^lUfJt^r 
 
 J. FISCHER & BRO. 
 
 7, 8 & 11, Bible House 
 
 New York 
 
* 
 
 €J The copying of either the separate parts or of 
 the entire composition by any process whatsoever 
 is forbidden and subject to the penalties provided 
 for by the Copyright Law of the United States of 
 North America, in force July I, 1909. 
 
 t][ Right of performance can only be secured 
 through the purchase of copies of this publication, 
 one for each performer. 
 
 €| The right of performance will not be granted 
 where copies are loaned or hired from a third party. 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 J. FISCHER & BRO. NEW YORK 
 
 7, 8 & U» Bible House 
 
 New Entertainments in "Fischer's Edition" 
 
 3656 Rival Debating Clubs. For male and female 
 characters. Katharine M. Hayes 25 
 
 3664 Their Lordships. For male and t> ale character* 
 Edith M* Burrows 35 
 
 3668 Seasons and Holidays. Eight tableaux, with reci- 
 tation. Edith M. Burrows net .35 
 
 For catalogue of operettas suitable tor amateur organizations 
 
 address 
 
 J. FISCHER & BRO. 
 
 7, 8 and 11, Bible House New York 
 
 Publishers of 
 
 "Sylvia", "A Nautical Knot", "Bulbul". W. Rhys-Herbert 
 
 "The Drum-Major" • Edward F. Johnston 
 
 "King Hal" Humphrey J. Stewart 
 
J. FISCHER & BRO. 
 
 7 t 8 & 11, Bible House 
 
 New York 
 
" DEAR CYRIL 
 
 9J 
 
 By 
 
 Edith M. Burrows ~P£>L3^ 
 
 %<\W Z 
 
 Cast of Characters 
 
 Mrs. Bates. . . . A widow who keeps a boarding house 
 
 Maggte Her Irish maid of all work 
 
 Teddy Bates — 
 
 The "Imp of Satan/' aged 11, who stutters 
 David Graham — 
 
 Young would-be-author at the Bates house 
 Alice White — 
 
 A budding authoress at the Bates house 
 The Postman — 
 
 Of great importance to David and Alice 
 James Scott — 
 
 Representing the Columbia Publishing Co. 
 Harvey Loftus — j 
 
 Representing the Manhattan Publishing Co. 
 A Detective Who complicates matters 
 
 Scene. 
 The living room of a country boarding house. 
 
 Time. 
 The present. U-S?fo/ (, /5 ?0f 
 
 Copyright, 1913, by J. Fischer <k Bro. 
 British copyright secured 
 Performance right reserved (Se^notice. second page cover) 
 ©CI.D 3267.1 
 
ACT I. 
 
 Living room at Mrs. Bates. Door at center back 
 opens out of doors. Two windows in back on either 
 side of door and one at left near rear of stage. Fire- 
 place at left near front. Door near center of right 
 side opening into hall and remainder of house. Table 
 near center front, on which are magazines, books and 
 a lamp. Large colored portrait of an old-fashioned 
 looking man hangs in a hideous gold frame over fire- 
 place at left. A couch, chairs and a telephone com- 
 plete the furnishings of room. 
 
 Curtain rises, disclosing Maggie, with gingham 
 apron on and head tied up, sweeping room. Door at 
 right opens cautiously and Teddy sticks his head in. 
 
 Teddy. — S-say, Maggie, 1-let me have one of your 
 crullers from the k-kitchen? 
 
 Maggie. — Oi will not! The idea of yez askin' me 
 that so soon after breakfast. Gwan out now and shut 
 that door! 
 
 Teddy. — P-please give me one, Maggie (coaxingly), 
 j-just one? 
 
 Maggie. — Do yez think oi want to sweep the whole 
 house this mornin' ? Gwan out of here and shut that 
 door! (As Teddy still lingers, she raises broom and 
 advances ioivard him. He flees.) Do yez hear me, 
 ye imp o' Satan, ye? If yez don't git Oi'll show yez 
 what Oi will lave yez have! (Coming back from door 
 and wiping her face on her apron.) That bye will be 
 the death o' me yit. Sure he's the divil's own! (Puts 
 down broom and begins to dust. Enter from outer 
 door in center, David, laden with numerous pads and 
 pencils.) 
 
 David. — Good morning, Maggie. 
 
 Maggie. — Good morning sir. 
 
 David. — I say, Maggie, will you do something for 
 me? 
 
 Maggie. — Now, don't they beat the Dutch, these 
 byes? 
 
 David.— What's that? 
 
 Maggie. — Nothin', Oi was just thinkin' yez was the 
 second young 'un that wanted somethin' off me this 
 mornin'. (Trying to look at him sternly and putting 
 
 J. F. & R. 3667 HI 
 
her hands on her hips.) The first man didn't get 
 what he wanted, so don't yez be too hopeful. What 
 is it? 
 
 David. — Phew ! you've scared me so I hardly know 
 how to begin. The fact is, you see, Maggie, I think 
 that I can write a book and I've come out here this 
 summer to try. My first necessity is to have a place 
 where I can work undisturbed; so I wondered if you 
 and Mrs. Bates could fix me up in the attic. As I 
 remember it, it would make a splendid workroom. 
 
 Maggie. — Mrs. Bafes'll have to decide that first. 
 Oi'll call her. (Goes to door and calls.) Mrs. Ba-ates ! 
 Mrs. Ba-a-tes! 
 
 Mrs. Bates (outside). — Good gracious, Maggie, 
 I'm not deaf. (Enters.) What is it? 
 
 Maggie (pointing backward zvith her thumb at 
 David, and grinning). — Him is took with a turrible 
 attack o' literachure an' wants to know kin he work 
 it off in the attic. (Takes up duster and turns to 
 work again.) 
 
 David. — You see, Mrs. Bates, I was just telling 
 Maggie of some writing that I desired to do, and 
 wondering if you would mind if I used the attic. 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Mind? Why not at all! I shall be 
 only too glad to think of some such work going on 
 in this house. Is it poetry, Mr. Graham? 
 
 David. — Good Lord, no! I beg your pardon, Mrs. 
 Bates, but my-er genius ( ?) is so different from poetry 
 that the idea rather startled me. 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Of course. I only asked because my 
 dear cousin whose picture has the place of honor in 
 this room (points to picture over fireplace) used to 
 write poems, and beautiful ones, too! They were 
 published in one of the ladies' magazines of the time. 
 The dear man had such a fine name for literature, 
 too — Cyril Thorpe. Isn't that romantic sounding? 
 I'll show you some of his poems' now, Mr. Graham. 
 (Starts to move off.) 
 
 David (hastily). — Oh, no, please don't! Er-that is, 
 I must really get to work now. I want you both to 
 promise me that you won't tell a soul about this work 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 IV 
 
of mine, and that you'll guard me from interruption 
 at any cost. 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Of course, we'll see to that, and now 
 I'll show 7 you some things in the attic that will make 
 you quite a comfortable little workroom. Maggie, 
 hurry with this room, please. 
 
 (Exeunt Mrs: Bates and David.) 
 
 Maggie. — Hurry up, is it? Huh! (Enter Alice 
 cautiously from center back door. She carries gold 
 mounted fountain pen and leather covered notebook. 
 Maggie ivorks furiously and pretends not to notice 
 her.) 
 
 Alice. — Oh, Maggie ! I'm so glad to find you alone. 
 I hope you're not too busy to spare me a few minutes ? 
 
 Maggie. — Busy? Lord love yez, Oi don't know the 
 manin' o' the word. Can't yez see Oi'm just restin' ? 
 
 Alice. — Oh, now, Maggie, don't be cross. I have 
 such a piece of new T s for you. I came here this sum- 
 mer to (peers cautiously about again and then whis- 
 pers) what do you think? 
 
 Maggie (promptly) . — Write a book! 
 
 Alice (staggered"). — But — how did you know. 
 
 Maggie. — Oh, everybody's doin' it! 
 
 Alice. — Why, what do you mean? 
 
 Maggie. — Xothin', Miss; thim was just the words 
 from a song Oi was after hearin' the other day, and 
 it surprised me so whin me guess was straight that 
 they just slipped out on me. 
 
 Alice. — Well ! I never saw anything like that guess. 
 You're a regular wizard, Maggie. (Maggie solemnly 
 nods her head.) And now, listen! I simply must 
 have a place where I can work without being dis- 
 turbed, and I thought at once of the attic as a work- 
 room. 
 
 Maggie. — Didn't Oi tell yez, everybody's doin' it? 
 (Claps her hand over her mouth in consternation.) 
 
 Alice (sharply). — Maggie, what's the matter with 
 you this morning ? Don't say that foolish thing again ! 
 (Enter Mrs. Bates.) 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Good morning, Miss Alice. What is 
 the trouble, Maggie? 
 
 Maggie (chuckling). — Sure, 'tis another wan of 
 
 J. F.B. &3667 V 
 
thim struck with in-growin' ideas, and wantin' to know 
 kin she use the attic for a workroom ! 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Do you mean to say that you are 
 writing, my dear? Congratulations. 
 
 Alice. — Better save those till I hear from the pub- 
 lishers. "There's many a slip twixt pen and print," 
 you know. Thanks for your good will, however, and 
 can you spare me the attic for a workroom ? You see 
 I simply must be quiet. 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Yes — but the attic, my dear, you see, 
 the attic is — well — (pauses). 
 
 Alice (offended). — I see, you don't want me to use 
 it. I'm sorry that I put you to the embarrassment of 
 refusing. I dare say I can find some other place to 
 work. (Starts to zvalk off.) 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — No, no, my dear. You don't under- 
 stand. I'd love to have you work there, but you see, 
 there a difficulty. I — oh, you tell her Maggie. 
 (Turns despairingly to Maggie, who calmly takes the 
 helm. As she goes on with explanations, Mrs. Bates' 
 expression changes from amazement to horror, to 
 wrath and then to amusement.) 
 
 Maggie. — Sure, Miss, Oi'll tell yez how it is. Yez 
 see, Mrs. Bates here has a crazy relative, not right 
 in his head at all, at all, Miss, an' bein' sorry for him, 
 she's fixed him up a room in the attic. Times now 
 he's peaceful-like, and then again he's fierce and ugly. 
 So yez see, Miss, it would never do for yez to be 
 workin' in the attic. 
 
 Alice (shuddering). — Mercy, no! I should say 
 not ! But I don't know what I shall do. Oh, dear ! 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — How about one of the rooms in the 
 stable? That could be fixed up quite comfortably, and 
 I'm sure you'd not be interrupted. 
 
 Alice. — Fine ! fine ! Can I go right out there now ? 
 I'm crazy to begin work. 
 
 Maggie (aside). — Crazy, is it? Wan crazy wan in ( 
 a family is enough. 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Maggie and I will go out first and 
 straighten things out for you so that in fifteen min- 
 utes you'll not know the place. Come, Maggie. 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 VI 
 
{Exeunt Mrs. Bates and Maggie) {Alice crosses 
 slowly from center door at back, where Mrs. Bates 
 and Maggie have gone out, down to center front, and 
 sits at table. Lays down fountain pen and note-book 
 on table, and thinks for a minute.) 
 
 Alice. — Hum ! Now that was queer. Maggie not 
 only said "Everybody's doin' it," but she said "another 
 of "them," referring to me. Can there be some one 
 else here who is writing. Surely not Mr. Graham! 
 (Pauses.) Well, why not! I'll sound him when 1 
 get a chance and see what he thinks about the literary 
 life. 
 
 {Enter David from, right. Alice starts tozvard door 
 at center back, nodding to him.) 
 
 Alice. — Good morning! 
 
 David. — 'Morning, Miss White. "Where are you 
 going, my pretty maid?" 
 
 Alice. — "To feed the chickens, sir, she said." 
 
 David. — "And may I come with you, my pretty 
 maid?" 
 
 Alice. — No, sir, you may not. Anyhow, I'm not 
 going just yet. I want to ask you a question. 
 
 David. — Ask away. Sit down, won't you? {Alice 
 and David sit near table at center front.) 
 
 Alice (azvkwardly). — Mr. Graham, do you — er — 
 that is, have you ever been — well — er, interested in 
 literature and, and, authors, and things like that 
 
 David {reproachfully). — Now, by Jove! Do I look 
 to you like a literary man? You flatter me. Behold 
 {waves his hand toward picture over fireplace) the 
 literary person with the literary name, "Cyril Thorpe." 
 Never accuse me of being such again. Why, I hate 
 authors. They do nothing but talk of themselves and 
 their work. Don't you think so? {Alice's expression 
 here is somezvhat dejected.) 
 
 Alice. — I — oh, I hadn't noticed. I was just won- 
 dering what you thought about the profession in gen- 
 eral. 
 
 David {trying to appear unconcerned). — But this 
 is entirely too one-sided. What about your opinion 
 of authors? 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 VII 
 
Alice. — Oh, I hate them, too. They are a thor- 
 oughly conceited lot. (David looks dejected.) Now, 
 this time (rising), I really must go. 
 
 David. — To feed the chickens? 
 
 Alice. — Yes. (Goes toward center door.) 
 
 David (smilingly). — Pardon me, you forgot some- 
 thing. (Lifts note-book and pen from table and hands 
 them to Alice, who is much confused.) (Quizzically.) 
 Do you — er, take notes on the appetites of the chick- 
 ens ? 
 
 Alice (tartly). — Yes, chickens and inquisitive peo- 
 ple have always been my hobbies, and as Fm quite 
 sure to meet them here, I like to have this (taps note- 
 book) at hand. 
 
 David (holding up crossed fingers). — ^Fins, fins! 
 I'm not playing. (Exit Alice.) Whew that last one 
 had some sting in it. But she's a mighty nice girl. 
 Guess I'll take a stroll before getting down to work, and 
 maybe I'll find some local color, or, perhaps the chick- 
 ens. (Exits center laughing.) (Enter Teddy from 
 right. Peers cautiously about, and finding the coast 
 clear, disappears right for a moment, coming back 
 zvith a large cruller, which he devours, putting the 
 last of it in his mouth as his mother and Maggie enter 
 from center.) 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Oh, here you are, Teddy, just in time 
 to take the basket and go to Mrs. Hammond's for 
 eggs. We need two dozen to-day and two chickens 
 for roasting. Now, hurry ofif! 
 
 Maggie. — Never did Oi see that bye on hand before 
 whin 'twas errind toime. Oi'll bet wan o' me crullers 
 is missin' (exit right). (Teddy hastily leaves center.) 
 
 Maggie (coming back from right, runs to center 
 door and shakes her fist at Teddy). — Ye villain, ye! 
 Niver agin do yez git a cake ofif me. (In horror\ 
 Howly Mither, Mrs. Bates, there's Mr. Graham head- 
 in' straight for the stable. (Calling and waving apron) 
 Mr. Graham! Mr. Gra-a-ham! Come in here! (Gra- 
 ham comes on the run). 
 
 David. — Merciful heavens ! What's the row? Is 
 the house on fire? 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 VIII 
 
Maggie. — Yez tell him, Mrs. Bates, for why he 
 mustn't go near the barn. 
 
 Mrs. Bates {helplessly). — No — you, Maggie. I — 
 I can't. 
 
 David. — Well, I implore you both not to keep up the 
 suspense much longer. (Sinks into chair and rocks, 
 fanning himself with hat.) 
 
 Maggie. — 'Tis this way, sir. Airly in the saison we 
 had a boarder what was took with the small-pox, and 
 he had to be moved to the barn. Sure, he's all well 
 now, but his brilliantine ain't up yit, so yez mustn't 
 go out that way. 
 
 David. — Brilliantine ? 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Maggie means quarantine, and until 
 the doctor declares that lifted, we would prefer your 
 not going in that direction. 
 
 David. — I see. My ! but you won't have to coax me 
 to keep away. Smallpox is not among the things that 
 I pine for. Guess I'll sit here awhile till the shock 
 wears off and then go upstairs to work. 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Very well. Then Maggie and I will 
 go to the kitchen to see about dinner. (Exeunt Mrs. 
 B. and Maggie.) (Enter Alice.) 
 
 David. — Well, are the chickens fed, and are their 
 pulses and temperatures recorded normal in the book ? 
 (Alice does not pay any attention to him.) Say! where 
 are those chickens anyhow? 
 
 Alice (confused). — Out — oh, out by the barn. 
 
 David. — Holy Moses! (Jumps out of chair.) Say, 
 girl, look here ! You cut out that chicken-feeding job 
 right away. Do you hear? 
 
 Alice. — I can't very well help hearing, but since 
 when have you assumed the right to dictate my actions 
 to me? 
 
 Davtd. — Oh, now, please don't get huffy. You see 
 I was excited. 
 
 Alice (coolly). — Yes, so I should judge. (Starts 
 to walk out.) 
 
 David. — Wait! please wait just a minute to let me 
 explain. (Shouts after her as she retreats.) There's 
 a man with smallpox in that barn ! 
 
 J F. & B. 3667 IX 
 
Alice (halts and returns). — Smallpox? Who told 
 you? 
 
 David. — Mrs. Bates and Maggie. They scared ten 
 years out of my life by yelling at me to come back 
 when I was heading for the barn. 
 
 Alice (with smile). — Oh, yes. I begin to see. 
 
 David. — See what? 
 
 Alice. — You being called back from the barn (she 
 laughs). 
 
 David, (ruefully). — Oh, yes, I suppose it is funny 
 now, but it wasn't noticeably so at the time. Having 
 furnished amusement enough, I think Til go upstairs 
 to the attic. 
 
 Alice (quickly). — To the attic? No, no! you 
 mustn't ! 
 
 David. — Mustn't? "Since when have you assumed 
 the right to dictate my actions to me"? (Moves off 
 zvith a grin.) 
 
 Alice (imploringly). — Please, wait a minute. 
 There's a reason. 
 
 David. — Yes ; "use Postum." 
 
 Alice. — Oh, won't you be serious ? There's a crazy 
 man upstairs. 
 
 David. — Dear me! Is that so? Then let me have 
 at him ! 
 
 Alice. — No; really there is. Mrs. Bates and Mag- 
 gie told me so. He's some relative of Mrs. Bates, and 
 sometime's he's quiet, but at other times he gets ugly. 
 Please be careful and don't go up there. 
 
 David. — Oh, I'll be all right. Don't worry. 
 
 Alice (indignantly). — I'm not worrying. Only I 
 don't want to see you murdered under my very nose. 
 
 David. — Over your nose in this case, isn't it? 
 
 Alice. — Oh, you exasperating thing! Go on and 
 get^ killed if you want to. 
 
 David. — I don't want to, and hardly think that I 
 shall. I'm (hesitates) I'm only going to — er — set a 
 mouse trap up there and come right back. 
 
 Alice. — Truly? 
 
 David. — Truly ! 
 
 Alice. — All right. You're excused. (Exit David 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 X 
 
right.) w Hope nothing happens to him. He's a nice 
 boy, if he does think all writers beneath his notice. 
 And that reminds me. (She walks over to fireplace 
 and gazes up at picture.) Now, what did he say that 
 man's name was? Let's see — Cyril, Cyril Thorpe. 
 Just what I want for my book. "For the Love of a 
 Woman''* by Cyril Thorpe. Splendid! (Exit center, 
 laughing.) (Re-enter David right.) 
 
 David. — Pshaw ! has she gone ? She's a dandy girl ! 
 Too bad she feels that way about authors, but she may 
 change her mind when my book comes out. Wonder 
 how it will look in print. "The Skipper of Barnegat" 
 by David Graham. No, confound it, that name spoils 
 the effect. I must be very grand and have a "nom- 
 de-plume," something high-sounding for mine! (His 
 eye happens to light on picture.) The very thing! 
 4 'Cyril Thorpe." Well, why not? "The Skipper of 
 Barnegat" by Cyril Thorpe. Oh, you Cyril! (Points 
 finger at picture and laughs as curtain falls.) 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene. — Same as Act. L 
 
 Time. — Evening, one month later. 
 
 Curtain rises, showing Mrs. Bates and Maggie clear- 
 ing the last of the supper dishes from the table. 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Maggie! 
 
 Maggie. — Yes, mum. 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Nothing. (Sighs and goes on with 
 her work. Maggie turns to look curiously at her.) 
 
 Maggie. — Sure now, if yez'll be just tellin' it out, 
 it'll be good for yez. They do say that ingrowin' 
 thoughts is awful painful, mum. 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Well, it's this way, Maggie. All my 
 life I've been a truthful woman, and this last month 
 I'm sure that I've told or help tell ten times as many 
 lies as I ever told in all my life before. It really dis- 
 tresses me greatly. 
 
 Maggie. — Sure, and don't ye mind, mum. You've 
 not told nearly the number that Oi have. Besides 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XI 
 
{with a knowing nod), from things Oi've been hearin' 
 now and then Oi'm thinking' we're not the only wans 
 that's lyin\ J 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Why ! What do you mean ? 
 
 Maggie {darkly). — Oi ain't for callin' no man a liar, 
 but do yez just kape your ears open and listen to 
 what yez hear. {Looks out of door at right in the 
 direction of a noise just heard.) Here comes that imp 
 o' Satan. {Enter Teddy.) What diviltry have yez 
 been into now? Say, there's some cookies on the 
 kitchen table near as fresh as yerself , and yez kin have 
 wan — wan, Oi say, if ye'll go for the eggs now. Oi'll 
 be nadin' 'em to-morrer airly. 
 
 Teddy {joyfully). — S-sure I will. {Exit right-) 
 
 Maggie. — Oi'm through in here now, Mrs. Bates, 
 and Oi'm thinkin' Oi'd better help Teddy count thim 
 cookies, so he'll know whin he's got wan. {Exit 
 right.) 
 
 Mrs. Bates (picking up sewing as David enters 
 chewing the end of a pencil). — I think I'll go and help 
 in the kitchen now. Good evening, Mr. Graham, you 
 seem to be so busy these days that we hardly ever see 
 you any more. Is the book nearly finished? 
 
 David {gloomily). — Yes, and so am I. This author 
 business is no joke when one has other worries. 
 
 Mrs. Bates.— Other worries? I'm sorry. 
 
 David. — Yes {sighs deeply). Thank you for your 
 sympathy. {Exit Mrs. Bates right and enter Teddy 
 right with basket.) Hullo! Ted, where are you bound? 
 
 Teddy. — T-to get some eggs. 
 
 David. — Oh, out by the barn? 
 
 Teddy. — N-no, over t-to Mrs. Hammonds. 
 
 David. — What do you go over there for? 
 
 Teddy {disgustedly) . — T-to get s-some eggs, I told 
 you! 
 
 David. — Well, why in thunder don't you get your 
 eggs from your own chickens? 
 
 Teddy. — 'C-cause we aint g-got any ch-chickens! 
 {Exit center.) 
 
 David.— Well, HI be darned! (Pause.) And to 
 think of all the times that that girl had gone out to 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XI I 
 
feed chickens that simply are not. It certainly gets 
 me how women can invent such fearful and wonderful 
 lies. Just as if I didn't have enough to worry about 
 with this book of mine ready to mail, and no chance to 
 mail it on the quiet, without having her perfidy to 
 worry me. Bah ! I don't care. Oh, hang it all — yes, 
 I do, too. (Enter Alice from right. David not ob- 
 serving her, walks about in excitement, kicking the 
 furniture, etc., out of his way.) 
 
 Alice (amused). — You seem rather excited, Mr. 
 Graham. 
 
 David (jumping in surprise). — The dev — er — I 
 mean good evening. How are you? Oh, what's the 
 matter with me anyhow ? You see, I didn't know you 
 were here, and as I was just thinking about you, you 
 startled me. 
 
 Alice (feigning surprise). — Thinking about me? 
 
 David. — Yes, about you and — the chickens. You 
 know I never see you now but what I think of a 
 chicken. 
 
 Alice.— What ! 
 
 David. — Oh, I mean of your feeding them, of 
 course. Are you bound on that duty now ? 
 
 Alice. — Why — er — yes. I'm sorry I startled you. 
 Good night. (Exit center.) 
 
 David. — Good night. (Enter Mrs. Bates right un- 
 observed.) Well! If that girl isn't an accomplished 
 liar ! 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Why, Mr. Graham; did I hear you 
 call Miss White a liar? 
 
 David. — Oh, no, Mrs. Bates. How — how could you 
 think such a thing? I simply said she ought to play 
 the lyre : she's such an accomplished girl. Musical in- 
 strument — the lyre, — l-y-r-e, you know. (Laughs in 
 confusion and makes hasty exit.) 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — I declare ! To think that young man 
 should say a thing in my hearing, and then a minute 
 later deliberately deny saying it. Why — why, he lied 
 to me ! Lied ! yes, and he accused Miss White of ly- 
 ing, too. I'm beginning to see what Maggie meant 
 when she said that we weren't the only ones that were 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XIII 
 
lying. Such goings-on in my house. Well, I never I 
 (Walks tozvard door on right and exit.) (Enter Alice 
 from center door and walks back and forth in a per- 
 turbed manner.) 
 
 Alice. — Dear me, how provoking ! It's all ready to 
 mail, and this would be a splendid opportunity to get 
 it to the mail-box unobserved, if only I could get that 
 one sentence to sound convincing. I suppose I'll just 
 have to spend the rest of the evening thinking it over. 
 (Sits down at table and frowns over her problem. 
 Enter David from right, looks intently at her, and, evi- 
 dently making up his mind, comes forward.) 
 
 David. — Back again, Miss White? The chickens 
 couldn't have been very hungry to-night. 
 
 Alice (absent-mindedly). — Yes, I think so — oh,, 
 what did you say? (Looks up at David, zvho gazes 
 directly at her.) 
 
 David. — I said that the chickens couldn't have been 
 very hungry. 
 
 Alice. — No, they weren't. 
 
 David. — No ; I shouldn't think they would be very 
 hungry any of the time. 
 
 Alice. — No — why ? 
 
 David. — Why, how can what is not be hungry? 
 
 Alice. — Dear me! Is this a riddle? What's the 
 answer ? 
 
 David. — Don't you know? 
 
 Alice. — No. 
 
 David. — Well, then, I'll explain. You see, as there 
 are no chickens, I didn't suppose that they'd be very 
 hungry. 
 
 Alice. — Aren't there any chickens? (Laughing.) 
 What a joke. 
 
 David. — I fail to see the joke in your resorting to 
 such a subterfuge to explain your frequent visits to the 
 vicinity of the barn. 
 
 Alice (defiantly). — Really, I'm sure I don't know 
 why you should have to have my reasons for going to 
 the "vicinity of the barn," but (pauses with a smile at 
 his glum expression) suppose I told you that I went 
 to the barn "For the Love of a Woman," what would 
 you say? 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XIV 
 
David. — Say? I'd say it would sound a whole lot 
 more plausible if you said you went for the love of a 
 
 man 
 
 Alice (indignantly). — Indeed! I suppose you think 
 I go out to the barn to see the — the smallpox man? 
 
 David (desperately). — That's exactly what I do 
 think ! 
 
 Alice. — What ! (She looks at him, and as he is still 
 looking azvay with a forlorn look on his face, she 
 smiles.) Of course, Mr. Graham, you are entirely 
 welcome to your thoughts, but in the future, I should 
 be obliged if you didn't share them with me. (Stalks 
 majestically out door at right, turning with smile at 
 David's dejected back.) 
 
 David. — My heavens ! Then my guess was correct ; 
 she didn't deny it. Has she no pride? If she has no 
 fear of the disease, I should think she might have a 
 little fear of public opinion. Wonder what that fellow 
 is like, anyhow. I don't like to ask Mrs. Bates, for she 
 might think my curiosity rather sudden, since I've 
 paid no attention to the subject for a month. By 
 Jove! I have it! I'll ask Maggie; she was the one 
 who told me about him, anyhow. (Pulls out his watch 
 and looks at it.) H'm, first I'd better go out and see 
 if I can find out from one of the natives what time 
 the mail leaves. I must catch to-night's mail for the 
 city. {Exit center. Enter Alice and Maggie from 
 right.) 
 
 Alice. — Now, Maggie, I want you to do something 
 for me. You know you told Mr. Graham the story 
 about the smallpox man in the barn to keep him from 
 discovering me at work. I've been letting him think 
 that I've been going out to feed the chickens when 
 he's caught me going toward the barn ; but to-night 
 he found out that there are no chickens. Oh, Maggie ! 
 (They both laugh.) He was wild and practically ac- 
 cused me of going out there to see the smallpox man. 
 Now, of course, I don't care what he thinks ; but I 
 want to punish him soundly for such a suspicion ; so 
 if he should ask you about this man I want you to 
 tell him that he is young, very handsome and quite 
 irresistible. 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XV 
 
Maggie. — What's that last, Miss? Oi could niver 
 call any wan that name. 
 
 Alice. — Well, just say he is very attractive, will 
 you? 
 
 Maggie (dubiously). — Oi dunno, Miss. Oi don't 
 mind lyin' in a good cause, but whin it comes to fancy 
 lyin', just for fun, Oi'm not strong for it. 
 
 Alice. — Oh, but Maggie, this is in a good cause, 
 and he may not ask you, but I think he will. All 
 you'll have to do will be to answer his questions the 
 way I told you. Do say you will. There's a good 
 soul ! 
 
 Maggie. — Oh, Oi suppose Oi may as well say yis 
 now as an hour later, for Oi see ye're bound Oi'Il say 
 it some time. 
 
 Alice. — Maggie, you're an angel ! Now I'm off for 
 the chickens and smallpox man — in other words, to 
 work on a sentence that I don't like, for I must get 
 that manuscript off in to-night's mail. Remember! 
 (Exit center.) 
 
 Maggie. — Say, unless Oi'm much mistaken, thim 
 two is stuck on each other, and it's me that did it. 
 {(Enter David center.) 
 
 David. — What's that I heard you saying you'd done, 
 Maggie? 
 
 Maggie. — Sure, yez'll find out before long, sir. 
 
 David. — Another mystery. This house is getting 
 positively spooky with so many mysteries in it. (Walks 
 restlessly about during following speeches.) Say, 
 Maggie — about that person — you know? 
 
 Maggie. — What person, sir? 
 
 David. — The one in the barn — the smallpox fellow ? 
 -Maggie. — Oh, him — what about him? 
 
 David. — Is he — er — young? 
 
 Maggie. — About your own age, sir. 
 
 David. — And good looking? 
 
 Maggie. — Oh, sure, he's the bist lookin' man Oi iver 
 laid me eyes on — a regular Apolar. 
 
 David. — A what? 
 
 Maggie. — Apolar ! 
 
 David. — Oh, yes — Apollo. Don't see how he can be 
 so extraordinarily beautiful after smallpox. 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XVI 
 
Maggie. — Sure, yez would niver know he's had it 
 — 'twas sich a light attackt. 
 
 David. — Well, is he a nice sort of a chap? 
 
 Maggie. — "Nice" ain't the word for him, Mr. Gra- 
 ham : he's just illigant. Very attractive, she says. 
 
 David (roaring). — She! Who? 
 
 Maggie. — Miss Alice, sir. 
 
 David (savagely) . — So she knows him, does she? 
 
 Maggie. — Knows him? Oi should say she knows him 
 better than any one Use, sir. Now Oi'll have to be 
 goin' to me work. Good night to yez, Mr. Graham. 
 (Exit right.) 
 
 David. — Good night. She knows him, better than 
 any one else, does she? That sounds hopeful, doesn't 
 it? Confound it! I believe I'm in love with that girl 
 myself. She evidently doesn't care a rap about any- 
 body but him, so I may as well go in the garden and 
 dig worms, or get my manuscript tied up. (Exit right. 
 Re-enter Alice from center door, leaving it open be- 
 hind her. She carries her pen zvhich she absently lays 
 on table.) 
 
 Alice. — I'll never, never catch that mail. Time is 
 simply flying, and I can't get that sentence right! 
 (Paces frantically back and forth.) Wait! I have it! 
 (David appears at doorway right and stands unob- 
 served.) "He kissed me, the villain! he kissed me!" 
 (Alice dashes in excitement out of open center door. 
 Enter David from right.) 
 
 David. — The devil he did ! Well, I'll spoil Apollo's 
 good looks the first time I meet him. This thing must 
 stop! (Bangs his fist down on table.) I'll propose to 
 that girl myself the very next time I see her! (Re- 
 enter Alice from center door, rushes to table for pen, 
 and is half way out again before David recovers him- 
 self.) 
 
 David. — Oh, er — Miss White. 
 
 Alice (frigidly ) . — Yes ? 
 
 David. — I — oh, I forgot what I was going to say. 
 
 Alice. — Indeed! (Exit center.) 
 
 David. — My goodness ! Some things are easier to 
 say than to do; that's certain. (Mopping his face.) 
 
 I. F. & B. 3667 XVII 
 
I feel all shaky, just as if I'd had a very narrow escape. 
 Now (taking out his watch) for my manuscript. The 
 fatal hour is at hand. (Exit right.) (Enter Alice 
 center with large package of manuscript. Goes to 
 side table and hurriedly hunts for scissors. Finds 
 them and cuts extra string off package.) 
 
 Alice. — There ! at last that's done, and now to mail 
 it. (She starts toward center door with parcel, when 
 David suddenly dashes into room from right, with his 
 manuscript. Both hastily conceal their manuscripts 
 behind their backs, and try to look unconcerned.) 
 
 David (attempting a light conversational tone). — 
 Lovely evening, isn't it? 
 
 • Alice (sarcastically). — Did you come tearing in like 
 that to talk about the evening? (Suspiciously.) 
 What's that you have behind your back? 
 
 David (getting an inspiration) . — It's — well, the fact 
 is, it's that mouse that I caught in my trap in the 
 attic. Knowing you ladies don't exactly love mice, I 
 waited until I thought you were all away from here 
 before starting to conduct the burial services. 
 
 Alice. — Oh! (Steps back a little.) 
 
 David (growing bolder as he notices Alice's per- 
 sistent effort to conceal something behind her). — Since 
 questions are in order, what are you holding behind 
 your back? 
 
 Alice. — Well, since you must know, I couldn't get 
 one hook of my waist unfastened, and came down here 
 to get Maggie to help me (with indignation). I am 
 holding my dress together with my hand. Now, if 
 you have the feelings of a gentleman, you will perhaps 
 go. (When she makes this speech, she stands with her 
 back partially turned to the audience, who can easily 
 see her dress entirely fastened, and the manuscript.) 
 
 David. — Maybe I haven't the. feelings of a gentle- 
 man, but I seem to have those of a man, and you have 
 driven those past the limit of endurance to-day. Can't 
 you see that I love you, Alice? Don't you think you 
 could love me a little? 
 
 Alice (furiously). — Love you? No! I hate you! 
 (Stamps her foot.) Now, will you go? (David 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XVI 1 1 
 
bows his head and goes slowly out right, being care- 
 ful to shift the manuscript as he goes, so that Alice 
 cannot see it.) 
 
 (Enter Teddy from center, with basket of eggs.) 
 Oh, Teddy, you're just in time to save my life! Will 
 you take this over to the mail-box for me? (Hands 
 him manuscript as he puts down basket.) Come to 
 my room when you get back and I'll give you a dollar 
 if you won't say a word about this to any one. 
 
 Teddy. — S-sure, I will. (Exit center.) 
 
 Alice. — That's over, thank goodness ! Maggie's 
 little remarks have done some good work, evidently. 
 I suppose I was rather rough on the poor fellow, but 
 he ought to have known better than to propose when 
 he had a dead mouse in one hand. Ugh! (Goes off 
 right, laughing.) 
 
 (Re-enter Teddy center and fastens door securely 
 for the night, putting on a very squeaky bolt. Picks 
 up basket of eggs, bloivs out lamp, and exit right.) 
 
 (Enter David right, finds his ivay about by matches, 
 goes over to door and sees bolt.) 
 
 David. — Now, good Lord! If I open that door, the 
 whole household will be roused in time to see me drop 
 that manuscript in the mail-box. Guess there's noth- 
 ing for it but the window. (Opens windoiv cautiously 
 and drops out. After a very short wait he returns 
 and closes windoiv.) Well, that's done! It's funny, 
 now, but I could have sworn that I saw a man watch- 
 ing me from the road when I mailed that package. I 
 must be getting nervous. Goodness, knows, I've had 
 enough to make me nervous. So long, Cyril ! ( Waves 
 to picture and exit right.) 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene. — Same as Act I. 
 Time. — Afternoon two weeks later. 
 Curtain rises, showing David nervously pacing back 
 and forth in room. 
 
 J. F. & B. 36(V7 XIX 
 
David. — Confound those publishers! This suspense 
 is awful! Here I've waited two weeks and haven't 
 received a line from them yet. The postman has be- 
 come a mania with me. Miss White seems to be 
 expecting a letter, too, for she is always around at 
 mail time. I suppose it's from the smallpox person 
 who has gone away. The barn hasn't held out any 
 attractions for nearly two weeks. (Looking out of 
 windozv.) Hey! there's the postman now, and he's 
 coming in here. (Postman s whistle is heard outside, 
 and David opens center door.) 
 
 Postman. — Good morning, six. Here's a letter 
 addressed in care of Mrs. Bates. Does any one of 
 that name live here? (Holds out letter to David, who 
 takes it.) 
 
 David. — "Cyril Thorpe," by Jove! Yes, man. I'll 
 — I'll give it to him. (Slams door excitedly and turns 
 letter over in his hand, half afraid to open it. Enter 
 Alice in great haste and seeing David, she stops silent. 
 
 Alice. — I thought, I thought I heard the postman. 
 
 David. — You did. He brought me a letter (mali- 
 ciously). Were you expecting something? 
 
 Alice. — Oh, no, but I thought that I'd save Mrs. 
 Bates the trouble of coming to the door. (Exit cen- 
 ter.) 
 
 David. — Very sweet of her, I'm sure ; but then you 
 couldn't expect her to tell the truth. Why (bitterly), 
 that girl doesn't know the truth when she sees it. 
 Now I'm off to the attic to read my letter in peace. 
 (Exit right.) (Alice opens center door, and seeing 
 no one, she enters and closes door.) 
 
 Alice. — Horrid old thing! I'm glad he's gone 
 (indignantly) . "Were you expecting something?" Oh, 
 no, not at all ; with a manuscript that's been in the 
 hands of the publishers for two weeks. Anyhow, what 
 business is it of his whether I expect something or not ! 
 He's been perfectly hateful ever since that dead-mouse 
 proposal. Anybody that had an atom of sense or per- 
 severance would know better than to take my remarks 
 at that time as final. (Telephone bell rings and Alice 
 answers.) Hello, hello! Yes, this is 1904 M. This 
 is Cyril Thorpe. Who? Oh, yes (pause, then de- 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XX 
 
lightfidly) , have you? That's splendid! What's that? 
 One of your representatives coming out here this after- 
 noon to settle terms with me? Yes, I hear you. Cer- 
 tainly I will be here to meet him. Thank you. Good- 
 bye! * {Hangs up.) Well, if that isn't the best news 
 ever! My book actually taken and a man coming to 
 arrange terms! {Looking at her zvatch.) He can't 
 get here until the four o'clock train, so Til have time 
 to get ready for him. {Exit right.) 
 
 {Enter David right, fairly swelling with pride as he 
 re-reads letter.) 
 
 David. — Ye gods and little fishes ! I've done it at 
 last! {Reads) "Your book, 'The Skipper of Barne- 
 gat,' has been accepted and our representative will call 
 upon you the afternoon of the 3d inst. to make final 
 arrangements." My, but that's good news! {Sounds 
 of an onto stopping outside. David goes to window 
 and looks out.) Hello, here's the chap now, I guess. 
 {Opens center door and admits youngish man.) Good 
 afternoon, sir. 
 
 Scott. — Good afternoon. Is this Mrs. Bates' house? 
 
 David. — Yes, it is. 
 
 Scott. — My name is Scott, and I came here to see 
 some one by the name of — er — Thorpe {consulting 
 memorandum) , Cyril Thorpe. Does any such person 
 live here? 
 
 David. — Yes, indeed. 
 
 Scott. — May I see that person at once, please? 
 
 David. — Yes, you may, if you look in this direction. 
 
 Scott {surprised). — Why, what do you mean? 
 
 David {laughing) . — Well — er, I am he and he is me, 
 you know? 
 
 Scott {taken aback). — No. Why, I supposed Cyril 
 Thorpe was a lady. 
 
 David {laughing louder). — A lady? Great Scott! 
 That's one on you, old chap. {Slaps Scott on the 
 back, and latter winces.) Ha! that doesn't feel much 
 like a perfect lady's fist, does it? Sit down. {David 
 and Scott seat themselves.) 
 
 Scott. — Well, well! My firm, I presume, phoned 
 you that I would be here this afternoon? 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XXI 
 
David. — Phoned ? No, they wrote me . 
 
 Scott. — Indeed, is that so? I understood the man- 
 ager to say that he was going to call you up. How- 
 ever, now for business regarding your book. (Con- 
 suits his memorandum again and smiles.) Ahem, 
 "For the Love of a Woman !" 
 
 David. — Hold on ! What did you say that title was ? 
 
 Scott {surprised) . — What did / say it was? Just 
 what you wrote, of course — ''For the Love of a 
 Woman." 
 
 David {aghast). — I wrote? Oh, no, no, not me! 
 Don't shoot! {Holds up his hands with a comical ex- 
 pression.) Maybe I've done a lot of fool things for 
 the love of a woman, but you can bet your sweet life 
 I never wrote about 'em. Oh, no, not me! {Shakes 
 his head.) You're barking up the wrong tree, old 
 man. 
 
 Scott {suspiciously, as he looks again at his memor- 
 andum). — No, I can't be. Here it is — "For the Love 
 of a Woman," by Cyril Thorpe. Are you sure your 
 name is Cyril Thorpe? 
 
 David {beginning to get angry). — Certainly, I am. 
 What are you driving at, anyhow? {Enter Teddy 
 center.) 
 
 Scott. — Say, boy, do you know any person by the 
 name of Cyril Thorpe? 
 
 Teddy. — Y-y-yep ! 
 
 wScott. — Is he here in this room now? 
 
 Teddy. — Y-yep ! 
 
 Scott {turning to David). — I certainly beg your 
 pardon, Mr. Thorpe, for my suspicions; but you will 
 admit that it did look rather queer. 
 
 Teddy. — S-say, wait a minute, Mister {pointing to 
 David). He — he ain't n-no Mr. Thorpe. 
 
 Scott. — But I thought you said Cyril Thorpe was 
 in this room? 
 
 Teddy. — Y-yep, I d-did {jerking his thumb in direc- 
 tion of picture). That's him! 
 
 Scott. — Worse and worse ! Oh, say, boy, do you 
 know who this man is? (Points to David.) 
 
 Teddy. — S-sure ! He's Mr. Graham. 
 
 Scott. — Oh! {to David sneeringly) So your name 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XXII 
 
is Graham! Well, well! I thought you were quite 
 sure it was Cyril Thorpe? 
 
 David. — For heavens sake! What the dickens is 
 the matter with you anyhow? Did you ever hear of 
 such a thing as a nom-de-plume ? My name is Gra- 
 ham, David Graham, but for literary purposes, it's 
 Cyril Thorpe. Now, is there anything else that I can 
 explain for you? 
 
 Scott. — You're quite sure this time that you've 
 struck the right name? You see this whole business 
 seems to me distinctly complicated. You don't even 
 know the book you wrote — "For the Love of a 
 Woman." 
 
 David. — But I didn't write any such book. My 
 book's title is "The Skipper of Barnegat. ,, 
 
 Scott. — Well, Cyril Thorpe wrote "For the Love 
 of a Woman," and you say you are Cyril Thorpe. 
 
 David. — Say I am? Certainly, I am. David Gra- 
 ham with a nom-de-plume, Cyril Thorpe, and I defy 
 any one to disprove it! 
 
 {Enter at center detective, zvho has been watching 
 latter part of tJiis scene between the two men from the 
 open ivindow.) 
 
 Detective (to David). — I want you, my man. 
 David (gasping). — Want me? 
 
 Detective. — Sure thing ! Come on, now, don't over- 
 do the surprise act. (Winks at Scott.) 
 
 Scott. — I knew there w r as something queer about a 
 man who pretended to be an author and didn't even 
 know the name of his book. Ha ! ha ! This is a good 
 one! He says he's Cyril Thorpe; the boy says he's 
 David Graham, and you — 
 
 Detective. — And I say he's Harry Levy — better 
 known as "Light-linger Harry," one of the most daring 
 and skillful sneak thieves in the country. 
 
 David (attempting to laugh it off). — By the great 
 horn spoon! I'm glad to find out at last just who I 
 am. There seemed to be considerable doubt about the 
 subject. (Changing his tone) Now, see here (turning 
 to detective). You've made a mistake, you know. 
 
 I'm not the man you think I am. You see 
 
 Detective. — Oh, you're the man I want, all O. K. 
 
 J. F. &B. 36S7 XXIII 
 
(To Scott.) Three weeks ago ''Light-finger Harry" 
 got off with a lot of jewels, and was traced to this 
 section of the country. I was sent out here to watch, 
 for we knew he'd try to dispose of the loot. About 
 two weeks ago I saw this chap, whom I'd been watch- 
 ing, because he answered the description of Harry, 
 steal out of a window here at night, with the bundle 
 of loot, which he mailed and then sneak back in. I've 
 been after him ever since, and this afternoon got word 
 from headquarters to take my man (iurning to David 
 suddenly). I suppose you'll say next I was mistaken 
 — that it wasn't you that I saw coming out of the 
 window ? 
 
 David. — Oh, it was I, all right, only I want to ex- 
 plain 
 
 Detective (to Scott). — See? He even owns up 
 to disposing of the loot! (To David.) That'll be 
 about all the explanation that's necessary from you, 
 young feller. Come on now, or I'll put the bracelets 
 on you. (Catches David's arm.) 
 
 David. — But I tell you 
 
 Detective. — Oh, shut up! (To Scott.) Take his 
 other arm, will you? (To Teddy.) Come on, you. 
 I need you both for witnesses. 
 
 (Exeunt center detective and Scott, with David 
 struggling between them, and Teddy following.) 
 
 {Enter right Alice in dainty white afternoon frock.) 
 
 Alice. — I thought I heard talking in here — men's 
 voices, too. It would have been just like that miser- 
 able man to take it into his head to entertain some one 
 in here just because I wanted the room. Ugh! I wish 
 I could get him off my mind ! (Knock heard at center 
 door.) There! that must be the man from the pub- 
 lishing house now; it's time for him. (Opens door 
 to rather stout-middle-aged man, with pompous man- 
 ners.) Good afternoon. 
 
 Loftus. — Good afternoon, madam. My name is 
 Loftus, Harry Loftus, and I came to see one — er — 
 Cyril Thorpe on business. 
 
 Alice. — Yes, come right in, Mr. Loftus. I was 
 expecting you. 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XXIV 
 
Loftus (surprised). — Hey? 
 
 Alice. — Yes; you see I am Cyril Thorpe. 
 
 Loftus- — You, madam ! God bless my soul, madam, 
 I expected to see a man. (They both iaugh.) 
 
 Alice (archly). — I hope you're not disappointed, 
 Mr. Loftus? 
 
 Loftus. — Disappointed ? No, indeed ; but still rather 
 surprised. Be seated, madam. (Pulls up chair for 
 Alice by fireplace at left. Both sit.) You see — er, 
 you are hardly the type of person that one would sup- 
 pose interested in works dealing with the rough sail- 
 or's life. 
 
 Altce (in surprise). — And whatever makes you 
 think that I am interested in such novels? I hate 
 them ! 
 
 Loftus. — Hate them? But, madam, your book 
 (consulting note-book), "The Skipper of Barnegat," 
 deals with that sort of thing almost entirely. 
 
 Alice (gasping). — My book — "The Skipper of Bar- 
 negat"? I never wrote any such book. 
 
 Loftus (dazed). — But — but, madam, I thought you 
 said that you were Cyril Thorpe? (Pulls out a letter 
 from his pocket.) 
 
 Alice. — Certainly, I am ; but you must have me 
 mixed up with some one else. My book is "For the 
 Love of a Woman." 
 
 Loftus. — Here is the letter (hands her letter) 
 which you wrote to our firm, designating the name 
 of your book as the one I referred to. 
 
 Alice (reading over letter). — Why, I never wrote 
 this ! Besides, it's to the Manhattan Company, and 
 I sent my book to the Columbia Company. There is 
 some mistake, and yet this is signed Cyril Thorpe. 
 I never heard of anything so queer. 
 
 (Enter Maggie and Mrs. Bates from right, in great 
 excitement.) 
 
 Maggie. — For hiven's sake, Miss, ye'd ought to see 
 what's comin' in here ! 
 
 (Enter center David, collar torn partially off, tie 
 under one ear, coat torn, hair mussed, and generally 
 wild look; also Scott, Teddy and the detective.) 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XXV 
 
Mrs. Bates. — What is the meaning of this? 
 
 David. — Gee! I hardly know myself. 
 
 Alice (rushing forward and throwing her arms 
 about David). — David, what is it? Are you hurt? 
 
 David. — No; I'm all right. (As Alice drops her 
 hold of him quickly he continues, szvaying a little.) 
 No, I guess I feel a little faint. (He retains her hand.) 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — Will no one explain what this is all 
 about? 
 
 Detective. — It's this way, ma'am. I arrested him, 
 thinking he was some one else, and when we got to 
 the police station, we found a telegram, saying that 
 the real thief had been captured. So I guess I'm it, 
 and it's up to me to apologize. He's cleared. 
 
 Scott. — No, you forget he still claims he's Cyril 
 Thorpe, but didn't write Cyril Thorpe's book, "For 
 the Love of a Woman." 
 
 Alice (stepping forward). — Why, that's my name 
 and my book! 
 
 David. — Your book? Oh, my aunt! This is rich! 
 I thought you hated authors? 
 
 Alice. — I did say so, but you said it first, and I 
 didn't want you to think too badly of me. 
 
 David. — Alice ! I think badly of you ? Why, I 
 
 Scott. — Say! I hate to interrupt this touching 
 scene, but how does it happen that there are two Cyril 
 Thorpes and only one book? 
 
 Loftus. — You miss on your count, my dear sir. 
 There are two books — one apiece. (To David.) Are 
 you the the author of "The Skipper of Barnegat"? 
 (David bozvs.) I congratulate you. It's a splendid 
 story, well told. 
 
 Alice. — Your book, David? Why, I thought that 
 you hated authors? 
 
 David. — Oh, I was only joking when I said that, 
 and when you took me up, I had to go on. Besides, 
 I didn't want any one to know that I was working 
 in the attic on a book unless it was successful. It 
 might have caused a laugh on me, you know. 
 
 Alice. — In the attic ? That's as bad as my working 
 in the barn. 
 
 J. F. & B. 3667 XXVI 
 
David. — In the barn? Oh, woman, woman! Is 
 that how you fed the chickens ? Say, Maggie, I don't 
 believe there was any smallpox man at all. You just 
 wanted to keep Miss Alice from being discovered. 
 
 Maggie (grinning). — Oi guess your guess is right, 
 sir. 
 
 David (laughing and shaking his fist at her). — Vil- 
 lain! 
 
 Alice. — How could you work in the attic when the 
 crazy man was there? 
 
 David. — Well, the fact is, that crazy man was the 
 smallpox man's brother, and so, you see, he 
 
 Alice. — Never was ? 
 
 David. — Exactly. Just like those chickens. (Both 
 laugh.) 
 
 Alice. — And wasn't it funny that we were both 
 writing on books and both took the same name — Cyril 
 Thorpe ? 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — What a proud day for dear Cyril ! 
 
 David (crossing to center and taking Alice's hand). 
 — Say, Alice, I know a better way of our arranging to 
 take the same name again. Will you try it? 
 
 Alice. — I — say, have you a dead mouse in your 
 hand this time? 
 
 David. — No, and I didn't have then. That was my 
 manuscript. 
 
 Alice. — And the hook on my waist was my manu- 
 script! 
 
 David. — Well, w r e are a pair of liars. If you marry 
 me, Alice, you'll never be sure that I'm telling the 
 truth. 
 
 Alice. — I think Til take my chances. 
 
 Maggie (triumphantly. Hands on her hips). — 
 Didn't Oi say Oi did it? 
 
 Mrs. Bates. — My dear children, for your wedding 
 present I'm going to give you — can you guess what ? 
 
 Alice and David — No, what? 
 
 Mrs. Bates (points to picture). — Dear Cyril! 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 XXVII 
 
FISCHER'S EDITION No. 3642a 
 Dedicated to ERNEST THOMPSON SETON 
 
 Words by A Song- of the Scout 
 
 HAROLD DORNING 
 
 (Copyrighted) 
 Used by permission 
 
 Marciale, 
 
 marciaie f 
 
 Music by 
 ALFRED J.SILVER 
 
 Mus.Doc.Dunelm. 
 
 l 
 
 of the 
 of the 
 of the 
 
 y- 
 
 1. 
 2. A 
 8. A 
 
 4. So 
 
 is is a song 
 
 song in praise 
 
 song in__ praise 
 let's give a heart 
 
 v r -ft I r fTf Jl Jl ^ ' r- l - r a 
 
 Scout— So_ man - ly, _L 
 Scout! His_ life makes a 
 Scout! That he's worth -y there 
 shout, For the free, clean 
 
 sturdy, and— stout! 
 
 man_ of the lout; 
 
 is no doubt; 
 
 life of the Scout; His 
 
 Swing- ing a - long in the 
 
 Strong of_ limb and 
 
 Ev - er. — cheer - y and 
 work, his_ life, his 
 
 o - pen air, Ev-er 
 clear of brain, "Be Pre - 
 ev - er bright, Each 
 eand creed, In 
 
 ^' WjrJ jl^ hJiJi j/ fl 
 
 v* 
 
 read-y to do and dare, _ Stick to his law and_ 
 paredj' is hiswatchvvordplain,— Quick to act, without 
 task he doeswithheart so light; Rr Truth andRight , with _ 
 campmtracktystreamorroead,__Makingboys men .in — 
 
 i 
 
 ^m 
 
 t cresc 
 
 S 
 
 •Ms 
 
 ± 
 
 dan-ger share, _ To bear his 
 thought of gain, ; On fieldor 
 
 God his might/Gainstim - puie__ 
 word and deed, A help-er 
 
 f/h tempo 
 
 part_for self no care _r 
 track, in sun or rain— 
 deeds andwords to fight- 
 true to all inneed-Hur- 
 
 poco rit m m a tempo 
 
 h U " a tem P° ^ poco nt a tempo 
 
 ^ Such is thewoik of the Scout!— Such is thewoikof the Scout! 
 
 Such is tnewoik of the Scout!— Such is tnewoik of the Scout! 
 
 Such is the life ot the Scout! —Such is the life of the Scout! 
 
 Such is thecreedbf the ScoutL_ Such is thecreedof the Scout! 
 
 . rah! for the life of the Scout!Hur-rah!forthe life of the Scout! 
 
 Copyright, 1912, by J. Fischer dt Bro. 
 
 British Copyright Secured. Eigmtwrides Wrtegers fiir aUe Lander 
 
 Vocal part $2.00 per 100 (single copies .05) 
 
 Song with Piano accompaniment. .. .net .27 (discount deducted) 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 J. FISCHER & BRO., 7, 8 & 11, Bible House, NEW YORK 
 
 BREITKOPF & HARTEL, 54, Great Marlborough St., London, W. 
 
The Rally s T pATJL 
 
 Vocal March, (W.Rhys-Herbert) 
 
 Forward and onward where our bright flag- is 
 
 t fly- ing Come then and j oin us with cheerful voices cry-ing. 
 
 allant-ly, mer-ri - ly march-ing as we fol-low Gath-er the, 
 
 soldiers when the bugle shall call. Fromey-'ry quarter 
 
 ,warm is the greeting Brave ones are com-ing old friends are. 
 
 ■meeting, Gai-ly our banner o-ver us wav-ing Tell us that* 
 
 Fine 4 
 
 ■this day can nev-er be for-got. 
 
 Onward, onward 
 
 still we go _L ^All is peace, we meet no foe 
 
 Every- 
 
 where are sounds of mirth. Brightiy the sunshines overall the earth. 
 
 wemeet, oldfriends wegreet At ev-'ry ral-ly, 
 
 at ev-'ry ral-ly! March-ing, marching, hear the drumlL 
 
 f lagnowwav.es. Tru-ly this day we shall ne'er for- get I 
 
 Copyright* 1908, by J.Ei&cher & Brn (American 
 
 & British) 
 
Medley 
 of 
 
 American Patriotic Songs. 
 
 With spirit. S.T.PAUL. 
 
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 O Co - lum-bia the gem of the o-cean, 
 
 The 
 
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 home of the brave and the free, The shrine of each patriot's de * 
 
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 vo-tion 
 
 world of-fers hom-age to thee, Thy 
 
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 man- dates make he - roes as - sem-ble, 
 
 When 
 
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 Li-ber-ty's form stands in view, Thy banners make tyr- an-ny 
 
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 urn 
 
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 tremble, 
 
 When born by the Red, White and 
 
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 the erood oh 
 
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 Bring the good old bu-gle,boys, we'll sing an-oth-er song, 
 
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 Sing it with a spir- it that will start the world a -long: 
 
 With Piano ace. .10 
 Copyright, 1907, by J. Fischer <& Bro. 
 
 Published in arrangements as follows: 
 
 Unison, with piano ace . . 10 Four Male voices 15 
 
 Two-part, with piano ace 10 Four Mixed voices 15 
 
 J, FISCHER & BRO. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
Sing it as we used to sing it fif - ty- thou-sand strong, 
 
 Me 
 
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 While we were march- ing- through Geor - gia, Hur- 
 
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 rah! Hur-rah! we bring the ju-bi-lee! Hur- rah! Hur-rah! That 
 
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 flag that makes you free .'For Yankee Doodle came to town 
 
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 Rid-ing on a pon-y Stuck a feather in his hat. And 
 
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 Me 
 
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 Farewell,mother,you may nev-er, Press me to your heart a - 
 
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 gain, But youUl not for- get me moth-er, 
 
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 If I'm number'd with And Ral-ly 'round the flag,boys we'll 
 
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 ral-lyonce a-gain, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom, A 
 * Used by permission of The John Church C? Owners of the Copyright. 
 J.F.& B. 3090-5 
 
MAR S 1913 
 
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 waydown South in Dixie, Hurrah! Hur-rah! In Dixieland Pll 
 
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 takemystand,To lib and die in Dixie Say darkeys, nab you 
 
 m 
 
 * 
 
 gE5 
 
 ^5 
 
 I^PP? 
 
 £ 
 
 £=5 
 
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 seen de massa,Wid de muffstash on his face , Go long de road some 
 
 pm 
 
 ft p p i'JIJ "I'p'pN- J> I Jl JJ J 
 
 time dis mornin\Like hegwine to leab de place?He seen a smoke,way 
 
 fft J>, J J J Jji l J) ^ ^ j^jpM j 1 j , j, J 
 
 up de ribber,Whar de Linkum gumboats lay; He took his hat, an* 
 
 w J'P p p-pJj.Jij> J yp-M-T p i b V'- 
 
 lef ber-ry sudden, An 1 I spec h^s run a-way,Then Hur 
 
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 rah for the Red, White and Blue, 
 
 Then Hur - 
 
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 rah for the Red,Whiteand Blue, Thy banners make tyr- an-ny 
 
 F~ h j v 
 
 ^=Ht-^ ^=^- ^ ' 'J»n 
 
 tremble 
 
 Then Hur- rah for theRed,White and Blue. 
 
Fischer's Edition 
 
 Plays/ Dialogues, Drills, Monologues, Recitations, etc. 
 
 1456 Knaves and Fools. Comedy for males A. J. Schindler .25 
 
 1457 The Discontented Sisters. Comedy for females . . . A. J. Schindler .20 
 
 3259 Kris Kringle* Play for females A. J. Schindler .25 
 
 3260 Lily and Rosebud. Play for males and females A. J. Schindler .25 
 
 3261 Our Merry Making Minstrels. Play for males. . . . A. J. Schindler .25 
 
 3262 The Golden Slipper. Play for females A- J. Schindler .25 
 
 3263 Cousin Charlie. Play for male and females .A. J. Schindler .25 
 
 3264 A Grain of Salt. Play for males A. J. Schindler .25 
 
 3265 Little Mischief. Play for females A. J. Schindler .25 
 
 3266 Tim and Tom. Play for males A. J. Schindler .25 
 
 3372 The Old Ship. Dialogue for 3 boys Clara J. Denton .20 
 
 3373 Seeing Uncle Jack. Comedy for females Clara J. Denton .25 
 
 ii7A The Hoe Drill. Drill for Boys ) r*i i r\ . <>ti 
 
 3374 The Club Drill. Baseball Bat Drffl [ Clara * Denton M 
 
 3377 Flower Drill. For girls Clara J. Denton .15 
 
 3378 The Birthdays. A Lincoln and Washington Birthday 
 
 Dialogue for boys and girls Clara J. Denton .10 
 
 3379 Sammie's Lesson. Dialogue for boy and girL For Flag- 
 day etc Clara J. Denton .15 
 
 3380 The Yellow Law. Play for girls and boys. For 
 
 Thanksgiving day Clara J. Denton .20 
 
 3381 Three Recitations. For Washington-Lincoln, etc. 
 
 celebrations Clara J. Denton .15 
 
 3497 A Rural Telephone. Monologue for lady Jessie A. Kelley .35 
 
 3556 De Trouble Begins at Nine. A negro farce for 2 
 
 males Chas. White .15 
 
 3557 The Train to Mauro. Comic Dialogue for males and 
 
 female S. A. Frost .1 5 
 
 3^58 No Peddlers Wanted. Comic Dialogue for males 15 
 
 3559 A Cup of Tea. A comedietta for males and female... . Albert Smith .15 
 
 3560 The Great Arrival. A farce for males G. W. H. Griffin .15 
 
 3561 Aunt Charlotte's Maid. A farce for males and 
 
 females J. M. Morton .15 
 
 3562 All that Glitters is not Gold. Comic Drama for 
 
 males and females Thomas and J. M. Morton .1 5 
 
 3563 No Cure, No Pay. Farce for males G. W. H. Griffin .15 
 
 3564 Mischievous Bob. Comic Drama for males 15 
 
 3565 Aunt Vinegar's Money. A dialogue for females. . . . Arzalea Hunt .10 
 
 3566 Handy Andy* Drama for males and females W. R. Floyd .15 
 
 J. FISCHER & BRO. NEW YORK 
 
 All prices are strictly net 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ^""1 
 
 YOUNG AMERICA C ' W™? 1 <» 
 
 SELECT COMPOSITIONS 
 Specially Arranged for 
 
 School and Amateur Organizations 
 
 10 14 Full Pla. 
 
 Pts. Pts. Orch. Ace. 
 
 .60 .80 J.00 .20 
 
 .90 J.00 .40 
 
 S. C Yon .90 J.JO J.25 .40 
 
 Under the Palm Trees; Waltz. R. Sinnhold / 
 
 Alma Polka G. F. Alice Lagarde ) 
 
 Hosanna P. Wachs ) 
 
 The Perfect Day P. Scheuren ) 
 
 Camellia ; Melodic ) 
 
 Knickerbocker ; Intermezzo-Gavotte ) 
 
 The Rally; March. S. T. Paul 40 .60 .J5 
 
 Viennese Waltz. J. Lewis Browne 40 .60 .J5 
 
 A Nautical Knot ; Overture. W. Rhys-Herbert J .00 J.25 J. 50 30 
 
 The Harvest Moon; Waltz (from "Sylvia"). 
 
 W. Rhys Herbert 60 .80 J. 00 .20 
 
 For Violin and Piano 
 
 with 
 
 Second Violin, Cello, Flute ad libitum 
 
 FISCHER'S AMERICAN ALBUM Two Volumes 
 
 MODERN RECITAL PIECES Volume ii. 
 
 The above mentioned volumes can be had in f olio wing arrangements * 
 
 Violin and Piano 75 
 
 Two Violins & Piano J.00 
 
 Violin, C ello & Piano J.25 
 
 Two Violins. Cello & Piano J.50 
 
 Violin, Flute & Piano, J.25 
 
 Two Violins, Flute & Piano J.50 
 
 Violin, Cello, Flute & Piano J.75 
 
 Two Violins, Cello, Flute & Piano 2.00 
 
 Send for contents list ; also for catalogue of other collections for Violin 
 & Piano, Two Violins & Piano, Violin, Cello & Piano, etc* 
 
 J. FISCHER & BR0. 7 & 11, Bible House New York