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NO PLAYS EXCHANGED. 
 
 DAMER'5 CDITIoN 
 
 or PL7\Y3 
 
 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Price, 25 Cents 
 
 eoPYRiaHT, iea»» by waltkr h. bakbn 4 e» 
 

 THE AMAZONS ^^^^^ ^ Three Acts. Seven males, ive xemaies. 
 Costumes, modem ; scenery, not difficult- Plays 
 a full eTening. 
 
 THE CABINET MINISTER Farcem Four Acts. Tenmaie..mne 
 
 females. Costumes, modern, society 5 
 Bcenei yj three interiors. Plays a full evening, 
 
 DANDY DICK •^*''°® ^ Three Acts. Seven males, four temaies. 
 Costumes, modem ; scenery, two interiors. Playf 
 two hours and a half. 
 
 THE fiAY LORD OUEX ^^'"^^^y ^ ^°^ ^'^^^' ^'^^^ maiee ten 
 
 ^ females. Costumes, modem ; scenery, 
 
 two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. 
 
 HIS HOUSE IN ORDER Comedy in Four ActSc Nine males, fortr 
 
 females. Costumes, modern ; sceneiy^^ 
 three interiors. Plays a full evening. 
 
 THE HOBBY HORSE ^<^"^^*^y ^ Three Acts. Ten males, five 
 
 females. Costumes, modern ; scenery easy. 
 Plays two hours and a half. 
 
 IRIS ^^^^^ ^ Five Acts. Seven males, seven females. Costumes, 
 modem ; scenery j, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 
 
 LADY BOUNTIFUL ^^^ ^ "^ '^ '^®*^^* ^^^^^ males^ seven fe- 
 
 males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, four in- 
 teriors, not easy Piays a full evening. 
 
 I FTTY ^'"^'™* *^ Four Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, live fe- 
 males. Costumes, modem ; scenery complicated. Plays a 
 full evening; 
 
 Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
 
 l^alter ^. TBafeer & Company 
 
 No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 
 
 ^ m^ ' 
 
The Country Doctor 
 
 A Comedy Drama in Four Acts 
 
 By 
 ARTHUR LEWIS TUBES 
 
 an 
 
 Author of ''^Valley Farm^'' '-''The Country Minister" 
 The Village Schoolmaam;' ^HVillowdale^'' 
 The Penalty of Pride ^' "^ Double Decep- 
 tion^'' ^''Through the Keyhole ^^ etc. 
 
 
 Notice to Professionals 
 
 This play is published for the free use of amateur players and or- 
 ganizations only. Professional actors or companies producing it in 
 any form or under any title, without the permission of the author, 
 who may be addressed in care of the publishers, will be prosecuted to 
 the full extent of the law. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 
 1910 
 
^U /3 (T^ 
 
 The Country Doctor 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Thomas Britton, M. D., the village doctor, 
 
 Howard Wayne, /// love with Dolly. 
 
 'Squire Ferguson, the sheriff. 
 
 Sam Birch, proprietor of the hotel. 
 
 Zebediah Bunn, who hangs around. 
 
 Eri, thaf s all. 
 
 Ben Shaw, the stage-driver. 
 
 Agnes Gilbert, shadowed by fate. 
 
 Dolly Britton, the doctor' s sister. 
 
 Susan Pinner, his housekeeper. 
 
 Mrs. Birch, Sa?n's wife. 
 
 Anna Belle Umstead, with aspirations. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 Act I. — Office of the American House, Elmville, N. Y., 
 about nine o'clock on an evening in January. 
 
 Act II. — Dr. Britton's residence, a morning early in the 
 next June. 
 
 Act III. — The same, in the evening, a week later. 
 
 Act IV. — Same as Act I, the next morning. 
 
 Copyright, 1910, by ARTHUR LEWIS TUBBS 
 
 Free for amateur performance. Professional 
 stage-right reserved 
 
 CLD l>2165 
 
COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS 
 
 Thomas Britton. A good-looking man of thirty or there- 
 abouts, of marked refinement and intelligence. In first act he 
 wears a dark winter suit, ulster, cap, gloves, etc. Act II, well- 
 made and tasty summer business suit. Act III, dark evening 
 suit, or full dress. Act IV, similar to, or same as. Act II. 
 
 Howard Wayne. A handsome, energetic young fellow, of 
 about twenty-five. Natural, good-natured and likeable. Natty 
 summer suits ni Acts II and IV; in Act III, black sack suit 
 or evening clothes. 
 
 'Squire Ferguson. A portly, substantial and businesslike 
 man ; rather stern in appearance and maniTer, but not wholly 
 unsympathetic. He is plainly but well dressed. Not a ''jay " 
 type. 
 
 Sa]\i Birch. A busy, bustling man of fifty- five or sixty ; some- 
 what countrified, but by no means a " Rube." Rather under 
 the influence of his capable wife. He wears cheap, but neat 
 and substantial suits, appropriate to the season. 
 
 Zebediah Bunn. Low comedy "country" character, but 
 not to be exaggerated or made too ridiculous. A natural vil- 
 lage type, tall, lanky and ''green"; the typical country hotel 
 lounger. Cheap winter suit in first act, with much-worn over- 
 coat, caps with ear-lappers, tippet, etc. Act III, his dress-up 
 clothes, a cheap, ready-made and ill-fitting suit, with paper 
 collar and gay necktie. Act IV, similar to suit in first act, but 
 of lighter material. 
 
 Eri. a darky character part. May be either boy or young 
 man. Shows signs of laziness; good-natured and easy-going. 
 Clothes suitable to his position and the season, in first and 
 fourth acts. Act III, black suit, suggesting the uniform of a 
 colored waiter or butler. 
 
 Agnes Gilbert.. A woman of about twfenty-five, beautiful, 
 cultured and of winning personality and manner. In first act 
 she wears a winter traveling dress, with hat and wraps, of 
 good material, but not elaborate. Act II, nice summer cos- 
 tume, not too fancy, with hat. Act III, an elegant summer 
 evening gown, not extravagant. Act IV, plain summer dress 
 of dark material, with hat. 
 
 Dolly Britton. About eighteen years of age, pretty, win- 
 some and a bit '* flighty," but entirely unaffected. Act II, 
 
 h 
 
4 COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS 
 
 dainty summer costume, with hat. Act III, handsome summer 
 evening gown, not over-elaborate. Act IV, similar to Act II. 
 
 Susan Pinner. Thirty- five to forty years of age, prim, 
 stern, and of a self-satisfied, self-righteous air. Plain of face, 
 hair smoothly brushed back. Act II, plain dark house dress. 
 Act HI, another dark dress, just a little more dressy, with rib- 
 bon or brooch at neck ; hair slightly waved or crimped. Act 
 IV, same as Act II, with small, modestly trimmed hat. She 
 should appear severe aiid unyielding in speech, manner and 
 deportment. 
 
 Mrs. Birch. A busy, bustling woman, of outspoken and 
 somewhat brusque manner, but sympathetic and likeable withal. 
 Act I, winter house dress, of dark material. Act II, plain sum- 
 mer costume, with small hat or bonnet. Act III, her best 
 dress, of some rather gay material, with one or two fancy rib- 
 bons, a large gold breastpin, earrings, etc. Act IV, plain 
 calico or gingham dress. 
 
 Anna Belle Umstead. A rather attractive but uncouth 
 girl of about nineteen, discontented and not very agreeable, 
 owing to her idea that she is unappreciated. Attempts to as- 
 sume a manner above her station and intelligence, and suc- 
 ceeds only in appearing ridiculous. Act I, cheap dress of 
 heavy, dark material ; head done up in large cloth or towel. 
 Act III, very much overdressed, in a gay costume of rather 
 cheap material; sash, ribbons, cheap jewelry, etc. Act IV, 
 calico dress, with white or gingham apron — not the fancy cos- 
 tume of the usual stage '' maid." 
 
 Man in first act, bundled up beyond recognition. Name 
 not in cast. 
 
 Time of Playing : — About two hours and a half. 
 
 PROPERTIES 
 
 Old hotel *' register." Small coal or wood stove, if possible. 
 Box of sawdust. Torn paper and salt, to represent snow. 
 Small bottle, wrapped up. Doctor's small medicine case. 
 Letter or piece of paper and lead pencil. Large bunch of roses. 
 Shears. Small package, securely tied up. Books, newspaper, 
 bric-a-brac, etc. Extra coat (Dr. Britton's). Glass of water. 
 Floral decorations, for Act III, if desired. Dishes with ice- 
 cream, or, if more convenient, glasses of lemonade. Pieces of 
 cake. Tray. Play-book. Hand-bag. Lady's umbrella. 
 
The Country Doctor 
 
 SCENE. — Office of the Central House, Elmville, N. Y., about 
 nine o^ clock on an evening m January. The setting repre- 
 se?its the public room of a SDiall country tavern. There is a 
 short counter, with an old hotel register, etc., up r. ; if con- 
 venient, a zuood or coal stove ; box containing sawdust, for 
 cuspidor ; chairs, etc. Door in flat, c, ivindow L. c. At 
 rise of curtain, Sam Birch is discovered standing behind 
 counter, leaning over. Zebediah Bunn is tilted back in 
 chair, l., smoking a pipe and snoozing. 
 
 Sam (^going and looking out of door, ivhich lie opens a crack ; 
 the wind whistles and there is a gli?npse of whirling snoiv). 
 Whew ! Regular blizzard. Guess the stage must o' got 
 snowed in. 
 
 Zeb. (rousifig and looking lazily toward windoia). Reckon 
 'tis. 'Twouldn't take much of a blizzard t' stall them old nags 
 o' Ben Shaw's. Been on the road sence the year one. 'T 
 time is it? 
 
 Sam. 'Most nine o'clock, 'n' he's due 't eight. (^The door 
 opens quickly and Eri hurries in. He is very much bundled 
 up, with tippet, etc. / slams door and rushes to stove. ^ Hey, 
 there, Eri, don't slam the house down. 
 
 Eri. Cold — brrr ! [Shakes. He carries a small bottle, 
 wrapped up.) Mos' friz m' nose off. 
 
 Sam. Where y' been? 
 
 Eri. Down t' the store t' git some toothache drops f r Anna 
 Belle. 
 
 Zeb. She got the toothache ? 
 
 Eri. Reckon she has, 'r she wouldn't want no toothache 
 drops. T'ink she's want 'em fr a sore heel? 
 
 Enter Mrs. Birch, r. She rushes to window or door ; looks 
 out. 
 
 Mrs. B. Ain't that stage in yet? 
 Sam. Nope. Guess mebbe it's snowed 
 
 m. 
 
D THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Mrs. B. Well, I wouldn't wonder if 'twas. I s'pose I got 
 t* set up 'n' see 'f they's anybuddy comes, Anna Belle's got 
 such a toothache. Eri, 'd you get them drops ? 
 
 Eri. Yass'm. Here they be. (^Gives the bottle to her. ^ 
 
 Mrs. B. Why didn't you bring 'em in? I hope you don't 
 think they'll cure her toothache 'f you stand here with 'em. 
 She's 'most crazy. {^Hurries off R.) 
 
 Sam. Al'ays somethin' ails that girl. 'F 'tain' tnothin' else, 
 it's aspirations. She's that romantical 
 
 Zeb. Is she? Got the rheumatiz m'self. 
 
 Sam. I said ro-mantical. Read s' many o' them novel 
 book 's all, 't she's got all sorts o' hifalut'n notions. 'N' as 
 f r fashion papers, she spends half her time lookin' up the 
 styles. 
 
 Eri. Yass'r, Anna Belle, she's mahty stylish. (^U'?ibuttons 
 coat.) Ain't s' cold's Ah was. Guess Ah'U go t' bed. 
 
 Sam. I guess you won't, not till that stage gits in. May 
 have t' build up the kitchen fire 'n' git supper f'r somebuddy. 
 You wait 'n' see. 
 
 Eri (r.). Yass'r. Ho, hum, hope it's gwine come purt' 
 quick, 'case Ah's pow'ful sleepy. {Yawns and exits, r.) 
 
 Zeb. (rising slowly, buttotiitig up coat, as if preparing to go). 
 Lazy, ain't he ? 
 
 Sam (c). Lazy ain't no name for it. If ten dollar gold 
 pieces grew in p'tater hills, he'd be too shif'less t' dig 'em up. 
 I've seen others, though, 'twa'n't much more ambitious. 
 
 Zeb. D' y' mean me, Sam Birch ? 
 
 Sam. I ain't mentionin' names, but coats 't fit c'n be put on. 
 
 Zeb. Oh, they kin ? Wal, it seems t' me, b'fore I'd insult 
 one o' m' best customers 
 
 (Hurries on with cap, tippet, etc.) 
 
 Sam. Y' needn't get riled, Zeb; I didn't mean anything. 
 (There is a slight commotion off c, cries of ** Whoa .^ " etc.) 
 There's the stage. 
 
 (Goes and opens door, letting in a flurry of snow.) 
 
 Zeb. (going and looking out of wi/idow). Yep, 'tis. 
 
 Sam (closing door, going to r., calling off). Mari', here's 
 the stage ! Eri ! En ! tell Mis' Birch the stage's in. (Goes 
 and again opens door, admits Ben Shaw, who is niufffed up 171 
 heavy ulster, etc., covered with snow.) Hello, Ben. Late, 
 ain't y' ? 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 7 
 
 Ben. 1 sliould say so; 'most an hour. Couldn't get through. 
 Worst snow we've liad this winter, 'n' the drifts are something 
 fierce, (jot some folks for you. 
 
 Sam. ihat so? How many ? 
 
 Ben. Two. Man and woman. He's sick. Better send 
 for the doctor. 
 
 Sam. Bad as that? (^«/<?r Eri, r.) Eri, you run for Dr. 
 Brit ton. 
 
 Eri. Fo' de doctah ?. 'N all de cold ? 
 
 Sam. Sure, 'n' hurry up about it, too. 
 
 Eri. Yass'r, 'f x\h don't get friz. \^Exit, R. 
 
 Ben. Come on, and help 'em in. 
 
 (Ben and Sam go out c. ; Zeb. looks out window or door.) 
 
 Enter Mrs. B., r. 
 
 Mrs. B. Eri says some folks 've come. Wonder who 'tis. 
 
 Zeb. D' know. Man 'n' woman, Ben Shaw says. Sick 
 man. 
 
 Mrs. B. Dear me, you don't say. Sick! I'll have t' have 
 Eri build up a fire in the parlor. {^Goes r.) 
 
 Zeb. He's got t' go for the doctor. 
 
 Mrs. B. Wal, then Anna Belle'll have t' help, for all the 
 toothache. Mebbe she'll f'rgit it. {^Bustles off r.) 
 
 {There is something of a conwiotioji off c, as Sam eiiterSy 
 accompanied by Agnes Gilbert. Betiueen them they are 
 assisting a 7nan ivho is muffled up bey 07id recognition. He 
 is very weak, scarcely able to walk, and is practically held 
 up by the other two, one on either side. They cross stage 
 carefully and go off r. u. e., sloivly, just as Eri, 7vearing 
 coat, hat, etc., enters r. i y.., followed by Mrs. B. Eri 
 stops to look at the strangers, but is urged off c, by Mrs. 
 B., who the7i follows the others off ^. u. e. Zeb. stands 
 L., looking on curiously.) 
 
 Enter r., Anna Belle Umstead. She has an old shaiv I about 
 her ; her hair is awry, and her face tied up ivith a large 
 white cloth or towel. 
 
 Anna. Who's come? {Holds her face, with a tvoful ex- 
 pressio7i of great pain. ^ Oh ! — Ow ! 
 ' Zeb. Some folks. 
 
 Anna. Didn't think 'twas cattle. Makin' me stay up, 
 
8 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 with such a toothache ! 1 just can't stand it ! (Si'/s R. c, 
 /wMs her face J rocks back and for th.^ Who are they? 
 
 Zeb. D' know. Man 'n' woman. He's sick. Ain't it no 
 better ? 
 
 Anna. No, it ain't. Those drops haven't helped it a bit. 
 {Rises. ^ Guess I'll go to bed. 
 
 Zeb. Mis' Birch said you'd have t' help, if they want any- 
 thing, 'f you have got the toothache. Eri's gone after the doc- 
 tor. Mebbe he can give y' somethin' t' ease it. 
 
 Anna. 'F he don't, I can't do any work, I don't care who's 
 come. Ow ! I guess I've got some feelings, if I am only a 
 hired girl — slave, I call it. With my talent, too. I could go 
 on the stage — — 
 
 Zeb. Sure. Ben Shaw 'd give you a lift. 
 
 Anna. Huh ! Not that kind o' stage, you gump. I mean 
 act. 
 
 Zeb. Oh ! play actin' ? I've heard 'tain't respectable. 
 
 Anna. Huh ! I guess 'tis, — as respectable as washing 
 dishes and making beds in a one-horse hotel. 
 
 Zeb. Thought Sam had a team. 
 
 Anna. You think you're awful smart, don't you? {RiseSy 
 puts on a grand air.) I feel it in me that I am des-tined to be 
 a great actress. I am dying to play Camill. 
 
 {She pronounces it '^jnill.^^) 
 
 Zeb. Wal, they 'xpect the doctor every minute. Mebbe 
 'tain't hopeless. 
 
 Anna. Oh, that grand scene where she promises to give up 
 
 Armund, and fairly tears her heart out {Her tooth gives 
 
 a suddeji twinge.^) Oh, — ow ! 
 
 Zeb. Guess you'd better git the dentist t' yank your tooth 
 out. 
 
 Anna {recovering). Then when he flings the money in her 
 face, so {With an extravagant gesture.) 
 
 Zeb. Gee! he must 'a' been a rich guy ! Did she ketch it? 
 
 Anna. And she turns pale 
 
 Zeb. Kicks the bucket ? 
 
 Anna. And falls in a dead faint 
 
 Zeb. Thought she was dead already? 
 
 Anna. And in the last act, dying with consumption 
 
 Zeb. Say, how many lives she got? 
 
 Anna. She cries out, '* Ar-raund ! Ar-mund ! " 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 9 
 
 Zeb. He was a heartless cuss, wasn't he — not t' come 'n' 
 see her when she was dyin' vvilh the toothache? Mebbe he 
 threw all he had in her face, that time, 'n' didn't have the car- 
 fare, 
 
 Anna (^paying no attention to his remarks, for the moment 
 forgetting her toothache and acti?ig in a melodramatic manner^. 
 And then — when he came — at last — it was too late 
 
 Zeb. Now, wa'n't that a pity? 
 
 Anna. And with one last cry of despair, mingled with rap- 
 ture at the sight of his face, flinging herself into his arms — — 
 
 {She falls into chair, pretending to die ; her tooth jumps, 
 and with a cry of pain, she puts hands to face, Mrs. B. 
 enters, R. u. E., in time to witness the last part of the 
 ^^ scene y) 
 
 Mrs. B. Anna Belle Umstead, what you up to? Actin' out 
 agin, are y' ? 1 declare, if you ain't the worst ! Thought you 
 was dyin' with the toothache, a few minutes ago? 
 
 Zeb. She couldn't die till he come 
 
 Anna {holding her face). Oh, Mis' Birch, it's awful bad. 
 
 Mrs. B. Wai, I guess it ain't killin' y', if you're able t' 
 carry on like that. x\in't you got a bit o' sense? Now, you 
 go 'n' start up the kitchen fire — quick, too, — they've got t' 
 have some hot water. I d' know but that man's dyin'. Dear 
 me, I wish the doctor' d hurry, 
 
 {Goes up and looks out of window.^ 
 
 Anna. Oh, Mis' Birch, I ain't able 
 
 Mrs, B. When they's a dyin' man in the house? I guess 
 you be. You hurry, 
 
 Anna {s?zivelifig, as she goes to R. i e.). I don't care, I 
 won't stay here 'n' be made a slave of. I'll go away, where 
 my talent 
 
 Mrs. B. Never mind your talent. Go 'n' fix that fire. 
 
 (Anna, still sniveling, and holding her face, goes out r. i e. 
 Zeb. is l., Mrs. B. ?// c.) 
 
 Zeb. Pretty sick, is he? 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, he looks like he wouldn't live till the doctor 
 gets here. Poor thing, she's jest about distracted. 
 
 Zp:b. What they travelin' for, this weather, if he's so sick? 
 Mrs. B. He wa'n't so bad when they started, and — but 
 
lO THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 didn't git many p'tic'Iars, there wa'n't much chance. (^There 
 is a stamping of feet off C. ) There, I guess he's come. ( Goes 
 and opens door, admitting I'OM Britton. He carries a small 
 medicine case.) Come right in, doctor. I hope you ain't too 
 late. 
 
 (She hurries off K. u. y.., folloived by Tom.) 
 Enter Eri, c. 
 
 Eri (shivering). Brrr ! — 't's cold. 
 
 Zeb. Wal, y' can't 'xpect hot weather 'n Janawary. 
 
 Eri. How's d' sick feller ? 
 
 Zeb. Mis' Biich says he's low. D' know what Doc Brit- 
 ton'il say. VViiat The should die? 
 
 Eri. Have t' bury him, Ah reckon. That's what they 
 mos'ly does with dead folks. 
 
 Enter Sam, r. u. e. 
 
 Zeb. Wal, Sam, how is he? 
 
 Sam. Done for, I guess. The doctor shook his head, as if 
 tliey wasn't anything he could do. 
 
 Zeb. That's too bad. How's his wife take it ? 
 
 Sam. Don't seem t' sense it. She's white as a sheet, but 
 acts calm. Say, but she's a beauty. 
 
 Zeb. Is, eh ? Like t' see her. 
 
 Sam. Purty as a pict're. Seems they was on their way t' 
 start South, hopin' 'twould help him, but he wass' bad she 
 didn't dast take him no further. He got worse after they 
 started, and I cal'late the ride and the cold was too much for 
 him. (Notices Eri, who stands r,, listening intently.) Eri, 
 you go in the kitchen and help Anna Belle. That woman's 
 got to have some tea or something, or she'll collapse too. 
 
 Eri. Yass'r, xA.h's a-gwine. \_Exit, r. i e. 
 
 Zeb. AVal, guess I'll be gitt'n' on home. (Again buttons 
 up coat, which he had thrown open.) Got quite a walk, 'n' 
 the snow's deep. 
 
 Sam. Yes, it is. 
 
 Zeb. Be kind o' cur'ous t' know what happens. Guess 
 I'll come over 'n the mornin*, 'f 'tain't too deep, 'n' see 'f he's 
 dead. 
 
 Sam. All right, Zeb. I'm afraid he will be. 
 
 Zeb. (by c. d.). Wal, good-night. 
 
 Sam (up behind counter). Good-night, Zeb. 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR II 
 
 Zeb. (opefitjig door). Brr ! Certainly is fierce. Wish I 
 was home. VVal, good-night, Sam. 
 
 Sam. Good-night. 
 
 Zeb. (as he closes door a7id disappears^ calling back). 
 Good-night. 
 
 Enter Mrs. B., r. u. e., weepings and wiping eyes. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Sam ! 
 
 Sam. Is he 
 
 Mrs. B. (s if iking info chair ^ covering face). Yes, Sam. 
 
 Sam [out from behind counter). I ain't su'prised. The 
 doctor couldn't do anything? 
 
 Mrs. B. No, he said it was too late. He was breathin' his 
 last. 
 
 Sam. Well, it can't be helped. How does she take it? 
 
 Mrs. B. Like an image. She's a lady, you can see that. 
 It's terrible. Just think, Sam, a dead man in the house. 
 What are we goin' t' do? 
 
 Sam. Have him buried, I suppose, or sent away. Folks 
 have got to die, and we'll make the best of it. What we want 
 to do now is to look out for her. You'd better go and see 
 about some tea or something, 
 
 Mrs. B. (rising). I told Anna Belle to build up the fire. 
 I'll go 'n' see to it. (^Goes r.) Oh, I'm that upset. The 
 
 poor dear thing, with her husband dead — oh, dear 
 
 \_Exit, R. I E., iveeping. 
 
 (Sam again goes np behind counter, as Tom enters r. u. e.) 
 
 Sam. Well, doctor? 
 
 Tom. It's all over. 
 
 Sam. I thought you'd be too late. 
 
 Tom. Yes, he was dying when I got here. Nothing could 
 save him. His heart gave out, and, with a complication of 
 other things, and the effects of the journey and the cold — 
 there was nothing 1 could do. Did you learn his name ? 
 
 Sam. Ben Shaw said she called herself Mrs. Gilbert, so I 
 suppose his is Mister Gilbert. That's all I know. 
 
 Tom (buttoning np coat). Well, I shall have to ask her a 
 few questions, so as to make out the death certificate. But I 
 can see her to-morrow. Will you tell her I'll call? 
 
 Sam. Sure, doctor, I'll tell her. 
 
 Enter Mrs. B., r. i e. 
 
12 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, doctor, ain't it awful? It's upset me so I 
 d' know what t' do. And Anna Belle, she's in a regular tan- 
 trum — with the toothache and all. Y' never can tell but what 
 she's putt'n' on, she's so great f r actin', but I wish you'd go 
 'n' see 'f you can give her somethin' t' quiet her down. She's 
 takin' on somethin' terrible. She's in the kitchen, 'n' if it 
 ain't too much trouble. 
 
 Tom. Certainly not. (^Goes r.) I'll go in and see her a 
 minute. \_Exit, r. i e., takifig his case. 
 
 Sam. You'd better go in and see if there's anything you 
 can do for that woman. It must be quite a shock to her. 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, I will. I'll see if she don't want a cup of 
 tea. (^To r. u. e.) Anna Belle's makin' some, but I declare, 
 she's that crazy, I d' know 's it'll be fit t' drink. Why — here 
 she comes ! {She starts back, surprised at seeing Agnes, who 
 enters slowly r, u, e., to r, C, She is pale, with a sad ex- 
 pression, and appears to be in somewhat of a dazeS) Can — 
 can I do anything for you ? 
 
 Agnes {looking at her i?i a perplexed manner'). No, — no, 
 thank you, there is nothing you can do. Has the doctor 
 gone? 
 
 Mrs. B. Why, no; he's out in the kitchen seein' Anna 
 Belle Umstead, she's got sech a toothache, and is that excited 
 she's takin' on terrible. Did you want to see him ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes. I — I thought he might be willing to advise 
 me, he seemed so kind. 
 
 Mrs. B. Of course he will. He's one o' the best men 't 
 ever lived, Dr. Britton is, 'n' he's jest the one t' help y'. He'll 
 be glad t', too. Sam, you go 'n the kitchen 'n' see 'f the doc- 
 tor can't come here. He must be through with Anna Belle 
 by this time. 
 
 Sam {coming dowii). All right. I'll go 'n' see. {Starts 
 R., but pauses, as ToM enters R. i E.) Here is^ he. 1 was 
 jest coming after you, doctor. Mrs. Gilbert, here, wants you. 
 
 Tom {to Agnes). I am entirely at your servive, Mrs. Gil- 
 bert. 
 
 Mrs. B. I'll go 'n' see t' your room, ma'am. I'll put y' 
 in the one over the parlor. The stovepipe runs up through, 
 'n' it's kind o* warm. Come, Sam. 
 
 {Exit Mrs. B., r. u. e., followed by Sam. Tom, having 
 placed his hat and medicine case on chair, is now C. ; 
 Agnes r. c.) 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR I3 
 
 t 
 
 Tom. Sit down, Mrs. Gilbert. You scarcely look able to 
 stand. You mustn't give up, you know. 
 
 Agnes (^sitlnig'). No, I mustn't — I shall not. But I am 
 almost in despair, doctor, with this sudden blow. I had no 
 idea he was so ill, and — may I be quite candid with you ? 
 
 Tom. By all means. I shall be only too glad to give you 
 any advice or assistance in my power. 
 
 Agnes. Do you think it would be possible to bury — him 
 — here? I — to tell the truth, I find it necessary to be as eco- 
 nomical as possible. We were going — but I am ashamed to 
 tell you my troubles — to bother you, a stranger 
 
 Tom. Then I hope you will try to think of me as your 
 friend, as one whom you may trust, and who will consider it 
 a privilege to help you. I trust you will permit me to take full 
 charge of the burial. It will be necessary to make out the — 
 pardon me, if I pain you — the death certificate, in order to get 
 a permit, and — shall I come to-morrow and see you? 
 
 Agnes. Why not to-night, doctor, — now? 
 
 Tom. Certainly, if you wish — if you feel equal to it. I 
 only thought perhaps by to-morrow you would feel stronger 
 and more like giving me the particulars. 
 
 Agnes. Thank you ; you are very kind, but I am quite 
 able to do it to-night. It would be no less painful to-morrow. 
 
 Tom. Then I will take a few notes, and 
 
 {Takes old letter or piece of paper ^ and a peiicil, from pocket, 
 and prepares to write, not looking at Agnes. She sits R.) 
 
 Agnes. Yes, — I am ready. 
 
 Tom. Your husband's first name, Mrs. Gilbert, was ? 
 
 Agnes. My — husband / 
 
 (She starts at his question, with an expression which denotes 
 first surprise, then a swift thought, followed by a sudden 
 resolution. She looks over at Tom, with the terrified but 
 hopeful look of one who, in despair, grasps at tJie last 
 straw. Her lips sile?ifly frame the word " Yes,'' as she 
 rises, grasping back of chair for support. ) 
 
 Tom {glancing up at her, inquiringly, waiting to ivrite the 
 name). His name 
 
 Agnes {greatly agitated, her breath shortened, but speaking 
 with forced calm?iess). George — George — William — Gilbert. 
 
 Tom (writing) . ' * George — Will iam ' ' 
 
14 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Agnes (again sinking into chair, her hands clasped before 
 her, with eyes fastened o?i floor'). Yes. 
 
 Tom. And he was born ? 
 
 Agnes. In — in Rochester, I beUeve. Yes, — in Rochester. 
 
 Tom. And his age? 
 
 Agnes. Thirty-^-one. 
 
 Tom. Thank you. I think that is all. I can fill in the 
 rest, without your assistance. (Rises.') You may depend 
 upon me, Mrs. Gilbert, to make all the arrangements for your 
 husband's burial. 
 
 Agnes (rising). You are very kind, — I cannot thank you. 
 But 1 — I fully appreciate it, and 
 
 Tom. Please don't try to thank me, Mrs. Gilbert. I under- 
 stand. You must go to bed now, and try to sleep. You will 
 need all your strength, you know. 
 
 Agnes. Yes — yes, I shall need it all — all my strength. I 
 will try to sleep — I will try. 
 
 Tom (buttoning coat, taking hat and case, about to go). 
 That's right. And I will call and see you to-morrow morning. 
 Good-night. 
 
 Agnes. Good-night. 
 
 (She offers him her hand, ivhich he shakes gently, with a 
 look of encouragement, then turns and exits c. D. She 
 stands a moment, as if dazed, looking after him ; readies 
 out her hand toward Y(.. u. e., as if feeling her way, still 
 looking back at door c. , ivith a frightened look, but one of 
 desperate relief and hope, groping her way out R. U. E., 
 with her gaze still fixed on c. d. , aiid slowly disappears 
 just as the curtaifi falls.) 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE. — The sitting-room in the residence of Dr. Britton, 
 a inorning early in the following June. The room is neatly 
 and tastily furnished, denotijig an air of primness and re- 
 fine /nent, and has a pleasant outlook, the door in fiat c, 
 and one or two windoivs being open, disclosing the yard and 
 laivn, with a glimpse of trees, shrubbery, rose-bushes, etc. 
 There is table r., with books, papers and magazines ; cozy 
 chairs, divan ; few well chosen pictures, bric-d-brac, etc. 
 Susan Pinner is discovered sitting severely upright r. c, 
 near table, while Mrs. B., weari?tg hat or bonnet, and hold- 
 ing a hand-bag or small reticule, is seated L. 
 
 Susan. I am a just person, Mrs. Birch — a Christian, I hope, 
 — and I try to be charitable toward all, and look for the good 
 in every person. But I must say, I cannot agree with you on 
 this subject. 1 regard Mrs. Gilbert as a person of whom one is 
 justified in having doubts. 
 
 Mrs. B. " Doubts," Miss Pinner? I don't know what you 
 mean by that. I don't see where you've got any call t' doubt 
 she's a perfect lady, who's carried herself in a manner above 
 suspicion ever sence she's been here. For my part, I never 
 saw a sweeter, lovelier person in all my life, 'n' I don't see 
 what cause you've got t' fling out 
 
 Susan. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Birch, but I was not 
 ''flinging out," as you call it. I hope I am above such trivial 
 things as that, and — {rising^ I think we would better drop the 
 subject. 
 
 Mrs. B. (rising). Oh, of course, if that's the way you feel 
 about it. But I don't see where all your Christianity comes in, 
 Miss Pinner, if I do say so. It seems t' me, folks 't pride 
 themselves on bein' ''just," 's they call it, generally turn out 
 t' be nothin' but hard-hearted 'n' un]\x^\.. 
 
 Susan {very severe, but with the 7na?iner of misunderstood 
 righteous7iess). I cannot help how my attitude impresses you, 
 Mrs. Birch, and I harbor no resentment at your outspoken 
 criticism, but I have my code — I adhere strictly to what I think 
 is right — and nothing can swerve me from my chosen path. 
 
 15 
 
l6 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Therefore, it will be better if we have no further discussion on 
 this matter. 
 
 Mrs. B. (bristling with indignation, but making a rather 
 nnsuccessfnl effort to contain herself). Oh, stick to your path 
 by all means; I wouldn't have you ''swerve" for me. But 
 you couldn't convince me they's anything wrong about Mis' 
 Gilbert, 'f you was t' talk till doomsday. (Starts up c.) I 
 guess I'd better be goin'. 
 
 (She goes up to c. d., but pauses, as she meets Dolly Brit- 
 ton, who runs gaily in frotn R. She is bareheaded and 
 carries a large bunch of roses and a pair of shears.) 
 
 Dolly. Oh, — good-morning, Mrs. Birch — how are you ? 
 Isn't it the loveliest weather? — and look at these roses. Just 
 smell of 'em. 
 
 (Puts roses to nose of M.r%. B., who sjiiffs delightedly.) 
 
 Mrs. B. M'm — yes, they certainly are sweet ; but not a bit 
 sweeter 'n some other things around here. (Glajices sarcas- 
 tically at Susan, then back at Dolly, with an admiring glance.) 
 You, Dolly, I mean. 
 
 Dolly. Ah — you flatterer ! Now, just for that, I'm going 
 to give you half of these roses to take home with you. 
 
 Mrs. B. But, Dolly 
 
 Dolly. Yes, I am. Why, there's bushels more out there 
 in the yard. It's better to pick 'em. Isn't it, Susan? 
 
 Susan. Mrs. Birch is quite welcome to all the roses you 
 wish to give her, so far as I am concerned. 
 
 Mrs. B. (to Susan, gri?nly). Thanks. 'N' the thorns that 
 goes with 'em, I s'pose? 
 
 Dolly. Oh, don't mention the thorns. Of course, every 
 rose has a thorn, as Shakespeare or somebody says, but there's 
 no use always looking for them. (She has laid roses ofi table, 
 now takes shears and begins to trim them.) Besides, I'll cut 
 them all off. 
 
 Mrs. B. Land, you needn't bother t* do that. Roses 
 without their thorns 'd be like some people without their snip- 
 pishness — not natural. 
 
 (Susan, disdaining this remark, turns afid stiffly walks off l.) 
 
 Dolly. My, that was a good one. You mustn't mind 
 
 Susan, though. As Tom says, she means all right 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, but the meanness struck in, 'n' it has t' come 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR I 7 
 
 out. She's so upright 't she's bent backwards. Urr — she 
 gives me the shivers one minuie, 'n' makes me boil the next. 
 1 don't see how you stand it livin' with her, you 'n' the doctor. 
 
 Dolly. Oh, we don't mind her. Susan has been with us 
 for years, ever since my mother died, and we're used to her 
 ways. Oh, say, why can't I send some roses to Mrs. Gilbert? 
 
 Mrs. B. It would tickle her like everything, she's that ap- 
 preciative. But I d' know what Miss Pinner 'd say. She 
 don't approve of Mis' Gilbert. 
 
 Dolly {dividing roses into two equal par ts^. Don't you 
 know why? It's because — but I don't know as I ought to say 
 — it would be gossiping, and it's all nonsense, anyway. Susan's 
 terribly dignified and sensible, in most respects, but she's 
 mighty silly in one. There, you give one bunch to Mrs. Gil- 
 bert, and keep the other for yourself. 
 
 Mrs. B. {taking roses). Thank you, dear. But you didn't 
 keep any. 
 
 Dolly. Pooh ! All I've got to do is to pick 'em. 
 
 Mrs. B. {about to go, but compelled to show her curiosity). 
 M'm — I s'pose you meant — about Miss Pinner's being {looking 
 L., cautiously) *' silly," as you said 
 
 Dolly. Well, I ought not to have said it, and Tom 'd scold 
 me like everything if he knew I did — it's so foolish and tor- 
 ments him so — but the fact is, do you know — {confidentially, 
 with a ?nischievous shrug of her shoulders') Susan's always had 
 an idea she'd get Tom 
 
 Mrs. B. As if he'd ever marry that old maid. 
 
 Dolly. **01d maid!" — Susan? Goodness, if she knew 
 you said that — why, she passes herself off as quite young. 
 
 Mrs. B. Tries t', you mean. She don't fool anybuddy, I 
 guess. 'N' that's the reason she hates Mis' Gilbert so, I s'pose 
 — 'cause he shows a kind of a fancy for her? 
 
 Dolly. Shouldn't wonder. But I don't think he means 
 anything, yet — with her husband dead less than six months, 
 and, — anyhow, she never gives him a bit of encouragement. 
 
 Mrs. B. Just due respect for her husband, I s'pose. {In 
 C. D.) But I really must be goin'. I never meant t' stay this 
 long. Thanks ever s' much for the roses. I know Mis' Gil-, 
 bert '11 be pleased. {About to go out to i.., looks oj^.) For 
 the land, here comes Howard Wayne, in his buggy, 'n' I de- 
 clare, if that ain't Mis' Gilbert with him. 
 
 Dolly {going up and looking off). Who, — Mrs. Gilbert? 
 ( Turns back to r. c. ) 0-oh ! 
 
l8 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Mrs. B. {looking at her keenly, struck by an idea^. 
 *' O-oh ! " is it? M'm — don't seem very much pleased. 
 
 Dolly. Who — me — I? About what? 
 
 Mrs. B. Mis' Gilbert rid'ii' with Howard Wayne in his 
 buggy. M'm — hm ! The wind's blowin' in that direction, 
 too. Pshaw ! she doesn't want Howard Wayne. Don't you 
 go 'n' fret about that. 
 
 Dolly. Why, Mrs. Birch, you know better. Howard 
 Wayne? 1 hope you don't think 
 
 {S/ie suddenly runs out c. D. to L. ; Mrs. B. stands looking 
 out.^ 
 
 Enter Susan, l. 
 
 Susan. Oh, you are still here, Mrs. Birch ? 
 
 Mrs. B. I seem t' be. So 's somebuddy else, now. Here's 
 Howard Wayne just drove up, and Mis' Gilbert with him. 
 
 Susan. 1 wonder she has the temerity to come here. 
 
 Mrs. B. I d' know about her havin' '* t'merity " — I thought 
 it was more like heart trouble — but whatever 'tis, I s'pose she's 
 come t' see the doctor about it. She ain't been a bit well sence 
 her husband died s' sudden 't our house, last winter. 
 
 Susan. You mean, since the man died whom she said was 
 her husband. 
 
 Mrs. B. What's that? She said — I'd like t' know what 
 you mean by that, Miss Pinner. Another part of your " code," 
 I s'pose, t' hatch up stories 'n' destroy folks's reputation. 
 Thank goodness, if that's your way, 1 ain't got no " code," 'n' 
 don't live accord'n' t' your kind o' religion. 
 
 (Susan, haughtily disdaiiting these remarks, glances off C. 
 to L., and is about to turn and exit L., when Dolly eiiters 
 c, assisting Kg^y.s, followed closely by Howard Wayne. 
 ^\]SA^ pauses l. ; Mrs. B. stands r.) 
 
 Dolly. Here's Mrs. Gilbert, Susan, come to see the doc- 
 tor. She wants him to prescribe for her. 
 
 How. [with jaunty politeness^. Good -afternoon. Miss Pin- 
 ner. How are you? Doctor isn't in, eh? 
 
 Susan. No, not at present. 
 
 (She does not look at Agnes, who, however, glances at her 
 with no show of resentment, speaking cordially.') 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR I9 
 
 Agnes. How do you do, Miss Pinner ? I hope you will let 
 aie wait a while, and see if the doctor comes. 
 
 Susan. I suppose you can, of course, seeing you're a 
 patient 
 
 Dolly. Why, Susan, she's more than that. She's my 
 friend — and Tom's. She doesn't have to need medical at- 
 tendance, I hope, to come here. 
 
 Susan. I dare say Dr. Britton will return soon. {Goes l.) 
 I trust you will excuse me. \_Exitt l. 
 
 How. I should say so — with pleasure. My, but ain't she 
 the haughty thing I The human iceberg. 
 
 Mrs. B. No, — icebergs thaw out ; I don't b'lieve she ever 
 will. Whatever made you start t' walk 'way over here. Mis' 
 Gilbert? You could 'a' sent for the doctor. 
 
 Agnes {seated by table, v:.. q.'). 1 — Ithought the walk would 
 do me good. I am weaker than I thought. Had it not been 
 for Mr. Wayne, who kindly took me into his buggy, I don't 
 know but I should have fallen by the way. 1 am very grateful, 
 Mr. Wayne. 
 
 How. Ho ! that wasn't anything. The pleasure was all 
 mine, I assure you. Going to take you back, too. 
 
 Agnes. Thank you, but I wouldn't think 
 
 How. Well, it isn't your think, so — not another word. 
 I'm in no hurry, and I'll wait. Dolly '11 take me out and show 
 me the roses 'n' things. Won't you, Dolly? 
 
 Dolly {at first iiidiued to pout, 7vith a slight shoiv of jeal- 
 ousy, but by this time fully restored to her accustomed good 
 spirits). Sure 1 will. Come on. {Up in c. d.) Mrs. Birch 
 has a bunch there for you, Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, — see ! {Holds up roses.) 
 
 Agnes. How beautiful ! (Mrs. B. gives her roses, luhich 
 she smells ; rapturously.) Why, they are almost as good as 
 medicine themselves. They breathe of hope — and rest — and 
 peace. Thank you, Dolly. 
 
 Dolly. Oh, you're welcorrie. Come on, Howard. 
 
 {Runs out to 1,., followed by How., 7vho has taken a rose 
 from Mrs. B., which he shakes in Dolly's face, as they 
 go out.) 
 
 Mrs. B. {down to c). Guess they'll make a match of it. 
 || Agnes {smiling, looking off q.). Do you think so? 
 
 Mrs. B. I see the signs. When young folks begin t' act 
 that way — well, them's sym't'm it don't take a doctor t' under- 
 
20 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Stand. {Looks keejily at KG^i^-ES.) But as for yours — they're 
 different. It ain't love with you — 't any rate, I don't think 
 it is. 
 
 Agnes {with a faint smile). No, Mrs. Birch, it isn't love 
 with me. 
 
 Mrs. B. Then what is it? You ain't well, 'n' yet I can't 
 see 't anything's really ailin' y'. The heart's a good 'xcuse 
 when it's somethin' we don't want folks t* know about. 
 (Agnes starts slightly, zvith an inquirijig look.) Now, I ain't 
 pryin', 'n' you know if you've got a friend in the world, it's 
 me. But they is them (with a knowing glance l.) as would 
 like t' git the best of y', if they could. 
 
 Agnes. Why, Mrs. Birch, what do you mean? Who 
 
 Mrs. B. Ain't you got eyes? If y' have, cast 'em in the 
 direction of Susan Pinner 'n' her *'code." You want t' look 
 out for her; she's got too much religion — what she calls *' re- 
 ligion," I mean. 
 
 Agnes. I have noticed her coolness — her disinclination to 
 talk to me, — but I thought it only her way, and — but I wish 
 you would be more explicit, Mrs. Birch. Perhaps I do wrong 
 in coming here. If it causes comment 
 
 Mrs. B. You don't have t' give Susan Pinner cause. She'll 
 find it. Don't you know she's been after the doct'r for years, 
 'n' now that he's took up with you 
 
 Agnes. Mrs. Birch ! I beg of you — are — are people saying 
 that? Are they gossiping about — about Dr. Britton and — me? 
 Oh, I have been blind, stupid ! I ought to have known that 
 even so much as encouraging his friendship would mean some- 
 thing like this. But I thought my affliction — my — I ought to 
 have known — I ought to have known. 
 
 {Goes up R. c, as if to leave.) 
 
 Mrs. B. Huh! I wouldn't call Susan Pinner ''people." 
 You'd be pretty foolish t' let what she says worry y'. {SJie 
 ooes up, is about to exit, meets Tom, zvho enters c. D.from r., 
 carrying medicine case.) Here's the doctor, now. Doctor, 
 here's Mis' Gilbert come t' see y'. She ain't feelin' very well. 
 
 Tom {nodding cordially to Mrs. B. , then going and shaking 
 hands with Agnes). Good-afternoon, Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 Agnes {rising). Good- afternoon, doctor. 
 
 Mrs. B. {ivith a knojving smile, ujinoticed by the others). 
 Guess I'll be goin'. Two's company 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 21 
 
 (Shri(gs her shoulders and exits to r., lookmg back.') 
 
 Tom. Still suffering from the same malady, I see — worry — 
 woman's characteristic complaint. For a time I laid it to the 
 shock of your husband's sudden death, but that must have 
 worn off, to a considerable extent, at least, after five months, 
 so we must find some other cause. You are not happy here. 
 
 Agnes. Happy? — no, but as contented, I think, as I could 
 be anywhere. I have found friends — I have made a living, 
 thanks to your influence and my ability as a music teacher, but 
 — pardon me, doctor, but I have deceived you. It was not 
 altogether as a patient that I came to see you to-day. It was 
 as one seeking a friend — a friend who can be trusted as I be- 
 lieve you can be. You have been kindness itself since — since 
 that terrible night last winter, and — now I have come to ask you 
 for still further proofs of your kindness. 
 
 {She is seated r., by table ; he c, facing her.) 
 
 Tom. I will do anything in my power to help you, Mrs. 
 Gilbert, as I have already told you. 
 
 Agnes {rising, walking nervously up stage, looking off c. 
 /;/ both directions, then R. and L., as she comes back to c, 
 where Tom, having risen, stands waiting for her to speak). I 
 — I hardly know how to tell you, doctor, what it is that I wish 
 you to do, but — of all the people whom I have met since I came 
 to this village, last winter, you have been the kindest and the 
 most considerate. I feel that, even if others have looked 
 askance at me, and thought it strange that I have had so little to 
 say about myself, and have been slow to satisfy their curiosity, 
 you have believed in me — and do believe in me, still. 
 
 Tom. Yes, Mrs. Gilbert — I do. 
 
 Agnes. Thank you. And now I am going to put your 
 faith in me to a test. I have no one else to go to, and you 
 have promised to help me. {She takes a small package from 
 pocket of a bag.) You see this package? 
 
 Tom. Yes. 
 
 Agnes. I want you to keep it for me — guard it safely — and 
 tell nobody of its existence, or of this conversation. 
 
 Tom. But — I — I hardly understand What 
 
 Agnes. And ask no questions — yet. 
 
 Tom. It is rather a strange thing you ask me to do, Mrs. 
 Gilbert. And yet 
 
 Agnes. And yet — you are willing to trust me — to do it ? 
 
22 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 If not, I shall not blame you ; I should not even be surprised. 
 1 can give you no explanation — now. What is in the package 
 — why I wish you to keep it for me — I cannot tell you. You 
 must decide, and quickly. 
 
 Tom. I have decided, already. 
 
 Agnes {eagerly). Yes? 
 
 Tom. Give me the package. 
 
 Agnes {looking 1..^ fearfully). Be careful — here! 
 
 (She gives hitn the package, ivhich he has barely tinie to con- 
 ceal i?i a newspaper which he takes up from table, whe?i 
 Susan e filers r. She pauses, as she sees Agnes.) 
 
 Susan. Oh ! — excuse me, Mrs. Gilbert. I thought the 
 
 doctor would have prescribed for you by this time 
 
 Agnes. He has. Miss Pinner. I was about to go. 
 
 {Goes up.) 
 
 Susan. Don't hurry on my account, I beg of you. ( Crosses 
 to L., speaking with sarcastic insinuation.) 1 have no desire 
 to interfere with Dr. Britton's professional business. 
 
 Enter Dolly, c, followed by How. 
 
 Dolly. Tom, Mr. Ferguson is out here. He wants to 
 know if you can see him a minute. It is quite important, he 
 says. 
 
 Tom. Tell liim to come in. I will see him in the office. 
 
 Dolly. All right. 
 
 {Starts, but pauses as How. speaks.) 
 
 How. I'll tell him. [Exit, c. to r. 
 
 Tom. You will excuse me, Mrs. Gilbert ? 
 Agnes. Certainly. I was about to go, anyway. 
 
 (Susan is r. ; Tom, r. c. ; Dolly up c. ; Agnes, l. c.) 
 
 Dolly. Oh, but you can't go till Howard does. He's 
 going to drive you back to the hotel, and he isn't ready to go 
 yet. 
 
 Agnes. I think I will walk back. 
 
 Dolly. The idea ! When Howard is here, with his buggy, 
 to take you? He'd feel slighted if you did. Besides, I want 
 to ask you something, if you and Tom are through, I'm going 
 to have a party, and I want you to play 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 2^ 
 
 Agnes. A party ? 
 
 Dolly. Yes — next week. Come out in the garden, where 
 Howard is, and we'll tell you all about it. Then Tom and 
 Mr. Ferguson can have this room to themselves. 
 
 {Takes her to c. d.) 
 
 Tom. I will see you again before you go, Mrs. Gilbert. 
 'Squire Ferguson can't detain me very long. 
 
 Dolly. If he does, we'll butt in, and scare him off. 
 
 {She laughs and goes out Q,., followed by Agnes, ivho, in 
 door, meets 'Squire Ferguson. She greets him; he 
 nods, taking off his hat, and gives her a keen, suspicious 
 look, as he enters, looking back after her for a moment. 
 Tom, who still holds the newspaper in which he had con- 
 cealed the package, noiv puts paper on table and slips 
 the package into side pocket of Iiis coat, fust as 'Squire 
 turns and co/nes down to c.) 
 
 Tom. Good-afternoon, 'Squire. 
 
 'Squire. How d' do, doctor? Lady caller, eh? 
 
 Tom. Yes. You know Mrs. Gilbert? 
 
 'Squire. M'm — yes; met her once or twice. Fine-looking 
 woman. Patient, eh ? 
 
 Tom. Yes, she hasn't been strong since the sudden death 
 of her husband, last January, when they were compelled to stop 
 at the hotel, and he became suddenly worse. You remember? 
 
 'Squire. Y-yes, seems t' me I do. Said she was taking 
 him somewhere for his health, didn't she? 
 
 Tom. Yes, they had started for the South, but were over- 
 taken by the heavy snow-storm, and forced to stop here. He 
 died, as you know, a few minutes after they entered the hotel. 
 
 'Squire. And she stayed right on here. Wasn't that kind o' 
 queer ? 
 
 Tom. I don't see as it was. She was not well herself, and 
 was without much means, so decided to stay here and teach 
 music. She has been fairly successful, thanks to her ability 
 
 'Squire. M'm, yes — and your assistance. Oh, that's all 
 right. You're an influential man, and always helping folks. 
 But, didn*<- it ever strike you that she's got a little too much 
 ability, and too much style and good looks, to be an ordinary 
 woman — the kind that would bury herself in a little country 
 village like this, without some good reason ? 
 
 Tom. The shock of her husband's death — her grief — the 
 
24 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 necessity to earn her own living — what better reasons should 
 she have? But I don't suppose you came here to talk about 
 Mrs. Gilbert, 'Squire? 
 
 'Squire. Er — well, no, not exactly. I came for a little ad- 
 vice. Not medical, though. 
 
 TuM. Oh, — not medical ? 
 
 'Squire. No, Fact is, doctor, it's — well, it's a little legal 
 business. 
 
 I'OM. With me? What have I been up to now, sheriff? 
 
 'Squire. Oh, 1 guess it ain't you, doc. I don't believe 
 anybody' d ever suspect you of robbery. 
 
 Tom. Robbery ? 
 
 'Squire. That's it. They've put it up to me to track the 
 thief. 
 
 Tom. What ! — they think you'll find a thief around here? 
 Doesn't seem very probable, does it? 
 
 'Squire. Well, you can't always tell. Anyhow, I've been 
 put on the job. Told there's reason to think the thief that took 
 five thousand dollars' worth of jewelry is somewhere in this 
 vicinity. 
 
 Tom. Psliaw ! they must be on the wrong scent. There's 
 nobody around here that would steal. Why, there isn't a man 
 in town that we don't know all about. 
 
 'Squire. No? 
 
 Tom. No. 
 
 'Squire. Not a man. M'm — well, what about a — a 
 woman ? 
 
 Tom. a — woman ? 
 
 'Squire. Sure. Thieves ain't always men. 'T any rate, 
 their accomplices ain't. 
 
 Tom. Why, no, of course not ; — I know — but — you say 
 some jewels have been stolen ? Whose — where? 
 
 'Squire. In Asbury Park — from a hotel safe. They sus- 
 pect a man who was employed as clerk. The jewels were taken 
 one night last week — belonged to a Mrs. Livingston who was 
 stopping there. Suspicion fell upon the clerk, who passed by 
 the name of Parker, and he must of got wind of it, for he 
 skipped. 
 
 Tom. Oh, — he got away, — with the jewels ? 
 
 'Squire. Yes; but they're on his track, and it seems they 
 think he's got an accomplice in this neighborhood. 
 
 .Tom. Do they say who this accomplice is — or who they 
 think it is ? 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 25 
 
 'Squire. M'm — well, y-yes; they give some pretty strong 
 hints. But I ain't supposed to mention any name, just yet 
 
 ToAi. Then why do you come to see me? 1 don't quite 
 understand. 
 
 'Squire. Well, the fact of it is, I guess I'm overstepping 
 my authority, and mebbe I'll get into trouble, but I know 
 you're a square and honest man, and wouldn't hinder the law, 
 so I thought I'd tell you a thing or two, seeing it kind o' — 
 well, kind o' strikes kind o' close to you 
 
 Tom {rising; indignantly'). What! — am I accused 
 
 'Squire. No, no, of course not. But it's somebody — 
 somebody you're a little bit interested in, I guess, and I thought 
 you might like to be on your guard. 
 
 Tom. On my guard ? Why — who 
 
 'Squire {looking about, cautiously). Now, of course I ain't 
 saying there's anything wrong — you can't always go by circum- 
 stantial evidence — but — in regards to You see, the dia- 
 monds were sent 
 
 Enter Susan r., in time to interrupt this speech. 
 
 Susan. I beg your pardon, ^ if I have interrupted, but I 
 thought you were going in the study, doctor, and 
 
 Tom. We will. Come in, 'Squire. {Goes ^.) 
 
 'Squire. Thanks, but I'm in a hurry. Got to drive to the 
 post-office. Suppose you jump in and ride there and back 
 with me, doc. 'Twon't take but a few minutes, and we can 
 talk on the way. Save so much time. 
 
 Tom. Very well. Susan, will you get me my other coat ? 
 It's pretty warm for this one. 
 
 Susan. You wish the lighter one, doctor? 
 Tom {removing coat). Yes; it's hanging over a chair in 
 the office, I think. ('Squire has gone up to c, about to exit.) 
 In just a minute, 'Squire. \^Exit Susan, r. 
 
 'Squire. All right. I'll unhitch the horse. {Looks out.) 
 Quite a collection of rigs out there — yours, young Wayne's, 
 and mine. Looks like a procession. {Laughs ajid exits to l.) 
 
 (Tom takes off coat, leaving i?i pocket the package, which he 
 has forgotten. Susan reenters r., taking coat and help- 
 ing him on until the other one, also giving him his hat.) 
 
 Tom. Thanks, Susan. If anybody wants me, tell them I'll 
 be back in a few minutes. 
 Susan. Very well. 
 
26 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 {^He exits c. to l. ; she stands looking afte?' him, with an 
 expression of fondness. After a moment starts backy 
 7vith a dark look, as Dolly ^;/^/ Agnes enter c.) 
 
 Dolly. Oh, Susan, what do you think? — Mrs. Gilbert has 
 consented to play at my party, and to sing. 
 
 Susan (r., with the coat in her hand^. Mrs. Gilbert is 
 very kind. 
 
 Agnes. I could scarcely refuse to grant the request of one 
 who has been so kind to me, Miss Britton 
 
 Dolly. '' Miss " Britton ! — Dolly, you mean. 
 
 Agnes. Well — *' Dolly," then. And besides, your brother 
 — Dr. Britton — has been such a friend to me. 
 
 Susan. M'm — yes. I thought he had something to do 
 with it. 
 
 (Susan, 7uho has held the coat in her hand, now absefit- 
 mindedly feels the package in the pocket, takes it out and 
 glances at it, theft holds it carelessly. Agnes recognizes 
 the package, starts, being barely able to conceal her dis- 
 may. Susan notices her agitation and watches her keenly. 
 Susan is k.; Dolly, c, up by door ; Agnes, l. c, showing 
 faintness, with her hand on back of chair.') 
 
 Enter How., c. 
 
 How. Any time you're ready, Mrs. Gilbert, I am. 
 
 Agnes. Thank you, but I — I am not well. The heat is 
 oppressive, and I feel faint. (Sits.) 
 
 Dolly. Shall I get you a glass of water? 
 
 Agnes. If you please, — yes. [^£xit Dolly hurriedly, l. 
 
 How. Well, there's no hurry. I'll wait till you feel better. 
 Just let me know. But I left the horse standing, so I'll wait 
 outside. 
 
 Agnes. You are very kind. 
 
 How. Oh, that's all right. Take your time. 
 
 [Exit, c. to R. 
 
 (Susan carelessly lays the package on table ; Agnes eyes it 
 afixiously, clasping her hands neriwusly, a7id, noticing 
 that Susan is watching her, looks away from table, with 
 a7i effort calming herself.) 
 
 Susan. Came over you rather suddenly, didn't it ? 
 Agnes. Yes ; I have such attacks frequently. I am not 
 strong. 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 2/ 
 
 Susan. I've noticed you seem to need" the doctor's atten- 
 tion pretty often. . 
 
 (Agnes looks at her, about to speak, when Dolly enters l., 
 with glass of water. Susan tur7is and goes out r., in a 
 dignified maniier, taking coat, but leaving package o?i 
 table. ) 
 
 Dolly. Here it is. (^Gives water to Agnes, who drinks.) 
 Do you feel better now ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes, thank you. Will you tell Mr. Wayne that I 
 am ready ? 
 
 Dolly. All right. {Calls, as she runs off c. to r.) How- 
 ard ! Mrs. Gilbert's ready to go. 
 
 (Agnes rises, looks out c, then. l. and R., goes cautiously 
 to table, after a pause takes up package. Just as she does 
 so, Susan reenters r., unnoticed by Agnes, and watches 
 her. Agnes conceals the package in her dress or hand- 
 bag, and exits c. d. to r., ivithout looking back. Susan 
 gives her a suspicious glance, goes to table, looks hurriedly 
 among papers, etc. , then goes to c. , and straightening up, 
 with a knowijig look, almost of triumph, and a gritn, sar- 
 castic smile, statids looking off to r., as the curtain falls.) 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE. — Same as Act II, i?i the evening, the following week. 
 It is the night of Dolly's party, a fid there are some floral 
 decorations about the stage, while the door and windoivs are 
 open, showing Japanese lanterns, etc., outside. The scene 
 may be elaborated to suit convenience, and, if desired, may 
 be set on the lawn or i?i the yard adjoining house. Sam and 
 Zeb., /// their ^^ dress up^' clothes, seated, the former -r., the 
 latter L., each luith a dish of ice- cream, or glass of lemonade 
 and piece of cake. 
 
 Zeb. Quite a party, ain't it? 
 
 Sam. Yes, 'tis. Doc Britton lets that sister o' hisn have 
 about anything she wants, 'n' when he does anything, he does 
 it up right. Wal, she's a nice little gal. 
 
 Zeb. Yes. Purty 's a pict're, too, ain't she? Seems so 
 her 'n' that young Wayne feller's go'n' t' make a match of it. 
 
 Sam. Looks like it. Speakin* o' matches, what about doc 
 'n' Mis' Gilbert? Things kind o' loomin' up in that direction, 
 too, seems t' me. Talk about purty — wal, she's a beauty, she 
 is. Ain't nobuddy 'round here 't can hold a candle to 'er. 
 
 Zeb. Guess that's right. But say, Sam, ain't y' heard some 
 talk about her ? 
 
 Sam. What talk ? 
 
 (Rises, placing glass or dish 07i table R.) 
 Enter Mrs. B., c, tcnnoticed. 
 
 Zeb. Why, about Mis' Gilbert. Folks 'r* sayin' some kind 
 o' queer things about 'er. 
 
 Mrs. B. ''Folks?" Who's ''folks," I'd hke t' know, 
 Zebediah Bunn ? You 'n' one or two others, I s'pose? I 
 should think men like you *d better be in bigger business than 
 rakin' up suspicion ag'inst a woman 't you don't know a thing 
 about. 
 
 Zeb. That's jest it, Mis' Birch. If folks knew a little more 
 about her, mebbe they wouldn't s'mise quite s' much. I ain't 
 got nothin' ag'inst her. Never said nothin*, either. For my 
 part, I'd be glad t' take her part, 'f necessary. 
 
 28 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 29 
 
 Sam. She's lived at the hotel 'most six months now, 'n' 
 Mali' 'n' I never seen a thing that wa'n't jest right yet. Did 
 we, Mari' ? 
 
 Mrs. B. No, of course we ain't. Jest because a woman 's 
 got gumption t' keep her own business t' herself, and not tell 
 meddlin' folks all they want t' know, they have t' up 'n' try t' 
 make out she's got somethin' t' hide. What if she has? VVho 
 ain't, I'd like t' know ? I guess it's a lucky thing for most of 
 us 't we don't have t' tell all we know. 
 
 Zkb. Guess 'tis. Here t'-night, ain't she? 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes. She's goin' t' sing before long. 
 
 Zeb. Good. Hear she's a reg'lar warbler, 
 
 Sam. You bet she is. Sounds like one o' them op'ry sing- 
 ers 1 heard once when I was down t' New York. 
 
 Enter Eri, l., with tray, on ivhich are dishes of ice-cream or 
 glasses of lemonade. 
 
 Zee. Hello, Eri. You here? 
 
 Eri. Yes. Dis is who 'tis. 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, we had Eri come over 'n' help. The doctor 
 'n' Dolly's been kind t' us many a time, 'n' Eri was willin'. 
 Wa'n't you, Eri? 
 
 Eri. Suah, Ah was. Glad t'. Seein' d' pahty, 'n' gitt'n' 
 all d' 'freshments Ah can eat. Lawdy, Ah's 'bout full t' 
 bust'n' o' ahse-cream 'n' lemonades. (Up in c. d.) Gwine 
 out t* see 'f anybuddy wants some mo'. \^Exit, c. 
 
 Sam {^iiear c. D.). Come on, Zeb. Let's go out where the 
 rest o' the young folks be. 
 
 Zeb. (rising). '^ Young folks?" That's me. Where be 
 they ? . 
 
 Sam. Oh, out there. Guess when Dolly Britton asked us t' 
 come, she meant for us t' enj'y ourselves. 
 
 Zeb. Reckon she did, 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, 'n' wa'n't it nice of her, t* ask everybuddy, 
 so 't we could all have a good time? I wonder where Anna 
 Belle is? 
 
 Sam. Seen her out there a little while ago. Wonder 'f 
 she's goin' t' act out for 'em? 
 
 Mrs. B. She will if they give her a chance. All Anna 
 Belle thinks of is actin'. I d' know's she'll ever be any good 
 agin wait'n' on table 'n' washin' dishes. She 'd ruther dress 
 up 'n' act like that Camill woman, or somebuddy o' that sort. 
 
30 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 If you see her, Sam, tell her t' come in here. I want t' tell 
 her t' behave herself. 
 
 Sam. All right. Come on, Zeb. \^£jci^, c. D. 
 
 Zeb. I'm a-comin'. (In c. D.) Might give 'em a jig 
 m'self, 'f they was t' ask me. 
 
 [Dafices a few jig steps and exits c.) 
 
 Mrs. B. {looking after hint). For the land's sake. Zebe^ 
 diah Bunn dancin' a jig ! What next, I wonder ? 
 
 Enter Anna, c. 
 
 Anna. Did you want to see me, Mis' Birch ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, Anna Belle, I did. I want t' tell you, for 
 goodness' sake, don't go t' showin' off. 
 
 Anna. Why, Mis' Birch, what do you mean ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, actin' out one o' them ''scenes," 'r anything 
 like that. Don't let every buddy know you're such a ninny. I 
 must say, that dress is pretty showy for a girl that works for a 
 livin' in a hotel. 
 
 Anna. That's no sign I can't have a little style, is it? I 
 guess I earn all I get, and my own money paid for it. I don't 
 intend to stay here long, and work in your old hotel, either, — 
 so there ! It's beneath me, and I've got talent that's being 
 wasted in this place. Some day, you'll hear of me as a great 
 actress ; see if you don't. 
 
 Mrs. B. Great actress ! Great foolishness, I call it. But 
 we won't talk about that now. I want you t' have a good time 
 t'-night, only 1 hope you'll be careful 'n' not show off. Mis' 
 Gilbert's goin' t' sing, 'n' I guess anything you could do 
 wouldn't seem like much, by the time she got through. 
 
 Anna. Oh, you think Mis' Gilbert's so wonderful that no- 
 body else can do anything. She's nice, I know, and 1 like her, 
 and she's a good singer — but I've heard others. Besides, she 
 told me herself that she thought I had talent. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, she did? Wal, she's that kind-hearted she 
 didn't want t' hurt y'r feelin's tell in' the truth. {Looks c. 
 to R.) Here she comes now, with Dolly. 
 
 Enter Dolly and Agnes, c. d. r. 
 
 Dolly. Good-evening, Mrs. Birch. And Anna Belle, too. 
 I'm so glad you came, and I do hope you'll have a good time 
 Mrs. B. Of course we will. We are. 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR Jl 
 
 Anna. Yes, it's a very nice party. 
 
 Agnes. Isn't it? 1 tell Dolly she's a perfect jewel when it 
 comes to giving people a good time. 
 
 Mrs. B. So you're enjoyin' yourself, too ? 
 
 Agnes. Why, of course I am. How could I help it ? 
 
 Anna. I hear you're going to sing? 
 
 Agnes. I don't see any way out of it, now. Real^, it 
 isn't my fault. You must blame this little girl. 
 
 (^Fondly indicating Dolly.) 
 
 ! Dolly. Oh, I'm willing to take all the responsibility for 
 that. What about you, Anna Belle? Aren't you going to 
 give us a recitation ? 
 
 Anna. Oh, no, thank you. I — really, I don't know any 
 very good ones. Most of my recitations are scenes from the 
 drama, and require costumes and stage acceressories. 
 
 {She pronounces it as spelled here — ac-cer-es-so-ries.) 
 
 Mrs. B. Wal, why didn't you ask Ben Shaw t' lend you a 
 few? 
 
 Anna. Oh, Mrs. Birch, not that kind of a stage. The 
 idea ! 
 
 Dolly. Well, I'm sorry, but you see if you can't think up 
 something that will do, Anna Belle. Now I must go out and 
 see how things are going. 
 
 {She goes out c. Mrs. B. follows her to c. d. Anna is 
 L. c, Agnes, r. c.) 
 
 Mrs. B. And I'll go along and see 'f there ain't something 
 I can do t' help. They'd never dare ask you, Anna Belle, in 
 all them fixin's. \^Exit, c. 
 
 (Anna walks about, piitiing on airs.) 
 
 Agnes. You look very nice, Anna Belle. 
 
 Anna. Do you think so. Mis' Gilbert? I s'pose some folks 
 think, just because I have to work in a hotel, I haven't a soul 
 above such things. But oh. Mis' Gilbert, 1 :im burning with 
 the desire to soar — to shine in the world — to be a star ! 
 
 E7iter Eri, c, 7aith tray, in time to hear this speech. 
 
 Erl Wow ! Help ! Call out de fiah depahtment. Anna 
 Belle's on fiah ! \Exit, l. 
 
32 
 
 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Anna {goin,^ to i.., as if to strike Eri, hut comin£^ hack as 
 she misses him). Yes, that's just the way ! They all make 
 fun of me. But I'll show them — I'll show them yet. (Eri 
 sticks his head in L., zmnoticed.) I feel it in me that I have 
 the divine afflatus ! 
 
 Eri. Whoop! Now she's full o* sail 'rytus. {^D is appeal's.^ 
 
 Anna (indignantly j then half iji tears). 0-oh ! I could — 
 I just won't stand it. I'll go away from here 
 
 Agnes. Never mind, Anna Belle. You mustn't blame 
 them because they don't understand you. Perhaps — some 
 (^ay — you will really know the pain, the sadness, of being mis- 
 understood — when you have not the power to defend yourself. 
 
 Anna. You are, I know you are. Mis' Gilbert. I've heard 
 
 them talk, and — well, I (^Looks r.) Oh, here's Miss 
 
 Pinner. 
 
 (^Looks at Susan ivith as much as to say, *' And she^s the 
 one!'' a?id goes out c. Agnes crosses to L., Susan 
 comes to c.) 
 
 Agnes. Good-evening, Miss Pinner. 
 
 Susan {coolly, assuming her most severe aspect). Good- 
 evening. 
 
 Agnes {starting up toivard c. d.). I think I will go out. 
 They expect me to sing, and it is nearly time, I believe. 
 
 Susan. Wait, please. I wish to speak to you. 
 
 Agnes {pausing c. d.). Yes? 
 
 Susan. I trust you will not consider that I am taking too 
 great a liberty, Mrs. Gilbert, but I think it my duty to say 
 what I am about to say. I am a Christian, I hope — a woman 
 who tries to do what is right, and to shirk no responsibility, 
 however painful. 
 
 x^GNES. Yes, Miss Pinner, but — may we not take that for 
 granted, and — and get to what you have to say to me ? I have 
 but a moment. 
 
 Susan. Very well. Then we will waste no time — no 
 words. It is simply this, Mrs. Gilbert — I think it is best — for 
 your own good — your safety, in fact — that you leave this place 
 at once. 
 
 Agnes. What do you mean, — why do you presume to 
 m;ike such a suggestion to me ? 
 
 Susan. I speak from firm conviction, from more than a 
 suspicion of what you are 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 33 
 
 Agnes. What — I — am — why, I 
 
 Susan. The fact that you are not, at least, what you pre- 
 tend to be — an honest woman, one with whom it is best for 
 self-respecting people to associate. 
 
 Agnes. You pride yourself on your Christianity. Christi- 
 anity? — ah, such as you i)rofane the word. (Susan is about to 
 reply ^ straightens up ifi horrified indignation.) Don't speak 
 to me — don't deny it — you do ! you do ! You profess to be a 
 Christian, then you seize the first opportunity to ruin another 
 woman's reputation, as a ravenous wolf seizes its prey. You 
 don't wait for even a glimmer of the truth — you don't give one 
 a chance to defend herself — no, you follow her up, you hound 
 her, you try to get her in a corner — you, with your Christianity ! 
 — ha ! — your self-righteousness — your hypocrisy — your bigotry 
 and your — ^jealousy ! 
 
 (She sinks into chair, overcome, and striving in vain to co?n- 
 pose herself.) 
 
 Susan. Are you quite through ? If so, perhaps you will 
 permit me to speak. 
 
 Agnes. Oh, I didn't know what I was saying. You drove 
 me to it ; I didn't mean to give way like that, but I am not 
 well — I am nervous — unstrung 
 
 Susan. I meant to spare you, to warn you, and to prove to 
 you my desire to befriend and assist you. But now — now, 
 after those words, I shall do only my duty. You have chosen 
 to defy me ; you must suffer the consequences. 
 
 Agnes (rising, partly composed, and with dignity). Your 
 duty, by all means. I would not have you shirk it for me. 
 You have assumed that I have something to hide, that I am 
 not an honest woman, and that I have cause to fear you. Well, 
 prove it — prove that those hints — yes, accusations, — are justi- 
 fied — or you may have to suffer the consequences. 
 
 Susan. I — I? What do you mean ? How dare you 
 
 Agnes. There is such a thing. Miss Pinner, as malicious 
 slander, and a penalty for it, under the law. I am not the 
 poor, helpless woman you seem to take me to be. I have 
 friends — I am not afraid of you — I demand of you — now — that 
 you prove what you have said — do your worst ! 
 
 Susan. Mere bravado. You will see. If by friends, you 
 mean Dr. Britlun, f think I can convince even him — with all 
 , his seeming infatuation for you — that he has been mistaken. 
 
34 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Enter How., c. D. 
 
 How. Oh, here you are ! Been looking for you, Mrs. 
 Gilbert. Dolly wants to know if you can sing now? The 
 people are getting anxious. 
 
 Agnes. In a few minutes, Mr. Wayne. Tell her I will 
 come soon. 
 
 How. Why, you look all excited — and pale. What's the 
 matter? Has anything happened? 
 
 Agnes. No, — no, nothing has happened, only I have not 
 been well, you know, and — really, the thought of singing makes 
 me nervous. 
 
 How. Ho ! I hope you aren't afraid of anybody that's 
 here. They don't even know what good singing is, half of 
 thera. 
 
 Agnes (^smiling'). Thank you, — that's encouraging. 
 
 How. Oh, now, — I didn't mean that. I'm always putting 
 my foot in it. What I meant was — they don't yet, but they 
 will, as soon as they hear you. 
 
 Agnes. That's better — and very kind of you. 
 
 How. Well, — you know me. It's the way I always do 
 things. 
 
 Agnes. Yes, I understand. 
 
 (Dolly appears c. d.) 
 
 Dolly. Howard Wayne, it takes you forever to do any- 
 thing. Might as well do it myself, in the first place. Oh, 
 Mrs. Gilbert — can you sing now? 
 
 Agnes. Yes, Dolly, I am ready. (^Goes ?//.) 
 
 Dolly. All right. I'll tell 'em. 
 
 {Runs off to R. , followed by Agnes. How. is about to fol- 
 low ^ ivhen Susan, who has stood down r., unnoticed by the 
 others, speaks, and he pauses, coming part way down.^ 
 
 Susan. ]\Ir. Wayne. 
 
 How. Yes, Miss Pinner. 
 
 Susan. One moment. I wish to speak to you. 
 
 How. Well, but — I haven't long, you know. 
 
 Susan. It won't take long. I merely want to know if you 
 will ask Dr. Britton to see me here ? 
 
 How. Why, — yes, I'll tell him. But I guess he's pretty 
 busy just at present. Won't it do by and by? 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 35 
 
 Susan. I prefer to see him at once. Tell him, please, that 
 it is something quite important, but that I will detain him for 
 only a very short time. 
 
 How. Oh, very well. {About to go out c, hut pauses j 
 turns and looks at Susan.) Say, see here, Susan 
 
 Susan. Miss Pinner, if you please. 
 
 How. Oh, yes, — pardon me, — Miss Pinner. What you 
 up to now ? 
 
 Susan. Up to? What do you mean, Mr. Wayne? 
 
 How. On the scent again, I guess, — eh ? Mrs. G. 
 
 Susan. I do not comprehend such talk, Mr. Wayne, and I 
 would resent your insolence if I thought you worth it, — but if 
 you refer to Mfs. Gilbert, I am not, as you choose to put it, 
 " on the scent." I do feel it my duty to say that I do not con- 
 sider her a proper person for — Dolly — to associate with. 
 
 How. Dolly ! — that's a pretty good way to get around it, 
 Su — Miss Pinner. But of course you mean the doctor. 
 
 Susan. Sir ! 
 
 How. Oh, come now, Miss Pinner, own up. Everybody 
 knows you're after the doctor, and have been for years. You 
 might as well 'fess. 
 
 Susan. Mr. Wayne, you are going altogether too far. Your 
 I impudence is quite beyond endurance. 
 
 How. I suppose it is, but 1 guess you'll have to endure it 
 I for a minute or two. (She is about to go out r., but he inter- 
 \ cepts her.) You are so fond of telling other people the truth, it 
 seems to me it's about time somebody told you a little. 
 
 Susan. You will please to let me pass, Mr. Wayne. I am 
 utterly astonished at such talk from you. 
 
 How. No doubt you are. You aren't accustomed to hav- 
 ing others take the liberty you are so fond of taking yourself. 
 But I'm taking it. You might as well listen, 'cause I'm wound 
 up. You've been scheming to catch the doctor all these years, 
 and any woman he looks at is bound to incur your hatred. 
 Just now it happens to be Mrs. Gilbert, and you're trying to 
 hatch up something against her to break it off. (Susan ///Wc'i-, 
 her indigjiation ahnost beyond bounds, but he gives her no op- 
 portunity to speak.') But you can't do it — no matter how you 
 try. And as for your ever getting him — ha ! — why, you're 
 'most old enough to be his mother, and 
 
 Susan. Mr. Wayne — sir ! — how dare you speak to me in 
 such a manner? 
 
 How. Well, I suppose I oughtn't to — and I guess I've said 
 
36 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 too much, but — well, it's said, and I won't go back on it. I 
 won't ask you to forgive me either, for 1 know you wouldn't, 
 and — {in c. d.) to tell the truth — I don't care a hang whether 
 you do or not. {About to go out, but pauses.^ Oh, 1 believe 
 you said you wanted to see the doctor ? All right, if I run 
 across him I'll send him in; though I don't know as it's safe. 
 You may want to propose to him. {Laughs and goes out to R.) 
 
 (Susan, in great i?idignation, walks back and forth, having 
 been standing l., suddenly turfis a fid collides with Eri, 
 who has entered and started up c. He carries an empty 
 tray, which she causes hitJi to drop.^ 
 
 Susan. Why don't you watch what you are doing? 
 
 Eri. Reckon 'twas you-uns done dat ar, missus. 'Tvvas 
 you dat bunked. {Picks up tray?) 
 
 Susan. It was entirely your fault. {Goes r.) 
 
 Eri {up c). 'Spect it was, missus. Gen 'ally is mah fault, 
 whatevah happens. But Ah cal'late yo' had somepin' t' do 
 wid it dat time. 'Pears t' me yo's one o' de rambunctious 
 kind. Miss Pinnem. 
 
 Susan. Don't speak to me ! How dare you? I shall re- 
 port you to Mr. Birch. \_Exit, R. 
 
 Eri. Laws a massy, ain't she de ole catamaran ? 
 
 Enter Zee., c. 
 
 Zee. Hello, Eri, where you goin' ? 
 
 Eri. Gwine t' pick up de dirty dishes, 'n' see 'f any ob 'em 
 want some mo' 'freshments. 
 
 Zeb. I don't mind having a few, Eri. Git me some, will 
 y'? 
 
 Eri. Land o' libin', Zeb Bunn, yo' had *s much 's fiveteen 
 dislies o' ahse-cream 'n' a dozen pieces o' cake already, 'n' 
 'nough lemonsade t' swim in. 
 
 Zee. Ain't nuther. You al'ays could lie faster 'n a hoss 
 could trot. 
 
 Eri. Huh ! 'Twouldn't take veh fas' lyin' t' beat some 
 ole nags. Wal, Ah reckon 'f yo' go out 'n de kitchen, dey'll f 
 let yo' hab some mo'. Ah's got t' wait on de comp'ny. 
 
 \_Exit, c. D. R. I 
 
 Zee. Hey, there, — what y' call me? Guess I'm comp'ny, 
 's well 's the rest of 'em. Had an invite. 
 
 Enter 'Squire, c. 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 37 
 
 'Squire. Hello, Zeb. 
 
 Zeb. {who has started l., now turnmg). Hello, 'Square. 
 You come to the party, too ? 
 
 'Squire. Jest dropped in. Wasn't invited, but had a 
 matter of business. 
 
 Zeb. Oh, — business? Seems so y' needn't 'a' butted into 
 the party. Reckon I'd 'a' waited till mornin'. 
 
 'Squire. Maybe you would, if it had been your business, 
 but this happens to be mine. Where's Doc Britton ? 
 
 Zeb. {jioddifig toward q.). Out there, I guess. 
 
 {The prelude to a song is begun on the piano, off r. c, then 
 a beautiful sopra?io or contralto voice, supposed to be that 
 of Agnes, is heard singing a high-class, but not too elab- 
 orate, song. Zeb. stands in c. d., listening ; 'Squire 
 down R.) 
 
 'Squire (afterapause; the music still continuing). Who 
 is it? 
 
 Zeb. Mis' Gilbert. 
 
 'Squire. Oh ! Sing some, can't she? 
 
 (Zeb. holds up hand, indicating silence, and goes off to r. 
 ^ Squire goes up to c. d., stands listening. After another 
 pause, Susan enters r., at first unseen by Jwn. She ivaits 
 a mome7it before speaking. The singing continues until 
 song is finished, then there is a burst of liearty applause 
 outside. ) 
 
 Susan. 'Squire Ferguson. 
 
 'Squire {tumiiig, coming part way down). Oh, Miss 
 
 Pinner, — good-evening. Guess you think it's kind of queer, 
 
 me coming to your doings without an invitation, but, the fact 
 
 I is, it's on a little urgent business that couldn't very well wait 
 
 till to-morrow. 
 
 Susan. Not at all, Mr. Ferguson. Was it with Dr. Britton ? 
 
 'Squire. Yes. Think he can spare me a minute ? 
 
 Susan. I am quite sure he can, and will. I will see that 
 he is called, at once. {Goes up to c. d. ) 
 
 'Squire. Much obliged. 
 
 Susan {coming back, speaking in confidential tones, with a 
 manner of sly satisfaction^. And was it about a — a certain — 
 woman ? 
 
 'Squire. M'm — a woman? 
 
38 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Susan. Yes. 
 
 'Squire {starting, in spite of himself ; looking straight at 
 Susan, keenly). It might be about my indigestion — or the — 
 er — lumbago. 
 
 Susan. But it isn't. I think I know what it's about, 
 'Squire Ferguson, and — perhaps I know a little more than — 
 well, something you'd like to know. 
 
 'Squire. M'm, — that so ? And perhaps you know enough 
 to keep it to yourself until the proper time comes to disclose it, 
 — eh, Miss Pinner? 
 
 Susan. I think I do, 'Squire Ferguson. You may trust 
 me. Now, if you will step into the doctor's office, I'll see that 
 he is found and sent in to you. {Shozvs him to r.) 
 
 'Squire. Thanks, Miss Pinner. M'm — I've heard that 
 women make pretty good detectives, sometimes, and — I begin 
 to think it's true. 
 
 Susan (Jziiowingly). Yes, — 'Squire? 
 
 'Squire. Y-yes; especially — ^jealous women. 
 
 {He exits R. Susan glares after him, angrily.') 
 Enter Eri, c. d. 
 
 Susan. Did you see Dr. Britton out there ? 
 
 Eri. Yass'm. He's dare wid de rest ob 'em, iist'nin' to de . 
 singin'. She's gwine sing some mo' right soon. 
 
 Susan. I wish you would send him to me, at once. 
 
 Eri {looking off to R.). Yass'm. Yuh he come now, , 
 ma'am. 
 
 Enter Tom, c. ; Eri exits l. 
 
 Tom. Did you send for me, Susan ? 
 
 Susan. Yes. I wished to speak to you a moment. 
 
 Tom. Couldn't you wait? It seems as if I might be per- 
 mitted to have a good time, once in a while. 1 
 
 Susan. But this is very urgent, doctor. It is in reference 
 to — to that woman. 
 
 Tom. Will you be so kind as to explain whom you mean ; 
 by '* that woman " ? 
 
 Susan. You know whom I mean — Mrs. Gilbert, as she 
 calls herself. I have had my suspicions for some time that she 
 is not all she should be 
 
 Tom. I- believe I've heard you say that before, Susan, and 1 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 39 
 
 you may as well understand, once for all, that I care nothing 
 for your suspicions, and that nothmg you can say will change 
 my very high opinion of Mrs. Gilbert. I don't know on what 
 you base your ''suspicions," as you call them, but I do know 
 that you will oblige me very much by keeping them to yourself. 
 
 Susan. I cannot do so, for I believe it my duty to speak 
 out. 
 
 Tom {starting to go out c). I prefer to hear nothing more 
 on the subject. To-night, at least, you might let a fellow have 
 a good time, without trying to spoil it. 
 
 Susan. I am sorry, doctor, if you feel that way about it, 
 but it had to be to-night. You misjudge me, but even your 
 displeasure cannot swerve me from my Christian duty 
 
 Tom. Oh, Susan, — you and your eternal " Christian duty" ! 
 
 Susan. You may sneer, if you please, but I stand firm. 
 My suspicions of — her — are not a matter of personal feeling, 
 nor of conjecture. What I know, I know ; and what 1 see 
 with my own eyes, I believe. 
 
 Tom. Oh, — indeed? So do most people. Pray, then, 
 what do you know, and what have you seen with your own 
 eyes? 
 
 Susan {looking about cautiously). Do you remember, the 
 other day, about a week ago, when you went out with 'Squire 
 Ferguson, you changed your coat, leaving the one you took off 
 in my care ? 
 
 Tom. M'm — yes, I think I do. 
 
 Susan. And do you remember leaving a small package, 
 securely tied, and quite heavy for its size, in one of the 
 pockets ? 
 
 Tom. Yes. It was very careless of me. What then ? 
 
 Susan. Well, I took it out, and, also carelessly, left it for a 
 few moments lying here, on this table. I left the room, and, 
 returning, saw Mrs. Gilbert stealthily take the package from 
 the table, conceal it about her person, and take it away with 
 her. 
 
 Tom. Well, what of it ? 
 
 Susan. What of it, when a woman — a woman of whose 
 
 '\ antecedents or past life we know nothing, proves herself a 
 
 thief? You listen to what I have told you as if it were noth- 
 
 > ing out of the ordinary for a woman to steal, and calmly ask, 
 
 "What of it?" 
 
 Tom. You are a little too anxious to jump at conclusions, 
 I Susan, and altogether too eager to catch Mrs. Gilbert in a trap. 
 
40 tHE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 But you have failed. The fact is, you have told me nothing I 
 did not already know. 
 
 Susan. What ! You mean to say 
 
 Tom. Exactly. I mean to say that what you have told me 
 is neither new nor surprising. I knew all about it. 
 
 Susan. I fail to understand. 
 
 Tom. What if the package belonged to Mrs. Gilbert all the 
 time? She was simply appropriating her own property. 
 
 Susan. A likely story. 
 
 Tom. Quite so. She gave me the package to keep for her 
 — I carelessly left it in my pocket — you took it out, carelessly 
 left it on the table, where she discovered it, and picked it up. 
 That's all there is to it. 
 
 Susan. It is very kind, very gallant, of you, to try to shield 
 her. But I don't think your explanation is entirely plausible 
 or satisfactory. Even if it is true, why did she give you the 
 package in the first place ? 
 
 Tom. Why, for safe keeping, of course. 
 
 Susan. M'm — safe keeping. It must have been something 
 very valuable — something she was afraid to have in her posses- 
 sion. Evidently, you have fixed it up between you, but you 
 have not convinced me, and I imagine there are others you 
 may not be able to convince. 
 
 Tom. Whew ! Susan, you seem to have gone into the de- 
 tective business, in real earnest. If you think you're doing 
 your "duty," — go ahead. But if you're through with me, I 
 think I'll join the party, (c. d.) 
 
 Enter 'Squire, r. 
 
 'Squire. Just a minute, doc. I want to speak to you. 
 
 Tom. Oh, — you, too? I see — you and Susan, Well, what 
 is it ? ( Comes down. ) 
 
 Susan. I will leave you. If you wish to see me, 'Squire 
 Ferguson, I will be in the next room. 
 
 'Squire. All right. Miss Pinner. [^Exit Susan, r. 
 
 Tom. What's all this about, anyway, 'Squire? Same busi- 
 ness, I suppose. Well, anything new ? 
 
 (Tom is c, 'Squire, r. c. They sit. The singing has ceased.^ 
 
 'Squire. Yes. I am firmly convinced, now, that that 
 package contained the Livingston diamonds. 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 4 1 
 
 Tom (^springi7ig up, greatly excited^. What — that package? 
 The one — Mrs. — Gilbert — gave me? Impossible. 
 
 'Squire. Possible — and true. They were sent to her by 
 the one who stole them, to be kept till it was safe to dispose of 
 them. 
 
 '1 OM. I don't believe it. 
 
 'Squire. But it's true. We've got all the proofs. 
 
 Tom. What do you intend to do? 
 
 'Squire. Why, what is there to do? She's his confederate, 
 and — you know the law. 
 
 Tom. The law ! — You mean No, you shan't ! It's 
 
 a shame, an outrage ! {IValks about excitedly^ goes up to c, 
 looking off ?) I tell you, it's impossible — it can't be 
 
 'Squire {Jiaving risen, loalks calmly up c). Sorry. I 
 know it hits you, but it can't be helped, doc. Maybe when 
 
 you hear the whole story {^Looks off to r.) Ah, here 
 
 she comes now — with your sister, and 
 
 Tom. 'Squire, — you don't need to do it to-night. Not now 
 — here — and spoil my sister's party, and everything? Think 
 of it — that poor woman — give her at least till to-morrow, 
 'Squire. 
 
 'Squire. And time to escape? Can't do it. You don't 
 know their sort — slippery as eels, and — sorry, doc, but I don't 
 see how I can do it. 
 
 Tom. But she couldn't get away, even if she tried. She 
 doesn't suspect that you know. You can keep watch. You'll 
 do it, 'Squire — say you will ! I'll vouch for her. Quick — 
 they're coming ! 
 
 'Squire. M'm — hadn't ought to, but — well, I will. But 
 you must give me your promise — your word of honor — you 
 won't help her to get away, nor even warn her? Not a word. 
 
 Tom. Not a word. I promise, 'Squire — on my honor. 
 
 'Squire. All right. But to-morrow forenoon — at the 
 hotel 
 
 Tom. She'll be there. I promise. 
 
 ('Squire is about to go l., but is seen by Agnes and Dolly, 
 7vho enter c. D. Agnes starts, but by an effort calms 
 herself, as she sees him. She comes down c. ; Dolly re- 
 mains up. ToM is r. c.) 
 
 Agnes. Good -evening. 
 
 'Squire. Good-evening, ma'am. Excuse me, I was just 
 
42 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 going. Had a little business with the doctor, and didn't know 
 1 was interrupting a party. {About to go?) 
 
 Dolly. But won't you stay and have a dish of ice-cream, 
 Mr. Ferguson ? 
 
 'Squire. No, thanks. Just as much obliged, but I'm not 
 much for such things. Sorry to interrupt. Good-night. 
 
 \_Exit^ L. 
 
 Dolly. Dear me, Tom, can't you ever have a minute's 
 peace ? I never saw anything like it. Mrs. Gilbert wants to 
 rest a little while. They made her sing so much, it's tired her 
 all out. 
 
 Tom. Sit down, Mrs. Gilbert, and perhaps I can give you 
 something that will make you feel better. 
 
 Dolly. Do, Tom ; she was so kind to sing, and it was just 
 grand. And I'll run back and see to things. I certainly have 
 my hands full. \^Exit, c. 
 
 Agnes. Thank you, doctor, but I don't need anything. I 
 am a bit tired, that is all, and need only a little rest. {Looks 
 about?) 1 am glad we are alone. There is something I want 
 to tell you. 
 
 Tom. Yes? {^Goes and stands by her chair?) 
 
 Agnes. I — I — it is something that I should have told you 
 long ago. I have tried, but it was so hard, and — and — I 
 waited, and now it is harder than ever. But now that I think 
 of going away 
 
 Tom. You are going — away 
 
 Agnes. Yes, I must — soon — at once. I have duties else- 
 where, and I must go — as soon as possible. 
 
 Tom. But — but if I ask you to stay? If I tell you that I 
 have no desire in life so great as to keep you here with me — as 
 — oh, Mrs. Gilbert — Agnes — you know — you must know — 
 that I love you, and 
 
 Agnes. No, no, you mustn't 
 
 Tom. But I do. I can't help it. I want you,-— you, and 
 no other. 
 
 Agnes. It cannot be — never ! No, — no, it cannot be ! 
 
 Tom. I know, it may be too soon for me to speak thus to 
 you. It is only six months since — your husband's death, — 
 but I am willing to wait. Only give me a word of hope — tell 
 me that in time 
 
 Agnes. Oh, if you knew how I appreciate your offer — your 
 love — and how I long to — to say what you ask me to say- 
 but I cannot, I cannot. It is impossible. Think — think what] 
 
 I 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 43 
 
 they are saying of me, here. You are not blind — you are not 
 deaf. They suspect me — they think I am not a good woman — 
 and in spite of that, you — you ask me 
 
 Tom. I ask you to be my wife ; to let me protect you — to 
 prove my love, my faith in you. That is what real love is — or 
 should be — absolute faith and trust — and that is my love for 
 you. Can you refuse tliat love? 
 
 Agnes. I must — though it break my heart — though it kill 
 me — I must, I do. 
 
 Tom. But why — why? 
 
 Agnes. Because there is a barrier between us — a barrier 
 which makes it wrong even for me to listen to your words. I 
 meant to tell you — here — now — but I cannot, I — I haven't the 
 strength. But to-morrow — come to me then — to-morrow morn- 
 ing — and I — will — tell — you — a// 
 
 (S/ie totters, seemhig about to swoon, and Tom catches her 
 in his arms, just as Susan ejiters r. At the same mo- 
 ment Mrs. B. appears c. jy., followed by Anna, then by 
 Zeb., Eri, and, finally, by Dolly andYio\^., Anna hav- 
 ing given the alann. Susan stands grimly r., looking 07i, 
 with a scornful expression. Tom motions to Mrs. B., 
 who rushes off l. The others group themselves in c. D. , 
 and at back, looking 07i with i?iterest a?id alann. Dolly 
 co7?ies do7vn and stands by Agnes, while How. also comes 
 part way down, at back: Agnes revives, looking aboutin 
 a dazed, frightened manner, then starts feebly toward c. 
 D. She goes slowly out, assisted by Tom, with Y^own fol- 
 lowing closely, as the ctir tain falls, the others looking of ter 
 them, with the exception of Susan, who still stands down 
 R. At the last moment Mrs. B. rushes on l., with glass 
 of water, goes up to c. d.) 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT IV 
 
 SCENE. — Same as Act I. The stove is removed, and the door 
 and windows are open. Discover Eri, with broom, sweep- 
 ing at door. He works lazily, but gives a sudden swish of 
 the broom into the face <?/"Zeb., who enters D. F. 
 
 Zeb. Hey, there! what y' try in' t' do? Can't y' see 
 somebuddy's comin' ? 
 
 Eri. Don't see nobuddy 'n p'ticlah. Got t' sweep. 
 
 Zee. enters, doivn to l. , sits and lights pipe. Eri has finished 
 siveeping ; leans lazily on counter. 
 
 Zeb. That ain't no reason you should sweep it int' folkses* 
 faces, I guess. Where's Sam ? 
 
 Eri. D' know. 'Round yuh some'eres. How'd yo' 'njoy 
 de pahty ? 
 
 Zeb. Fine. Had a scrumptious time. I tell you, that Mis' 
 Gilbert's quite a singer, ain't she? Never heered nothin' 
 like it. 
 
 Eri. Yep. Reg'lar wobbler. 'D y' know she's gwine 
 'way t' -day? 
 
 Zeb. No ! Is she ? What f 'r ? Where to ? 
 
 Eri. Needn't t'ink Ah's no info'mation bureau. Yuh come 
 Mis' Birch. Mebby she'll tole y'. 
 
 Enter Mrs. B., r. 
 
 Mrs. B. Land, Eri, what you standin' there for? Ain't 
 you got anything to do? 
 
 Eri. Yass'm. 
 
 Mrs. B. Wal, go and do it, then. If you ain't the laziesi 
 mortal ! 
 
 Eri. Had t' sweep. (^Goes L.) 
 
 Mrs. B. I s'pose you did, but that ain't all you've got t' 
 do. You'll find more out in the kitchen. 
 
 Eri. Yass'm. Al'ays finds mo'. Ain't never no time 
 when I don't find nothin'. Golly, Ah's gitt'n' tarred. 
 
 \_Exit, L. 
 
 44 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 45 
 
 Zeb. Gitt'n' '' tarred," is he? Ought t' be glad he don't 
 git feathered, too. Say, Mis' Birch, what's this 'bout Mis' 
 Gilbert's goin' away? Is she? 
 
 Mrs. B. I s'pose she is. Got her trunk packed, 'n' told 
 Sam t' tell Ben Shaw t' stop for her. ( Wipes her eyes.) Oh, 
 dear, I do hate t' have her go. I d' know when 1 ever met 
 anybuddy 't I took sech a fancy to. She's jest made this house 
 seem like another place, with her handsome face 'n' pleasant 
 ways. I'm goin' t* miss her something terrible. 
 
 (Mrs. B. is up by counter r. ; Zeb. still seated L.) 
 
 Zeb. S'pose y' will. Mis' Birch; but I guess you ain't the 
 only one. 
 
 Mrs. B. (sniveling, wiping her eyes). No; everybuddy, 
 'most, liked Mis' Gilbert. Of course, that jealous old Susan 
 Pinner, 'n' a few like her, 't ain't worth noticin' ! 
 
 Zeb. What about Doc Britton ? Guess he's one *t '11 miss 
 her. Been tryin' t' git her t' hitch. 
 
 Mrs. B. What? Wal, if you ain't a reg'lar gossip, Zebe- 
 diah Bunn. Women gossips are bad enough, but when a 
 
 man But, of course, you ain't got nothin' else t' do but 
 
 smoke that pipe 'n' set around 'n' talk about other folkses' af- 
 fairs. So you think Dr. Britton wants t' marry her, do you? 
 Wal, I don't blame him, — but I guess he'll want. Her hus- 
 band ain't been dead but six months. 
 
 Zeb. All I know's what I hear, 'n' see. 
 
 Mrs. B. Land, you can hear anything. 'N' as for seein' — I 
 guess you don't miss much. Wal, she says she's got t' go — some 
 business, or something. I didn't ask any questions. Thank 
 goodness, I ain't one t' meddle. 
 
 Enter Sam, c. d. 
 
 Zeb. Hello, Sam. 
 
 Sam. Hello, Zeb. Kind o' hot, ain't it? 
 
 *Zeb. Yes, 'tis. 
 
 Mrs. B. Did you tell Ben Shaw, Sam ? 
 
 Sam. Sure. But they wa'n't any use. He always stops 
 here anyway. Gee ! 1 kind o' hate t' have her go. Guess 
 we'll miss her. 
 
 Mrs. B. Miss her? I should say we will. {Wipes eyss.) 
 
 Sam. Cryin' ! 
 
 Zeb. Yes, she's been weepin' more 'n a quart of tears. 
 
46 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Mrs. B. Why, Zeb Bunn, I ain't no sech thing. You 
 don't know what she's been t' me. Jest like a daughter. 
 (^Goes R.) But I must go 'n' see 'f they ain't something I can 
 do t' help her. Oh, dear, I wish she wouldn't go. ^Exii, r. 
 
 Zeb. She ain't the only one, is she, Sam? 'S I was savin' 
 jest before you come in, there's Doc Britton. He's dead in 
 love with her. Reckon he'd marry her, if she'd have h'im. 
 
 Sam. Fool 'f he wouldn't. 
 
 Zeb. That's right. Wouldn't mind bein' the second Mr. 
 Gilbert m'self. 
 
 Enter 'Squire, c. d. 
 
 Sam. Good-morning, 'Square. 
 
 'Squire. Good-morning. How's everything ? 
 
 Sam. Quiet. Guess the party last night kind o' played 
 ^ people out. 
 
 Zeb. Did me. 
 
 'Squire. That so, Zeb? I guess it doesn't take much to 
 do that, does it ? Seems they had a pretty gay time of it. 
 
 Zeb. Bet they did. Never had enough ice-cream b'fore 'n 
 my life. 
 
 Sam. Yes, 'twas a pretty good party. Mis' Gilbert's 
 singin' was a treat. Hear her, 'Square? 
 
 'Squire, Yes. ^ Twas pretty good. Where is she this 
 morning ? Up yet? 
 
 Sam. Oh, yes, long ago. All packed, ready t' go away. 
 Going on the stage with Ben Shaw. 
 
 'Squire.. That's what I heard. Thought I'd call and say 
 good-bye. 
 
 Zeb. Better look out, 'Square. What 'd Mis' Ferguson 
 say? 
 
 'Squire. Oh, I'll risk that. I guess I'll wait around a few 
 minutes and see her off. 
 
 Sam. All right, 'Square. Stage don't go for half an hour 
 or so. Set down. 
 
 'Squire. No, thanks. Wait outside. (/// c. d.) Don't 
 want to miss her. Let me know when she comes down. Will 
 you, Sam? 
 
 Sam. Sure. 
 
 'Squire. Much obliged. Be out here, having a smoke. 
 
 ^Exit to L. 
 
 Zeb. Huh ! Beats me. Didn't know the 'Square 'n' her 
 was s' well acquainted. Looks kind o' queer, seems t' me. 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 47 
 
 Seemed mighty anxious. (^E liter Anna, r., with play-book.') 
 Hello, here comes that great actress. 
 
 Anna {looking up from book, ivhich she was studying). 
 You needn't make fun of me, Zebediah Bunn. Maybe I'll 
 show you some day, you and all the rest of them that doubt my 
 talent. 
 
 Sam. Guess it 'd be better, Anny Belle, if some o' your tal- 
 ent, 's you tell about, run t' washin' dishes 'n' makin' beds. 
 
 Anna (reading from book, and acting). "I defy you, Har- 
 old Estabrooke ! Do your worst. I am not the poor, weak, 
 defenseless woman you take me for.- No, — see — here are the 
 papers that prove your duplicity and my freedom. Ha ! ha ! 
 Foiled at last! At last!" (IVith an extravagant assump- 
 tion of melodrainatic fervor, she seems to forget herself and 
 the others. Zeb. sits watching her, opeii-moiithed. Sam looks 
 on, amused, but trying to look severe. Dolly and How. ap- 
 pear in D. F., in time to witness latter part of the ^^ scene, ^"^ 
 looking on with evident a7?i?isement. Anna continues, without 
 noticing those about her.) ''What! the child? You know 
 where my child is? Oh, you fiend, to thus take advantage of 
 a mother's love. It is too much, I cannot defy you longer. 
 My child ! — oh, give me back my child ! " 
 
 {Falls on knees, in supplicatioji to a fancied enemy, holding 
 up her arms, pleadingly.) 
 
 Zeb. {rising, taking his coat, which he had held or placed 
 over chair, folding it up, going and placing it in Anna's arms). 
 Here, — take your child ! I don't want it. 
 
 {He and Sam laugh and applaud. Anna sees the coat, flings 
 it onto floor a?id cofnes to herself. Mrs. B. appears R.) 
 
 Mrs, B. Anna Belle, you stop that nonsense, 'n' go 'n' fin- 
 ish them breakfast dishes. If you ain't the worst I 
 
 Anna {going v..). Well, I don't care. You may boss me 
 now, but I'll show you — some day; — so there ! \_Exit, r. 
 
 Mrs. B. She will have them spells. Sometimes I think she 
 ain't quite right. Good-morning, Dolly, — and Mr. Wayne. 
 
 Dolly. Good-morning, Mrs. Birch. (Ylow. boias politely.) 
 We came over to see Mrs. Gilbert. I hope it isn't true that 
 she's going away to-day ? 
 
 Mrs. B. I guess it is. It most breaks my heart. But it 
 seems she's got t' go. Dear me, I feel like I was losin' one of 
 my own. 
 
48 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Dolly. She didn't tell us last night. It must be some- 
 thing very sudden. 
 
 How. Why, yes; I can't understand it. We — we want to 
 tell her something. Don't we, Dolly? 
 
 Dolly. Why — m'm — yes; but you needn't tell it before 
 everybody, Howard Wayne. 
 
 Sam. Give us a guess ? 
 
 Dolly. Oh, Mr. Birch ! You haven't an idea. 
 
 Sam. Haven't, eh? Bet three t' one I can guess the first 
 clip. 
 
 Zeb. Me, too. You're *n gaged. 
 
 Dolly {terribly embarrassed). Oh, — why — Mr. Bunn ! 
 How could you ? 
 
 Zeb, I couldn't, — but you could. That it? 
 
 Mrs. B. Zeb Bunn, you're the worst I ever see. Don't 
 you mind him, Dolly, — nor Sam, either. They're terrible. 
 
 Zee. Terrible good guessers. (^Chuckles.) 
 
 Sam. Bet Zeb struck it. (^Gives How. a playful poke.) 
 Eh, youngster? 
 
 How. Well, — I suppose we might as well 'fess up. Don't 
 you think so, darling ? 
 
 Zeb. <' Darling ! " Oh, sugar ! 
 
 (^Hides his face sentimentally.') 
 
 Dolly. Oh, — How-ard ! I — I think you're just awful 
 
 Sam. Nice ? 'Course y' do. 
 
 (Dolly blushingly hides her face on How.'s shoulder^ a?id 
 he puts his arms about her. They stand c. Sam is up 
 behind counter, Mrs. B. in front of counter, Zeb. l.) 
 
 Enter Agnes, r. She 7vears a sujnvier travelino; dress, 
 with hat, and carries a handbag and umbrella. She 
 starts back, in surprise, on seeing so maiiy present. 
 
 Agnes. Why, I — I didn't know Good-morning, 
 
 Dolly, — and Mr. Wayne. 
 
 How. Good-morning, Mrs. Gilbert. We're engaged. 
 
 Dolly. Howard 1 
 
 How. W^ell, — aren't we? 
 
 Dolly. Yes, of course, — but 
 
 Agnes. My dear, let me congratulate you. And you, Mr. 
 AVayne. (Dolly goes to her.. Agnes has set do7cn the bag 
 and umbrella, notv puts one arm about Dolly, kissing her, 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 49 
 
 and reaches out the other arm to shake hands with How.) I 
 don't know which of you is most to be congratulated. 
 
 How. Me ! 
 
 Dolly, I ! 
 
 Agnes {laughing^. Well, say both of you — the same. 
 When did it happen ? 
 
 How. Last night 
 
 Dolly. At the party. But of course, we won't be 
 
 (^Pauses, blushingly.) 
 How. Married 
 
 Dolly. For a long time yet. 
 
 How, Oh, 1 don't know. I may not care to wait. 
 
 Dolly. But Tom says — he says I'm too young, and that a 
 year or two 
 
 How. Ho! — *'or two," I like that! Well, we won't 
 quarrel about it, yet. {Affectionately to her.) Will we — 
 dearie? 
 
 Dolly. Oh, Howard ! — before all these people. 
 
 Mrs. B. Land, don't mind us. 1 guess we all know how 
 engaged couples act. 
 
 Sam. Sure. Go ahead, (r.) Excuse me; guess this is 
 a case of "two's company, four or five's too many," 
 
 \_Exit, R, 
 
 Zeb, As for me — be'n through the mill. Had one 'n' lost 
 her, {Goes up.) Wal, got t' git along. Good-bye, Mis' 
 Gilbert ; sorry t' have y' go, 
 
 Agnes, Thank you, Mr. Bunn. Good-bye. 
 
 Dolly. I think it's terrible. Besides, it's so sudden. You 
 never said a word about it last night, 
 
 Agnes. No ; I didn't want to mar your party. But I must 
 go. I have been suddenly called, and — I must go. 
 
 Dolly. Well, I suppose if you must, you must. But you 
 will come back? 
 
 Agnes. Perhaps — some time, I hope so. 
 
 Dolly. Well, we'll take a little walk, and be here to bid 
 you good-bye when the stage goes. Come on, Howard. {Upc.) 
 
 How. Yes, we'll all be here to kiss you good-bye. 
 
 Dolly. Howard ! The idea ! 
 
 How. Sure. A very good idea. 
 
 (Zeb. goes off c. to r., looking back and waving his hand. 
 Dolly aiid How, follow him, going off to l,, he laugh- 
 
50 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 iiigly teasing her and she playfully reprimanding hii7i. 
 Agnes goes up, stands looking after them sadly. JMrs. B. 
 goes up fiear Agnes, looking off, over her shoulder ; sees 
 somebody coining, starts back.^ 
 
 Mrs. B. If there ain't Susan Pinner comin' ! T don't see 
 what she wants t' come here, where she knows she ain't wanted, 
 for. 
 
 (Mrs. B. remaitis r. ; Agnes comes dowfi to l. c.) 
 
 Enter Susan, c. d. r. 
 
 Susan {to Agnes). Good-morning. May I speak to you 
 a moment, Mrs. Gilbert, — {seei?ig ^Ir?,. B.) alone? 
 
 Agnes. I think so. Miss Pinner. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, I s'pose you can, though for my part, Susan 
 Pinner, I fail to see why you come here, at the last minute. 
 Ain't you done enough already? 
 
 Susan, What 1 do, Mrs. Birch, is my duty, and duty is 
 something I never shirk, for my duty is prompted by my Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 Mrs. B. Huh ! I guess if you wa'n't quite so fast t' do 
 what you call y'r duty, you'd have more real Christianity. I 
 don't think Mis' Gilbert has time t' listen t' you. She's goin' 
 away on the stage with Ben Shaw. 
 
 Susan. I think she will grant me a few moments' conver- 
 sation. Am I not right, Mrs. Gilbert ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes. {To Mrs, B.) If you kindly will permit 
 us, Mrs, Birch ? 
 
 Mrs. B, Oh, yes, — seein' you say so. (r.) But I should 
 think — if some folks had any sense 
 
 {Tosses head and exits r.) 
 
 Agnes (r. c. ; Susan, c). You wish to speak to me. Miss 
 Pinner ? 
 
 Susan. Yes, I wish to say, Mrs. Gilbert, that I do not de- 
 sire you to leave here with the impression that anything I have 
 said or done has been in the spirit of animosity. If I have 
 seei^ied severe, it has been because I was adhering strictly to 
 what I considered my duty. 
 
 Agnes. Yes, Miss Pinner; I think I understand. An-fl if 
 I have used any hard ones in speaking to you, I hope you will 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 5 1 
 
 believe that I did so in a moment of excitement, and that I am 
 sorry. 
 
 Susan. Oh, I forgive you. I bear no ill will. It is our 
 Chrisjiian duty to forgive those who misunderstand and malign 
 us, and I forgive you. What I came here for, was to impor- 
 tune you to try to come to a realization of the life of sin which 
 you have been leading 
 
 Agnes (with much dignity). Miss Pinner, I don't think I 
 quite understand 
 
 Susan. Please do not pretend, Mrs. Gilbert, that my mean- 
 ing is not clear to you. I found you out — I ascertained that 
 you were living a life that was not open to the world, and that 
 there was something of which you were ashamed, which made 
 you afraid 
 
 Agnes. I have indeed misunderstood your purpose in com- 
 ing here. I thought it was to make peace with me — not further 
 to misuse and vilify 
 
 Susan. I came to offer you the hope of the Christianity 
 which sustains me ; to say to you that in repentance and a new 
 life is the only hope of salvation. No matter how low we have 
 I fallen — even the thief may hope for pardon, if true repent- 
 ance 
 
 Agnes (furiously, with majesty). Stop ! I will not listen 
 
 to you longer. You call that Christianity — charity — you, who 
 
 do not know what kindness or forbearance is. I call it jealousy 
 
 !| — vindictiveness — persecution, and you — you — a — hypocrite ! 
 
 {They are c. Tom appears c. D.) 
 
 Susan {tuith an assumptio7i of injured imiocence). And 
 still I forgive you, — aye, to seven times seven 
 
 Agnes. Go, — go, I say ! I cannot stand your presence 
 another moment. I 
 
 (She no7V sees Tom, ivho goes to her, taking her in his arms, 
 she at first submitting. Susan looks at theniy in sneering 
 haughtiness.) 
 
 Susan [to Tom). Still blind, I see; still under the spell 
 of a wicked fascination. But even your eyes will sooi\ be 
 opened 
 
 Tom {to Susan, sternly). Not another word. Go ! 
 
 {She looks at hifn, doubtfully ; sees that he is in earnest. 
 
52 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 smiles superciliously , and, straightetiing up in her most 
 dignified manner f exits d. f.) 
 
 Agnes {after a slight paiise, shrinking fro7nHou). You 
 — you mustn't, — no — leave me ! After I have told you, — 
 after {She pauses, turning away ^ 
 
 Tom. No, I shall never leave you, and you shall not leave 
 me. I want you, Agnes — now, always, — as my wife. I love 
 you. Say you will let me love and protect you. 
 
 {About to embrace her.') 
 
 Agnes. No — no — I cannot. I am not fit 
 
 Tom. You are all I want a woman to be — all I want j^;/ to 
 be 
 
 Agnes. No. I am not what you think me. I am un- 
 worthy of your love — even your friendship — your regard. I 
 have lived a lie all the time you have known me ; from the 
 very first — from that night last winter, when you asked me my 
 — my — husband's — name, — taking it for granted that it was 
 my husband who lay dead there, in that room. 
 
 Tom. What ! — That — that man — was not 
 
 Agnes. I have done wrong, I have sinned ! But if you 
 knew how I was tempted — how suddenly the temptation came, 
 before I had time to realize what I was doing, or what might 
 follow. You might forgive me — if you knew all — if you only 
 knew. 
 
 Tom. I will forgive you — I do. We are none of us perfect 
 — none proof against temptation. Tell me — all — and it may 
 not yet be too late 
 
 Agnes {they are doivn c, he facing audience, hut she stand- 
 ing so that she can see off d. F. ; she now starts back, in ter- 
 ror'). Too late ! 
 
 Enter 'Squire, d. f., from l. Agnes is r. c, shoiving trepi- 
 dation in spite of her efforts to be calm ; Tom, l. c. ; 
 'Squire comes part laay dozvn c.) 
 
 'Squire. Pardon me, if I interrupt; but — may I have a 
 few minutes' conversation with you, Mrs. Gilbert ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes, if you wish. 
 
 'Squire. Alone ? 
 
 Tom. M'm — don't you think this is rather unceremonious, 
 'Squire, considering that Mrs. Gilbert and I were — well, hav- 
 ing something of a private conversation ourselves ? {He looks 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 53 
 
 at Agnes ; notices that she wishes hiiJi to go.') But it's all 
 right. I'll wait outside. [In d. f.) 
 
 'Squire. We won't be long. 
 
 Tom. All right. (71? Agnes.) Just outside. 
 
 (She smiles at him^ and he goes out to l.) 
 
 'Squire. Sit down, won't you ? (Pause.') I hope you 
 will forgive me, Mrs. Gilbert, if I seem rather abrupt and, per- 
 haps, a bit severe. I want to treat you as kindly as I possibly 
 can under the circumstances, but the fact is, I — I am com- 
 pelled to ask you a few questions. 
 
 Agnes (still standing, but with hand 07i back of chair, r. c, 
 for support). I understand. Well, I am ready. 
 
 'Squire. M'm — (looking keenly at her) your name is Mrs. 
 Gilbert — Mrs. George William Gilbert ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes. That is my name. 
 
 'Squire. You are a widow ? 
 
 Agnes. Why, yes, — yes, of course. 
 
 ( Wavers f in a coif used manner, as if about to faint.) 
 
 'Squire. You are quite sure? 
 
 Agnes. Why, — what do you mean ? 
 
 'Squire. That your husband is dead ? You have proofs 
 of that fact ? 
 
 Agnes (sinking i?ito chair). Proofs? Don't you know — I 
 — I don't understand. (^She looks up at him, 7iotices his eyes 
 fixed firmly upon her. She cowers before him, then with a 
 great effort forces a semblance of calmness.) Why do you 
 question me thus ? What right have you to doubt me, to think 
 that I am not telling you the truth ? 
 
 'Squire. I have neither said nor implied, Mrs. Gilbert, that 
 you are not telling me the truth. If you are accused of not 
 telling it, you are your own accuser. 
 
 Agnes (rising). I ? My own accuser ? How dare you ? 
 What do you mean ? 
 
 'Squire. I mean that I think it would be better for you to 
 be quite candid with me, and tell me everything. 
 
 Agnes. Everything? 
 
 'Squire. Yes. For instance, in regards to the man wlio 
 came with you to this hotel, during the snow-storm that night 
 last winter, and who died so soon after arriving here — in that 
 room. (Points R.) 
 
54 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 (Agnes has walked part way up c, now turns y again com- 
 ing down. 'Squire is r. c.) 
 
 Agnes {looking r.). The man — who — died 
 
 I 
 
 'Squire {approaching her). Was — he — your — husband? 
 
 Agnes {looking at him itt a dazed, frightened vianjier, for a 
 moment, then shrinking from hinij as if from a blow). I — I — 
 yes, — why, yes 
 
 'Squire {close to her, peeri?ig into her face). You say he 
 was your husband — the man v/ho died in that room ? 
 
 Agnes. Don't you know? He died — he was buried 
 
 'Squire. Yes. But — was he your husband ? 
 
 Agnes {trying to bear up, but faltering and finally almost 
 giving way). What right have you to question me? What do 
 you mean ? I — I will not submit to such treatment — such 
 cross-questioning. 
 
 'Squire. You must. You must tell me the truth. 
 
 Agnes. The — truth ? What do you mean ? 
 
 'Squire. I mean that the truth is not what you have been 
 telling me, Mrs. Gilbert, for — I know the truth ! 
 
 Agnes. Then why do you torture me? Why do you keep 
 me here and wring my heart, till I could scream aloud and go 
 mad ? Have I not had enough to bear ? If you know the 
 truth, tell it ! Tell it — tell everybody. I want them to know. 
 I will tell them — I. No, I have not told you the truth — 1 have 
 lived a lie ever since that dreadful night last winter, and this 
 is the end. I can stand it no longer. 1 want to tell the truth 
 — the truth ! 
 
 {She walks about, almost in a frenzy ; nozv approaches d. 
 F. , Just as Tom appears iti door. He cofnes fonvard as 
 she seems about to faint, and catches her in his arms. She 
 is overcome, atid submits to him for a moment^ with her 
 head drooping on his shoulder. ) 
 
 Tom {to 'Squire). What does this mean? What have 
 you been saying to her, that has caused this? 
 
 'Squire. I have been doing my duty, and she is about to 
 do hers, by confessing that she has been living a life of decep- 
 tion and — and of cr ' 
 
 Agnes {suddenly reviving, facing him furiously). Don't 
 speak that word ! Of deception, yes, but not of crime. I am 
 not a criminal. I have done wrong, I have been guilty of de- 
 ceiving those who befriended me — even this, my best of friends 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 55 
 
 (ttidicafing Tom), but I have committed no crime. No, the 
 man who came with me to this hotel last winter, and who died 
 in that room, was not my husband. He was my brother, who 
 was so ill that taking him to the South seemed the only means 
 of saving his life. But he died, suddenly, and as I had given 
 my name as Mrs. Gilbert — and that is my name — Dr. Brit- 
 ton naturally supposed that he was my husband. 1 did not 
 say so. He asked, ** What was your husband's name — his 
 age ? " and I told him. I never said the man who lay dead in 
 the next room was that husband. 
 
 Tom {fairly dazed by her zaords). But you let me be- 
 lieve 
 
 Agnes. Yes. I deceived you. I acted a lie, and I have 
 had to live it ever since, though it has been a living torture and 
 has made me wish for death. But the temptation was so sud- 
 den — so great — that I yielded to it without knowing what I was 
 doing. I had a husband — one whom 1 had foohshly loved, 
 but who was not worthy of the love I gave him. He had 
 sinned, and had been in prison. Only that day 1 heard that 
 he had escaped, and in a flash came to me the temptation to 
 let my brother's death make hiui free. (T^c^Tom.) You made 
 out the certificate which proved him dead and buried, and he 
 was free — but could no longer pass as my husband. 1 did not 
 have time to think of the complications — the consequences. 
 Heaven knows I have had time to think of them since, and to 
 pay the penalty for what I did. 
 
 Tom. Then your husband is — still — living ? 
 
 Agnes. But he is dead to me — forever — and so is my love 
 for him. I thought what 1 had done might save him — might 
 make him w'orthy of the sacrifice and of my love, but it did 
 not. He has only plunged me still deeper into misery and 
 despair. 
 
 'Squire. Is it not partly your fault? Have you not acted 
 as his accomplice? 
 
 Agnes. I ? — his accomplice ? Never. Never have I been 
 guilty of sharing in anything wrong that he has done. 
 
 'Squire. What about Mrs. Livingston's diamonds? 
 
 Agnes. Ah ! I see. You know about that. You know, 
 no doubt, that he took them from the safe in the hotel where 
 he was clerk, and when in danger of having them found in his 
 possession, sent them to me. He thought I would keep them 
 until it was safe for him* to take them again. He still depended 
 upon his old power over me — but he was mistaken. At first, 
 
56 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 I knew not what to do. I gave the package to you, doctor, 
 thinking they would be safe in your possession, and I free from 
 suspicion, until I could find out the address of the owner and 
 send them to her. That is what I did. I sent tlie jewels back 
 to Mrs. Livingston, though 1 could not tell them who it was 
 that sent them. I have read in the papers that she received 
 them. I did wrong, but I tried to make amends. 
 
 'Squire. Yes, she received them. But I knew where the 
 diamonds were, all the time, and considered you the accomplice 
 of your husband. I am convinced now that I wronged you. 
 
 Agnes. You thought me a — thief! O-oh ! 
 
 {^Covers her face zvith hands. ^ 
 
 'Squii^e. You must admit that appearances were against 
 you. 
 
 Agnes. Yes, — yes ; I cannot blame you. But you believe 
 me now ? 
 
 'Squire. I do. You need fear nothing from me. You are 
 free, 
 
 Agnes. Free ! Fi ee ! 
 
 Tom {goi/ig to lier). I never believed you anything but 
 what you are — what you have been to me all along, and shall 
 always be — the one woman in all the world. 
 
 {He forgets himsef and is about to embrace her. She draws 
 away from him. They are doiuii c, 'Squire up in door.^ 
 
 Agnes. No, no, — you must not. I can be nothing to you ; 
 nothing more than your friend — your true and faithful friend,, 
 forever. Remember — ??iy husband. 
 
 Tom. Yes — he is living. I almost forgot. You — you still 
 love him ? 
 
 Agnes. No. I did, once — as I thought — with what seemed 
 to me a love that could make any sacrifice. But not now, — 
 no, my eyes have been opened. I love him no longer. But 
 he is still — my husband. 
 
 (She turns sadly away frojn Tom, who sta7ids in an attitude 
 of dejection. ^^quiKE comes part way down.^ 
 
 'Squire. I have something else to say, Mrs. Gilbert. Your 
 
 husband 
 
 Agnes. Yes, yes, — what of him? 
 'Squire. Is dead. 
 
THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 57 
 
 Agnes. Dead! He is dead? I — I don't understand. I 
 heard from him only yesterday — he told me to join him — he 
 
 threatened that if I did not And now — now you say he 
 
 is dead ? 
 
 'Squire. It is true. He was shot and killed last night, 
 while resisting arrest. I had a telegram to that effect not an 
 hour ago. 
 
 (Agnes looks at him, as if scarcely comprehending his words. 
 Tom looks up, first at the ^^q\jike, as the import of his 
 words daivns upon him, then at Agnes, with an expression 
 of sudden joy and hope. ^ 
 
 Tom. Then you are free — to be mine. Agnes ! 
 
 Agnes. No, no, — I deceived you — I am not worthy to be 
 
 the wife of such a man as you. I will go away — I must go 
 
 Tom. No, you shall stay here — as my wife. 
 
 ('Squire has gone off to l. Cries of " Whoa ! Whoa ! " 
 are heard outside. Sam hurries in "^.^ followed by Mrs. 
 B. He goes up and exits d. f. She follows him, with a 
 curious glance at Tom and Agnes, ivho also starts to go 
 up c. , Tom for a mojnent remaining down c. After a 
 slight pause, Ben enters d. f. Behind him are Sam and 
 Mrs. B., then How. rt;;/^ Dolly.) 
 
 Sam. All aboard ! (Zl^^ Agnes.) Ready, ma'am? 
 Agnes {about to get bag and tmtbrelld). Yes, — 1 am ready. 
 
 Enter Anna, r., then Eri, l. 
 
 Tom {going toward her to c). She is not going, Mr. Shaw. 
 (Agnes turns, looks at him with surprise, but great te?iderness 
 and longing.) She is going to stay — here ! 
 
 {He holds out his arjns, Ag'NES falters a moment, then takes 
 a step toward him, wavers, and is clasped in his arms. 
 The others, grouped about stage, so?newhat back, look on, 
 with surprise, but evide?ices of Joy.') 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
New Plays 
 
 — -~ 
 
 THE VILLAGE SCHOOL MA'AM 
 
 A Play in Three Acts 
 
 By Arthur Lewis Tubbs 
 
 Author of " Valley Farm," " Willowdale,'' ''The Country Minister^* 
 " The Penalty of Pride,'' ''Miss Buzbfs Boarders,'' etc. 
 
 Six males, five females. Costumes modern ; scenes an interior and an 
 exterior, or can be played in two interiors. Plays two hours or more. 
 An excellen*: comedy-drama, combining a strongly sympathetic dramatic 
 interest with an unusual abundance of genuine and unforced comedy. 
 The parts are unusually equal in point of interest and opportunity, are 
 genuine types of rural character, truly and vigorously drawn and easily 
 actable. No dialect parts, but plenty of variety in the comedy roles and 
 lots of amusing incident. An exceptionally entei'taining piece, full of move- 
 ment and action, and without a dull moment Can be strongly recommended. 
 
 Price 2 J cents 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Richard Elliot, storekeeper and postmaster, 
 
 James B. Graham, a commercial traveller. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Flick, the village parson. 
 
 Hose a Clegg, who belongs to the G. A. R. 
 
 Sam Alcott, tvho has a 7nore than better half. 
 
 TA.T>,JHst a boy. 
 
 Sylvia Lennox, the village school-ma'am. 
 
 Ida May Alcott, who has had advantages. 
 
 Mrs. Alcott, her prond matnma — somewhat forgetful, 
 
 Elvira Pratt, a dressmaker. 
 
 PosiE, who was born tired. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 Act I. — In front of the store and post-office on a morning in August. 
 
 Act II. — Same as Act I, the middle of the same afternoon. If more 
 convenient, these two acts may be played as an interior scene with very 
 few changes of " business " and dialogue, the stage being set in that case 
 as the inside of the store, with counter, post-office boxes, etc. 
 
 Act III. — The home of the Alcotts, three days later. 
 
 THE SUBSTANCE OF AMBITION 
 
 A Drama in One Act 
 
 By Mariejosephine Warren 
 
 Three males, one female. Scene, an interior ; costumes modern. Plays 
 twenty minutes. A sketch of compelling dramatic interest by the authot 
 of "The Elopement of Ellen." A serious piece of high class that can 
 be recommended. Pfice 75 cents. 
 
New Plays 
 
 A PAIR OF CRACKER-JACKS 
 
 A Farce-Comedy in Three Acts 
 
 By Scott Byrties 
 
 Four males, four females. Costumes modern ; scenery, one interior. 
 Plays two hours and a half. An unusually lively and amusing farce for a 
 very small cast, easy to produce and effective in performance. All the 
 parts are good and the laughs equally distributed. Produced profession- 
 ally in 1904 ; professional acting rights reserved. Royalty of ten dollars 
 (^lO.OO) for amateur performance required by the author. 
 
 Pricey 2^ cents 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 '^xc^QKKQYi'E.K, a hard cracker, Mrs. Jack Cracker, Jack*s 
 
 Jack Cracker, 2d, a fire- wife. 
 
 cracker. Estelle Clayton, Jack scTs 
 
 Junius Brutus Bang, in the fiancee. 
 
 '* profesh.'' ^ Y 1.0. AnKiiiS, Jack's niece. 
 
 Coffee, a colored brother. Katrina Von Hoot, Flos 
 
 double, 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 Act I. — Afternoon. Exhortations. 
 
 Act H. — The same afternoon. Complications. 
 
 Act in. — The same evening. Congratulations. 
 
 THE LITTLE CO-ED 
 
 A Vaudeville Sketch in One Act 
 
 By Hamilton Colernan and Harry Osborne 
 
 One male, who plays three parts, and one female. Costumes modern j 
 scenery an easy interior. Plays twenty-five minutes. A bright and lively 
 little sketch originally produced in vaudeville by Yuill and Boyd. A 
 strong piece for a lady, full of points and action. Can be strongly recom- 
 mended. 
 
 Price, i^ cents 
 
 THE SAME MAN 
 
 A Comedy Sketch in One Act 
 
 By Lida L. Coghlan 
 
 Two female characters. Costumes modern; scenery unimportant. Plays 
 twenty minutes. A very clever and effective sketch for two young girls. 
 Can be done entirely without stage or scenery or other preparation than 
 mere memorizing and rehearsal. Played rapidly it is a sure success. A 
 good bit for an exhibition programme. 
 
 Price, i^ cents 
 
New Publications 
 
 THE NEW YORK IDEA 
 
 A Comedy in Four Acts 
 
 By La?igdon Mitchell 
 
 Nine male, six female characters. Scenery, three interiors ; costumes 
 modern. Plays a full evening. The most notable contribution to Amer- 
 ican comedy of recent years, well known through the performance of Mrs. 
 Fiske in all the principal cities of the country. Acting rights are strictly 
 reserved, but permission may be obtained by amateurs to play it on pay- 
 ment of an author's royalty of ^25.00 for each performance. 
 
 Price, JO cents 
 
 THE THUNDERBOLT 
 
 A Comedy in Four Acts 
 
 By Arthur W. Pinero 
 
 Ten male, nine female characters. Scenery, three interiors ; costumes 
 modern. Plays a full evening. Published in advance of its production 
 in the United States by special arrangement. A powerful acting play 
 that reads like a novel. Acting rights strictly reserved for the present. 
 
 Price, JO cents 
 
 CLUB AND LODGE-ROOM ENTER- 
 TAINMENTS 
 
 For Floor or Platform Use 
 
 Comprising: "A Ribbon Race," any number, males and females; " A 
 Variety Contest," any number, males and females ; " The Shamrock Min- 
 strels," four males, three females; " Apollo's Oracle," any number, males 
 and females; " Plantation Bitters," nine males, eight females; "Gulliver 
 and the Lilliputians Up-To-Date," ten males ; '* Dame History's Peep- 
 Show," any number; "The Broom Di-ill," sixteen characters, male or 
 female or both. 160 pages. 
 
 Price, 2 J cents 
 
 Sent post-paid on receipt of price by 
 
 Walter H. Baker & Co., 5 Hamilton Place 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
New Plays for Female Characters 
 ENDYMION 
 
 A Comedy in Three Acts 
 
 By Marie Josephine Warren 
 
 Twenty-three females or less, if desired. Costumes classical ; scenery, 
 one exterior, unimportant. Plays an hour and a half. A very bright and 
 graceful classical comedy suitable for out-of-door performance, if desired. 
 Written for the use of a prominent girls' school and very successful in per- 
 formance. Easy to get up and very effective. Introduces dancing. 
 Strongly recommended. 
 
 Price., 2^ cents 
 
 THE PLEDGING OF POLLY 
 
 A Farce in Two Acts 
 
 By Abby Bullock and Margaret Currier Lyon 
 
 Twelve females. Costumes modern ; scenery, an interior and an ex- 
 terior. Plays an hour and a quarter. Specially written for performance 
 by a Providence (R. I.) school, and strongly recommended for similar 
 uses. Very lively and amusing, easy to get up, and all the parts of nearly 
 equal prominence. Full of the " college atmosphere " that is so desirable 
 in this sort of thing. 
 
 Price, 25 ce7its 
 
 SUSAN'S FINISH 
 
 A Comedy in One Act 
 
 By Alice C. Thompson 
 
 Seven females. Costumes modern ; scenery, an interior. Plays twenty- 
 five minutes. A capital little play for young girls, very original in idea 
 and effective in the acting. The part of Susan is an admirable one for a 
 girl with some capacity for comic acting. Can be made very pretty in pro- 
 duction with very little trouble. Strongly recommended for school per- 
 formance. 
 
 Price, l^ cents 
 
 THE MERRY WIDOW HAT 
 
 A Farce in One Act 
 
 By Helen Sherman Griffith 
 
 Five females. Costumes modern; scenery, an easy interior. Plays 
 thirty minutes. An excellent school play for three young girls and two 
 character women, one very funny low comedy country girl. Easy and 
 amusing and veiy sympathetic in theme, pretty sure to suit the taste of 
 most girls and can be recommended to them. 
 
 Price, /J centa 
 
New Plays 
 
 »» 
 
 THE TIME OF HIS LIFE 
 
 A Comedy in Three Acts 
 
 By C. Leon a Dalrymple 
 
 Six males, three females. Costumes modern ; scenery, two interiors, 
 or can be played in one. Plays two hours and a half. A side-splitting 
 piece, full of action and a sure success if competently acted. Tom Car- 
 ter's little joke of impersonating the colored butler has unexpected con- 
 sequences that give him " the time of his life." Very highly recom- 
 mended for High School performance. 
 
 Price, 2^ cents 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Mr. Bob Grey. 
 
 Mrs. Bob Grey. 
 
 Tom Carter, Mrs. Grey's brother, 
 
 Mrs. Peter Wycombe, a ** personage.'^ 
 
 Mr. Peter Wycombe, a " pessimist " with a digestion, 
 
 Dorothy Landon, secretly ejigaged to Tom Carter, 
 
 Mr. James Landon, Sr., Dorothy' s father ; of a peppery disposition. 
 
 Uncle Tom, an old colored butler from the South. 
 
 Officer Hogan, of the Twenty-Second Street Police Station, 
 
 EETHER OR EYTHER 
 
 A Farce in One Act 
 
 By Robert C. F. Meyers 
 
 Four males, four females. Costumes modern ; scene, an interior. Plays 
 thirty minutes. A clever parlor play, similar in idea to the popular " Ob- 
 stinate Family." Sure to please. 
 
 Price, 75 ce7tfs 
 
 THE MORNING AFTER THE PLAY 
 
 A Comedy in One Act 
 
 By Willis Steell 
 
 Two males, three females. Costumes modern ; scene, an interior. 
 Plays twenty minutes. An easy piece of strong dramatic interest, orig- 
 inally produced in Vaudeville by Christy Clifford. Free to amateursj 
 royalty required for professional performance. 
 
 Price, i^ cents 
 
New Plays and Entertainments 
 MISS FEARLESS & CO. 
 
 A Comedy in 1 hree Acts 
 
 By Belle Marshall Locke 
 
 Ten females. Scenery, two interiors; costumes modern. Plays a full 
 evening. A bright and interesting play full of action and incident. Can be 
 strongly recommended. All the parts are good. Sarah Jane Lovejoy, Katie 
 O'Connor and Euphemia Addison are admirable characj:er parts, and Miss 
 Alias and Miss Alibi, the " silent sisters," ofter a side-splitting novelty. 
 
 PricCf 2j cefits 
 
 MRS. BRIGGS OF THE POULTRY YARD 
 
 A Comedy in Three Acts 
 
 B^ Evelyn Gray Whiting 
 
 Four males, seven females. Scene, an interior; costumes modern. A 
 domestic comedy looking steadfastly at the " bright side " of human 
 aifairs. Mrs. Briggs is an admirable part, full of original humor and 
 quaint sayings, and all the characters are full of opportunity. Simply but 
 effectively constructed, and written with great humor. Plays two hours. 
 
 Price J 2^ cents 
 
 SCENES IN THE UNION DEPOT 
 
 A Humorous Entertainment in One Scene 
 
 By Laura M. Parsom 
 
 Twenty-four males, eighteen females and eight children, but can be 
 played by less if desired. Scenery unimportant ; costumes modern. Full 
 of humorous points and chances to introduce local hits. IMays from aa 
 hour up, according to specialties introduced. 
 
 FricCy 2^ cents 
 
 A MODERN SEWING SOCIETY 
 
 An Entertainment in One Scene 
 
 By O. /T. Gleason 
 
 Fourteen females. Costumes modern ; no scenery required. May be 
 easily presented on a bare platform. Plays forty-tive minutes. A hu- 
 morous picture of this much-abused institution, briskly and vivaciously 
 wrilten and full of "points." Its charactei-s ofter a wide variety of op* 
 portunity for local hits and satire of local characters and institutions. 
 
 Price, i^ ctiits 
 
 lot 57 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
 ■c'S ^ • 
 
 {' •* \ ■ A 
 
 7? ^ 
 

 THE MAGISTRATE ^^'^^^ ^^ Three Acts. Twelve males, four 
 
 females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, all 
 interior. Plays two hours and a half. 
 
 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITF ^'^^^ ]^ jour Acts. 
 
 El males, five females. 
 Costumes, modem ; scenery, all interiors PI ys a full evening, 
 
 THE PROFLIGATE PlayiJ^FourAc^s ^even males, five females. 
 
 Scenery, three Interiors, rather elaborate ; 
 costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ^^^^^ ^° Three Acts. Nine males, seven 
 
 females. Costxunes, modern ; scenery, 
 three interiors. Plays a full evening. 
 
 THE SECOND MRS. TANQDERAY "7 '■'/°" ^"f ^J?""' 
 
 *■ males, five females. Cos- 
 
 tumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 
 
 SWEET LAVENDER ^^"^®^y ^^ Three Acts. Seven males, four 
 
 females. Scene, a single interior ; costumes, 
 modern. Plays a full evening. 
 
 THF TIMES ^^^^'^y ^^ Pour Acts. Six males, seven females. 
 Scene, a single interior; costumes, modern. Plays a 
 full evening, 
 
 THF WEAKER SEX ^<^°^®**y ^" Three Acts. Eight males, eight 
 
 females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two 
 interiors. Plays a full evening. 
 
 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE ''T* "",^7 ^f , ^"' 
 
 males, four females. Costumes, 
 modern ; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. 
 
 Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
 
 l^alter % QBafeet: & Compant 
 
 No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 
 
SEP S8 1910 
 
 d)e 3S^illtam W^xtm Ctittion 
 
 of Paps 
 
 f^tice, 15 Centjtf €atf) 
 
 AS YOTI WKV IT comedy in Five Acts. Thirteen ^nales, four 
 AiJ IvU J4IAI4 11 females. Qostumes, picturesque ; scenery, va- 
 ried. Plays a full evening. 
 
 CAMfT I F ^^^^^^ i^ Five Acts. Kine males, five females. Cos- 
 \^AallLiL)L tumes, modern ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. 
 
 INflOMAff ^^^J ^^ Five Acts. Thirteen males, three females. 
 lliUUlTIiuV Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 
 
 MARY STIIAPT Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
 iUitI\l tJlliAAl males, and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the 
 period ; scenery, varied and elaborate. Plays a full evening. 
 
 THP MFDfHANT HP VPWIfP Comedy in Five Acts. Seventeen 
 iUC 1UCI\UIA111 Ur T£illW£ males, three females. Costumes, 
 picturesque ; scenery varied. Plays a full evening. 
 
 RICHFT IFII ^^y ^^ Five Acts. Fifteen males, two females. Scen- 
 IVlVllLl^llyU ery elaborate ; costumes of the period. Plays a full 
 evening. 
 
 THF RIVAT S comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. 
 1 nil Al T ALtJ Scenery varied ; costumes of the period. Plays a 
 full evening. 
 
 JllC MUUlJ 10 LUNylcK males, four females. Scenery va- 
 ried ; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening. 
 
 TWELFTH NlfiHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL llTA^,!^ 
 
 three females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, varied. Plays a 
 full evening. 
 
 Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
 
 Walttv i^. 'Bafeer & Company 
 
 No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 
 
 • . J, PARKHILL * Oe., PHINTERS, BeSTON. U.S.A. 
 
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