome, crying bitterly, at back. 
 
 Salom'E (crying). Oh! Oh! 
 
 Cecely. Mercy, Salome ! What is the matter ? 
 Have you torn your dress ? 
 
 Salome. Oh, Clifton says — says he — he can't — 
 can't support — can't support me. Oh, dear ! 
 
 Daudle. This is infamous. You must appeal to 
 the law, and sue him for breach of promise. 
 
 Salome. Oh, no ; I could n't — I woidd n't submit 
 it to a jury for the world. 
 
 \_I^nter Muddle, at back, disgusted. 
 
 Cecely (to Daudle). My love, let us go see Clara 
 about that matter. (To Salome.) Tell him you love 
 him, you little goose. 
 
 \_Exit Cecely and Daudle at right, 
 
 Salome (sobbing, to Muddle). You're a — mean- 
 spirited thing, and I hate you. All you wanted was 
 Clara's money. 
 
 Muddle. I confess. Miss Salome, I did hope Clara 
 would do something. 
 
 Salome. I think it would be more creditable if you 
 did something yourself. 
 
 Muddle. I'm not quite a fool, Salome. I can earn 
 something if I must, but it will be very hard — very 
 hard. 
 
29 
 
 Salome. Can't you give up cigars and your span 
 and your club ? 
 
 Muddle. Oh, come now ! You 're hard on a fellow. 
 
 Salome. It's no harder on you than on me. I have 
 n't a dollar, but I can work. I can make my own 
 dresses and copy your law papers — do anything. 
 
 Muddle (earnestly). Can you make plain cake ? 
 
 Salome. I can make bread, sir. I can go without 
 cake and be happy. Beside, I can broil a steak to a 
 turn. 
 
 Muddle (Idsses her). What a treasure you are, my 
 love. I thought you wanted to board. 
 
 Salome. I hate boarding. Housekeeping is much 
 cheaper, beside a boarding-house is horrid for 
 children. 
 
 [Enter Cecely at right. 
 
 Cecely. Oh, Salome ; the parlor is just packed. 
 Clara says we must go to the library at once and be 
 ready to go on. Oh, Mr. Muddle, Fred and I are going 
 to housekeeping. Is n't it jolly ? Fred says he is 
 twice a man already. 
 
 Salome (takes Muddle's arm). Just what Clifton 
 thinks. We don't care a penny for the money. Come, 
 it 's time to take the fatal leap, and good-bye to girl- 
 hood forever. (Exit all at right.) 
 
 [Enter Clara at dacTc. 
 
 CIjAR A (solus). I am sick with apprehension. K the 
 child should prove to be some half-starved, ill-bred 
 youngster, I should die with mortification. (Looks at 
 ivatch.) 1 hope they will come soon. I can't keep the 
 people waiting much longer. 
 
 [Eriter Greenfield in dress suit atleft^ 
 
 Greenfield (offers hand to Clara). Good-evening, 
 Miss Sturgis. I trust I am not too late ? 
 Clara (eagerly). Oh, Mr. Greenfield; I 'm very 
 
30 
 
 glad you have come. I have most important news. 
 The boy has been found. Mr. Fogge is to bring him 
 here. I have delayed the wedding till he arrives. 
 
 Greenfield (quite cool.) And how does the news 
 affect you ? 
 
 Clara. Oh ! I do not care. I 'm glad the trust is 
 over. (Shows cliecks.) See, there are two checks; 
 each for a third of the property. I meant to give them 
 to my sisters as a wedding present. Poor girls ; I 'm 
 sorry for them. (Gives Mm checks.) You take them. 
 Keep them for the boy. I want you to be his guardian. 
 
 Greenfield (tal{es checks). I'd be delighted to take 
 care of the little fellow. I 'm quite accustomed to that 
 sort of thing. 
 
 Clara. What are you doing now ? It seems so long 
 since we met. 
 
 Greenfield (twisting up checlcs). Oh, I'm all right 
 now. I Ve just come into a very good property. 
 
 Clara. Why, take care ; you '11 ruin those cheeks, 
 and they are valuable. 
 
 Greenfield (kisses checks). Yes, quite precious; 
 and I 'm glad of it, for they enable me to say that I 
 have long wished you to be my wife. I am no longer 
 the waif from the asylum. 
 
 Clara. Oh, Monday! you know I always loved you; 
 only this wretched business came between us. 
 
 Greenfield (kisses her). No, it has brought us 
 together. 
 
 [_Enter Mr. Muddle at right, fishing in his pock- 
 ets in great distress. Looks about on floor. 
 
 Muddle (to others). Have you seen it anywhere ? 
 
 Clara. Seen what ? Have you lost anything ? 
 
 Muddle. Yes ; it 's most awkward. I 've lost the ring. 
 
 Clara. Perhaps we can wait while you run out and 
 buy another. 
 
 Muddle. Buy another ! (Aside) 1 have n't a cent 
 with me. (Searches all his xjockeis more vigorously.) 
 I don't know what I shall do ! 
 
V. 
 
 31 
 
 Greenfield (pulling off his finger ring and holding 
 it in the gas flame). Perhaps I can help you. 
 
 Clara. Oh, Mr. Greenfield, you have spoiled that 
 beautiful ring. 
 
 Greenfield. That 's all right. Look lively, Mr. 
 Muddle. Bring me a coal from the hod. (Takes off 
 the glass of the table lamp, and runs to bracket on wall 
 and twists off the fixture by unscrewing it.) Here we 
 are, a blow-pipe and a forge. Give me the coal. 
 (Takes coal and lays ring in it and uses gas-pipe bracket 
 for blow-pipe.) Where there 's a will there 's a way. 
 I'll forge a ring for the bride. (Blows through the 
 pipe and melts the gold. Suddenly drops the bracket 
 and pinches the ring together. To Clara.) Your hand ; 
 let me try it on your finger. (Clara offers her hand 
 and he slips the ring on her finger.) 
 
 Clara (pulling at ring). Oh, it burns. It wont 
 come off. I can't get it off. 
 
 Muddle (suddenly hopping into the air ivith a cry, 
 and then sitting and pulling off his shoe and taking out 
 ring). I've found it. 
 
 Clara (xmlling at ring). It wont come off at all. 
 
 [Enter Daudle and Salome and Cecelt at 
 right. 
 
 Salome (to Clara). Sister, Mr. Fogge has arrived. 
 He 's coming upstairs. 
 
 Clara. Oh, then, the boy has come. Dear sisters 
 and brothers, before you go let me present you my 
 future husband. (Both couples boic rather indifferently.) 
 
 lEnter Fogge at left. 
 
 Clara (surprised). Why, where is the boy? I 
 hope he can come. 
 
 Fogge (pretending surprise). I sent him up to you. 
 Have n't you seen him ? 
 
 Clara. Sent him here ? 
 
 Fogge (presenting Greenfield). My dear young 
 lady, this is the boy. 
 
 I 
 
32 
 
 Clara. Oh, my cousin (laughs). I was expecting a 
 child. 
 
 FoGGE. And find a husband. Oh ! you young folks 
 think you are so sly. Think I did n't see it all the 
 time. I congratulate you both with all my dusty old 
 heart. 
 
 Cecely. Eeally, Clara; we ought to go on. The 
 people will wonder what can be the matter. 
 
 Greenfield. Wait a moment ; I have a duty to the 
 brides. (Gives each a check). There 's a trifle from 
 your cousin to assist you in setting up housekeeping. 
 
 Daudle. I hardly know in what style to thank you, 
 sir. 
 
 Greenfield. Oh, never mind style. A man who 
 means business makes his own style. 
 
 Muddle (to Greenfield). The legal complications 
 of the case make it difficult for me — for me 
 
 FoGGE (interrupting). Is your marriage certificate 
 stamped, my son ? 
 
 Muddle. Stamped and sealed with love, sir. 
 
 FoGGE. Well turned, my son. You 're more of a 
 man than a lawyer. (To others.) Why, bless me! I 
 was invited to a double wedding. Why not make it a 
 triple wedding? 
 
 Clara. Oh, no, no ! I could n't think of it. I have 
 not the right dress nor — the ring. Yes (kisses her 
 hand). I have a ring — but I can't get it off. Perhaps 
 it 's a good sign. C To Greenfield.) Edward, what 
 will the people say ? 
 
 Greenfield. The folks will say it 's perfectly 
 sweet in you. 
 
 Clara (pulls at ring). It wont come off. "Never 
 mind. (Takes GreenfieWs arm.) All 's well that 
 ends in a ring. 
 
 FoGGE. Fall in for the procession. Strike up the 
 music. Wedding march. 
 
 TABLEAr — 
 
 Curtain. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 n 
 
 016 211 434 7 
 
/