IPS 3545 
 
 ^ PLAYS EXCHANGED. 
 
 kr'3 Edition 
 or Plays 
 
 3&&&ii&&&3a&&&&% 
 
 UNCLE SI. 
 
 COPVr?.GHT, 1889. BY WALTfcH H. BAKER & CO- 
 
Uniformly Bound in Stiff Paper Covers, 
 Price, 50 cents each. 
 
 The publication of the plays of this popular author, made feasible by the new 
 Copyright Act, under which his valuable stage rights can be fully protected, 
 enables us to offer to amateur actors a series of modern pieces of the highest 
 class, all of which have met with distinguished success in the leading English 
 and American theatres, and most of which are singularly well adapted fur ama- 
 teur performance. This publication was originally intended for the benefit of 
 readers only, but the increasing demand for the plays for acting purposes lias 
 far outrun their merely literary success. With the idea of placing this excel- 
 lent series within the reach of the largest possible number of amateur clubs, we 
 have obtained authority to offer them for acting purposes at an author's roy- 
 alty of 
 
 Ten Dollars for Each Performance. 
 
 This rate does not apply toprofessional perfomnances, for which terms will be 
 made known on application. 
 
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 I A. W. PINERO'S PLAYS, t 
 
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 T'WR' AMA701M^ I A Farcical Romance in Three Acts. Bv Arthur 
 1 JTXC nJSirm<JL\0* J w PlNER0 . Seven male and five female char- 
 
 ■ acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an exterior 
 
 and an interior, not at all difficult. This admirable farce is too well known 
 through its recent performance by the Lyceum Theatre Company. New Vork, to 
 need description. It is especially recommended to young ladies' schools and 
 colleges. ' (1895.) 
 
 THE CABINET MINISTER. J £J^"VS:[„ A S, JZ 
 
 — — " — — ' and nine female characters. 
 
 Costumes, modern society : scenery, three interiors. A very amusing piece, in- 
 genious in construction, and brilliant in dialogue. (1892.) 
 
 DAFJDV DITTC I A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthur W. Pinero. 
 l-'-tVLN-L-' *• i-MV«lV# Seven male, four female characters. Costumes, mod- 
 
 ' ern ; scenery, two interiors. This very amusing piece 
 
 was another success in the New York and Boston theatres, and has been ex- 
 tensively played from manuscript by amateurs, for whom it is in every respect 
 suited. It provides an unusual number of capital character parts, is very funny, 
 and an excellent acting piece. Plays two hours and a half. (1893.) 
 
 TT-rc* UHRRV MOP ^17 I A Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthur 
 lriE. riKJDDX riKJSS^I^* W. PlNERO. Ten male, five female char- 
 — ' acters. Scenery, two interiors and an ex- 
 terior : costumes, modern. This piece is best known in this country through the 
 admirable performance of Mr. John Hare, who produced it in all the principal 
 cities. Its story presents a clever satire of false philanthropy, and is full of 
 interest and humor. Well adapted for amateurs, by whom it has been success- 
 fully acted. Plays two hours and a half. (1892.) 
 
 T ATYV ROT TIMTTPT TT I A Pla y n Four Acts - B > r Arthur w. 
 
 l^/VL^I DUUHUruu Pinero. Eight male and seven female char- 
 
 ' acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, four 
 
 interiors, not easy. A play of powerful sympathetic interest, i little sombre in 
 key, but not unrelieved by humorous touches. (1892.) 
 
UNCLE SI 
 
 A Comedy in Four Acts 
 
 Originally produced at Stone's Opera House, Binghamton 
 
 N. Y., Oct. 4, 1898, under the title of 
 
 " Paradise Regained." 
 
 By Frederick H. Wilson 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO 
 
 1900 
 
O COPIES RJECEi 
 f CORgPStSfc 
 
 Office of tfce 
 
 61544 MAY 5 -1900 
 
 _Kegl8Ur_of Copyptg* 
 
 Register of copyrigltfr. V} / 
 
 1* 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 
 As originally produced by the Frederick H. Wilson Company, 
 under the management of Harry C. Curtis 
 
 Josiah Hedges, ("Uncle Si,") 
 
 Frank Rolleston, 
 
 Ned Clearfield, 
 
 Prof. Philander Ticklepitcher, 
 
 Rev. John Rolleston, 
 
 O'Flannigan, 
 
 Weary Wiggles, 
 
 Rachel Watterson, 
 
 Nellie Parkman, 
 
 Tranquillity Hedges, 
 
 Ruth Hedges, afterward known as 
 
 Lucille Askman, 
 
 Frederick H. Wilson. 
 
 Wilfred V. Lucas. 
 
 Robert H. Harris. 
 
 Stuart Anderson. 
 
 Will Chatterton. 
 
 R. A. Furness. 
 
 Will R. Clarke. 
 
 Annie C. Hertz. 
 
 Jeanette Carew. 
 
 Jeanette Howell. 
 
 Minxie A. Barrie. 
 
 Time, the present. Costumes modern. 
 Time in representation, two hours and a half. 
 
 Copyright, 1900, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 
 
 NOTE. — Permission to produce this play by professional managers and 
 actors must be secured from the author, Frederick H. Wilson, 116 West 
 Castle street, Syracuse, N. Y. Amateurs may produce it without pay- 
 ment of royalty. 
 
 s£ cond cop^.<2 s /O^ZL/ 
 
PROPERTY PLOT 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Two rustic benches. An apple and a half apple. Two 
 sketch books. Clothes-line. Clothes to hang on line. 
 Wheelbarrow. Tripod and kettle. Tinware. Small paper 
 bag filled with flour. Snake and cow bell. Novel and lead 
 pencil. Man's bicycle. Pipe and tobacco. Flour barrel with 
 both ends out. Three letters. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Piece of harness. Fence and hen-coop. Rake and pitch- 
 fork. Fork full of hay. Very large pancake. Saw-horse and 
 saw. Stick of wood. Three steel bars. Wash basin and 
 towel. Pan or pail of corn. Broom and tin pail. Letter for 
 Frank. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Easel and picture. Palette. Brush and cane furniture. Sleigh 
 bells and sofa pillow. Large parlor lamp, to be lighted. Snow. 
 Nice pipe, not to be lighted. Calling cards. Fireplace. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Fancy furniture. Decanter. Three wine glasses. Three 
 bananas. 
 
6 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Josiah {outside r. u. e.). Go along there, Mooly; what's 
 the matter with ye ? 
 
 Rachel {going up to r. u. e.). That sounds like Mr. 
 Hedges' voice. He is the best sample of rural simplicity, 
 goodness and honesty, I have ever seen. 
 
 Nellie. He is the dearest old man living. 
 
 Josiah {enters r. u. e. over bridge, down the return piece). 
 Morning, folks, how be ye all. {All greet him ad. lib.) I was 
 takin' one of the cows through the lane, and I thought I'd 
 drop in on ye. 
 
 Ned. We are always glad to see you, Mr. Hedges. 
 
 Josiah. Jest so. Have an apple, miss? {To Rachel.) 
 There's one for you, sonny. {To Ned.) And here is a big 
 one for you, sis. {To Nellie.) They ain't quite ripe yet, 
 and if any o' you folks have got store teeth, ye' 11 have to be 
 pooty careful. 
 
 Omnes. Oh, thank you, Mr. Hedges. 
 
 Josiah. Don't mention it. Ye hain't seen my old woman 
 up this way, have ye ? 
 
 Rachel. No, Mr. Hedges. 
 
 Josiah. I hired a new hand t'other day, and it takes Tran- 
 quillity about all her time looking after him. She sent him up 
 here just after dinner to open the meadow bars, so that the 
 sheep could git up to the hill pasture. He ain't back yet. 
 Say, have another apple. {To Rachel.) Paintin', ain't ye? 
 My stars, you city folks have fun, don't ye ? 
 
 Nellie. Did you ever go to the city, Mr. Hedges ? 
 
 Josiah. I went once. {Crosses to Ned; Rachel goes up 
 stage to r. u. e., and starts sketching.) Hezekiah Allen and 
 me, we was in Bosting four days, a gallavantin' around ; took a 
 ride in the street cars, went to the town hall to see a troupe 
 cut up. We seen Bunker's Hill, visited the lock-up, sot down 
 on a seat in the Common, went to the Salvation Army, bought 
 four chances on a gold watch, and wound up by getting chuck 
 full of apple jack. Hezekiah's fust wife was a relative of the 
 Scraggs, — old Bill Scraggs, he fit in the war. His boy Sem 
 went west to Californy ; some folks say he died there. Found 
 out later he did die; he was buried in Mr. Potter's field. 
 Hezekiah and me come home from Bosting, took off our dude 
 clothes and went to hoein' pertaters. We ain't been to the city 
 sence. 
 
 Ned {coming down a). How would you like to engage my 
 services as a farm hand ? 
 
UNCLE SI. 7 
 
 Josiah. Git out ! The cows would eat you up for green 
 grass. (All laugh.) 
 
 Ned. Oh, I think I could learn to handle the hoe. 
 
 Josiah. Handlin' the hoe ain't all there is to a farmer's 
 life. You city folks housed up all day in your stores and 
 offices don't know nothin' about readin' God's book of nature. 
 In the growin' of grass and garden truck from day to day, we 
 can study life in its onward march ; in the smell of the flowers 
 we can see the handiwork of the Creator. No, no, sonny. I 
 guess I could do the agreeable in a parlor, and measure off 
 ribbon behind a counter, a mighty sight easier than you could 
 work on a farm. 
 
 Rachel. Mr. Clearfield, that ends your aspirations. 
 
 Ned. I believe you. (Ned and Rachel retire up l. u. e.) 
 
 Nellie. Do you ever take summer boarders, Mr. Hedges ? 
 
 Josiah. Well, I hain't made a practice of it. Ye see, ma 
 and Ruth, it takes about all their time to do the chores on the 
 farm. What are ye doin', — readin' ? 
 
 Nellie. Yes, I have the latest novel. 
 
 Josiah. We — we got a book up there to the house; I'll 
 lend it to you if you will take good care of it. Ruth read it 
 most through. It's named "Robinson Crusoe." Ever read 
 it? 
 
 Nellie. Never did. (Laughing.) Let me read you a few 
 lines from this book. It is called, " Alice, where art thou ? " 
 
 Josiah. It ain't Grunes's gal, Alice, is it ? 
 
 Nellie. Well, hardly. 
 
 Josiah. I was going to say, she's over to Bill Morton's, 
 helpin' Tom shear sheep. 
 
 Nellie (reads). " Harold de Vere, after a moment's hesi- 
 tation, essayed forth upon an errand that was destined to be 
 productive of good fruit." 
 
 Josiah. It's been a great season for fruit; have another 
 apple ? 
 
 Nellie. No, thank you. (Reads.) " Little did he know 
 the good fortune in store for him. Giving a hasty glance at 
 Owen Potter to see " 
 
 Josiah. Owen Potter ! I allow he's the one that owns the 
 field where they buried Lem Scraggs. 
 
 Nellie. " To see if his actions were observed, he mounted 
 his steed and galloped swiftly away across the Baldwin." 
 
 Josiah. I crossed the Baldwin one time with a Gravenstein, 
 and the darn thing turned out to be crab apples. 
 
8 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Nellie. "Faster and faster he flew; he knew only too 
 well the loving hearts that were waiting him. Visions of a 
 beautiful face ' ' 
 
 O'Flannigan {enters, r. u. e., on bridge). Supper is wait- 
 ing for you, sor. [Exit, L., over bridge. 
 
 Rachel. For the land's sake ! what's that? 
 , Josiah. That's Flannigan. 
 
 Rachel {looks r.). I think I see your wife coming down 
 the lane. 
 
 Josiah. I guess I'd better be trotting along ; she has a way 
 of speakin' her mind that's — well, it's to the point. 
 
 Tranquillity (off r.). Josiah Hedges? 
 
 Josiah. I'm comin', ma — just as fast as I kin. ( To Nellie.) 
 If the old woman ketches me a talking to you, she'll pull 
 me over the coals. {Starts up.) Don't forget now, folks; 
 come over to the farm. Here's a big apple for you, sis. 
 (Throws one to Rachel.) Come over to-morrow, if ye 
 kin; we're goin' to churn, and I'll give ye some prime butter- 
 milk. 
 
 Omnes. We will. 
 
 Tranquillity (outside). Josiah ! 
 
 Josiah. I'm a comin', ma. [Exit over bridge R. 
 
 Ned. What an innocent old chap he is ! 
 
 Nellie {goes up r.). Dear, oh, dear ! I wonder where 
 Frank can be ? 
 
 Ned. The last time I saw him he was sitting on a fence 
 writing a love letter. 
 
 Nellie. A love letter? A man can't write a love letter un- 
 less he's in love, and he can't be in love unless he has some 
 one to fall in love with. 
 
 Ned. I guess he's found the " some one." 
 
 Rachel. In the name of all that's good and great, who 
 can she be ? 
 
 Ned. She is no less a person than the daughter of our 
 worthy friend who has just left us. 
 
 Rachel and Nellie. What ? 
 
 Ned. Fact. 
 
 Nellie. You don't mean to tell me that my cousin would 
 so far forget himself as to 
 
 Ned. Why he's head over ears in love. I saw him fixing 
 the pole for her clothes the other day, and that's a sure 
 symptom. 
 
 Professor {outside l. u. e.). Snakes ! Snakes ! Snakes ! 
 
UNCLE SI. 9 
 
 {All run up stage l. Prof. Ticklepitcher runs on l. u. e., 
 gesticulating wildly, ad. lib. He pulls snake out of his 
 pants' legs. Ladies scream. The men kill it by stepping 
 on it, etc. Prof, throws it off l. 2 e.) 
 
 Ned. Why, if it isn't my old friend, Philander Tickle- 
 pitcher. 
 
 Prof. I'm his remains. 
 
 Ned. What in the dickens brings you here? 
 
 Prof. Snakes ! {Ladies scream.') Well, to tell the truth, 
 I don't know. I was sauntering through yonder field, when I 
 espied a quadruped of the bovine species. I sallied toward 
 her, when a cow of the William persuasion bore down upon 
 me. On I sped, as upon the wings of the wind. Finally we 
 met. I have frequently been upon the horns of a dilemma, 
 but never before upon the horns of a bu — bu — a William Cow. 
 I came to terra firma after a short aerial voyage, and landed 
 upon the tail end of a snake, who immediately coiied himself 
 about my limb. The rest you know. It may only have been 
 a garter snake, but I want no more garters like that one in 
 mine. 
 
 Rachel. Are you sure that snake is dead ? 
 
 Prof. The part that I hit is. (Glancing R.) Say, Clear- 
 field, I feel rather awkward ; can't you introduce me? 
 
 Ned. Why certainly. Miss Parkman, permit me to present 
 to you my old friend, Prof. Philander Ticklepitcher. (Both 
 bow.) 
 
 Prof. How do you do ? 
 
 Ned. This is Miss Watterson, of Philadelphia. 
 
 Prof. Yours truly and duly. {Bow.) 
 
 Rachel. Charmed to meet you, sir. Permit me to inquire 
 if you were at all injured by the 
 
 Prof. Snake? Not in the least, although we were for a 
 moment locked in a fond embrace. (Looking around.) Sum- 
 mering, eh ! Delightful locality. Charming. The aroma ex- 
 uding from the pansies, heliotropes and daisies permeates the 
 entire atmosphere. 
 
 Nellie. I see that you are an enthusiast on the subject of 
 nature. 
 
 Prof. Of a verity I am. I subsist upon nature. I adore 
 the inanimate. I love the inanimate. The sagacious equine, 
 the domestic canine, the purring feline — and above everything 
 else (Sniffs.) Preparations for eating ? 
 
10 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Ned. Yes, we dine regularly at the Hotel de Green Mountain. 
 
 Prof. I have been dining very irregularly at the Hotel de 
 " Few-and-far-betvveen." 
 
 Ned. Well, professor, you are welcome to the commissary 
 department. 
 
 Prof. Ah, you have sounded the death knell of my hungry 
 propensities. On the wings of the wind I fly. Ladies, until 
 after the pancakes {bow), adieu. [Exit, R. 3 E. 
 
 Nellie. Ned, where did you resurrect that ? 
 
 Ned. He is an old friend of mine. 
 
 Nellie. He looks like a very old friend. 
 
 Rachel. Well, folks. (Rises. y I guess I will go down to 
 the brook and wash my hands before supper. (Goes l.) Are 
 you coming, Nell? [Exit, l. i e. 
 
 Nellie. Presently. [Exit, l. u. e. 
 
 Ned (goes r.). It would be a singular circumstance if I 
 could strike up a flirtation between the eccentric Ticklepitcher 
 and the old maidish Rachel. By Jove, the game, as far as a 
 joke is concerned, is worth the powder. (Looks r.) I wonder 
 if he will eat up everything in the larder. If my memory 
 serves me, there are three events in his daily life — breakfast, 
 dinner and supper. 
 
 Nellie (enters l. 2 e.). Come on, Ned. (Tragically.) 
 This way to the ablution department. 
 
 Ned. Ha, ha ! Lead on, fair maid, I scent the conflict 
 
 from afar. Fame blows her trumpet (Tin whistle blows.) 
 
 Well, if that is fame's trumpet, she blows it mighty few. 
 
 [Both exeunt, l. i e. 
 
 (Noise outside, R. Tramp enters with a wheelbarrow load 
 of cooking utensils, followed by Prof. Tramp grabs 
 Prof, and throws him c, breaks bag of flour in his face, 
 and exits with wheelbarrow, l 3 e.) 
 
 Prof. Well, I'll be blowed. (Blows flour.) Nature, thou 
 art a beautiful garden in which I am only a little flower. 
 (Blows flour.) Of a verity, I think the evening meal will be 
 postponed. The genus hobo has captured the supplies, and 
 the inner man must dine once more at the Hotel de Few-and- 
 far-between. (Looks l.) I think I see the denizens of this 
 camping outfit yonder. I had better inform them that Gen, 
 Coxey has been here with his entire army. (Rises.) I am 
 coming, folks. The flower of the hobo army is coming. 
 
 [Exit, l. 1 E. 
 
UNCLE SI. II 
 
 Frank enters, r. u. e., on bicycle. 
 
 Frank. Hello ! Hello ! everybody. Where are you ? I 
 guess the fort is deserted. (Laugh outside l.) Hello — there 
 they are. (Looks l.) There seems to be a stranger in camp. 
 They all seem to be enjoying themselves. They are fortunate, 
 I can't find any amusement to-day. Sketching is a bore, hunt- 
 ing too fatiguing, and fishing is played out — I am tired of com- 
 pany, and yet there is one exception. Ruth, the old farmer's 
 daughter — what a misfortune it is that fate cast her lot among 
 the buttercups and daisies. By Jove, if she were educated, 
 she would make a wife fit for a king. 
 
 Ruth (outside r. u. e.). Dad ! Oh, dad ! 
 
 Frank (going up l.). There she comes now, looking as 
 beautiful as a lily of the valley. (Comes r.) 
 
 Ruth (enters over bridge r., with milking pails ; she comes 
 down return piece to c, and sets pails down). Phew ! But 
 I'm tired out. 
 
 Frank. How do you do, Ruth ? Been milking ? 
 
 Ruth. Yes. I milked three. The other two cows is 
 farrow. 
 
 Frank. Hadn't you better rest? (Picks up sketch book.) 
 
 Ruth. Where be everybody ? 
 
 Frank. Down to the brook, I guess. 
 
 Ruth. I guess I'd better scoot, then. (Starts.) 
 
 Frank. Why you've only just come. 
 
 Ruth. I know that, but it ain't proper, 'cause you be here 
 all alone. Ma says it ain't. 
 
 Frank. Yes, but your mother is not here. 
 
 Ruth. That's just what's the matter with Hannah. If I 
 ain't home with them milk pails, ma'll soon be here. 
 
 Frank. What makes you act and talk so strangely when I 
 meet you ? 
 
 Ruth. I dunno. Ma says we've got to look out for you 
 fellers from town ; you're all the time talkin' torn foolery to us 
 country gals. 
 
 Frank. Oh go on, come over here and sit down. 
 
 Ruth. I don't want to. Is that your sister that's campin' 
 out here. (F*ank sits down on bench r.) 
 
 Frank. No, it's my cousin. Come and sit down. 
 
 Ruth. I don't want to. How old is she ? 
 
 Frank. She's over seven. Come and sit down. 
 
 Ruth. I don't want to. (Coming nearer.) Can she milk 
 cows? 
 
12 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Frank. That is one accomplishment she lacks. Come and 
 sit down. 
 
 Ruth. I don't want to. (Comes nearer.) If she wanted 
 to, I could learn her. 
 
 Frank. I'll speak to her about it. Come and sit down. 
 
 Ruth. Will you promise not to talk strange like you did 
 t'other day ? 
 
 Frank. If you insist. Come and sit down. 
 
 Ruth. I won't sit down there, I'll sit down here. (Sits on 
 stage beside him.) 
 
 Frank. Would you like to look at some of my etchings ? 
 
 Ruth. Your what ? 
 
 Frank. My etchings. 
 
 Ruth. Do you itch ? 
 
 Frank. No — no — my drawings, I mean. 
 
 Ruth. Oh yes, please. (He hands her some drawings.) 
 
 Frank. That's Herculaneum and Pompeii. 
 
 Ruth. Who? 
 
 Frank. Herculaneum and Pompeii. 
 
 Ruth. Oh ! 
 
 Frank. That is Cleopatra's needle. 
 
 Ruth. I'd hate to sew with that needle. 
 
 Frank. That is Washington crossing the Delaware. 
 
 Ruth. Oh! (Looks over the pictures ; business.) Oh — 
 
 h — h — ! Hadn't you ought to be ashamed ? 
 
 Frank. Why — what's the matter? 
 
 Ruth. That woman's dress has all fell off her up here. 
 
 (Points to bosom.) 
 
 Frank. Oh, no — that is what we call a decollette costume. 
 
 Ruth. Call what ? 
 
 Frank. Decollette. Evening dress. 
 
 Ruth. Oh, say, what's that long piece what hangs on be- 
 hind her dress ? 
 
 Frank. That's her train. 
 
 Ruth. Her what ? 
 
 Frank. Her train. 
 
 Ruth. Oh ! (Bus.) Oh, say ! That long piece on be- 
 hind is what fell off of her up here, ain't it ? 
 
 Frank. Perhaps. Say, Ruth, do you know what love is ? 
 
 Ruth. Yes. Lies you fellers tell us gals. 
 
 Frank. No, no. I mean do you know what a bonahde 
 lover is ? 
 
 Ruth. A what? 
 
UNCLE SI. 13 
 
 Frank. A bonafide lover — a true lover. 
 
 Ruth. Oh, a dead sure enough lover? Oh, yes. He's 
 one that takes you to apple parin's and corn huskin's and 
 singin' school, and does all the chores and everything you 
 wanted him to do. 
 
 Frank. Yes. 
 
 Ruth. Say, Mr. Rolleston. If I had a lover, he'd carry 
 that milk home and skim it, wouldn't he? 
 
 Frank. Of course. 
 
 Ruth. Gosh ! I wish I had two or three. 
 
 Frank. Say, Ruth, tell me something about your home 
 life. 
 
 Ruth. You mean about our folks to home? Well, first of 
 all there is dad. 
 
 Frank. Dad ? I wouldn't say dad ; it is so uncouth. Say 
 father. 
 
 Ruth. Say which ? 
 
 Frank. Father. 
 
 Ruth. Father for my old dad? That sounds almost too 
 dudefied for him. Well, first of all there is dad. I mean — 
 what did you say his name was ? 
 
 Frank. Father. 
 
 Ruth. F — father, and ma, and me, and Jack. Dad — I 
 mean father — he does the hayin' and tends to the stock ; and 
 then we've got an Irishman named Flannigan — he helps dad — 
 I mean father. I keep forgittin', don't I ? 
 
 Frank. I should say you did. 
 
 Ruth. I used to go to school some, but I don't get to go 
 much now. 
 
 Frank. I suppose your work keeps you tied pretty closely at 
 home. 
 
 Ruth. No, my ma keeps me tied to home. She's teachin' 
 me how to darn socks now. I darned two pair of dad's — I 
 mean father's — t'other night, and after I'd got 'em darned he 
 darned me for darnin' them. Say, Mr. Rolleston, my ma taught 
 me how to do croquet work. 
 
 Frank. How to do what ? 
 
 Ruth. Croquet work. 
 
 Frank (laughs). Oh, you mean crochet work. 
 
 Ruth. Aha ! Say, "Mr. Rolleston, why don't you come 
 down here and live in the country? 
 
 Frank. I might some day. 
 
 Ruth. Just think the lovely air and fallin' dew 
 
14 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Frank. We have lovely airs in the city — from the Italian 
 Operas j and in regard to the falling dew — we have all kind of 
 things fall due in the city. 
 
 Ruth. If you lived here you would rise with the larks. 
 
 Frank. I've been up on one all night. Ruth, your beauty, 
 your simplicity of manner, your freedom from all guile, has 
 created in my bosom a feeling I thought impossible to entertain. 
 
 Ruth. Get off my frock. 
 
 Frank. Never mind your frock ; let me read to you a life 
 picture. 
 
 Prof, {enters, l. u. e., down l). The fair one with 
 the golden locks said she left her parasol hereabouts. I will 
 explore. {Sees Ruth and Frank.) Don't mind me — I've got 
 the same disease myself. [Exit, L. i E. 
 
 Ruth. Is he your brother ? 
 
 Frank. Well, I should hope not. My brother is the pretty 
 little boy with the blue eyes. 
 
 Ruth. Say, I like him. 
 
 Frank {arm about her waist). Do you like him better 
 than you do me ? 
 
 Ruth. Say, if you don't take your arm away, I'll holler. 
 
 Frank. Oh, don't. Most girls like to have an arm around 
 their waist. 
 
 Ruth. Do they? So do I, Mr. Rolleston. {Slipping 
 away from him.) What makes you act so strange to me? 
 
 Frank. It is because I love you. 
 
 Ruth. This milk needs straining. {Starts for pails .) 
 
 Frank. Never mind the milk, Ruth. I'll speak in a lan- 
 guage you cannot misunderstand. With all the fervor of my 
 nature I love you. 
 
 Ruth. I don't think I know what you mean. Be ye a 
 pop pin' ? 
 
 Frank. Tell me, Ruth, do you love any one else? 
 
 Ruth. None that I know of just now. 
 
 Frank. Then let me seal my affection with a kiss. 
 
 Ruth {business). No, sir-ree Bobby, not by a jug full. 
 You've got to wait till I say yes, before you can cut up any 
 shines like that. (Laugh outside.) Oh, here comes the camp- 
 ers out. 'Twon't do to see me — my cheeks is burning like fire. 
 Say, Mr. Rolleston, what is your front name ? 
 
 Frank. Francis, although at school, they called me Frank. 
 
 Ruth. Did they? Well then, Frankie, fetch along the 
 milk. 
 
UNCLE SI. 15 
 
 Frank. What ? I ? I never carried a pail of milk in. all 
 my life. 
 
 Ruth. Well, then, it's time you began. {Laugh outside.) 
 Oh, I know you're skeered your friends will see you. {Bus.) 
 If you are a good boy, I'll let you milk the cows to-morrow. 
 
 (Frank picks up pail \ she all the time guying him. They 
 exeunt l. u. e. Rachel, Ned and Nellie enter l. i e., 
 laughing immoderately.) 
 
 I Rachel. I'll laugh over that for ten years to come. 
 
 Ned. Poor Ticklepitcher ! I don't think he knew the gun 
 was loaded. 
 
 Nellie {looking off.) Here he comes ! 
 
 Ned. Let's give three cheers for Philander Ticklepitcher, 
 the champion wing shot of the Green Mountains. {All cheer.) 
 Hip ! Hip ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 
 
 Prof, {enters, l. i e., with gun and dead bird). Ah, 
 my friends, I see that you appreciate my keenness of vision. 
 
 Rachel. I am glad to see that you are such a lover of 
 sports. 
 
 Prof. There are other things I love still more. 
 
 Rachel. Name one. 
 
 Prof. The pleasure of your charming society. (Prof. 
 bows.) 
 
 Rachel. Oh, don't mention it. 
 
 Prof. I won't. {Aside.) I wonder if she could support a 
 husband. 
 
 Ned. Now, professor, I think we can prevail upon you to 
 remain and join the party. {He protests ; they coax him ad. 
 lib., and he consents.) 
 
 Prof. Ah, you have overwhelmed me by the weight of 
 your entreaties. I will e'en condescend to remain. 
 
 Ned. Think of the pantry full of eatables, and the 
 
 Prof. The pantry full of eatables ! Why the tramp stole 
 it all. 
 
 Omnes. What? 
 
 Ned. A tramp ? Well, here's a pretty " how do you do." 
 Which way did he go ? 
 
 Prof. I couldn't see very plainly. I was in the flower 
 garden at the time. I think he went that way. {Points l.) 
 ; Ned. I guess I'll go that way too. [Exit, l. u. e. 
 
 Nellie. I guess I'll go that way three. [Exit, l. u. e. 
 
 Prof. I guess I'll go that way four. {Starts l.) 
 
l6 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Rachel. Ahem ! 
 
 Prof. I have changed my mind ; I stay right here with 
 you. 
 
 Rachel. I am so glad you have condescended to remain 
 with us. Now if you had any other engagement 
 
 Prof. Speaking of engagements, were you ever engaged ? 
 
 Rachel. No. Were you ? 
 
 Prof. Once. 
 
 Rachel. Once ? 
 
 Prof. Once. I will relate the circumstances. It was a 
 lovely moonlight eve. I sat upon the sofa with Maria. I had 
 my arm around her waist — (fats.) merely an illustration — when 
 suddenly an unseen enemy approached me from behind. It 
 was the father of the said Maria. I was ejected from the 
 parlor sofa to the front door yard without a moment's warning. 
 
 Rachel. You don't say so? 
 
 Prof. But I do say so. I had my grand revenge. I 
 loaded my coat tail pockets full of scrap iron and shingle nails 
 and went down to the house in question, as though I had en- 
 joyed the performance of the evening before. I sat upon the 
 same sofa with the same Maria. My arm was about her waist 
 — ( bus.) more illustrations. I was about to murmur the words, 
 "wilt thou," when I felt a movement behind the sofa. Papa 
 appears upon the scene. One kick from papa and the said 
 papa was squirming outside in the front door yard with a 
 severe case of club foot. 
 
 Nellie (runs on l. u. e.). Mail ! Mail ! I've got a 
 letter. 
 
 Rachel {rises). One for me, Nellie? (She gets a letter ; 
 both ladies go up stage reading letters.) 
 
 Prof. She leaves me — she leaves me and my charming 
 conversation for a paltry postal card. I wonder if I haven't a 
 letter about me. I might as well be out of the world as out of 
 the fashion. (Finds letter.) Ah ! Here is one from my I 
 banker in Philadelphia. (All run down and look over his I 
 shoulder; reads.) " Prof. Philander Ticklepitcher. Will you J 
 please call and settle that ninety-seven cents wash bill ? " (All 
 laugh.) 
 
 Ned {outside). Dinner. 
 
 Prof. And I am ready for dinner, Miss Watterson, if ydu 
 are fond of turkey, take a wing. (Offers her his arm a?id 
 exit. ) 
 
 Nellie. I guess I'll escort myself. [Exit, r. 3 e. 
 
UNCLE SI. 17 
 
 Prof, (reenters, r. 2 e.). Methinks that previous to taking 
 my midday meal I will hie me to yon brooklet and partake of 
 my annual bathlet. [Exit, l. i e. 
 
 Ned {enters, l. u. e.). Well, folks, I captured the tramp. 
 {Looks around.*) I guess they have all gone to dinner. {En- 
 ter Frank, l. u. e.) What's the matter with you, Frank? 
 You've got a face on you as long as the moral law ? 
 
 Frank. I'm going to get married. 
 
 Ned. No ? 
 
 Frank. Fact. Did you ever come in contact with an 
 electric battery ? 
 
 Ned. Never did. 
 
 Frank. Then permit me to give you a shock. The future 
 Mrs. Rolleston is none other than the daughter of farmer Hedges. 
 
 Ned. Ruth Hedges ! I'm shocked ; but don't impose 
 upon me just because I can be imposed upon. Do you mean 
 to say that Frank Rolleston — Sergeant Major of one of New 
 York's crack volunteer companies, whose epaulettes have daz- 
 zled the eyes of many a fair one, and whose autograph has 
 been sought after by the elite of Murray Hill, would come up 
 here in Vermont and throw his fortune and his epaulettes at 
 the feet of a woodland nymph ? Common sense forbids. 
 
 Frank. True, nevertheless. A month ago I would have 
 scouted the idea. I tell you, Ned, she is a sunbeam through 
 the clouds. 
 
 Ned. Well, Frank, I'll be your best man, and in case you 
 are suddenly taken ill, I'll even volunteer to take your place. 
 
 Frank. Much obliged. 
 
 Ned. Come in and have dinner. {Goes l.) Don't for- 
 get, Frank, the bottom layer of the wedding cake belongs to 
 me. [Exit, l. i e. 
 
 Josiah (r. u. e., outside). Ruth! Oh, Ruth ! {Enters 
 on bridge.) Ruth Melinda Sophonisba Hedges ! where be ye? 
 {Crosses from bridge.) That gal goes a gallavantin' around 
 somewhere all day long, and don't do half her chores. {Comes 
 down return piece.) Ruth ! oh Ruth ! {Sees Frank.) 
 Mornin', Mr. Rolleston, hain't seen nothin' of my Ruth here- 
 abouts, have ye? 
 
 Frank. Yes, she was here a few moments ago with her \ 
 milking pails. 
 
 Josiah. I guess she's got to home by this time. You'll 
 'scuse me for interrupting on ye. {Goes r.) Nice weather, 
 ain't it ? 
 
1 8 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Frank. Yes. Say, Mr. Hedges (he turns), could I see 
 you for a few moments? 
 
 Josiah (returns'). Wall, I hain't got nothin' very special 
 on hand. But you'll have to do most of the talkin', *cause I 
 ain't much of a hand at conversationalizin' . {Sits R.) Now 
 if you want to talk, you come round and tackle ma; she'll 
 talk to you. (Lights pipe.) Now you can jist fire ahead and 
 give us the perspectus. 
 
 Frank. Mr. Hedges, I will no doubt surprise you by the 
 tenor of my remarks. 
 
 Josiah. Well, arter hearin' ye sing tenor in meetin' yis- 
 tiddy, I don't think ye kin. 
 
 Frank. I mean — what I am about to say will no doubt 
 surprise you. 
 
 Josiah. Ye hain't found out where the old speckled hen 
 has hid her nest, have ye ? 
 
 Frank. No. 
 
 Josiah. Well, mayhap you've got wind of what prizes they 
 are going to put up at the county fair. 
 
 Frank. Hardly. 
 
 Josiah. Well, maybe you've been down to the town hall 
 and heard tell about the polytical meetin'. Ye see there's 
 some talk about puttin' me up for jestice of the peace on the 
 know nothing ticket. 
 
 Frank. You are wrong again, Mr. Hedges. 
 
 Josiah. Well, I'll gin it up. What's it about ? 
 
 Frank. It is about your Ruth. 
 
 Josiah. Ha, ha, ha ! You're just like all the rest of the 
 young folks around these diggin's. They all takes a fancy to 
 my little gal. 
 
 Frank. She has aroused a feeling in my heart that has 
 lain dormant since my birth. 
 
 Josiah. She's cut up the same darn caper with all the rest 
 of the young fellers. Now there's Eli Green and Seth Mar- 
 tin Say, ye hain't never met Seth nor Eli, have ye? 
 
 Frank. Can't say that I ever did. 
 
 Josiah. Well, ye hain't missed much. 
 
 Frank. To which one of these swains does she extend her 
 preference ? 
 
 Josiah. Come again. 
 
 Frank. I mean which one does she like the better? 
 
 Josiah. Oh, Ruth ? She don't care two straws for either 
 one. Eli helps her in the chores, and Seth takes her home 
 
UNCLE SI. IQ 
 
 now and again from singin' school ; but what's ail this got to 
 dc with me ? 
 
 Frank. Just this, Mr. Hedges. I love your daughter, and 
 with your permission and her consent, I will make her my 
 wife. 
 
 Josiah. Now ye stop right where ye be. Am I under- 
 standin' of ye correctly that ye want to marry my leetle Ruth ? 
 
 Frank. You are. 
 
 Josiah. Mr. Rolleston, my leetle gal has been reared in a 
 different school from you. 
 
 Frank. My love for her would soon transform her, and an 
 education would fit her to grace the halls of society. 
 
 Josiah. And how about her teachin' ? Ever since she was 
 a little toddler she's been taught to know the right. She knows 
 no wrong. I ain't much of a hand at talkin', but, Mr. Rolles- 
 ton, you've sorter upset me. I've heern tell about the decep- 
 tions of young citified life, and I'm afraid of it. Surely a man 
 like you, young, eddicated, and good lookin', ain't got no 
 cause to go hungerin' for a woman to tie to. My little Ruth 
 is all I've got on earth that I really care about. She's as 
 pure a bein' as ever breathed the breath of life. I hain't a re- 
 fusin' of you ; I'm simply a warnin' ye. If you'll be a good 
 husband to her and treat her right, she's yourn. But if ye 
 mistreat her and wrong her, and don't stand by her when she 
 needs yer comfort and love, I'll twist your headoff your shoul- 
 ders. {Bus.) You'll 'scuse me, Mr. Rolleston, for flrin' up 
 that way, but the fact of the matter is, I do so love my little 
 Ruth that — gosh darn it ! I couldn't help it. When I get ex- 
 cited I sometimes stutter, and when I stutter I don't mean 
 more than half I say. Did I stutter that time? 
 
 Frank I didn't hear you. 
 
 Josiah. Then I mean every darn word I said. [Exit r. u.e. 
 
 Ruth enters l. u. e. 
 
 Ruth. Dad ! Oh, dad ! 
 
 Frank. Stay a moment, Ruth. 
 
 Ruth. Not now, Mr. Rolleston. Them pigs have 
 
 Frank. Never mind the pigs — I have just spoken to your 
 father, and he has given his consent 
 
 Ruth. To what ? 
 
 Frank. To our marriage. Ruth, I love you, and I want 
 you to become my wife. 
 
20 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Ruth. Your wife? Yes, Frank, if you'll be good and 
 kind to me, I'll be the best little wife in all the world to you. 
 
 {They embrace l. c. Tramp enters l. 2 e. with Tickle- 
 pitcher's clothes in his hand. Hat on head. Tickle- 
 pitcher enters in a barrel L. 2 e., yelling for clothes. 
 Rachel and Nellie appear on bridge r. u. e. Ned 
 appears L. u. e. General consternation as curtain de- 
 scends. Ruth and Frank, c. ; Tramp, r. ; Prof., r. c; 
 Ned, l. u. e. \ Rachel and Nellie at back r.) 
 
ACT II. 
 
 SCENE. — A farm yard ; full stage. House r. 2 e. Barn l. 
 2 e. (?/<?# gateway in c. Fence from r. 3 e. /# l. 3 e. 
 0/dT f^a/r #<?#r house. Bench with pan on near house. 
 Towel on house. Hen coop near bam. Harness on fence. 
 Hay fork and rake at back. Animal effects during act. 
 
 Flannigan {discovered at rise, drinking from pail). Well, 
 begorra, it's mighty tough on a dacent man when he's obliged 
 to drink such stuff as that. That's the worst of livin' so far 
 from town. I'd just as lieve be dead and buried as to be livin' 
 here. The divil a wan of me do I see from mornin' till night 
 but ducks and hens and cows. It's a sorry day for me when 
 I come to work on this farm. Well, I'm here for a while, and 
 I'll make the best of it. 
 
 Tranquillity {enters r. from house). Come, come now, 
 bustle about. There's a thousand and one things to 'tend to. 
 There is the chickens to feed, horses to water, cows to be driven 
 to pasture, wood to saw and split, drain to be dug, field of 
 meadow hay to be cocked up, and law knows what all ; and 
 there ye stand jist as though there wan't a thing to be done. 
 My stars above ! I never see sich a man as you be. Come 
 now, fly around and bustle about. [Exit in house. 
 
 Flannigan. Do you mind that? I think I'll like the 
 place. If that woman was my wife I'd break her back four- 
 teen times a day. {Noise in house, Tranquillity jawing some- 
 one.) Do ye hear them? Fight, ye divils, ye, fight. Let 
 me see, I have four weeks' work to do this afternoon. What 
 will I do first ? I think I'll milk the ducks. 
 
 [Exit, l. u. E., calling out " Quack, quack, quack." 
 
 Tramp {enters from r. u. e. ; goes through gateway to 
 house. Knocks. Tranquillity appears). If you please, 
 ma'am, I am a poor man with a large family of children. They 
 are starving, ma'am ; all they have to eat is angel cake. Now 
 if you have any cold pie 
 
 Tranquillity. Pie ? No, Sir-ree, I'll give you no pie. I 
 have some bread here I want to get rid of, and if you will saw 
 me a stick or two of wood, I'll give you a slice or two. 
 
 21 
 
22 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Tramp. I ain't much of a hand at sawing wood ; is it soft 
 or hard ? 
 
 Tranquillity. Hardwood. (Tramp groans.) I believe 
 you're shiftless. 
 
 Tramp. I'm pretty nigh shirtless ; where's the wood ? 
 
 Tranquillity. Behind you. 
 
 Tramp {looks at it). Could I have it brought nearer to me ? 
 
 Tranquillity. If you don't saw the wood in about two 
 minutes, I'll set the dog on you. 
 
 Tramp. I guess I'd better saw the wood. {Business.) 
 
 Tranquillity. I guess ye better had. [Exit in house. 
 
 Josiah {enters from barn with pitchfork). Hello ! what 
 are ye doin' at that saw-horse ? 
 
 Tramp. I'm trying to make it go. Ye see, bein' at this 
 time temporarily embarrassed, I'm obliged to go to work in 
 order to eat. 
 
 Josiah. That's a good policy. Where do you come from ? 
 
 Tramp. From Massachusetts. My forefathers come over 
 in the Mayflower and landed on Plymouth Rock — and I've 
 been rocky ever sence. 
 
 Josiah. I want to know ! Well, you don't seem to have 
 got along very well. 
 
 Tramp. Oh, I kinder creep along. Ye see, I git a pension 
 that helps me a out a leetle. 
 
 Josiah. Was you in the war ? 
 
 Tramp. I was the cause of the war. Ye see, I went out 
 from Indianny. I 'listed for the month, and reenlisted for two 
 years. I would have fit the war out, but our colonel told me 
 one day to strike for our country and home. I watched my 
 chance and struck for home. Say, how do ye saw that wood ? 
 I ain't much of a hand at sawing wood. 
 
 Josiah. Well, I'll give ye a few pinters; you don't seem to 
 have the hang of it. Time you've sawed as much wood as I 
 have you'll know more about it. {Business.) 
 
 Tranquillity {opens door). Well ! I swan ! {Takes her 
 husband by the ear.) You get in that house ! The idee of 
 you encouraging that lazy good for nothing tramp. {Pushing 
 her husband in house ; to Tramp.) Now you scatter ! 
 
 Tramp. I hate to leave good society, but 
 
 Tranquillity. Git ! 
 
 Tramp. All right, ma'am. {Goes l. u. e. ; turns to her.) 
 Say, do you know what I think of you ? You're the homeliest 
 old chromo I ever see. [Exit, l. u. e. 
 
UNCLE SI. 23 
 
 (She makes a break after him with broom and hits Flannigan 
 as he enters from barn.) 
 
 Flannigan. Much obliged, ma'am. [Exit in barn. 
 
 Tranquillity. Well, I swan ! I nearly killed the Irish- 
 man ! Land sakes alive, there's nothing but trouble. Ruth a 
 gftting married, Si a spillin' kerosene ile over his clean shirt, 
 the bread not risin', tramp a pesterin' the life out of a body, 
 and me not dressed for the weddin'. (Calls.') Here you, 
 Flannigan. (He enters from barn.) 
 
 Flannigan. Well, what the divil is the matter with you now ? 
 
 Tranquillity. Have ye got them cows driven to pasture 
 yet? 
 
 Flannigan. Not yet, ma'am. 
 
 Tranquillity. Well, great Jerusha ! what time of day do 
 you expect to git things done ? 
 
 Flannigan. I dunno. When I find out, I will let you 
 know. 
 
 Tranquillity. Don't give me none of your sass. 
 
 Flannigan. Oh, go fall down somewhere. 
 
 [Exit in barn. 
 
 Tranquillity. You imperent critter. (Gets broom and 
 strikes Prof, as he enters from rear of barn.) Great suffering 
 snakes ! Another tramp ! 
 
 Prof. Entered for the sweepstakes. Madam, I am pleased 
 to meet you. Your style of greeting is novel, but nevertheless 
 breezy. 
 
 Tranquillity. Where on earth did you come from ? 
 
 Prof. You mean where on earth did. I go to ? 
 
 Tranquillity. You must 'scuse me, sir, but really I didn't 
 see you a-comin'. 
 
 Prof. Well, your aim was just as straight as though you 
 had been looking. 
 
 Tranquillity. Might I ask your business? 
 
 Prof. I have no business, ma'am. I have a profession. 
 My mission upon earth is to build up the uncouth mind — to 
 teach the young ideas how to shoot. 
 
 Tranquillity. Shoot? Oh, I see; you're a-selling guns 
 and gunpowder and 
 
 Prof. Ye Gods ! I ? Madam, you do not grasp. I am a 
 scientist. 
 
 Tranquillity. I want to know if ye be. We've got two of 
 them Christian Scientists in our neighborhood. Samantha 
 
24 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Ann Higgins got cured of the brown chitis by one of them. 
 Maria Rogers is thinking of joinin'. 
 
 Prof. I see you are still laboring under a delusion. I am 
 a teacher. 
 
 Tranquillity. Oh, I see. Are ye looking for a job teach- 
 ing our school ? Si, my old man, is one of the trustees. 
 Elijah Hopkins is head trustee. They're paying the teacher 
 they've got now eighty dollars a year, and he boards around 
 among the taxpayers ; stopped a month with us. 
 
 Prof. I am not looking for any opening for a pedagogue. 
 {She looked at her petticoat, .) I called to see Wm. Hedges. 
 
 Tranquillity. My old man? Well, he's in the house. 
 He's peelin' 'taters. Any particular business ? 
 
 Prof. My call is of a friendly order. 
 
 Tranquillity. Now you can't rope him into no friendly 
 orders. He belongs to two of them now. Had to put a 
 mortgage on the farm to pay off his dues. 
 
 Tramp {enters l. u. e.). Say ma'am 
 
 Tranquillity. Git! {Very loud.) Of all the persecuted 
 {exit in house), down-trodden women on this earth, I'm the 
 most to be pitied ; tramps and bums and peddlers, book agents 
 and agents for friendly orders, and law knows what all. 
 
 Prof. My friend, is that lady your mother? (Tramp gives 
 a look of disgust and exit, l. u. e.) When I reach my lodg- 
 ings, I will make a note in my diary to this affect — " Beware 
 of talkative women — they are dangerous. ' ' 
 
 Josiah {enters from house). Good-morning, neighbor. 
 
 Prof. Good-morning, friend Hedges. Beautiful day for the 
 wedding, isn't it? 
 
 Josiah. Sorter. 
 
 Prof. I suppose the well-known saying will soon be ex- 
 emplified, — two souls with but a single thought, two hearts that 
 beat as one. 
 
 Josiah. I s'pose so. Say, professor, I most forgot to tell you, 
 but ma just put me in mind of it, — that bugler alarm of yourn 
 is a fust-class invention. 
 
 Prof. Your opinion coincides with the rest of mankind. 
 But in what manner does my burglar alarm concern your 
 esteemed spouse? 
 
 Josiah. My steam plows ? 
 
 Prof. My modus operandi 
 
 Josiah. You have to give me a new deal, professor, I 
 hain't got either ace, face, or trump. 
 
UNCLE SI. 25 
 
 Prof. I see that my diction is too opaque for the dominion 
 of your Lilliputian comprehension ; I will therefore be compelled 
 to elucidate and clarify my harangue by the expurgation of all 
 polysyllabic verbosity. 
 
 Josiah. I guess two doses of senna and salts would 
 cure ye. 
 
 Prof. Wait a moment, friend Hedges. I mean to say, 
 in what manner does my burglar alarm concern your wife ? 
 
 Josiah. Oh ! Have you been talking about ma all this 
 time? Well, t'other night I was out a leetle late. I was down 
 to the Town Hall to a pollytickle meetin'. 
 
 Prof. To a — what T 
 
 Josiah. To a pollytickle meetin'. Ye see, there's some 
 
 Calk about puttin' me up for justice of the peace on the 
 
 ticket and I was a speachyfyin' to some of my constitutioneers. 
 Wall, I got home about two o'clock in the mornin'. I found 
 that ma had locked me out, and I started to crawl in the 
 kitchen winder, when that darn bugler alarm of yourn went off 
 in ma's room. When I got inside, I found ma a-flopping 
 around on the floor like a pea on a hot shovel. She was scared 
 most to death. Scared so she couldn't speak. 
 
 Prof. She must have been scared. 
 
 Josiah. Well, I was glad on it. I got a good night's rest 
 that night anyhow. But say, professor, ye hain't had yer break- 
 fast, have ye? 
 
 Prof. Not as yet, but I fain would chase the delusive 
 phantom of hope. 
 
 Josiah. Jest so. You'd better have a leetle bite with us 
 this mornin'. 
 
 Prof. Of a verity I will. If there is one thing more 
 than another I do really adore, it is an impromptu menu. 
 
 Josiah. I don't know whether ma has any of them cooked 
 or not. 
 
 Prof. I will e'en ascertain. [Exit in house. 
 
 Josiah. He's a darn smart cuss. He's slicker than a cup 
 of custard. 
 
 Ruth (enters from house). Say, daddy, how do you like 
 my dress ? 
 
 Josiah. Say ! say ! You look jist slaptitudinous ! My, 
 my ! You look like your ma did when we was fust married. 
 She's changed since. Say, leetle gal, this is the last day we 
 is goin' to have any leetle daughter to home. (Cries.) 
 Mighty hard, Ruth, mighty hard. 
 
26 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Ruth. Now, you old granny you, don't you cry. Why 
 don't you be brave like me? Don't you see how b-b-brave I 
 be. {Cries.) 
 
 Josiah. Now don't you start blubberin', 'cause you're 
 worse than I be. {Embraces her ; she breaks away.*) 
 
 Ruth. Look out, daddy, for my new duds. 
 
 Josiah. Gosh ! I forgot them duds ; must be keerfui of the 
 dress — it cost eight dozen eggs. 
 
 Ruth. Now, daddy, don't you get lonesome. I'll come 
 over to the house every week and darn your socks for ye and 
 sew buttons on your shirts, and I'll 
 
 Josiah. Ruthie, ye needent mind. Frank will need ye to 
 darn his now. And that reminds me — up in the city ye ought 
 to have a pooty good chance to sell a pair now and again to 
 some of Frank's chums. I'll allow ye two cents commission on 
 a pair. Now, Ruthie, ye won't be ashamed of having your old 
 dad call around and see ye once in a while, will ye ? 
 
 Ruth. Why, no, daddy. 
 
 Josiah. And ye won't let none of them smart city fellers 
 call me a rubber-neck, will ye ? 
 
 Ruth. Not if I can help it, daddy. 
 
 Josiah. Say, Ruth, Professor Ticklepitcher was here a 
 Avhile ago, and I invited him in to have a bite to eat. Say, 
 Ruth, he wanted to know if ma had any sloptitudinous slap- 
 jacks for breakfast. [Exit m house. 
 
 Ruth. My stars, I wish it was all over ! I'm all of a 
 tremble. It would be a funny thing if I fainted when I was 
 gitting spliced. I wonder if city girls faint when they're 
 spliced. Maria Rogers fainted once, and they poured a pail of 
 water on her, and she came too pooty quick. Let me see if I 
 know what to say. "Ruth Hedges, will you take this man, 
 Frank Rolleston, to be your lawful husband until death us do 
 part? " Of course I will. Now for the faint. 
 
 (She faints ; Prof, enters from house eating a pancake ; he 
 catches her on his right ar?n, puts her in chair and fans 
 her with pancake.) 
 
 Prof. If you are fond of fans, might I induce you to eat a 
 piece of this one ? 
 
 Ruth. Oh, professor, you are so funny. 
 
 Prof. Thanks. It runs in our family to be funny. Are 
 you subject to fainting spells ? 
 
 Ruth. Not exactly. Sometimes I have spasms. 
 
UNCLE SI. 27 
 
 Prof. Overcome by the prospective hymeneal event. I 
 only hope it is not a leap in the dark you are taking. You no 
 doubt will pardon me, an entire stranger, for venturing to 
 make such a suggestion, but at any time in the future, should 
 that future not prove as bright as you at present paint it, and 
 you should feel that you needed a true friend, might I venture 
 to remind you that you will ever find a true one in your 
 present impecunious acquaintance, Prof. Philander Tickle- 
 pitcher ? 
 
 Ruth. Oh, professor, you are too kind. 
 
 Prof. Yes, when I was born there were two of a kind — the 
 other fellow died. 
 
 Ruth. Can you tell fortunes ? 
 
 Prof. Well, I am credited with having the faculty of look- 
 ing into the future with the same degree of clearness that others 
 can look into the past. I am the seventh son, and my father 
 was the seventh son of a son of a — seventh son of a seventh 
 son. Permit me. {Takes her hand.} I see before me by this 
 line a beautiful home — plenty of friends, who will treat you as 
 an inferior for a time, but they will speedily warm toward you. 
 This line indicates broken hearts. Ah, your marriage will be 
 productive of children. 
 
 Ruth {eagerly). Boys or girls ? 
 
 Prof. The signs are non-committal. Here is a veritable 
 network of lines, — happiness, wealth, longevity, travel in 
 foreign lands, social distinction — now comes a change. A 
 woman appears on the scene — a woman with a sweet classical 
 face 
 
 Tranquillity {stands in door of house). Ruth, come in 
 here and peel these pertaters. [Exit in house. 
 
 Ruth. 'Scuse me, Prof. Ticklepitcher. \_Exit in house. 
 
 Prof. Oh, what a fall was there my countrymen ! From 
 the sublime to the ridiculous — from Luna to terra firma. {Sits 
 on bench underneath bam window ; Flannigan throws out a 
 forkfuil of hay upon him.) Halloa ! up there ! 
 
 Flannigan {appears at window). Hey? 
 
 Prof. Thanks, I've just had some. 
 
 Flannigan. Did I throw that hay on you ? 
 
 Prof. I had the misfortune to be underneath it when it fell. 
 It seems to me I have seen your face before. 
 
 Flannigan. It's been there for thirty years. 
 
 Prof. Are you one of the attaches of this institution ? 
 
 Flannigan. What's that, sir ? 
 
28 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Prof. Are you one of the menials ? 
 
 Flannigan. No, sir, I'm an A. P. A. 
 
 Prof, {aside). Remarkably smart fellow. What time do 
 the marital festivities begin ? 
 
 Flannigan. Hey ? 
 
 Prof. At what hour will these two souls be united in con- 
 nubial bliss? 
 
 Flannigan. We have supper, sir, sometimes after dinner. 
 
 Prof. Thanks. That is all the information I require. 
 Good-morning. 
 
 Flannigan. Mornin', sir. {Closes window.) 
 
 Prof. I will now hie me to the banqueting hall. The 
 inner man cries out for food, and the outer man must learn to 
 obey the commands of the inner man. [Exit in house, r. 
 
 Frank {enters l. u. e., reading letter). " Dear Frank: 
 the news of your betrothal has just reached me. Consternation 
 gave way to sorrow when I saw by the tenor of your letter that 
 your decision was final. The news has filled the hearts of your 
 family and friends with unutterable regret, and we can only 
 pray that some event may occur which will cause you to give 
 heed to counsel more mature than yours. Your loving 
 mother." {Folds letter.) Mother, the sweetest and dearest 
 of beings, I had hoped that purity of soul, in your case, would 
 break down the barriers of family prejudice. ( Wedding bells 
 heard outside. ) My wedding bells ! I can only hope their song 
 of joy may never change to a knell of sorrow. 
 
 Ruth {enters from house). Hello, Frank ! I'm so glad 
 to see you. 
 
 Frank. Are you ? 
 
 Ruth. Why, Frank, what's the matter ? Be you sorry we's 
 going to get hitched ? 
 
 Frank. To get what ? 
 
 Ruth. To get spliced — married ? 
 
 Frank. Why, certainly not. 
 
 Ruth. Then why don't you give me a good big hug, like 
 you did yesterday? {Hug.) Say, Frank, you look scrump- 
 tious. How do I look ? 
 
 Frank. Very nicely ; who made your trousseau ? 
 
 Ruth. My what ? Oh ! 
 
 Frank. Your wedding garments. 
 
 Ruth. Oh ! Maria Rogers cut it, ma basted it, and I sewed 
 it. How do you like it ? 
 
 Frank. Well, it seems 
 
UNCLE SI. 29 
 
 Ruth {quickly). What's the matter with the seams? Be 
 they busted ? 
 
 Frank. No ; I mean that it rc%..t be deemed by some peo- 
 ple slightly in advance of the fashion plate. 
 
 Ruth. Say, Frank, when we get hitched — I mean married 
 — we'll be made one, won't we? 
 
 Frank. I suppose so. 
 
 Ruth. Who'll be the one — you or me? 
 
 Frank. I'll let you be the one. 
 
 Ruth. Will you? I'm so glad. You'll go everywhere 
 with me, won't you ? {Business.) You'll let me learn how to 
 play the pianny? {Bus.) And ride a bicycle? {Bus.) 
 And you'll let me keep your pocketbook? 
 
 Frank. I guess I will draw the line there. 
 
 Ruth. Say, Frank, hug me again. {Bus.) 
 
 Josiah {enters from house). Hi! Hi! there! What are 
 you two children a doin' of? Frank, I'm a good mind to 
 spank ye. Ruth Melinda, I'm ashamed on ye. Your ma and 
 me was married a long time afore we cut up any sich monkey 
 doodle shines. Say, Ruth, where is that air china collar button 
 yer ma bought me ? 
 
 Ruth. Now where on earth did I put that collar button ? 
 
 Oh, I know; it's in the tin teapot. I'll go upstairs and 
 
 {Starts r.) 
 
 Josiah. Never mind. I'll find it. Say, Frank {crosses to 
 r.), have I got on one of your undershirts? This thing ain't 
 •got no sleeves in it. 
 
 Frank. Perhaps you have got on one of your wife's. 
 
 Josiah. Great Scott ! [Exit in house quick. 
 
 Ruth. Say, Frank, have you got another hug left ? 
 
 Frank. Just one. 
 
 Ruth. That's the one I want. {Hug ; Frank exit in house.) 
 Land sakes, I'm gitting nervouser and nervouser. Why, there's 
 my little chickie, and she ain't had her breakfast yet. {Bus. 
 with gloves and skirt.) Here, chick ! chick! 
 
 Rev. Mr. Rolleston {enters l. u. e. through gateway). I 
 presume I have been rightly directed. {Sees Ruth.) Ah, 
 young lady. 
 
 Ruth. Yes, sir — chick ! chick ! {Bus.) 
 
 Rolleston. Is this the house of Mr. Josiah Hedges ? 
 
 Ruth. No, sir, this is the hen house. 
 
 Rolleston. This {points r.) is the house to which I refer. 
 
 Ruth. Oh, yes, sir — chick ! chick ! chick ! 
 
30 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Rolleston. Will he receive callers ? 
 
 Ruth. I guess so — he's just putting on his shirt. 
 
 Rolleston. Do you know a young gentleman by the name 
 of Frank Rolleston ? 
 
 Ruth. Oh, yes, sir — chick ! chick ! 
 
 Rolleston. Plave you ever seen the young lady whom he 
 is about to marry ? 
 
 Ruth. Oh, yes, sir — chick ! chick ! 
 
 Rolleston. Is she beautiful — I mean, in mind ? 
 
 Ruth. I never saw her mind. 
 
 Rolleston. I am afraid she is coarse and ignorant. 
 
 Ruth. She's got a good pure heart, and that'counts for some- 
 thing in this world. 
 
 Rolleston {aside). This marriage must be prevented. 
 
 Ruth. Be you some relative of Frank's? 
 
 Rolleston. I am his father. 
 
 Ruth. Jehosophat ! {Jumps up.) I'll go and tell him. 
 {Crosses to r. ) He'll be tickled to death to see you. 'Scuse 
 me, sir. [Exit in house. 
 
 Rolleston. I must endeavor to still my nerves. My love 
 for my only son must be set aside. His future prospects must 
 not be imperilled by a marriage from which nothing but un- 
 happiness can ensue. 
 
 Josiah {in house). Ruth, who's asking for me? I ain't had 
 time to shave yet. {Enters ; business.) Was you a desiring to 
 see me, sir ? 
 
 Rolleston. You are Mr. Josiah Hedges, are you 
 not? 
 
 Josiah. Lately elected justice of the peace. You're the 
 new minister, I reckin ; I'm one of the deacons and I 
 
 Rolleston. You are in the wrong. I understood there is 
 to be a ceremony performed here to-day. 
 
 Josiah. A what-er-ker-mony ? 
 
 Rolleston. A wedding. 
 
 Josiah. Yes, something or other of that sort is about to 
 take place. Might I ask your name ? 
 
 Rolleston. I am the Rev. John Rolleston. 
 
 Josiah. What ? Frank's father ? I'm agreebly s'prised. 
 {Shakes hands.) Howdy. {Goes to door.) Ma, make an- 
 other place at the table, and put on the yeller napkins. {To 
 Rolleston. ) Have you got a rig ? 
 
 Rolleston. No, I came by train. Mr. Hedges — I pre- 
 sume by the name, you are the father of the young girl to 
 
UNCLE SI. 31 
 
 whom my son is betrothed. I must tell you, in all candor, that 
 I must raise my voice in protest. 
 
 Josiah. Eh ? 
 
 Rolleston. I must object to this marriage. 
 
 Josiah. Object to it ? 
 
 Rolleston. My son has been reared in a different school 
 from your daughter. He has grand opportunities awaiting him. 
 He is heir to a large estate and a grand career is before him. 
 
 Josiah. And my leetle gal's father is a justice of the peace. 
 
 Rolleston. If this marriage takes place, my son, as soon 
 as the glamour of love has faded, will stray from the pathway 
 of right. 
 
 Josiah. Well, Ruth will yank him back again. Ye see she 
 takes after her ma, and her ma is a yanker from yank town. 
 
 Rolleston. I do not wish to misjudge your motives. My 
 cloth entitles me to the respect of all. I am a minister of the 
 Gospel, yet I am capable of error. If there be any way in 
 which this union can be avoided, if money will tempt you 
 
 Josiah. Stop right where ye be. You're a father — so be I. 
 My child is jest as dear to me as yourn is to you. She may 
 not be as eddicated, but she's as pure a bein' as ever God's 
 sun shined on. Now I'm nothing but an old Vermont farmer 
 — I ain't got no citified ways — I ain't rich — no, nor I ain't 
 poor, but there ain't enough money in the whole of New York 
 to tempt old Si. Hedges to sell the happiness of his leetle child. 
 You'll 'scuse me if I spoke up too strong to ye, you bein' a 
 preacher, but the fact of the matter is, there's a still small 
 voice 
 
 Tranquillity (in house). Josiah Hedge's be you a comin' ? 
 
 Josiah. Mornin', sir. [Exit in house. 
 
 Rolleston. My position certainly is a false one. My 
 heart prompts me to stifle worldly pride, and think only of the 
 happiness of my son. 
 
 Frank {enters from house'). My father ! 
 
 Rolleston. My son ! {Embrace.) Frank, is it true that 
 you are to be married ? 
 
 Frank. It is. 
 
 Rolleston. Are you aware of the prospects in store for 
 you ? Have you thought of the family history, unsullied by a 
 single stain ? 
 
 Frank. I have thought of all. 
 
 Rolleston. Your mother has chosen a wife for you. 
 
 Frank. I have chosen my own wife. 
 
32 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Rolleston. Your friends will ostracize you. 
 
 Frank. I will then seek the society of my wife. 
 
 Rolleston. The money willed you by your grandparents 
 reverts to charity if you marry against the wishes of your 
 family. 
 
 Frank. The love of one true, honest woman, atones for 
 the loss of a thousand fortunes. 
 
 Rolleston. My son, you have been reared in the lap of 
 luxury. A mother's watchful devotion and a father's solicitude 
 have cleared the brambles from your pathway of life. Your 
 home has been a Paradise in which you have reigned, a God. 
 Let no shame tarnish the scutcheon, let no serpent enter the 
 portals of that earthly paradise. 
 
 Frank. Father, during my lifetime I have never disobeyed 
 you. Reverence for you has ever been mingled with affection 
 for my mother. You have been to me the dearest and best of 
 parents, and I have tried to be a dutiful son. This, however, 
 is a case where the happiness of a lifetime is involved ; my 
 honor is at stake, and that honor must stand unblemished be- 
 fore all the world. {Enter Ruth from house R.) Father, 
 this is my promised bride, Miss Ruth Hedges. 
 
 Rolleston {slightly amazed). Have I heard aright? This 
 is the one to whom you have plighted your troth ? 
 
 Ruth. I'm goin' to be Frank's wife. 
 
 Rolleston. Do you love my son ? 
 
 Ruth. Love him ! Why, I think more of Frank than I do 
 of my chickens. 
 
 Rolleston. Will you make him happy? 
 
 Ruth. I will try, sir. I know just what you are thinking 
 about. I ain't eddicated and stylish like you'd want me to be, 
 but I love him so dearly. {Rims to him and kneels.) Please 
 don't take him away from me — please don't ! 
 
 Rolleston {after slight pause, hand on her head). I hope 
 I am making no mistake. Frank, my son, kneel before me. 
 (Frank kneels.) May the giver of all good, the searcher of all 
 hearts, bless this union of souls and lives — may no dark cloud 
 o'ershadow the horizon of their future. {Wedding bells .) Let 
 the reverberation of those chimes awaken an answering echo 
 within you, to forever obey the Divine mandates of the Master. 
 In His name do I bless thee. Whom God hath joined let 
 no man put asunder. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
ACT III. 
 
 SCENE. — The home of Frank Rolleston near the Hedges' 
 farm. Fancy chamber in 3; d. in f., l. Sofa l. c. 
 Fireplace l. 2 e. Easel with picture, near r. 2 e. Table at 
 back near window in R. flat. Lights dim at rise. 
 
 Ruth, (discovered at rise sitting on the floor in fro fit of fire, 
 with her head on sofa; she sings a verse of '" Ln the Gloam- 
 ing." The lights gradually rise. She sits on sofa l.). 
 'Tain't no use tryin', ever since Frank took to paintin' them 
 air picters, I can't do nothin' with him, but I don't care — I 
 know he loves me. (Rises and crosses to R.) I've got his coat 
 and his paintin' things all ready, and dinner is almost ready 
 too. I wish he'd let me cook for him, but he won't. He says 
 that girls as marries city gents mustn't know how to cook or do 
 anything but sit in the parlor and do the agreeable to the folks 
 what calls. I don't do anything right nowadays. (Looks r.) 
 Oh, there's his new picter he's a paintin'. I wonder if I could 
 paint a picter. (Gets brush and palette.) I'm goin' to try. 
 Jack will just be tickled to death when he sees what I've done. 
 I'll paint a rainstorm on top of the mountain. (Faints.) Oh, 
 that looks so nateral I'll have to put an umbreller over the 
 picter. Oh my, the rain is all runnin' down the mountains. 
 I'll have to put some frost on and freeze it up. (Faints.) 
 Frank will be as mad as a wet hen when he comes and sees 
 that. Perhaps he won't notice it. Somehow I don't seem to 
 be able to please him any more. ( Crosses l.) 
 
 Frank (enters d. in f. l.). Phew ! it's cold ! 
 
 Ruth (runs to him). Is it cold, Frank? (Helps him with 
 overcoat.) Let's skin a rabbit. 
 
 Frank (aside). Skin a rabbit! More slang! (Aloud.) 
 It's dreadfully cold walking up from the depot. A month ago 
 I would not have minded it, but now 
 
 Ruth (on sofa). Frank, come here and sit down, and tell 
 me what you've been a doin' of all day. 
 
 Frank. "Been a doin' of all day!" Ruth, how often 
 must I correct you ? It seems as though you would never 
 learn. 
 
 33 
 
34 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Ruth. Oh, yes, I will. Only the other day you said I was 
 a doin' better continerally. 
 
 Frank. Continually. 
 
 Ruth. Continerusly. 
 
 Frank. Continually. 
 
 Ruth. Contin-o-wal-ly. 
 
 Frank. That's perfectly correct. 
 
 Ruth. I thought I'd git it after a while. Say, Frank, did 
 ye sell your picter ? 
 
 Frank. Picture. 
 
 Ruth. Picter. 
 
 Frank. Picture — picture — picture. 
 
 Ruth. Picter — picter — picter. 
 
 Frank. It's no use, Ruth, I am getting tired of correcting 
 you. Go bring my colors, and I'll paint a while. (Sits r.) 
 
 RUth. Afore supper, Frank? 
 
 Frank. No — be fore supper. 
 
 Ruth. Very well then, be fore supper. \_Exit r. u. e. 
 
 Frank (on chair near easel). This is a humdrum sort of a 
 life. Fight against it as I may, every day it becomes more 
 irksome. I begin to think my mother was right ; this is no 
 congenial atmosphere for a man of the world. I cannot invite 
 my friends to see me, because I am ashamed of my wife ; but 
 then again Ruth is a dear, submissive little creature. I ought 
 to love her more, and I will. 
 
 Ruth (enters r. u. e. ; spits on palette and mixes colors'). 
 Here's your colors, and I've got them all fixed up nicely for you. 
 
 Frank {takes palette). Thanks. ( She sits on sofa l. ; he 
 sees the picture.) That's some more of your fixing, I suppose. 
 (Business.) I guess a little retouching will take that out. 
 ( Works, whistling.) 
 
 Ruth. Frank! Frank! (Louder.) Frank!! (Very 
 loud.) 
 
 Frank. Well — what's the matter ? 
 
 Ruth. Do you love me ? 
 
 Frank. Love you, Ruth? (Crosses to sofa.) Who put 
 that doubt in your head ? 
 
 Ruth. It kinder popped in. 
 
 Frank. Well, let it " kinder pop" out again. 
 
 Ruth. You ain't tired of correctin' me, be ye, Frank ? 
 There be such a load here on my heart. Sometimes I think 
 you wish you hadn't married your poor ignorant country girl. 
 But you don't, do you, Frank ? 
 
UNCLE SI. 
 
 35 
 
 Frank. Why no, little one. {Kisses her.) Now, don't 
 have any more such foolish thoughts. {Crosses to R. aud re- 
 sumes painting.) 
 
 Ruth (whistles ; poicnds the sofa pillow ad. lib.). Frank — 
 Frank! (Loud.) Frank!! (Very loud.) 
 
 Frank. Well, what do you want now ? 
 
 Ruth. Come over here and kiss me again. 
 
 Frank (crosses to r.). Certainly, a dozen if you wish. 
 (Business.) 
 
 Ruth. Frank, you haven't got to paint any more afore 
 supper, have you ? 
 
 Frank. Just a few more touches. (Knock outside.) Come 
 in ! (Enter Ned d. in f. l.) Great Scott ! it's Ned ! 
 
 Ned. How are you, Frank ? Hello ! Ruth ; you are 
 looking as fresh as a daisy. 
 
 Ruth. Ami, Ned? (Takes hold of his coat.) Let's skin a 
 rabbit. (Pulls off his coat.) 
 
 Frank (aside). Skin a rabbit ! (Aloud.) Where did you 
 come from, Ned? 
 
 Ned. From behind the desk. (Sits on sofa with Ruth.) 
 
 Frank. In business? 
 
 Ned. Yep. The governor opened his heart and took me 
 into partnership. 
 
 Frank. How do you like it ? 
 
 Ned. Can't complain of the business, but I don't like the 
 confinement. 
 
 Flannigan (enters d. in f. l.). Mr. Rolleston, your pigs 
 is loose. \_Exit quickly ; all jump up. 
 
 Frank. Oh, hang the -pigs ! 
 
 Ruth. Wait a minute, Flannigan, and I'll help you catch 
 'em. 'Scuse me, Mr. Clearfield, I'm goin' to chase the pigs. 
 
 [Exit D. in f. l. 
 
 Ned. Frank, what have you got to eat? I'm starving. 
 
 Frank. Hogs. 
 
 Ned. What? 
 
 Frank. I beg your pardon — my mind at that moment was 
 on 
 
 Ned. Hogs. Say, Frank, how is married life? 
 
 Frank. Not all that I could wish for. Ruth is as good a 
 wife as any man could wish for, but — never mind that topic 
 now. Tell me, Ned, how is the affair between my cousin 
 Nellie and you progressing ? 
 
 Ned. Out of sight, we've been engaged twice. 
 
36 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Frank. Twice ? 
 
 Ned. Twice. 
 
 Frank. Well, how do you stand now ? 
 
 Ned. Just at present we are disengaged. {Refers to book?) 
 
 Frank. Disengaged ? 
 
 Ned. You see she wants a chance to think it over, and has 
 asked me to wait about five years. 
 
 Frank. And you? 
 
 Ned. I'm going to wait. 
 
 Frank. Good. {Laughing. ) 
 
 Ned. How is the painting panning out, Frank ? 
 
 Frank (Ruth enters d. in f. l.). Not as well as I could 
 wish. I long to go to Europe and study from the old masters. 
 That seems to be my only love now. Ned, old boy, if you 
 ever wish to engage in any great exploit, never marry. 
 
 Ned. Why? Is your married life unhappy? Well, you 
 know the old adage — as you make your bed 
 
 Frank. There, now, don't moralize. If Ruth were only 
 more refined — if she were only more of a lady. (Ruth sighs 
 and exit r. u. e.) Come to lunch, Ned. I won't apologize 
 for the table — Mrs. Rolleston superintends that. ( Crosses to 
 l. 1 E.) 
 
 Ned. Then I'll wager the department is all O. K. 
 
 [Both exeunt r. i e. 
 
 {Sleigh bells heard in the distance gradually drawing nearer.) 
 
 Josiah {outside). Whoa ! darn ye, whoa ! {Enters d. in 
 f. l.) Ruth ! Ruth Melindy Suffrony ! where be ye? Guess 
 they must be in to dinner. {Horse makes a noise outside.) 
 Hi ! Hi ! there. That nigh hoss gits penickitty every time 
 he comes to town. Sight of brick houses gives him the heaves. 
 No one around? I guess I'll make myself to hum. Halloa ! 
 there's the pianny. {Ad libitum piano bus. At close takes out 
 pipe.) Frank don't like smokin' in his parlor — I hain't so 
 partickler. I've been a conjecterin' ever sence I was elected 
 jestice of the peace by an overwhelmin' majority of two, how 
 it was that Elijah Thompson couldn't manage the votes down 
 these parts. {Smokes.) 
 
 Ruth {enters r. u. e. crying). Oh, daddy, dear old dad. 
 {Goes to him.) 
 
 Josiah. Why, Ruthie — what's busted? Spit it out, and 
 tell your old daddy all about it. 
 
 Ruth. Daddy ! Frank don't love me any more. 
 
UNCLE SI. 37 
 
 Josiah. Yes he do — you be a foolin*. 
 
 Ruth. No, daddy, I wish I was. He said I be coarse and 
 ignorant. 
 
 Josiah. Then he be a darn scoundrel. 
 
 Ruth. No, he ain't. 
 
 Josiah. Yes, he be. You ain't no more coarser nor more 
 ignoranter than what I are. 
 
 Ruth. Daddy, why didn't you send me to school ? 
 
 Josiah. Well, yer ma needed ye to hum. But I sent ye all 
 I could. I sent ye two whole weeks to once, one time. 
 
 Ruth. So you did — dear, old dad ! {Rises.) But I want 
 to know more and I will. 
 
 Josiah. Why, leetle gal, what's come over ye? 
 
 Ruth. Nothing much, dad ; you'll know some day. Would 
 it cost very much to send me to school ? 
 
 Josiah. No, not a powerful sight. I could drive you over 
 every day in the old bob sled — and there's that leetle fortune 
 your grandma left ye — interest and all, it must amount to as 
 much as fourteen dollars and sixty-eight cents, and you can 
 have it — every darn cent of it. 
 
 Ruth. Thank you, dear old dad. 
 
 Josiah. I've got to be a trottin' along now, Ruth. 
 
 Ruth. Why, dad, you've only just come. Can't you stop 
 to dinner? We're going to have blank mange and Charlie 
 Russie. 
 
 Josiah. I guess my stomach would be s'prised to see them 
 coming down. I wouldn't mind taking a hunk of gingerbread 
 and bowl of tea, but I've got to be going. 
 
 Ruth. Dad, what did you bring in ? 
 
 Josiah. Hay. I put two barrels apples on top the load. 
 Can't sell them ; guess I'll feed them to the hogs. (She helps 
 him on with his coat.) I've got my new mittens with me, 
 your ma made 'em long so I wouldn't git chilblains in my 
 elbows. 
 
 Ruth. How is ma? 
 
 Josiah. She's so she can talk. 
 
 Ruth. And Jack ? 
 
 Josiah. Oh, Jack — he's got to be a regular dude. As soon 
 as he heern tell I got elected jestice of the peace, he went right 
 down to the company's store and got himself a bran' new suit 
 of store clothes. He wears a tall hat when he goes to milk 
 the cows. T'other night he was milking old brindle, and 
 when she saw that hat, she kicked him clean over into the back 
 
38 UNCLE SI. 
 
 pasture. She thought he was a strange calf. Now, Ruthie, 
 don't you mind these little flareups. They're like a tin can tied 
 to a dog's tail; they're bound to a cur. When your ma and 
 me was fust married, we used to fight like cats and dogs, but 
 now we git long slicker than a cup of custard. But if the 
 worst comes to the worst, and Frank mistreats ye, jest put 
 your parlor lamp right on that table, so that it will shine 
 through your kitchen window, and your old dad will be over 
 to see how the little kitten jumps. (Kisses her.') Now good- 
 bye, Ruthie. 
 
 Ruth. Good-bye, dad. Don't forget to kiss ma for me. 
 
 Josiah. I will if she'll keep her mouth still long enough. 
 
 [Exit d. in f. l. 
 
 (Noise of sleigh bells dying away in the distance. Ruth is at 
 door bidding him good-bye as Frank and Ned enter l. i e.) 
 
 Frank (crosses to r. i e.). I thought my wife knew enough 
 to present herself at the table when her husband had company. 
 (To Ned.) Come into the next room, Ned. I have some ex- 
 cellent cigars. 
 
 Ned. I want to have a Little talk with your wife first; I'll 
 join you presently. (Frank exit r. i e.). Say, Ruth, you 
 are fixed up real nicely here, aren't you ? (Sits l.) 
 
 Ruth (on sofa). Oh, yes, we be quite comfortable. 
 
 Ned. I suppose you are happy, now that you are settled 
 down. 
 
 Ruth. I suppose so. Say, Mr. Clearfield, is your lady 
 friend, Miss Parkman, awful handsome? 
 
 Ned. No I don't call her exactly handsome, but she 
 
 is very smart. 
 
 Ruth. How did she get smart ? 
 
 Ned. By going to school. 
 
 Ruth. I wish I could go to school. 
 
 Ned. You can't — you are married. Say, Ruth, do you 
 remember Prof. Ticklepitcher ? 
 
 Ruth. The funny bugular alarm man ? 
 
 Ned. Yes, I met him to-day. He's away up in the world 
 now. Owns a college of his own. He gave me his card; 
 here it is. (Reads.) Prof. Philander Ticklepitcher, A. M. 
 
 Ruth. What does A. M. mean ? 
 
 Ned. Call in the morning. 
 
 Ruth. Can I keep this card ? 
 
UNCLE SI. 39 
 
 Ned. Certainly. 
 
 Frank {outside). Are you coming, Ned ? 
 
 Ned. By jove ! I forgot. {Rises.) Excuse me, Ruth, 
 I have an appointment with a good cigar. \_Exit r. i e. 
 
 Ruth. So Miss Parkman be a wonderful girl. Why can't 
 I be a wonderful girl? It ain't my fault that I be ignorant, it 
 is my misfortune ; but I would rather be the simple innocent 
 country girl that I am than be like some of those brazen-faced 
 women who call themselves leaders of society. Society ! So- 
 ciety ! Oh, what a mockery. {Looks at card.) Prof. Tickle- 
 pitcher, Unionville Seminary. I remember him. He once 
 told me if I ever needed a friend to come to him. I need that 
 friend now. I will go to him, and under an assumed name 
 begin life all over again. If I succeed in learning the A B 
 C's of life, I will succeed in winning the X Y Z's of my hus- 
 band's love. The little home which has been to me a para- 
 dise, must be for a time lost — but when I return, eddicated and 
 refined, paradise will be regained. {Exit r. u. e.; reenters 
 with lamp ; puts lamp on table ; puts on wrap, kisses Frank's 
 hat ; goes to door in flat left.) Good-bye, dear home, good- 
 bye. 
 
 Frank {enters r. i e.). What is the matter, Ruth? 
 
 Ruth. The matter, Frank ? 
 
 Frank. Yes, you have been crying. 
 
 Ruth. Have I, Frank ? 
 
 Frank. You are far too sensitive to-night, and don't seem 
 to remember anything. It is very annoying to be compelled 
 to jog your memory forever. {On sofa.) 
 
 Ruth. You won't have to jog it any more, Frank. 
 
 Frank. That's sensible. 
 
 Ruth. May I kiss you, husband ? 
 
 Frank. Why, of course. (She kisses him.) What a 
 strange request ? 
 
 Ruth. Good-bye, dear husband, I'm going out. 
 
 Frank. Going over to your father's ? 
 
 Ruth. No. 
 
 Frank. Then may I ask what takes Mrs. Rolleston from 
 her husband's roof at such an hour ? 
 
 Ruth. I thought I might be in the way here. 
 
 Frank. Let me be the better judge of that. 
 
 Ruth. So you be, Frank — so you be. But your house is 
 no place for an ignorant country girl like me — let me tell you 
 before my heart breaks. I be coarse and ignorant, I ain't got 
 
40 UNCLE SI. 
 
 any of those refined ways you want in a wife ; I be but a doll 
 to be dressed up in your house. 
 
 Frank. Ruth ? 
 
 Ruth. Your Ruth won't trouble you any longer; but 
 Frank — some time — some time you will think kindly of your 
 poor little country sweetheart. 
 
 Frank. Ruth — my wife ! 
 
 Ruth. It is too late now. (Starts for door.') 
 
 Frank. Where are you going, Ruth ? 
 
 Ruth. I am going out into the world, and when I return, 
 I shall be a lady. 
 
 (She exit d. in f. l. ; he looks at door for a moment, takes his 
 pipe from mantel, goes to light it, lets pipe fall from his 
 hands, takes out handkerchief and buries his face in his 
 hands as curtain falls .) 
 
ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE. — The Parkman hojnestead in Philadelphia. Five 
 years are supposed to have elapsed between Acts III. and 
 IV. Palace arch in 3, backed by fancy, c. d., backed by 
 conservatory. Sofa l. Table ; two chairs r.) 
 
 Flannigan (discovered at rise, dusting furniture). Well, 
 now, this do be a fine job. All I have to do is wear a swalley 
 tail coat and do the agreeable among the big bugs. There's a 
 big reception to-night. I've had five drinks of reception wine 
 already, and they're still a comin'. {Bell outside.) There's 
 the bell. (Exit c. d., singing.) "The bell goes a ringin' for 
 Sarah, Sarah." 
 
 Enter Ned and Nellie, c. T>.,from l. 
 
 Ned. Well, Nellie, this is the third time we've been en- 
 gaged. I suppose the third time is final. 
 
 Nellie. It is all your fault that our previous engagements 
 were broken off. 
 
 Ned. We'll have to be married soon, or this one will be 
 disrupted also. 
 
 Ruth (outside l. c.) Nellie ! Oh, Nellie ! 
 
 Nellie. That is Lucille. (Goes to c. d.) Excuse me, 
 please. Here I am, Lucille. 
 
 Ruth (enters c. d. l., as Lucille Askman). Aw — I beg 
 pawdon, don't cher know. (Sees Ned.) You need not 
 present me — this is Mr. Clearfield. (Bus.) Chawmed — 
 awfully chawmed. 
 
 Nellie. Why how did you recognize him ? 
 
 Ruth. Why, my deah, didn't you have his pictures hung 
 up all over the wall at school, and did you not keep me awake 
 nights extolling his virtues ? 
 
 Nellie. Now don't you believe a word of it. (To Ned.) 
 
 Ned. Oh, I don't know. 
 
 Nellie (crosses to Ned). Will you have the kindness to 
 tell me what you are staring at ? 
 
 Ned. At the striking resemblance between Miss Askman 
 and Mrs. Frank Rolleston. Ruth ! 
 
 4i 
 
42 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Ruth [turns quickly). Aha ! (Recovers her affected 
 style.) I beg your pawdon. 
 
 Ned. There's a mystery here ; I'd like to solve it. (Goes 
 up to c. d.) Ladies, kindly excuse me. [Exit. 
 
 Nellie. Well, Lucille, what is your opinion? 
 
 Ruth. I think he is perfectly chawming, and I can only 
 hope that you may be very happy. 
 
 Nellie. Nothing certain about it. We've been engaged 
 so many times, but it has never gone so far as this. . (Holds 
 up a ring.) 
 
 Ruth. An engagement ring ? He certainly is in earnest 
 this time. 
 
 Flannigan (enters c. d.). Mr. Frank Rolleston. 
 
 [Exit c. d. 
 
 Nellie (to Ruth, who titters an exclamation). Why, 
 Lucille, what is the matter ? 
 
 Ruth. Nothing. I accidentally pricked my fingers with 
 one of these thorns. 
 
 Nellie. Dear cousin Frank — I want him to meet you. 
 He is lovely and you will be sure to like him. Excuse me, 
 Lucille. [Exit c. d. 
 
 Ruth. Like him ! My husband ! May God grant, that 
 all wives love their husbands with the pure and holy devotion, 
 that I do mine. Five years absence ! Five years banished 
 from Paradise ! Five years of self-inflicted torture ! Oh, to 
 throw myself into his arms — cast aside the veneer of fashion, 
 and say to him, " Frank, it is I, your own Ruth. Don't you 
 know me? " 
 
 Flannigan (enters c. d.). Professor Kick the Pitcher. 
 
 Ruth.' My tutor. Admit him. 
 
 Prof, (enters c. p.). I am already admitted. (To Flan- 
 nigan.) Begone. (Flannigan exit c. d.) Ah, good-even- 
 ing, Miss Askman. 
 
 Ruth. Good-evening, professor, I hope you are well. 
 
 Prof. Well ! I am more than well. I am exuberant. I 
 need not enquire regarding your health. Is the mind as well 
 as the body ? 
 
 Ruth. Professor, you know the ordeal I am about to un- 
 dergo. I need all my fortitude. 
 
 Prof. I have been your adviser for five years. I have 
 faith in the ultimate success of your plan. (He sits r. of table.) 
 
 Ned and Frank enter c. d. 
 
UNCLE SI. 43 
 
 Ned. How are the nerves, Frank, pretty strong ? 
 
 Frank. Never better. Why do you ask ? 
 
 Ned. You are liable to an attack from the ladies. 
 
 Frank. Never fear, Ned. {Crosses to l.) My days of 
 love and romance are now over. 
 
 Ned. How does this fair vision strike you? {Points to 
 Ruth.) 
 
 Frank. I see a very pretty face. (Ruth turns her head a 
 little and laughs.) Am I dreaming? That is Ruth. {Bus.) 
 
 Ned. Not so fast. {Bus.) I thought so until I had dis- 
 covered my mistake. That is Miss Lucille Askman, one of 
 our high toned society ladies. 
 
 Frank. But see — that face. (Ruth laughs.) That laugh ! 
 It is Ruth. 
 
 Ned. A striking resemblance. We meet with such every 
 day. 
 
 Frank. But none like that, Ned, none like that. {Goes 
 up c.) 
 
 Nellie {enters c. d.). Welcome home, dear cousin. {She 
 kisses him; Flannigan enters c. d. and quickly exit c. d.) 
 Why, Frank, how you have aged during the past five years. 
 You have been worrying over some secret sorrow. 
 
 Frank. Sorrow ? Yes, a sorrow of which the world has 
 never known. 
 
 Nellie. Frank, I want to present you to one of my school 
 fellows. Lucille ! Lucille ! Lucille ! 
 
 Prof. Lucille, you have a loose heel. 
 
 Nellie. Lucille ! 
 
 Ruth {turning). I beg your pardon, did you call me, 
 Nellie? 
 
 Nellie. Yes. I wish to present to you my Cousin Frank, 
 and I want you to be the best of friends. 
 
 Ruth. Chawmed to meet you, sir. {Bows.) I have 
 heard Nellie speak of you very frequently at college, and I 
 trust that we may be the best of friends. {Turns.) Do you 
 know, professor, that was a most amusing story you were 
 telling. 
 
 Prof, {laughs and chokes). Amusing in the extreme. 
 
 Frank. It is my wife's face, risen from the dead to haunt 
 me with its memory. 
 
 Ned. Come on, Frank, I will present, you to some of the 
 other guests. [Exit l. i e. 
 
 Frank. Ladies, kindly excuse my absence. 
 
44 UNCLE SI. 
 
 Ruth. Only for a time. Your praises have been sung so 
 much by your charming cousin, that I am prepared to lionize 
 you after we become better acquainted. We may discover that 
 we have many friends with whom we have been mutually as- 
 sociated. 
 
 Frank. I sincerely trust we may. \_Exit l. i e. 
 
 Ruth {crosses to l.). My husband ! my husband ! How 
 altered ! how changed ! [Exit c. d. r. 
 
 Prof. But he is just the same. 
 
 Rachel (enters c. d.). Nellie, your mother wishes to speak 
 with you in the library. (Sits on sofa L.) 
 
 Nellie. Very well. [Exit c. d. 
 
 Prof, (drinks wine and eats bananas ; business}. Excuse 
 me, but your face is familiar to me. Have you had it long ? 
 
 Rachel. Sir ? 
 
 Prof. I beg your pardon. Doubtless you remember me. 
 
 Rachel. Oh yes, you are the gentleman 
 
 Prof. Who walked home in a barrel ? (Both laugh.) Now, 
 if I remember distinctly, your name is Miss Waterman. 
 
 Rachel. Excuse me, I am Mrs. W. Courtney now. 
 
 Prof. What ! Married ! (Nearly collapses.) 
 
 Rachel. Yes. 
 
 Prof. I congratulate you. 
 
 Rachel. I am a widow now. 
 
 Prof. Glad to hear it. [Business.) 
 
 Rachel. Sir ! 
 
 Prof. Glad to hear it for many reasons. Chiefly because 
 it makes you more of an adept in the art of breaking other 
 hearts. 
 
 Rachel. I do not understand. 
 
 Prof. Ah ! don't you ? I will elucidate. Do you remem- 
 ber the camping out scene in the Green Mountains of six years 
 ago? 
 
 Rachel. I do. 
 
 Prof. And doubtless you remember the strange infatuation 
 I had for a certain party, that was twisted off in the twinkling 
 of an eye ? 
 
 Rachel. Oh yes, I remember. You were not then in a 
 position to speak of — of 
 
 Prof. Matrimony? Well, hardly. (Aside.) I was in 
 pawn for a ninety-seven cent wash bill. (Aloud.) Is my con- 
 versation distasteful to you ? 
 
 Rachel. Oh no, not at all. 
 
 UtfO, 
 
UNCLE SI. 45 
 
 Prof. There is an armchair in the conservatory yonder 
 which is admirably adapted to the propagation of youthful and 
 tender sentiment. Shall we hie ourselves thither? 
 
 Rachel. As you please. (Crossing to r. c.) Your con- 
 versation is so very amusing. 
 
 Prof. And interesting? 
 
 Rachel. Perhaps. [Exit r. u. e. 
 
 Prof. Charming lady. Charming. Wait for me, sweet 
 one. You can't lose me, Charlie. [Exit quickly r. u. e. 
 
 Josiah {enters c. d. from l.). I guess this must be the 
 place. That starched up feller with a biled shirt on asked me 
 for my keerd. I told him I had a whole pack of keerds to 
 home. My stars, this is a pooty tall place. (Business.) 
 Whiskers on the carpet. It would be a darn funny thing if 
 I'd got in the wrong cathedral. I reckon I ought to put a bell 
 on so I won't get lost, strayed, or stolen. Ruth is comin' back 
 from school to-day, and she's puttin' on more style than a 
 Bantam rooster on a Shanghai coop. (Bus. of looking at 
 wine.) Drinkables, eh ! Well, seein' it's you, I'll jine you. 
 (Drinks.) That tastes like juniper berry tea. (Sees bananas.) 
 Well, now, there's two of the all firedest biggest string beans I 
 ever see. I'll jest about take them home for seed. (Rises and 
 turns to c.) I wonder where be they all. 
 
 Flannigan (enters c. d. with tray and ginger pop). Well, 
 how are ye, Mr. Hedges? (Puts tray on table.) 
 
 Josiah. Flannigan, as I'm a sinner ! Well, I'll be horn 
 swoggled ! (Shakes hands.) Come over here and set down 
 till I talk to ye. (Sit on sofa l.) Last time I saw you, you 
 was a chasin' a drove of Berkshire hogs down on Zeke Stubbs' 
 place. What are ye doin' of now ? 
 
 Flannigan. I'm workin' here. I'm the butler. 
 
 Josiah. The which ? 
 
 Flannigan. The butler. 
 
 Josiah. Jest so. Have you got a match on ye ? 
 
 Flannigan. I have. (Bus.) How is the wife? Is she 
 smart ? 
 
 Josiah. She's too darn smart. (Whispers.) 
 
 Flannigan. No ! When did it happen ? 
 
 Josiah. Day before yistiddy. Weighs eight pounds. 
 (Both light pipes.) Say, do you remember the time the old 
 mare run away with ye? (Laughs.) 
 
 Flannigan. Begorra, I do; and she threw me over into 
 the bog with head down and heels up like a lamp-post. I 
 
46 UNCLE SI. 
 
 have a fine job here ; all I have to do is to wait on the door 
 bell and drink wine. 
 
 Josiah. What's that darn stuff in that bottle? 
 
 Flannigan. Why, that's imported Catawba. 
 
 Josiah. I thought it was slobber gobber. I'm in town on 
 a bat. I'm a celebratin'. I've got every man full for three 
 miles around. Such doin's as we've had to home don't hap- 
 pen every day. 
 
 Flannigan. Wait till I crack this bottle. {Goes to table.} 
 
 Josiah, Don't crack it, pull the cork out. My stars, if 
 Ruth should come in and find me a drinkin', she'd think her 
 old daddy was a gittin' sporty. Now it strikes me, Flanni- 
 gan ( Cork flies out, strikes Josiah. Ad lib. scene ; at 
 
 end Flannigan exits c. d. with bottle.) Well, I'll be horn 
 swoggled. That bottle kicks worse than a Vermont mule. 
 Lucky I didn't drink it, or I'd be goin' up and down like a 
 jumpin' Jack. {Looks l. 3 e.) Halloa ! there's the art gal- 
 lery. Ma was jest dyin' to see an art gallery; so when we 
 went to Bosting I took her to see one. We went into one of 
 them rooms where there was a statoot. As soon as ma seen it, 
 she kivered her face with her fan. She thought it was a real 
 live gal, and she'd forgot to put her frock on. \_Exit l. 3 e. 
 
 Ruth {enters c. d.). I escaped from the crowd for a mo- 
 ment. I want quiet time to reflect. I want to be alone, alone 
 with my tortured heart. 
 
 Frank {outside). Very well, Ned, I will join you. 
 
 Ruth. His voice. What shall I do ? I'll sit here {in chair 
 l. of table r.), and pretend to be asleep. 
 
 Frank {enters c. d.). Not here ! {Sees her.) There she 
 is, and asleep. Ruth, my wife ! I thought I had found 
 you. 
 
 Ruth {awakens). Gracious ! Have I been sleeping? 
 
 Frank. Pardon me, I — I didn't mean to disturb you. 
 
 Ruth. I am glad you did disturb me, for I was having a 
 horrible dream. 
 
 Frank. A dream ! 
 
 Ruth. Yes, shall I relate it ? 
 
 Frank. If you will. {She motions him to a seat.) 
 
 Ruth. I dreamed I was living in a country home, way 
 back among the hills. A home where a parent's commands 
 emanated from the lips of love. A stranger came to our home 
 one day. He was handsome, chivalrous, and true; just the 
 one to win an unsophisticated heart. We were married against 
 
UNCLE SI. 47 
 
 the wishes of his parents and mine. Our little home was a 
 paradise. Then came a change. Gradually it dawned upon 
 me that I was ignorant, he refined. He loved music, I en- 
 dured it. He loved the bright and the poetic, I was oblivious 
 of all, save to the fact that the tendrils of my heart were inter- 
 twined in his. At last the film of love was pierced, and I saw 
 myself as I was. I was the ball and chain around my hus- 
 band's heels. I was the impediment that stood between him 
 and social distinction. One night, — I shall never forget it, — 
 I went out into the cold and darkness. The cold wind from 
 the north, was nothing compared to the chill that was here in 
 my heart. After years of absence I returned to my husband, 
 but he had forgotten me. I went to him, put my hand upon 
 his shoulder (she does so), even as I put my hand on yours, 
 looked him in the face, but his lips were silent, his heart was 
 marble. I turned from him (she does so) to go back to my 
 youthful surroundings when — when — I awakened from my 
 dream. (She is r.) 
 
 Frank (rises). Miss Askman, that experience was mine. 
 Five years ago the lamp of my happiness flickered and died 
 away when the wife of my bosom left my home. She was as 
 pure as an angel, and I loved her as a Christian loves his God. 
 My love for her has increased as the years have rolled on. Her 
 image is ever with me. See (bus.), in this locket I carry her 
 dear face. 
 
 Ruth. If she returned to you in her purity and innocence, 
 what would you do ? 
 
 Frank. Do !• I would throw myself at her feet, and beg 
 forgiveness for every harsh word, every cruel look that wounded 
 her pure and sensitive nature. (She drops handkerchief ; he 
 picks it up. As he restores it to her he sees her wedding ring. ) 
 That ring ! It is mine. 
 
 Ruth. I beg your pardon. It is mine, given me by my 
 husband. 
 
 Frank. I care not. There is something in your face that 
 draws me toward you. It u the resemblance to the woman 
 whose memory I revere. The dream you have just related is 
 the history of my life. Mine was the pride, mine has been the 
 punishment. P'ive years ago that punishment began, and 
 during those years the civilized world has been searched in a 
 vain endeavor to bring her back. Lady, I see your face, I 
 hear your voice. It is her face, her voice. (Ruth laughs.) 
 My God ! it is Ruth, my wife. 
 
48 UNCLE SI. ^Jf \GOP- 
 
 (She dodges under his arm as he goes R. She gets in a 
 chair l.) 
 
 Ruth. Keep away, Frank, you be a foolin' me again. 
 
 Frank. No, Ruth. 
 
 Ruth. And you won't git tired of correctin' me continer- 
 ousslessly ? 
 
 Frank. No, Ruth. 
 
 Ruth. And you'll let me say " Picter " ? 
 
 Frank. If you wish. 
 
 Ruth. And you'll hold me close, close to your heart ? 
 
 Frank. Close to my heart and forever. 
 
 Ruth. Then come, Frank, come. (Embrace.') 
 
 Ned and Nellie enter from l. i e. Prof, and Rachel enter 
 from r. 1 e. Josiah c. d. Prof, and Ned turn their 
 ladies, face to wing. 
 
 Prof, and Ned. Look at the birdies ! Look at the birds ! 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 Ned and Nellie. Pr*6f. and Rachel. 
 
 l. Ruth and Frank. r. 
 
 c. 
 
 Josiah (at back). 
 
ili THF MAGTSTR ATF I A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthur W. ^J? 
 /|> in£l 1VMMJ13 A JKA 111. [ i» INI ,; H0 . Twelve male, four female char- /J\ 
 
 acters. Costumes,' modern ; scenery, all 
 interior. The merits of this excellent and amusing piece, one of the most'popu- /l\ 
 lar of its author's plays, are well attested by long and repeated runs in the *,K 
 principal American theatres. It is of the highest class of dramatic writing, and /l\ 
 is uproariously funny, and at the same time unexceptionable in tone. Its entire 
 suitability for amateur performance has been shown by hundreds of such pro- 
 ductions from manuscript during the past three years. Plays two hours and 
 a half. (181)2.) 
 
 _ ! 
 
 amateur performance. It is recommended for Reading Clubs. (1895.) 0m% 
 
 THE NOTORIOUS 
 MRS, EBBSMITH, 
 
 A Drama in Four Acts. By Arthur W. /l\ 
 PntERO. Eight male and five female charac- ' 
 
 ters ; scenery, all interiors. This is a "prob- 
 lem " play continuing the series to which " The 
 Profligate" and "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray' 
 
 belong, and while strongly dramatic, and intensely interesting is not suited for 
 
 yt-J'P PT?fYPT Tf^ATF I A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. Pixk- 
 A* 1 *- ^lVV^Jri-lVjn.ll-i. RO Seven male and five female characters. 
 
 ' Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; 
 
 costumes, modern. This is a piece of serious interest, powerfully dramatic in ij\ 
 ic in its event. An admirable olav. but not suited fnr am:i- •"• 
 
 movement, and tragic in its event. An admirable play, but not suited for aim 
 teur performance. (1892.) 
 
 THE SECOND 
 MRS. TANQUERAY. 
 
 W. Pjnero. Seven male and four female 
 diaracters. 
 
 comet 
 
 THF TTTVTF^ I A Comedyin Four Acts. By Arthur W. Pinero. Six 
 
 presents a plot of 
 
 strong dramatic interest, and its incidental satire of •■ Woman's Rights" em- 
 plovs some admirably humorous characters, and inspires many verv clever lines. 
 Its leading characters are unusually even in strength and prominence, which 
 makes it a very satisfactory piece for amateurs. (1894.) 
 
 
 /is 
 
 THF SCHOOT MTSTRFS^ I A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthur 
 
 1 nil aVJll UmVAAD 1 KJia.X | w Pikero< Nine male, seven fe- A 
 
 ' male characters. Costumes, mod- [l\ 
 
 em : scenery, three interiors, easily arranged. This ingenious and laughable ilw 
 
 farce was played by Miss Rosina Yokes during her last season in America with 0§\ 
 
 great success. Its plot is amusing, its action rapid and full of incident, its dia- jli 
 
 logue brilliant, and its scheme of character especially rich in quaint and humor- fi\ 
 
 ous types. The Hon. VereQueckett and Peggy are especially strong. The piece ilv 
 
 is in all respects suitable for amateurs. (1894.) fm\ 
 
 A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. 
 Pinero. Eight male and five female char- 
 acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three 
 interiors. This well-known and powerful 
 play is not well suited for amateur per- 
 formance. It is offered to Mr. Pinero's admirers among the reading public in 
 answer to the demand which its wide discussion as an acted play has created. 
 (1894.) Also in Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 W 
 
 W 
 
 SWEET LAVENDER.! &^?JJ»£™J£°:*7„J!.y??"Z W 
 
 Scene, a single interior, the %■# 
 ishionable. This well known jV. 
 
 same for all three acts: costumes, modern and fashionabl_. 
 
 and popular piece is admirably suited to amateur players, by whom it has been \l/ 
 
 often given during the last few years. Its story is strongly sympathetic, and its TI. 
 
 3dy interest abundant and strong. (1893.) \l/ 
 
 W 
 
 male and seven female characters. Scene, a single ele- \kj 
 
 ?V. gant interior; costumes, modern and fashionable. An Mr 
 
 114 entertaining piece, of strong dramatic interest and admirable satirical humor. ik'j 
 
 W (1892.) Mf 
 
 ^K THF 'WFAK'F'R <\T?Y I A Comedy in Three Acts. Bv Arthur V/ 
 
 \(/ irUL WCAISJ1K SA1A. | W . PrXFR0 . Eight male and eight female \(/ 
 
 -•*•- | . characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, ?K 
 
 two interiors, not difficult. This very amusing comedy was a popular feature of \Wi 
 
 the repertoire of Mr. and Mrs. Kendal in this countrv. It presents a plot of :!* 
 
 I 
 
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 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 NEW OPERETTAS F 
 
 018 482 443 7 4 
 
 EDITH'S DREAM. 
 
 ®n ©pcrctta far ffitytoim 
 
 Words by MARGARET FEZANDIE and EDGAR MORETTE. 
 Music by EUGENE FEZANDIE, Jr. 
 
 Eleven characters, girls and boys, or all girls, as preferred ; ten or more addi- 
 tional For chorus. Scenery unnecessary ; costumes, pretty and fanciful, but 
 easily arranged at home. This admirable little piece is printed complete with 
 music. It is very tuneful and gracefully imagined, and is strongly recommended 
 for private theatricals or for schools. It is particularly well suited for the latter 
 use. as it deals whimsically with the question of youthful study, inculcating, 
 however, an excellent moral. 
 
 Price 
 
 35 cents. 
 
 ODD OPERASHEVEN TIDE. 
 
 A Collection of Short and Simple Musical 
 Entertainments for Children. 
 
 By MRS. G. N. BORDMAN. 
 
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 1*4 '* This collection provides a simple operetta, a fairy opera, a picturesque motion 
 Mr song, a quaint musical pantomime, a prettv musical sketch, and two original 
 
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 humorous recitations for children, complete, ith all the music, and full instruc 
 tion's for performance. The music is tuneful and simple, and is specially written 
 with the tastes and limitations of children in view. The solos are easily learned 
 and sung, and all the choruses are written for voices in unison. The collection 
 is strongly recommended for its simplicity and perfect practicability. Neither 
 stage nor scenery is demanded, nor any other requirements that cannot be met 
 without trouble'by the equipment of the ordinary hall or church vestry, and the 
 zeal of the most economical committee of arrangements. 
 
 Price 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 50 cents. 
 
 A Glimpse of the Brownies. A 
 
 Musical Sketch for Children. Any 
 number of boys. 
 
 Market Day. An Operetta for Young 
 People. Seven speaking parts and 
 chorus. 
 
 Queen Flora's Day Dream. An 
 
 Operetta for Children. Six speak- 
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 Musical 
 Thirty 
 
 The Boating Partv. A 
 
 Sketch for Little Childrei 
 boys and girls. 
 
 Six I,ittle Grandmas. A Musical 
 Pantomime for very Little Children. 
 Six very little girls. 
 
 Jimmy Crow. A Recitation for a 
 Little Girl. 
 
 A House in the Moon. A Recita- 
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