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JOLLY MONOLOGUES 
 
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JOLLY 
 MONOLOGUES 
 
 BY 
 
 Mary Moncure Parker 
 
 M 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "Merry Monologues*' and the Plays, **The Old Oaken 
 Bucket," ' 'Shadows, ' ' Etc. 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 
 
 Publishers ] 
 
^^^%l 
 
 v.^^^' 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1921 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY MONCURE PARKER 
 
 APR 30 1921 
 g)CI,A614248 
 
THE CURTAIN RISES 
 
 HAT all the world is but a stage 
 We have heard from lips of sage. 
 May the jolly actors here 
 Bring much happiness and cheer, 
 
 Matron, geisha girl and maid, 
 
 Mammy of the dusky shade, 
 
 Lunch counter waitress, Peddler Pete, 
 
 Mary dear and baby sweet. 
 
 Movie fans, society bore. 
 
 These shadow folk and many more, 
 
 Greet you from these printed pages. 
 
 Look not for wisdom of the sages. 
 
 Their mission is only to beguile 
 
 And bring to lips and heart a smile. 
 
 5 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 At the Bridge Party 9 
 
 A Free Lunch 15 
 
 You Have the Same Old Smile 19 
 
 "Signs of Spring 21 
 
 Mr. Daniel and the Lions 25 
 
 At the Telephone 31 
 
 You's Mah LiP Coal Black Baby 37 
 
 The Ghost of Annie Flanigan 39 
 
 The Club Luncheon 45 
 
 The New Baby 53 
 
 The Kisses of Life 57 
 
 What George Thinks of the Movies 61 
 
 Isn't Art Absorbing 65 
 
 Her Valentine 70 
 
 Maggie McCarty Talks About Receptions. 71 
 
 Hiram and the Bolshevists 77 
 
 Jimmy's Prayer 83 
 
 What Mary Thinks of Boys 85 
 
 From the Street Car Conductor's Point of 
 
 View 89 
 
 The Eater 93 
 
 The Peach Blossom Princess 95 
 
 One Minute to Eat 99 
 
 A Chop Suey Love Tale 105 
 
 Converting John the "Blaptist" 107 
 
 To Him That Overcometh 113 
 
 When We Went In 117 
 
 Who Says Woman's Place Is at Home? .... 121 
 Red Charley— One Credit 127 
 
 7 
 
AT THE BRIDGE PARTY 
 
 B- ^ ^ 
 
 Characters: 
 
 Mrs. Pusher, who always manages to 
 crowd in. 
 
 Mrs. Rusher^ with the darling dog that 
 almost talks. 
 
 Miss Vogue, of the type known as bridge 
 fiend. 
 
 Mrs. Top-Notch^ who never misses any- 
 thing. 
 
 Scene — A fashionable home on the Ave- 
 nue during a bridge scramble. 
 
 Mrs. Top-Notch^ proceeds to effervesce. 
 
 Good gracious, what a crowd! That's 
 one thing that will bring the women out — 
 a bridge party. There's Mrs. Simpson. 
 Heavens, I hope I won't have to play 
 with her. She bores me to death and she 
 can't play a little bit ! Mildred. Look at 
 the Jones woman. I do wish that she 
 would get a new gown. That has been 
 made over four times to my certain knowl- 
 edge. Here comes Mrs. Pusher. Of 
 course she would try to crowd in with us. 
 It is fate! Oh, how-do-you-do, Mrs. 
 Pusher! I'm so glad to see you. Oh, Mil- 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 dred, there's Miss Vogue. If they put her 
 at our table, I shall simply pass away. 
 Are you going to play at our table, 
 Mrs. Pusher? How lovely! This is 
 Mrs. Rusher. You know Mildred, don't 
 you? Oh, Miss Vogue, how are you? You 
 play with us? How simply fine! You 
 know these ladies, I believe. Hush, they 
 are going to begin. Let us hear the rules. 
 Something new and awkward, I suppose. 
 They say we are to stay at the same table 
 all afternoon and pivot. {To Mildred.) 
 Isn't that a mess? (To the Others.) 
 Very charming, yes, when one has such 
 delightful companions. It is your deal, 
 Miss Vogue. Cut? Yes. I didn't think 
 I could come today. I've been changing 
 maids and one cannot positively trust a 
 new maid now-a-days. My last one sim- 
 ply stole right and left — silk stockings, 
 camisoles, table linen — ^it certainly was a 
 fright. 
 
 How did that little 'Jap of yours turn 
 out, Mrs. Pusher? You had to turn Mm 
 out? Quite a joke! Isn't she witty, girls? 
 Yes, you are; you know you always say 
 such clever things. Hearts? Oh, dear, I 
 might have — I wonder what my partner 
 has — ^if one could only know, the game 
 
 10 
 
At the Bridge Party 
 
 would be so easy, wouldn't it? I'll say- 
 Clubs. Oh! Clubs is less than Hearts? 
 Well, I wish I dared say two Clubs. I 
 might make it Spades — er — no — I will 
 pass. Wait! My partner might make it 
 No Trumps when it comes around to her 
 again, and I could help her — no — I think 
 I will pass. Oh, my partner says "No 
 Trumps." That is splendid. I'm glad 
 you have to play it, partner. What 
 did you say. Miss Vogue? I gave her an 
 idea of my hand? Why, Miss Vogue, I 
 certainly did not. I am always so careful 
 about that. My hand goes down, does it 
 not? Do pardon that scratch on my finger, 
 my blessed baby did that. He is such a 
 beautiful darling though and has the most 
 wonderful eyes. The only trouble is one 
 has to be so careful about his diet and 
 about drafts. His little bed is right near 
 mine. What, Miss Vogue? You did not 
 know I had a baby? Merciful Heavens! 
 I have not. I was speaking of Beauty, 
 my Persian cat. Oh, Partner — why — 
 shall I hand you the Queen? I guess you 
 forgot the King has been played. What 
 did you say, Mrs. Pusher? I must not as- 
 sist. Well, I saw she had forgotten and 
 it seemed a shame. We made it, Mildred 
 
 11 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 — a small slam. Isn't that simply great? 
 Is it my deal? Oh, not yet! Well, really 
 I'm glad; it's an awful bore to be dealer. 
 Have you seen my new ear. Girls? It is 
 really the classiest thing! All gray. And 
 I have a new gray suit just the color of 
 the upholstery. It's perfectly ducky. 
 Around to me? I might make it Spades — 
 or — ^Di — or — well, I'll pass. I am so 
 glad you said Diamonds, partner. Oh, 
 did they get it on three Spades? I won't 
 over-bid that. Now, partner, if you lead 
 right, maybe we can set them. You re- 
 member your bid — that's it! Oh, they 
 trumped right away! Mercy! I guess I 
 was thinking of the party at the Lake 
 Shore Club House last night. They have 
 fitted the place up all new in purple and 
 black and gray. Very up to date and 
 very ultra. What did I do? Trumped 
 your Ace? I am so sorry. Do pardon 
 me! May I take that back? Oh, board is 
 a play? I cannot see the use of being so 
 strict at a party amongst friends this way; 
 but then, very well! You are such a — 
 fiend — I mean you are such a wonderful 
 bridge player. Miss Vogue, that one has 
 to watch the points. You must come to 
 lunch with me at the club, Mildred, it is 
 
 12 
 
At the Bridge Party 
 
 so attractive. What is Trumps, anyivay? 
 It slipped my mind. I think I must have 
 the spring fever. Oh, well, I looked over 
 the prizes and they really are a mess. This 
 donated stuff is never worth the house 
 room ; but I really am extremely fond of 
 bridge and when we play for charity I 
 feel that I am doing so much good for the 
 poor unfortunates. One ought to give up 
 a little time to philanthropy, I am sure, 
 and then bridge is so good for the mind 
 and does help one to concentrate, don't 
 you think? How is that darling Boston 
 terrier of yours, Mrs. Pusher? He is the 
 cutest thing. I never saw or heard any- 
 thing like it. He almost talks. 
 
 Oh, is it my deal? What, we haven't 
 finished this hand? Well, do tell me what 
 is Trumps? 
 
 13 
 
A FREE LUNCH 
 
 Characters: 
 Mrs. Sponge^ who just samples every- 
 
 thing. 
 Her Sister^ a close second. 
 Her Aunt^ toothless hut still in the ring. 
 Several Long- Suffering Clerks^ who 
 
 are wise to the family. 
 Scene — The grocery department of a 
 
 large city store. 
 
 Mrs. Sponge^ talks between bites. 
 
 My, how nice this soup is! {Tastes 
 sample.) I mean Booyon. What is it? 
 Beef? Your samples are quite small; 
 you can't really tell how good it is. My 
 sister and aunt here would like some, 
 too. Yes, thank you! They don't keep 
 house but they are thinking of it. I won- 
 der if I could have a little more soup — 
 er — oh, thank you! What, buy some? 
 Well, not today; but I'll probably come 
 in tomorrow or maybe the last of the week 
 and get a whole case. Come on, sister, 
 and Aunt Jane! What did that girl say? 
 ''Bunk"? Did you say that to me, sales- 
 girl? I'll report you. Oh, you were just 
 
 15 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 calling the floor boy? His name is 
 Bunker? Well, that's diff'erent; but don't 
 you get fresh with me. Come on, folks, 
 here are some samples of fish. Don't they 
 look appetizing. What kind? I'll take 
 some of that salmon. With sauce? Of 
 course. {To Sister.) Let's take every- 
 thing that's coming. If we don't I just 
 know these clerks eat it up themselves. 
 Don't you give crackers, too? Oh, so 
 much obliged — er — my sister and Aunt 
 would like some, too. No, they don't live 
 with me. They are future customers, 
 though. Isn't that good. Aunt? I'll eat 
 your crackers, because you haven't your 
 teeth in today. This is so good. I won- 
 der if I could have a little more, young 
 lady? Buy some? Well, not today. Per- 
 haps next week, although no one in the 
 family eats salmon but me, and I wouldn't 
 be selfish enough to buy much of it for 
 myself alone. We ordered salmon at the 
 restaurant last Thursday — no — it was 
 Saturday — no, I guess it was Thursday, 
 after all, and it made Horace sick. Kind 
 of poisoned him and he broke all out. 
 
 What's that, sales girl? I don't seem 
 afraid of it? No, I have a very strong 
 stomach; nothing makes me ill. Would 
 
 16 
 
A Free Lunch 
 
 my folks here like to buy some? Oh, they 
 don't live in the city. What's that? They 
 must have to eat wherever they live? Yes, 
 certainly, but they don't keep house. But 
 thej^ very probably will some time soon. 
 Mercy, we must hurry! 
 
 Oh, here are some samples of cold meat. 
 How perfectly lovely ! Not very big sam- 
 ples, are they? Why, I like that pressed 
 chicken. What will you have. Aunt? 
 That's queer. I heard that last girl call 
 out, "Sponges on the first floor" — the idea 
 of anyone asking for sponges in this de- 
 partment. Some people are so absurd! 
 They never know where to find anything. 
 
 No, we won't give an order today. My, 
 let's rush on! It's late! What's that. 
 Aunt? Here are some rabbits in cans? 
 Why, sure enough ! Isn't that great. They 
 can anything nowadays. Oh, I see ! That's 
 molasses. Molasses, Aunt! Molasses. 
 M-o-l-a-s-s-e-s. Molasses. Aunt doesn't 
 hear very well. No, the rabbits are not 
 canned. Aunt, in molasses. It's just plain 
 molasses. I believe she gets worse every 
 day. You don't give samples of that mo- 
 lasses, do you? Well, let's go on. Oh, we 
 must not pass by this fancy gelatine, with 
 whipped cream, too. Yes, we'll take the 
 
 17 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 cream* Could you spare just a bit more 
 for Aunt. Aunt likes it so much and her 
 gums are tender. It slips down so easily. 
 
 Why, here's cake, too! We almost 
 passed that by. What did you say? Won't 
 we try the sponge cake? No, we prefer 
 that layer fig. My, how nice! But really 
 the pieces are hardly big enough. You 
 get just a taste. I'll eat yours. Aunt. I 
 don't believe cake is very good for your 
 stomach. No, I won't order any today, 
 thank you. My sister? No, she doesn't 
 keep house. Well, I don't either, but I 
 may next year. Come on, folks. 
 
 What did you say, girl? There are some 
 free samples of washing powder and soap 
 around the corner? 
 
 Young lady, do you mean to insinuate 
 that we are trying to get things free? No, 
 you just thought we might like to know 
 how good they are. Well, we know good 
 things when we see them! You meant no 
 offense? Oh, all right! Good-bye! 
 
 Say, sister, we won't go to lunch just 
 now. I feel filled up, don't you? And it 
 didn't cost us a cent! 
 
 18 
 
YOU HAVE THE SAME OLD 
 SMILE 
 
 "5- ^ ^ 
 
 The old farm's changed sence the good old 
 
 days, 
 I can't keep up with new f angled ways. 
 
 Big noisy machines they're usin' now 
 Instead of old Dobbin an' the plow. 
 
 Lazy hens won't set no more ; 
 
 Them inkerbaters has spoiled 'em sure. 
 
 Gone are the jolly huskin' bees; 
 Maria, you wuz an awful tease. 
 
 I had to chase yuh for a kiss. 
 But them red ears I didn't miss. 
 
 No more sleigh rides tucked in hay. 
 Nor jolly barn dances — "right — left — 
 sashay." 
 
 We're back nimibers, the horses and us. 
 Might as well set back — ^not make no fuss. 
 
 Some things ain't changed — the flowers 
 
 and Spring, 
 The bright leaves of Autumn — the birds 
 
 on the wing. 
 
 19 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 And Maria, old gal, sence we set on the 
 
 stile 
 In the days that we courted youVe got the 
 
 same smile. 
 
 Through sorrows and trials and heartaches 
 
 and tears 
 And all the big changes that's come with 
 
 the years. 
 
 Though your dear face is wrinkled — ^your 
 
 eyes gettin' dim. 
 And your waist is much bigger (you uster 
 
 be slim) 
 
 YouVe trotted in harness, by me, mile by 
 
 mile. 
 And gol durn! Maria, youVe got the same 
 
 smile. 
 
 20 
 
SIGNS OF SPRING 
 
 ^ B- ^ 
 
 Characters : 
 An Italian Organ Grinder^ with a vivid 
 
 imagination. 
 JocKO^ THE MoNK^ for wTiom life is one 
 
 weary fooo-trot. 
 The Lady^ a substantial sympathizer. 
 Various Street Crowds^ that bestow 
 
 easy going pennies. 
 Scene — The city streets. 
 
 The Organ Grinder^ with a few bars of 
 dialect. 
 
 Jocko! Jocko IDanza — ^me playa de moo- 
 sic — de jazza tune. Jocko! Danza for de 
 leetle keeds. He no hurt you, baba. Come, 
 Jocko ! De one-a step — so — la-la-la. Now 
 de fox-a-trot. One neekle. Ver' mucha 
 'blige. See, baba. Jocko lif ' he leetle cap. 
 No more tune? Jussa one? Jussa one? 
 You reech ladee, I needa de mon! Come, 
 it ees de spring time. De bird sing. De 
 sun shine. De moosic of de hand organ 
 play de happa tune. Yet I so sad in my 
 heart, ladee, do my mout' she smile for de 
 spring. Ef you knew, kinda ladee, poor 
 Jocko he hava de sad histree. My broth- 
 
 21 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 aire was killed in de war. ( Weeps. ) Why 
 I not go? I had a de weak heart and de 
 lame shouldaire. My brothaire fight and 
 fight and kill de othaire bad sol j aire. He 
 so brave, my brothaire. He crawl far out 
 under de barb-bed wire and crawl in de 
 dark night. De shell burst — de sky blaze — 
 de guns roar. ( Speaks very dramatically. ) 
 My brothaire go on and on. De enemy 
 is coming over de bridge. He blow up de 
 bridge. He crawl back wiz de one arm 
 gone. Dey pin one medaille on heem but 
 he die. He say, ''My brothaire in Amer- 
 ique tell a heem I die for my countree. 
 Send heem Jocko my leetle mascot. My 
 brothaire he not strong and can no fight. 
 Jocko bring heem de gooda luck." So you 
 see, kind peeple, why I sad and Jocko, 
 too, for my brothaire kill in de armee ; but 
 we must laugh and danza — danza, my 
 Jocko, to de tune of Italee — my fair land 
 of Italee. Oh, mucha obHg — so much 
 monee. Peek it up, my Jocko, it come 
 fast. A quart' — a ha'f dol'— a dol' — two 
 dor — ^my brothaire he say right. Jocko! 
 You my mascot. Gooda by — gooda by — 
 much 'blige. On my shouldaire. Jocko. 
 Gooda by, leetle keed. Gooda by, baba. 
 Take off your cap. Jocko. Bow nice. 
 
 22 
 
Signs of Spring 
 
 {Speaks to Jocko.) 
 Ah, ha, my Jocko! I fool de peeple. 
 Dat storee day like. I will steek to it. 
 When I mak' of de storee of my brothaire 
 dat one fine idea. Day what you call tum- 
 ble down for dat storee. I will find an- 
 ozzer crowd, Jocko, my mascot! Oh, la-la! 
 
 23 
 
MR. DANIEL AND THE LIONS 
 
 ^ B" ^ 
 Characters: 
 
 Mammy^ the ebony Trouhadouress with 
 a fund of stones. 
 
 Andrew Jackson^ a story loving picka- 
 ninny. 
 
 The Other Pickaninnies^ who am jes' 
 alistenin. 
 
 Scene — Mammy's cabin, after working 
 hourSj which may be any time. 
 
 Mammy^ grandly relates. 
 
 Foah de Lawd's sake, you pickaninnies, 
 can't I set down thout you come axin me 
 fer stories? Go 'long an' let me take a nap 
 in peace. I'se all wo' out wid wuk. An- 
 drew Jackson, you am the wust beggah 
 of all. Shet up or I'll bust you haid open. 
 Wants to heah 'bout Jack the Giant Kil- 
 lah in de lion's den? What kin' of mux 
 up stuff am dat? Dah ain't no use givin' 
 you a eddication ef you can't membah 
 nuthin'. Ain't it de trufe? Go 'long! Go 
 'long! Well, jes' one, den. Dat lion's den 
 story? Now there's gwine to be some com- 
 bustion ef you axes for mo'. Membah dat 
 and take notice, you heah me? Onct on 
 
 26 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 a time dah was a man name Mister Dan- 
 iel. Mister Daniel was a very fine man an' 
 awful 'ligious. You know when Miss Eve 
 and Mister Adam was druv from de Gar- 
 den of Eden nobody did much prayin'. 
 Dey was skeered, too, and dey didn't have 
 no time for prayin' nohow kase dey had 
 to go wukin' by the sweat of dey brows. 
 Mister Adam he was kind of lame kase he 
 los' one rib to make Miss Eve outen of, 
 and when she got mux up wid dat snake 
 an' made Adam eat de apple, he said to 
 hisself, "Twant wuf losin' dat rib, deed 
 it want. I wisht I had it back an' dah 
 want no Miss Eve atall. Apples gives me 
 de undigestion anyways. An' now I got 
 a Adam's apple stuck in my froat what 
 I'se got to carry roun' the rest of my 
 days." 
 
 Ev'y time he sees a apple tree he 'gins 
 to tremble all ovah. Well, dis was some 
 time after when Mister Daniel was bawn; 
 I think probable Mister Adam was his 
 grandpa. Now dis heah Mister Daniel 
 was a awful prayin' pusson. He was so 
 good he couldn't seem to git nuf prayers 
 said nohow. So he said to hisself I'se 
 gwine to pray evey day and evey night 
 and he pray an' moan an' pray like he's 
 
 26 
 
Mr. Daniel and the Lions 
 
 gittin' 'ligion all de time. Now dey was 
 some folks wat lived in his town next do' 
 to him what want 'Hgious 'tall. Dey was 
 shootin' craps and gamblin' and raisin' 
 de debbil ginelly. "Dat man, Mister Dan- 
 iel, certin do 'noys us prayin'," dey say. 
 "We's gwine 'pote him to the police for 
 'sturbin' the peace." An' dat's what dem 
 wicked folks done so the policemen done 
 tuk Mister Daniel foah de king. What 
 you say, Andrew Jackson? What am a 
 king? Why dat am a president only he 
 wears velvet robes all trimmed wid ver- 
 min an' don't do nuthin' but eat and set 
 all day long. What you say — like our 
 white hen? Go 'long! De king ain't like 
 no hen. You certin is de ignonmtes 
 chile I ever seen. De king say to Mister 
 Daniel, "I dun give ordahs not for none 
 of your folks to pray liken you all does." 
 Mister Daniel he say, "Cain't hep dat, Mr. 
 King, a prayin' man I is an' a prayin' 
 man I'se gwine to continue till de bref 
 leaves my body." 
 
 ''Which am gwine to be in 'bout a minit," 
 says de king, mad as a March hare. 
 "Youse been 'sturbin' de peace an' 'noyin' 
 my folks what's shootin' craps. Take dat 
 man away and trow him to de lions." So 
 
 27 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 dey drug Mister Daniel to war dem li- 
 onses was stayin\ Stop your shiverin', 
 Andy Jackson, you makes me nervious. 
 Then the lions roared an' growled but dey 
 never offered to tech Mister Daniel. I 
 'spect he was a mighty thin, bony pusson 
 and not very temptin' though course I 
 does believe in de efficumvationess of 
 prayah. Still I'se gwine give dem lions 
 de benefit of havin' a little common sense, 
 too, kase lionses is lionses even in de face 
 of prayah. Well, Mister Daniel he kep' 
 on prayin'. He sure was a persistentest 
 pusson an' in de mawnin' de king see dat 
 man was alive an' he certin was skeered 
 to deaf. So he say to his sojers, de king 
 did, "Let that man out ; nuthin' caint stop 
 him no way from prayin'; dem lionses 
 ain't got no appetite for dat kin' of a 
 man." Stop your shakin', Andy Jackson, 
 you bettah take notice on dis heah Mister 
 Daniel youself and say you prayahs, least 
 wise evey night, and maybe de lionses 
 won't eat you, ef you meet up wid any. 
 You goes crawlin' into your bed many a 
 time widdout no mannahs towa'd Heaven, 
 what's purtected a black imp like you all 
 day. Now go on, dat's all de stories I'se 
 gwine tell you ! Yes, dat's de las' of Mis- 
 
 28 
 
Mr. Daniel and the Lions 
 
 ter Daniel. He lived to be a old man I 
 reckon aprayin' to his las' bref. I 'spect 
 all de animals what's wild an' eats folks 
 up done heard 'bout dat man. Seem like 
 prayin' made him tuff an' undigestible. 
 Anyhow I never heerd tell on nothin' ever 
 hurtin' him and wid his las' bref he was 
 aprayin'. Now go on, hear me? Clar out! 
 Let me smoke mah pipe and do some cat 
 nappin'. {Laughs.) I bet dat Andy 
 Jackson will pray hissef to sleep tonight. 
 
 9Q 
 
AT THE TELEPHONE 
 
 ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Characters: 
 Mrs. Doolittle^ an adept at the 'phone. 
 EsTELLE, the friend at the other end of 
 
 the wire who needs a gas mask. 
 Central^ the girl invisible. 
 Various Cut-ins^ who keep matters 
 
 lively. 
 Scene — ^Mrs. Doolittle^s boudoir. 
 
 Mrs. Doolittle^ does ''some'' talking. 
 
 Central, give me Lake View 24000. 
 Yes, Lake View 24000. Hello! Is this 
 you, Estelle? No, it's Bright Eyes, kiddo! 
 Why, who are you? Central! Central! 
 What number did you give me? I got hold 
 of a very impudent man. Lincoln? I 
 said Lake View. Can't you hear? I sup- 
 pose you were out too late last night. You 
 girls ought to be discharged if you can't 
 give better service. Lake View 24000. 
 
 Hello! Is this you, Estelle? Central, 
 don't you give me the busy signal. I know 
 perfectly well that she isn't busy! I sup- 
 pose you got mad and gave me the busy 
 signal. I know my party is home. I am 
 sure of it. Try again? Well, you had bet- 
 
 31 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 ter. The number? IVe told it to you four 
 hundred times. Lake View 24000. It is 
 very important that I get my party. 
 
 Hello! Is this you, Estelle? How are 
 you, dearie? Say, did you see the morn- 
 ing paper? The Rokeby- Jones have sep- 
 arated. Yes, it's splotched all over the 
 front page. She says cruelty and lack of 
 support. Horrid! Isn't it? He claims she 
 had a terrible temper. I guess it is six to 
 one and half a dozen to the other. I felt 
 wretchedly sorry about it; but thought 
 maybe you hadn't seen the paper. Yes, 
 Jessie knows and Kit and Mabel. Yes, 
 I have just called them all up. Too bad! 
 Those things are so shocking and ought 
 to be kept quiet, if possible. Do you know 
 what I heard? Now don't breathe this. 
 I never gossip; but this is in the papers. 
 Well, not this; but it will be probably. 
 I heard — you know he was awfully atten- 
 tive to that little widow out at the Gold 
 Club last year and danced with her oodles 
 of times and wouldn't even play golf, al- 
 though he is such a fiend about the game, 
 just because she wouldn't leave the porch 
 and get in the sun. I know why, all right. 
 If she did, it would crack the enamel on 
 her face and melt the make-up, probably. 
 
 32 
 
At the Telephone 
 
 Men are such idiots ! They never seem to 
 see such artificiality. Now for mercy's 
 sake don't say I said that. I don't want 
 my name mixed up with it. I just detest 
 gossip. This 'phone — Central! Central! 
 You've shut me off. Glad something 
 could shut me off? Say, who are you? 
 Well, you're no gentleman! This is an 
 unlimited 'phone and you can't butt in! 
 Unlimited gab? I never heard such rude- 
 ness in my life. My husband would settle 
 you. You bet he's talked to death and 
 can't move? You get off this wire. Cen- 
 tral! Central! These wires are crossed and 
 you've cut me off from my party. Hello, 
 Estelle! Oh, I've just had a fight with a 
 regular brute. The wires were crossed. 
 I've been changing maids again and so 
 John has been getting his own breakfasts 
 lately. I don't rise until ten. Have you 
 been to the spring opening? You know I 
 was furious the other day but I saw some 
 darhng little chiffon and satin gowns and 
 when I went to try some on they said they 
 had none my size and took me to the room 
 where they have those awful "stouts" 
 standing around like gowns filled with 
 baled hay. Well, I laid that girl out cold. 
 I told her she needn't insult me if I did 
 
 33 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 happen to be plump. I wish you could 
 have seen the skinny creature she was her- 
 self. I am very careful of my diet, too. 
 All I had this morning was three rolls; 
 two cups of coffee, some waflfles, some 
 ham and eggs, and a little fruit. Just a 
 light breakfast. 
 
 Oh, say, dearie, I almost forgot to tell 
 you! The Sherwoods have lost their 
 money. Some sort of a slump in stocks. 
 They were watered or something. I no- 
 tice they do not have their machine any 
 more. Horrid, isn't it? Too bad for them! 
 Yes, the girls seemed to feel terribly about 
 that, too, when I told them confidentially 
 at the card party the other day. 
 
 Well, living is absolutely out of sight 
 these days, any how. I always have a sick 
 headache the morning the bills come in. 
 And then John hasn't the heart to kick 
 about expenses. Come over and see 
 Mother, dearie, she is coming next week. 
 I told John and he said he was so sorry 
 that he had to go away on a little business 
 trip. I knew he was going but not so 
 soon. Never can tell when a man will 
 change his mind. Mother will bring lots 
 of news from my home town. She knows 
 everything about everybody. 
 
 34 
 
At the Telephone 
 
 What's that, Estelle? Estelle! These 
 wires are crossed again! ''Time! Third 
 round!" Who are you? What did you 
 say? You are a throat specialist? I'm not 
 tongue-tied? No, I'm not. I cannot see 
 how you keep getting on the wire. Cen- 
 tral! Central! What is the matter with the 
 wire? Lake View 24000. Estelle? No? 
 It's Mrs. Brown's maid? What! Mrs. 
 Brown has fainted? She was ill last 
 night? Oh, I am so sorry, poor Estelle! 
 I'll be right over. 
 
 35 
 
YOU'S MAH LIL' COAL BLACK 
 BABY 
 
 B- ^ ^ 
 
 You's mah lil' coal black baby 
 An' I'll hug you to mah breas' ; 
 Dis am de creepy, sleepy hour, 
 When de big worl' goes to res' ; 
 Don' you heah de insects hummin' 
 Jes' a sort of croonin' song, 
 An' dem ole frogs croakin' in de brook. 
 As de dream man comes along? 
 
 REFRAIN 
 
 Oh mah lil' coal black baby. 
 Go to sleep and don' you cry; 
 Big sun's comin' up again. 
 For day time bye and bye. 
 Dis is jes' de res' time 
 Fo' de baby's birds an' you. 
 Close yo' eyes mah pickaninny. 
 Mammy loves you, deed she do. 
 
 Oh, you wants a lil' story? 
 What— 'bout that Mr. Owl 
 Who used to see in daylight. 
 Tell he fought dat Peacock Fowl? 
 Onct on a time dat proud Peacock 
 At de Owl 'gan to rail; 
 
 37 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 Dey fit and fit 'til de Owl's eyes 
 Was in de Peacock's tail. 
 
 REFRAIN 
 
 Oh mah lil' coal black baby, 
 Be glad you's got yo' eyes, 
 So close 'em up as tight as wax 
 'Til de sun begins to rise. 
 Shut em close so dat ole Peacock 
 Can't get a peck at you, 
 Go to sleep mah pickaninny. 
 Mammy loves you, deed she do. 
 
 De Whipporwill is callin' 
 
 'Neath de yaller moon; 
 
 He say, ''Hurry up, mah baby. 
 
 Sleep fer daylight's comin' soon." 
 
 Dat kinky head is droopin', 
 
 De ole dream man's got you, chile; 
 
 He done pinned a happy dream on you 
 
 Kase you got a lovin' smile. 
 
 REFRAIN 
 
 Oh, mah lil' coal black baby, 
 Sleep, sleep 'til mawnin' light. 
 Until de world wakes up. again 
 An' the sun am shinin' bright. 
 Dah ain't no chile in all de earf 
 Dat's quite so sweet as you ; 
 You is bad sometimes, but honey. 
 Mammy loves you, deed she do. 
 
 38 
 
THE GHOST OF ANNIE 
 FLANIGAN 
 
 ^ B* ^ 
 
 Characters: 
 Mrs. Mickey O'Flynn^ who does not he- 
 
 lieve in ''sceancys'' and who is jealous 
 
 of a ghost. 
 Mickey O'Flynn, longing for ^^peace at 
 
 any price/' 
 The Ghost of Annie Flanigan^ whose 
 
 virtues brightened after her earthly 
 
 flight. 
 Scene — The kitchen of the O'Flynn cot- 
 tage. 
 
 Mrs. Mickey O'Flynn^ with a hit of ad- 
 vice to her better half. 
 
 Git out of here, Mickey O'Flynn. 
 Shure I'm sick and tired to death of 
 lookin' at the sight of ye. No — ye don't 
 nayther — come back ! Sit right down here. 
 Shure I clane forgot ye had a quarter and 
 ye'U be spendin' it down to Hinnessey's 
 on the pool, an' me a poor, hard-workin' 
 craythur, a scrubbin' and grubbin' all the 
 day and half the night and ye out of a 
 job most of the toime, and there's our 
 
 39 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 sivin childer — none of 'em old enough ex- 
 ciptin it be Patsy, to airn a rid cint. 
 
 Hivin help me that I ever saw the ugly- 
 mug of ye and no wonder your first wife 
 died. Jist lookin' at ye was enough to 
 croak the puir soul. Night after night 
 ye're spendin' in Hinnessey's. No wan- 
 der his wife is buyin' white shoes and 
 wearin' thim latest crazy sthyles, loike a 
 girl of sixteen. Bad cess to her! What? 
 Ye was playin' pool? Playin' fool, ye 
 mane. Thot's a nice sinsible thing for a 
 grown mon — pokin' thim balls around 
 loike a kid of foive. Ye're too wake to 
 carry a hod but shure ye always seem to 
 have stringth enough to walk all day 
 around them fool pool tables, and about 
 half the night. Oh, ye want there last 
 night? Wint to see — Ancy? What air ye 
 sayin'? Who is she? Jist let me lay 
 hands on her. Oh, a seeancy — a place 
 where spirits come back. Ghosts? God 
 hilp us and do ye want to bring bad luck 
 to the wife and childer of yere bosom? 
 
 Ye better kape away from sich avil 
 doins. The divil will git ye soon enough, 
 Mickey O'Flynn. Oh, 'twas Mike Hooli- 
 han took ye to see the ghost come back! 
 Ain't it a fine way to be spendin' the ave- 
 
 40 
 
The Ghost of Annie Flanigan 
 
 nin? They has tables and the ghosts rap 
 and talk to ye? Now the saints presarve 
 us! Sich wild doins! I never heard tell 
 of the loike. What are ye sayin', Mickey 
 O'Flynn? Ye heard the spirit of your first 
 wife talkin'. Is that so? Ain't ye satis- 
 fied with me that ye's be disturbin' the 
 dead in their graves? She told ye that 
 I was hard on ye? Oh, she did, did she? 
 Well, I'll go to the seeancy and tell her 
 to mind her own business and not come 
 buttin' into me aif airs. Oh, ye tould her 
 ye remembered how kind and soft spoken 
 she used to be and that she let you go out 
 ivery night and always met ye with a 
 smile? Ye did, did ye? Talked agin me to 
 that red-haired, freckled- faced ghost of an 
 Annie Flanigan that used to be ! She that 
 nivir had a beau but ye and me wid plinty 
 jist for sayin' the word! (Cries.) Oh, 
 Wirra! Wirra! That I should live to see 
 the day when me husband should be abus- 
 in' me to the loikes of a red-haired ghost 
 and me raisin' her two childer that nivir 
 had no raisin' until I whaled the life out 
 of the imps. I'll not stand your seeancys 
 and the insults of the ghost of that Annie 
 Flanigan. Thank Hivin I have me 
 sthrong right arm! Take that Mickey 
 
 41 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 OTlynn {strikes him) and that, and 
 there's the roUin' pin for good measure. 
 The Saints hilp me! I've kilt him! Oh, 
 Mickey, Mickey me darhn' git up! Open 
 your eyes me Mickey! Here's wather! 
 Ye won't drink? Oh, here's a drop of 
 spirits I took from your pocket last 
 av'nin'. There! Spake to me! Oh, me 
 darhn' I'll niver git angry wid ye agin! 
 Don't go to no more of them seeancys. 
 That Annie Flanigan has designs on ye. 
 She ought to be ashamed and comin' 
 back and worritin' the loikes of the big, 
 noble, kind heart of me Mickey. I'll do 
 anythink ye want only just spake to me. 
 
 Ye feel better? Thank Hivin! Ye want 
 to go out for a bit of frish air? Shure 
 darlin' go along. Kin ye walk? That's it. 
 Take the air for awhile {wipes her eyes 
 on her apron) . Ain't he the grand mon? 
 Shure if I'd kilt him that Annie Flanigan 
 was only waitin' to nab him in the next 
 world. 
 
 Oh, good marnin' Mrs. Murphy! 
 What's the matter wid me? Nothin', I 
 have a bit of a cold. Ye want to borry a 
 cup of sugar? Shure come right in. How's 
 Mickey? Foine. Will yis he's out of a 
 job just now, but he has the wake heart 
 
 42 
 
The Ghost of Annie Flanigan 
 
 ye know and can't be workin' too long 
 at a time. Pwhat's that? Ye saw him 
 goin' into Hinnessey's? Pwhat? This 
 minute. The ould goat! He was jist 
 makin' belave he was near kilt. Wait till 
 I git him home! Bad cess to him! 
 
 43 
 
THE CLUB LUNCHEON 
 
 B- B- ^ 
 
 Chaeacters: 
 Mrs. Gabby Gusher, so difficult to 
 
 please. 
 The Waiter, a mere disgusted male. 
 Other Club Members^ who would talk 
 
 if they had a chance. 
 Scene — The dining room of a large 
 
 fashionable hotel during a special club 
 
 luncheon hour. 
 
 Mrs. Gabby Gusher, gushes. 
 
 My, what a mob! Everybody I ever 
 knew seems to be here at this luncheon. I 
 want a ticket, please. What? No seats! 
 That's an outrage. I belong to this club 
 and I'll resign tomorrow. The idea that 
 one cannot come to one's own club 
 luncheon! What is it you are sajang? I 
 should have notified the Chairman two 
 days ago at least? Well I just couldn't. 
 I was too busy. The notices w^ere 
 printed that way? Oh, I never read those 
 old notices! Here I gave up another en- 
 gagement, dressed myself and came down 
 town just to patronize my own club and 
 I can't get a ticket. It's a disgrace! Oh, 
 
 45 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 how do you do, Marie? I'm furious! I 
 cannot get a seat here today. Well I'm 
 going to the matinee. Who cares about 
 the old club lunch anyway? Probably 
 there won't be enough to eat to put in 
 your eye, and a dollar and a half a plate! 
 
 What did you say, Marie? One of your 
 guests has disappointed you? I can have 
 her place. Well, I don't know. The price 
 is rather steep for the amount of food 
 they give one. Will I be your guest? Oh, 
 my dear! That is fine! But really I ought 
 not to, you know, because I owe you for 
 one or two lunches. You insist? Oh, very 
 well. That's darling of you. I have on 
 my new gown and hat, anyhow, and it 
 really would be too bad to go away with- 
 out any one seeing — I mean — without 
 seeing any one. There is such a crowd 
 here today, too, to see one^ — I mean — for 
 one to see. 
 
 How do you do? How do you do? Aw- 
 fully pleased to meet you all! Eight at 
 a table? Nice number, but a little crowded, 
 though. One's gown gets so mussed. 
 We're not very near the speaker's table, 
 are we? Well, maybe that is an advan- 
 tage. Some of them are terribly tiresome 
 at times. My! What a buzzing! Women 
 
 46 
 
The Club Luncheon 
 
 certainly can talk, can't they? That mu- 
 sic makes such a horrible noise I can 
 hardly hear what you say. They're play- 
 ing the overture of William Tell. Those 
 musicians must want to drown us out, but 
 I guess we can hold our end up on the 
 clamor all right. Why don't they serve? 
 They never do begin on time, do they? 
 If I had the running of things I would 
 see that everything began promptly. I 
 do believe in system. I wonder who's the 
 Chairman of this Luncheon Committee. 
 She certainly doesn't know her business. 
 Heavens! I'm starved absolutely. You 
 like my new gown? Thank you! It's one 
 of Gilbertine's. Yes, quite exclusive 
 style. Gilbertine is noted for that. My 
 hat? Oh, that is a Camille model. I 
 rather like it mj^self — yes, thank you. 
 Grapefruit — mine is not sweet enough. 
 Waiter, some sugar, please. What, you 
 only serve five at this table? The rest 
 are the other waiter's? Such a system! I 
 can't see why you can't serve all of the 
 eight at once. Marie, who is this woman 
 next to me? She certainly is an awfully 
 careless eater. One ought to have on a 
 raincoat, her grapefruit flies around so. 
 Well, I don't suppose I'll get any sugar, 
 
 47 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 so I'll just eat this sour. Thank good- 
 ness they didn't serve that woman a whole 
 grapefruit or my make-up would be all 
 off, Marie. Bouillon — mine's almost cold. 
 I like it iced sometimes but not luke- 
 warm. Waiter, spoon, please. There 
 isn't one at my plate. I suppose you will 
 tell me the other waiter serves the spoon. 
 Marie, I heard that waiter say that he 
 would rather serve a thousand men than 
 ten women. Isn't he a crank? Men give 
 them such large tips, you know, so that we 
 never get any service. That waiter said 
 he'd thank God when this meal was over. 
 Isn't that rough language. He ought to 
 be reported. 
 
 Chicken a la King — I don't care much 
 for that and I haven't any potatoes on 
 my plate. Take your plate, Marie? No, 
 my dear, no ! Potatoes are fattening any- 
 how. I weigh every day I have such a 
 horror of getting stout. Look at Clara 
 Johnson! She's growing to be a sight. 
 Why doesn't she diet, or roll, or walk? 
 She looms positively like a bale of hay. 
 Isn't it a scream — ^look, she's sitting next 
 to Mrs. Barnett, that poor, skinny, little 
 wisp. They look like before and after 
 taking. 
 
 48 
 
The Club Luncheon 
 
 Here's the dessert. Little short cakes! 
 Puzzle, find the strawberries! This isn't 
 a church social. Take yours, Marie? Oh, 
 my dear, no. But they did give you quite 
 a supply, didn't they? I can't see why 
 they serve so unevenly. Well, if you in- 
 sist, Marie. Thank you ! We did not get 
 any coffee. That table next to us has 
 been served. Waiter, I must have my 
 coffee or I shall have a headache. Isn't 
 he the crankiest thing? Cream, too? Yes! 
 I don't care for cafe noir. There goes 
 the gavel. Now we are in for the speeches 
 and toasts. She might let us get our 
 lunches first. I'm not through with mine. 
 I hope she'll cut every one down on the 
 speeches. Horrors! There's Mrs. Cramp- 
 ton Jones. She's as long-winded as an 
 old-fashioned preacher and about as inter- 
 esting. I hope she doesn't talk first. 
 
 The President is introducing some one. 
 Well, maybe what that woman has to say 
 is good if you could hear it. She sounds 
 as though she were going to cry. It must 
 be something pathetic. Well, she knew 
 enough to sit down quickly anyway with 
 that little chirp. I wish the Toast Mis- 
 tress wouldn't talk so much. We've heard 
 all that before. I suppose she wants to 
 
 49 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 be elected again some time, spreading all 
 the taffy around about this crowd. Why 
 doesn't she give some one else a chance? 
 Madam Borem is going to sing. I don't 
 care for her voice. It used to be good but 
 she ought to know when to quit. Oh! Oh! 
 Off key! Hasn't that harpist skinny arms! 
 Grecian dresses are not very becoming to 
 her certainly. 
 
 Oh, mercy! Marie. Mrs. Hopson is go- 
 ing to talk. That woman's voice gets on 
 my nerves. It's a mile in the air. I 
 should think she would take elocution les- 
 sons. There's old Colonel Cook at the 
 Speaker's table as big as life. He's going 
 to spout, of course. He'll tell us the 
 whole history of the Civil War and we're 
 lucky if he doesn't go back to the Revolu- 
 tion. Why, yes, Marie, of course I'm 
 patriotic, but I studied history in school. 
 There's June Latimer over there and her 
 husband only dead six months. Looks 
 queer, doesn't it? Well, they say they 
 were not very happy, but who can tell? 
 People gossip so, don't they? Of course 
 I always thought — oh, I guess I won't 
 say it — I mean — ^well, don't you breathe 
 it — that they quarreled at home terribly. 
 I've heard it but I never repeat anything 
 
 50 
 
The Club Luncheon 
 
 like that. Say, dearie, I must go. Sorry 
 I can't wait until it's all over. I've had 
 such a wonderful time! Just splendid! 
 Will I have one of the table roses? Oh, 
 thank you so much! Do you mind if I 
 take a couple more? It makes a larger 
 corsage and I am going to stay down town 
 for dinner. Thanks, so much! Glad to 
 have seen you all and I certainly have had 
 a scnmiptious time. I'll tell that old Mrs. 
 Blossom that sells the tickets that I got 
 a place and did not have to write for it 
 ahead of time. She tries to be so business- 
 like. It's screaming. At a club of friends, 
 too. Well, good-bye, Marie love. Come 
 to see me soon, won't you? I certainly 
 have enjoyed myself. 
 
 51 
 
THE NEW BABY 
 
 B* ^ ^ 
 Characters: 
 
 The New Baby^ views his relations. 
 
 Mother^ the blessed one. 
 
 Father^ the fond parent. 
 
 The Big Brother^ who gives the infant 
 a tip. 
 
 The Little Brother and Sister, won- 
 dering and adoring. 
 
 The Grandmothers, fondly raving over 
 the new offspring. 
 
 The Poetical Aunt^ who bursts into 
 free verse. 
 
 Various other Giants^ familiarly known 
 as relatives. 
 
 Scene — The nursery. 
 
 The New Baby, forcibly expresses his 
 thoughts. 
 
 There seems to be a lot of people in this 
 place I have come to — Giants with big 
 eyes — and they are always wanting to 
 hold me. I wish they would let me alone 
 because my stomach hurts when they jog- 
 gle me around. There are some little 
 folks, too ; a boy that has a dirty face and 
 doesn't seem to want to kiss me (that is 
 
 53 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 one thing to be thankful for because he 
 is most never clean) ; and there is a cute 
 little girl with ribbons in her hair. She calls 
 me "Bruvver," but when they let her hold 
 me I get scared to death because she seems 
 so wobbly. The person I like the best is 
 the one they call "Mother." She looks 
 like she could eat me up only in a loving 
 way, and she holds me so tight yet not 
 too tight. There is a man they call "Dad'' 
 who comes in every night and chucks me 
 under the chin and says, "Some boy, be- 
 lieve me!" He isn't around the house very 
 much. I heard him say, "That buster 
 looks more like me than the rest of the 
 kids." I hope I'll get over that because 
 he isn't very much to look at — fat and 
 sort of red- faced and bald — ^but I would 
 rather look like him than the one they call 
 "Grandpa." He is a sight with white 
 whiskers and wrinkles and he will kiss me, 
 though his whiskers get in my eyes and 
 mouth and always make me cough. May- 
 be I will grow to look like my mother. 
 She has such kind eyes. One day two 
 women came and a lot of other people. 
 The women were not very young and they 
 told me they were my grandmothers and 
 everybody kept saying which side I looked 
 
 54 
 
The New Baby 
 
 like. It seems there are two sets of fami- 
 lies in this place and it's a kind of prize 
 fight as to which one claims me. All the 
 people that came that day said they were 
 cousins and aunts and they stayed all day 
 long. That was a terrible day for me. I 
 was hauled around from one to the other. 
 It was like a regular wrestling match. 
 They talked some kind of a foreign lan- 
 guage. "Bess oose ittie heart," "Tweet- 
 sie, bittie sing/' "Dess ike oo Dramma, oo 
 old blossom — es oo is!" 
 
 My big brother, the one that wears the 
 belted coat and bright ties and plays the 
 mandolin, they said he was big brother; 
 well, that one came up to my crib and said, 
 "Poor kid, I wish for your sake they'd can 
 the mush talk." My how I wished I could 
 talk so that I could tell him he was a regu- 
 lar fellow. His language was funny but 
 I knew he meant all right. I don't seem 
 able to talk; just to think; but I know a 
 lot more than those Giants think I do. 
 I hope when I do talk though I won't 
 say such silly things as some people do. 
 One woman calls herself my aunt. She 
 seemed kind of dreamy and I thought she 
 was going to cry over me. "Dear won- 
 derful bit of humanity, a tiny rose leaf, 
 
 55 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 a star dropped from Heaven upon a cold 
 sordid earth! Whither are you going? 
 What will be your future? I will write 
 a poem to you, strange, weird being from 
 another world!" My big brother heard 
 her and when he came up to me again he 
 said, "Kiddo, when they pull that stuff on 
 you, let out a yell. If you don't she'll 
 bore you to death. Every time you don't 
 like what they do, yell to beat the band 
 and they'll let you alone. Take it from 
 me. Kid, that's a tip." So I followed his 
 advice and began to scream. He laughed 
 and said, "Gosh, I believe he understood 
 me! Go to it, Kiddo!" That certainly was 
 good advice, because they took me away 
 from that awful mob — relatives they call 
 them — and gave me a nice warm bottle 
 and put me to bed. Now I know what to 
 do when that bunch comes again. 
 
 56 
 
THE KISSES OF LIFE 
 
 ^ "& ^ 
 It is the kiss of love that makes the 
 world go round from the cradle to the 
 grave. What so wonderful as the baby's 
 kiss? 
 
 Pink is the tender baby mouth, 
 
 Like rose leaves dipped in dew. 
 
 Parted the lips — ^you surely know 
 
 To let the kisses through. 
 
 Gentle the kiss on cheek new born, 
 
 Oh blessed sacred touch! 
 
 These words bring heaven down to earth ; 
 
 "The mother loveth much." 
 
 Then the dear toddling one ! Her kisses 
 will live in the memory long after she has 
 shpped out into the great world to take 
 her own place with those who live and 
 strive I 
 
 Who can deny the four-year-old 
 
 That sticky little kiss? 
 
 Dear, chubby hands that love-pats give ! 
 
 The thought is honeyed bliss. 
 
 All day she wastes on pop-eyed doll 
 
 Affection unreturned. 
 
 Dear heart, I'll give an hundred fold. 
 
 The kisses you have yearned I 
 
 57 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 Spring-time and love, when the earth 
 buds forth anew and Cupid whispers the 
 old, old story to the eager ears of the man 
 and the maid! 
 
 Winged kisses, gauzy bright, 
 
 Trifles light as air. 
 
 Tossed by Love-god to the breeze, 
 
 Flutter everywhere. 
 
 Catch them e'er they flit away. 
 
 Sweet — elusive quite! 
 
 If no kiss light on your lips, 
 
 Mercy! What a plight! 
 
 Gold cannot buy the kisses that are 
 showered upon dear old dad when he 
 comes home each night. 
 Oh, the center rush with voices glad 
 That is made each night on dear old dad. 
 When we clamber about his knee! 
 What matters the daily grinding care 
 If love can such splendid kisses spare 
 From the happy family? 
 King Midas, take your paltry gold; 
 Real kisses are neither bought nor sold. 
 
 Never forget the morning kiss when 
 you say goodbye. It means sunshine 
 through all the daylight hours. 
 
 The married kiss — alas ! I wot 
 It is the oftenest forgot, 
 
 58 
 
The Kisses of Life 
 
 When romance dying lies. 
 
 The morning kiss safeguards the day, 
 
 Lightens each step along the way, 
 
 Then bid sad love arise. 
 
 Keep Cupid ever in his place 
 
 With the tenderness of courtship's grace. 
 
 What say you, there are the shadowy 
 kisses that the bachelor blows through the 
 curling smoke to his girl o'dreams? And 
 the kiss of the gallant knight on the dim- 
 pled hand of my lady of old, or the siren's 
 kiss that lured the hero into the tangled 
 web of fate — nay these are but mocking 
 shadows. They have no real meaning in 
 the kisses of love — the kiss of the family! 
 What more beautiful than the sweet ca- 
 resses of the two who have journeyed the 
 long path together, loving and beloved? 
 
 The kisses of love's aged pair 
 Like fragrant incense fill the air; 
 They've traveled side by side, 
 Down life's long pathway, hand in hand 
 In blessed unison, God-planned; 
 Thus could no ill betide. 
 Sharing the happiness and pain. 
 Together in sunshine and in rain. 
 This bridegroom and his bride ! 
 59 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 The last kiss to the beloved one is given 
 in tears. Yet Hope beckons onward and 
 upward toward immortality. 
 
 The last cold kiss on marble brow I 
 
 Father we need Thy grace! 
 
 In anguish 'neath the rod we bow; 
 
 Oh, lead us to the place. 
 
 Where we may see the wondrous plan 
 
 Devised since the world began. 
 
 The wherefore of the race! 
 
 Beyond there is a kiss of the resurrec- 
 tion morning when the awakened soul 
 shall know and understand. 
 
 60 I 
 
 i 
 
WHAT GEORGE THINKS OF 
 THE MOVIES 
 
 ^ o B- 
 
 Characters: 
 
 George^ who spends his pennies at the 
 movies. 
 
 An Interested Neighbor^ who finds 
 George amusing. 
 
 Mothers and Children^ regular attend- 
 ants of the shadow drama. 
 
 Scene — George's hack porch. 
 
 George^ waxes eloquent over screen 
 heroes : 
 
 Gee, but movin' pitchers is swell! Us 
 boys goes to matinees 'cause they don't 
 cost so much. What I like best is them 
 Wild West ones — lots of ridin' an' shoot- 
 in' an' jumpin' off a cliff 'n everything. 
 I saw a guy onct what rode into a whole 
 army 'n made 'em all run away. I should 
 think some of 'em could get round behind 
 his back and ketch 'im; but don't nobody 
 never seem able to do that in a movin' 
 pitcher. They must be awful smart, them 
 heroes. Why onct I seen a guy what fell 
 in the cellar and got his arm busted, and 
 his right arm, too, and then with his left 
 
 61 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 he knocked the tar out of four other fel- 
 lers; jumped through a winder; swum a 
 river; an' all the while they was shootin' 
 an' shootin' but never hit 'im. Them 
 movie fellers must shoot awful bad. Then 
 the feller jumped on a horse that jest 
 seemed to be standin' there all saddled and 
 bridled that somebody musta forgot. And 
 he rode miles and miles and miles and got 
 away. They musta shot a whole box of 
 cartridges into him but he didn't seem to 
 get hurt none. I like the funny pitchers, 
 too, where they hit each other on the head 
 and blow flour and feathers into each oth- 
 ers' faces and throw water all over the 
 place. Say, if they'd let a kid get into them 
 funny pitchers he'd have a swell time and 
 wouldn't hafta worry 'bout his clothes 
 nor nothin'. Us fellers gets to the mati- 
 nee early so we can play tag around the 
 seats before people come in much; but 
 sometimes the usher gets fresh and stops 
 us. I think it's all great but the mush 
 stufl^. Them two lovers what's always 
 kissin' at the end of the show! They make 
 me sick! The greatest thing of all is when 
 a guy pulls a gun and makes about twenty 
 men back away with their hands up. I 
 don't see how they do it, but I guess them 
 
 ' 62 
 
What George Thinks of the Movies 
 
 movie heroes must be awful brave. Us 
 boys would rather go alone to the movies, 
 but one time Jimmie's mother took his lit- 
 tle brother with her and she read out the 
 titles — that is the readin' between the 
 pitchers, and the lady in front of her, she 
 turned round an' glared at her an' sed, 
 "The rest of us kin read, too. Ma'am, but 
 we don't read out loud." Then they had 
 a reg'lar scrappin' match back and forth. 
 Then another woman was tellin' the plot 
 to the lady behind Jimmie's Ma 'cause 
 she'd seen it before, and Jimmie's Ma 
 turned roun' and she says to her, "Well, 
 the rest of us would prefer seein' the 
 pitchers to hearin' your gab." And then 
 they had another scrap. But I pretty 
 near got kep' from goin' to the movies 
 altogether. You see me an' Jimmie and 
 the rest of us boys saw a dandy pitcher 
 and we thought we'd act it out at my 
 house, and so when Ma was to a club one 
 day we filled the bath tub and played we 
 were shipwrecked and some of us rescued 
 the other fellers. Then we got a waiter. 
 Ma's big, best brass waiter, and slid down 
 the front stairs playin' we was 'scapin' 
 down the mountains from the bandits. It 
 wudda been all right only we forgot to 
 
 63 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 turn off the water and we scratched the 
 stairs an' when Ma come home the water 
 was runnin' through the ceilin' in little 
 rivers on the downstairs rugs. Ma can't 
 shoot a gun but ef she was in the movin' 
 pitchers with a hair brush, couldn't no- 
 body beat her. 
 
 64 
 
ISN'T ART ABSORBING? 
 
 B" ^ ^ 
 
 Characters: 
 
 The Artistic One^ adoring things in- 
 tangible^, or thinks she does. 
 
 The Inartistic Man^ bored to distrac- 
 tion and preferring pipe and slippers. 
 
 Those who Congregate, to be enlight- 
 ened. 
 
 Scene — An evening at the home of an ul- 
 tra culturist. 
 
 The Artistic One^ raves. 
 
 Oh, my dear, it's too bad you were not 
 at the Club last evening! Such a wonder- 
 ful program! The most marvelous high- 
 brow poetry, my dear, the new stujff! 
 Have you read any of it? I must confess 
 I haven't, but for mercy's sake don't tell 
 anybody. I just raved about it to every- 
 body all around. Everyone else was rav- 
 ing. I was afraid not to, because then, 
 you see, people might think I didn't know 
 the up-to-the-minute, very latest literary 
 wrinkle. There was a wild looking man, 
 who didn't look a bit like a poet. It seems 
 that one mustn't nowadays. This man 
 had a big head and heavy shoes, and he 
 
 65 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 wore a red necktie. His hands were huge. 
 Then he read things that didn't rhyme at 
 all. It sounded just like prose, and I give 
 you my word, Stella, that I could not 
 make a bit of sense of half of it. But 
 gracious! How wise the audience looked, 
 and I just wager half of the people there 
 didn't comprehend more than I did either! 
 It was simply ravishing, though, my dear. 
 This jingley stuff that you can grab men- 
 tally right oiF the reel doesn't make one 
 think. 
 
 This was real art — all about alleys and 
 ashes and some horrid slang, almost swear- 
 ing, and some of it was about the most 
 grewsome sort of things! John was aw- 
 fully cross because I dragged him out and 
 said it was the darndest rot (only he didn't 
 say ''darned") and that, so help him, 
 never again! Men, except poets and mu- 
 sicians, don't seem to care for art at all. 
 You know John was like a bear with a 
 sore head when I took him to the Art 
 Evening at Madame Palette's. She has 
 such an artistic little apartment. There 
 were low lights, just candles, and every- 
 body bumped into everybody else — it was 
 so dark. A lot of artists and poets and 
 all sorts of queer, delightful people were 
 
 66 
 
Isn't Art Absorbing? 
 
 there — so out of the ordinary, my dear! 
 John kept giving up every chair he'd get, 
 to some woman that would come in, until 
 finally he had to sit on the dining room 
 table. They didn't have any refreshments 
 — just passed pink frappe. When the 
 hostess saw him, she apologized because 
 there were no more chairs, and John said, 
 "Never mind, I always sit on the table at 
 home," and she didn't know he was try- 
 ing to be sarcastic. When they passed 
 the pink frappe, John said to me he 
 wished it had a kick in it. He said he'd 
 even take a little dope in it to make him 
 forget where he was. Wasn't that coarse? 
 
 Well, I must tell you about the poetry 
 last night — Free Verse they call it. John 
 says, ''It's lucky it's free, because nobody 
 would buy it." It really is positively 
 charming, so crude and rough. It's like 
 our bulldog — so ugly that it's just beau- 
 tiful. 
 
 A woman read some original verses. 
 She didn't look like a poetess either. She 
 was short and dumpy and wore clothes 
 like a man's and a divided skirt. I copied 
 some of the poems. 
 
 An alley runs from street to street ; 
 Ashes are there in cans; 
 
 67 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 There are also garbage cans 
 Containing garbage. 
 Cats sneak around the cans. 
 Scavengers are they. 
 Clothes hang on a line, 
 Whited sepulchres that cover selfish souls. 
 Creatures dead to all desires 
 Save those for clothes and food and gar- 
 bage cans. 
 Banana peelings, old tins, 
 Egg-shells — moldy bread, 
 Refuse and garbage cans! 
 I dream of them by night and day! 
 
 Isn't that marvelous, my dear? You 
 know the idea is that it is just as poetical 
 to talk about the everyday things of life 
 as of the stars and flowers and love and 
 things that used to be considered poetry. 
 Byron, Shelley and Keats are all passe, 
 my dear, oh very passe. John was furious 
 over that poem and said he wasn't an alley 
 inspector. Isn't that the limit? I do wish 
 he were more up-to-date in his ideas. 
 
 Then the woman poet read some most 
 ecstatic verses, little short things. John 
 said that was the only redeeming feature 
 — they were short. Let's see; I copied 
 some of her things, too. This is one: 
 
 68 
 
Isn't Art Absorbing? 
 
 A gray sky trailing, smearing, splotching, 
 Gray smoke trailing, winding, drifting, 
 Dark gray — almost black. 
 
 Isn't that mystical? Positively weird! 
 
 This is another: 
 A bird sat on a bough singing, 
 The leaves trembled in the wind, 
 Turnips and cabbages and onions cried 
 
 out loud. 
 We are coming later through the moist 
 
 earth, 
 Wait for us. 
 
 Isn't that strong poetry — to talk of 
 vegetables, instead of insipid violets and 
 roses? One must bring in the virile 
 things, the woman said. John said that 
 onions ought to be strong enough poetry 
 for anybody. I am desperately afraid 
 John's soul is sordid. He will never un- 
 derstand. 
 
 Well, Stella, I must go. I just ran 
 over to tell you of the perfectly adorable, 
 artistic evening we had. A feast of rea- 
 son! When I said that to John, he said it 
 was a feast of garbage cans and a flow of 
 inane rot. I am glad my mind is recep- 
 tive, I feel that I have grown intellectu- 
 ally about ten inches since I saw you last. 
 
 Isn't art simply absorbing? 
 
 69 
 
HER VALENTINE 
 
 ^ ^ ^ 
 
 I am just a tiny little girl, 
 But I have a Valentine. 
 It says, "Oh, dainty, pretty one — 
 I pray you will be mine." 
 
 There are two hearts 
 Just stuck right through; 
 There's a funny boy with wings 
 With "Cupid" printed near his head, 
 And a bag of sticks and things. 
 
 I 'spose it means some one likes me. 
 Well, that is very fine; 
 But I wish that cake or ice cream cones 
 Was sent for my Valentine. 
 
 70 
 
MAGGIE Mccarty talks 
 
 ABOUT RECEPTIONS 
 
 B- ^ ^ 
 
 Characters: 
 Maggie McCarty, receives after the 
 
 family depart. 
 BiDDiE AND Mary, recipients of her 
 
 bounty who do not worry about the 
 
 high cost of living ^ when somebody else 
 
 furnishes it. 
 The Mistress, who wants to be seen 
 
 where everyone else goes. 
 The Master, who loathes receptions and 
 
 goes as a sheep to the slaughter. 
 Scene — The kitchen. 
 
 Maggie, gossips about the family. 
 
 Come in, come in, girls, the folks has 
 wint to a weddin* reciption and the byes 
 has lit out for the avenin', so we'll have 
 the house all to oursilves. I'll make some 
 coffee and sandwidges and we'll kape on 
 the lookout for Mike, whin he comes on 
 his rounds and invite him in to have a bit 
 to ate. Oh! sich a time as the missus had 
 gittin' the master to go! I thought for 
 shure we'd have the family in this avenin' 
 instid of having the place to oursilves. If 
 
 71 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 there's anythin' that gits the master's goat 
 it is one of them reciptions; he loikes to 
 take off his coat and git into his smokin' 
 jacket and slippers, whin he's afther stay- 
 ing at home, which ain't so often at that. 
 
 I knew somethin' was doin' whin her- 
 self comes out to the kitchen, fussin' 
 around about the dinner, and whin I was 
 waitin' on the table, then I learned the 
 whole story, pacin' it all out wid what I 
 heard in the dinin' room and from the 
 kitchen door, me wid me ear close to it, 
 listenin' to the conversation. ''Isn't that 
 delicious tinderline, Tom?" sez she to the 
 auld man whin they was atin'. "I am so 
 glad you loike it, seein' as you helped 
 yoursilf twict, because I fixed it mysilf, 
 knowin' you was so fond of it breaded, 
 and the candied swate pertaties too. You 
 know, Tom dear, I always loike to have 
 ye plazed with your males." 
 
 "Phwat's that," sez the auld man, 
 ''there must be something the matter with 
 you, bein' so considerate, I suppose you 
 want a new gown, or some money. How 
 much? Let's git the agony over," says he. 
 Belave me girls, it's pretty hard to fool 
 him. He knowed something was in the 
 wind. "Oh Tom," says she, "how can you 
 
 72 
 
Maggie McCarty on Receptions 
 
 talk loike thot? That's terribly rude and 
 cruel and me in the hot kitchen all after- 
 noon, makin' your favorite dessert, lemon 
 pie. Am I ill, that I have grown so ami- 
 able? Why, Tom Rogers you ought to 
 be ashamed, me always, or nearly always, 
 in a good humor." Indade and girls I was 
 laughin' to mesilf at the way she was kid- 
 din' hersilf about the good humor, her that 
 can chew the rag as much as inybody whin 
 she gets started. Well after the male, 
 girls, he says he was goin' to the liberry 
 and rade, but she stops him quick. 
 
 "You might smoke," says she, "if you 
 have time." "Time," says he, "pwhat's 
 the rush?" "Why this is the night of the 
 Baxter-Brown weddin'," says she, "and 
 we must hurry." "I thought something 
 was in the wind," says he. "Xothin' do- 
 in'." Thin, girls, she begins to whine, 
 "Oh, Tom, you must go. We've been in- 
 vited and some of our other friends 
 haven't and it will be a grand aif air and 
 we've sent a prisint." "Get a taxi and go 
 yoursilf," says he. She almost scramed, 
 "Alone, do you mane? indade not, I won't 
 have people wonderin' where you are and 
 I won't go stringin' around alone loike 
 that Mrs. Marshall always does. Now 
 
 73 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 hurry up, Tom, I've lade out your clothes, 
 had them all brushed and pressed." Thin, 
 girls, the fun began. He was grumblin' 
 and growlin' the whole time he was dress- 
 in' and me and her both awaitin' on him. 
 ''Why didn't you have the tailor press me 
 clotKes?" says he, ''it looks like a home 
 job, and where are me pearl studs? and 
 where's me white silk vest?" Well it turns 
 out, girls, that Harold, that's the bye that 
 goes to college, had tuk the white vest 
 back to school wid him. "Where's me 
 necktie," says he, "me things is common 
 property; everybody in the house wears 
 'em." "Here's your old white vest," says 
 she, "this silk one — I claned it wid gaso- 
 line this afternoon." "It smells like a glue 
 factory," says he. "Now, now, stop 
 growlin'," says she from the nixt room, 
 me bein' in there hookin' up the back of 
 her dress, so I gets the whole benefit of 
 the fight. All at once we hears some awful 
 language and it sames that the auld man 
 has dropped his collar button. So then 
 Dick — that's the younger bye — ^has to 
 come and find it, the auld man bein' too 
 fat to stoop. "Why do idiots ever git 
 married?" says he, "belave me, I wouldn't 
 go to a weddin' from chice." "Oh, kape 
 
 74 
 
Maggie McCarty on Receptions 
 
 still," says she, ''for mercy's sake, quit 
 your fussin'. And how do you loike me 
 new gown? It only cost three hundred dol- 
 lars and isn't it lovely?" But belave me, 
 girls, he was so rid in the face and so mad 
 he couldn't see the new gown for the 
 timper of him. 
 
 "Hurry, hurry," says she, ''the machine 
 will come, and then they'll be runnin' up 
 a bill on us." "Where's me silk muffler?" 
 says he. "I am afraid Harold took that 
 back wid him to college, too," says she. 
 "But you can wear Dick's." "What, that 
 red and yellow one?" says he, "and look 
 like a Rah Rah school boy? I'll clane the 
 place out," says he, "if they don't let me 
 clothes alone. Where's me silk hat?" "I 
 forgot to tell you," says she, "Bessie 
 stepped on it. Now don't scold, she's only 
 a baby and didn't know no better. You 
 can wear your derby." "Oh, I suppose 
 I can wear anything," says he, "just so 
 you are all dolled up in your new gown. 
 I don't feel loike goin' at all," says he, 
 "especially lookin' loike a tramp," says he. 
 "Oh, we must go," says she, "it's an awful 
 swell affair, and I want folks to know we 
 were invited, and then the weddin' prisint 
 cost so much." "You want to git a run 
 
 75 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 for your money," says he, "and the poor 
 fools that's gettin' married don't know 
 what they are gettin' into." "That's a 
 nice way to talk," says she, "you with 
 three lovely children, not countin' in me 
 that's always doin' somethin' for you." 
 "Yes draggin' me off to reciptions and 
 weddin's when I would rather a darn sight 
 stay home or go to the Club," he answers. 
 "And play cards and lose money," says 
 she, "you had much better go to a lovely 
 weddin'. There's the machine, now come 
 on." And so girls, they rushes away, him 
 still growlin' and her tickled to death wid 
 the invitation and the new gown. The 
 minute they had gone, I puts Bessie to 
 bed and the bye's lights out and so here 
 we are for a pleasant avenin' with all the 
 nuisances out of the way. We'll have a 
 nice little spread to pay for all the trouble 
 the family gives me, bad cess to thim. 
 
 76 
 
HIRAM AND THE BOLSHEV- 
 ISTS 
 
 ^ B- ^ 
 Characters: 
 
 Hiram, with no use for long-haired 
 
 tramps. 
 The City Man, who comes up for the 
 
 spring fishing. 
 Reuben, who spouts sarcastically of 
 
 brotherly love. 
 Men of the Soil, who believe in sharing 
 
 some things. 
 Scene — The general store of a country 
 
 village. 
 
 HiRAM^ harangues. 
 
 How air ye, Mister? Glad to see ye, 
 agin this year. Come up fishin' ? Fishin's 
 pretty good, they say. Stoppin' up to 
 Silas Peters' place? Wall Silas treats 
 folks all right, I guess. Maybe he's a 
 little near about money matters but he 
 won't skin ye. All the skinnin' ain't done 
 by the city folks neither. They has a good 
 deal of fun 'bout us farmers in the papers, 
 but with tellyphones and tractors and tin 
 Lizzies, as ye call 'em, we're up to snuff 
 these days all right. True onct in a while 
 
 77 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 when we git to the city we acts green, but 
 lands sakes all them noises is confusin'. 
 Last year Si got stung to the tune of three 
 hundred dollars, but don't ye tell him I 
 told ye. He went to Chicago and when 
 four o'clock in the mornin' come, he's so 
 used to gittin up early, he went down 
 stairs. Si never will use no elevators, and 
 he went for a early mornin' walk. Ef he'd 
 kep' in the Loop, they's alius somebody 
 prowlin' around and the streets is light, 
 but he went walkin' down by the river, 
 and a Stranger met up with him. Says 
 the Stranger — "I'm from the country and 
 I like to take a mornin' walk. Can't sleep 
 in town." Now, ef he'd come at Si with 
 questions. Si would have been suspicious, 
 but he looked and seen a man with bushy 
 whiskers like his'n and so he says to the 
 Stranger— "That's me, too." "We'll walk 
 together if you don't mind," says the 
 Stranger. "Sure," says Si. And he got 
 so busy tellin' the Stranger how he'd run 
 the Gov'mint if he set in the Presidential 
 chair that he never noticed the Stranger 
 leadin' him into a dark street by the river. 
 "Ain't much like the river near my home 
 town," says the Stranger, "all dark and 
 muddy, but it makes me homesick just 
 
 78 
 
Hiram and the Bolshevists 
 
 the same." Si got homesick, too. He got 
 mor'n homesick, for when he come to he 
 was layin' down by the side of the bridge 
 and his roll was gone. Don't make no 
 mistake and ask Si, when ye git back to 
 the house if he likes to take an early morn- 
 in' walk when he's in town. 
 
 Well, Mister, the laugh ain't all on one 
 side, tho'. We can laugh at you city folks 
 many a time. There was a girl come up 
 here to Si's place for the summer last year 
 and the fust night when they had honey 
 on the table, she was one of them affected 
 critters, she says to Si — "Oh, Mr. Peters, 
 here is honey, how lovely! I see that you 
 keep a bee!" Si near busted. Then she 
 wanted him to take her out to the tomato 
 trees so she could pick some right ofF'n the 
 trees and eat 'em. That don't sound reas- 
 nerble, but I \aim, Stranger, ef it ain't the 
 truth. Gol durn, ef Si's hired man, Jake, 
 didn't go and wire some pumpkins on a 
 old dead apple tree and tell her they 
 growed there. And when one of them 
 things you folks calls pole cats — but w^e 
 call somethin' else — come around one eve- 
 nin', she says — "My, My, How strange. 
 I can git the odor of the stock yards way 
 up here!" Blame if Jake didn't go out- 
 
 79 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 side the house and roll on the ground 
 lafBn'. Yes, city folks has as queer no- 
 tions out here as we has in town, and don't 
 you forgit it. 
 
 Set down, Mister — I forgit your name 
 — Oh, Clark? That ain't hard to remem- 
 ber, but I ain't saw ye since last year. 
 Ain't in no hurry, be ye? This ain't the 
 busy time of the day for me. Too bad 
 you want up here last week. We had 
 some exciting time. Shure as ye're born. 
 Ye see we reads the papers and keeps 
 posted about air ships and the world's do- 
 in's same as you do, and we was all dis- 
 cussin' them Bolshe — Bolshe — Oh, Bol- 
 shevicks, that's it! Fust we thought they 
 was some kind of queer animals, then Si 
 made out they was men who said every- 
 body'd got to divide up with the tother 
 feller or else they'd kill him. They talked 
 brotherly love but it looked kinder queer 
 to me. Looked like they'd kill each other 
 if folks didn't do what them Bolshe — Bol- 
 she — Bolshevicks said. 
 
 Well a man come around here one day 
 a preachin' and givin' out readin' about 
 the great society of Brotherly Love when 
 there wouldn't be no poor folks nor no 
 marriages. Everybody could git married 
 
 80 
 
Hiram and the Bolshevists 
 
 or not just as they pleased, or pick out the 
 other feller's wife if he didn't like his'n. 
 I ain't saying but some of us was willin' 
 to swap or git rid of those they had some 
 way, but nobody dares to say nuthin' hke 
 that round these parts; but you'd never 
 believe me. Mister Clark, the women folks 
 was strong for this feller, especially the 
 old maids and the women what'd drawed 
 lemons that was no good anyway. We let 
 him talk and preach because this is a free 
 country, till all at once we come to and 
 found he was askin' ten dollars apiece 
 from the women for to jine the Society, 
 and Rube Hawkins found out that his 
 darter, what was pretty as a picter and 
 'bout sixteen, was plannin' to run away 
 with the feller, and about five hundred 
 dollars in cash of his'n — that is — of 
 Rube's. So one night we plans a party. 
 Si invited the stranger for a ride and when 
 we come to a lonesome spot in the woods 
 there was about twenty of us and a kettle 
 of tar, and pretty nigh a wagon load of 
 feathers, I guess. Says Rube to the Bol- 
 she — Bolshe — Bolshevick, "we're calculat- 
 in' on sharin' this tar with you. Brother, 
 and these here feathers, seein' you believe 
 in sharin'. 'Twon't cost you nothin'. It's 
 
 81 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 all give with our compliments and brother- 
 ly love." Then we tarred and feathered 
 the sun-of-a-gun and rode him on a rail. 
 "Don't come back no more," says Rube. 
 ''This sharin' business is all right but you 
 don't seem to have nothin' to give in re- 
 turn but hot air, and we ain't aimin' to 
 care for that; there's plenty around here 
 free." That sure was a gol durn spec- 
 tacle, Mister Clark. That Bolshe— Bol- 
 she — Bolshevist, all featherin' out. Gol 
 durn my slats if it warn't. 
 
 82 
 
JIMMY'S PRAYER 
 
 B" B" B- 
 Oh Lord, please listen to my prayer! 
 
 I want to do jes' right, 
 My Mother says it's awful wrong 
 
 Fer boys to quarrel and fight. 
 
 An' when some feller smashes you. 
 
 You must be very meek 
 Wipe off your face and turn around 
 
 So's he can swat the other cheek. 
 
 Now listen. Lord, they is some boys 
 Picks on you fer nothin' 'tall 
 
 They're always spoilin' for a fuss 
 An' they got a lotter gall. 
 
 If you even 'spress a 'pinion 
 They'll black one of your eyes; 
 
 Bein' way up in Heaven, Lord, 
 You don't know them mean guys. 
 
 Now I'd like to ask a favor. Lord, 
 If a kid like that comes 'round 
 
 And you stand right still, turn both your 
 cheeks 
 Fer him to maul and pound 
 
 When he gets through, won't you let me 
 start 
 
 83 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 To lick him fer good and fair? 
 Seems to me that's kind o' just 
 And the way to make things square. 
 
 Anyhow — make a new commandment, 
 please, 
 
 That a feller can fight when 
 A bully gets to crowdin' hard, 
 
 I'll be much obliged — Amen. 
 
 84 
 
WHAT MARY THINKS OF BOYS 
 
 B- ^ ^ 
 Characters : 
 Little Mary, so sorry that God made 
 
 boys. 
 Her Bestest Chum, of the same opinion. 
 Those Superfluous Creatures, the 
 
 boys. 
 Scene — Mary's playroom. 
 
 Little Mary, sadly confides. 
 
 I don't like boys. They pull my hair 
 and they are so rough. I should think 
 God would like girls much better and I 
 asked him in my prayers the other night 
 not to bother making any more boys. 
 They hide my dolls or break them and 
 they never do study in school, and put our 
 class back when we are working for a 
 medal for good 'portment. At dancing 
 school they are so rude and clumsy and 
 walk all over your feet. If a boy does be- 
 have his'sef they call him "Sissy" just like 
 it was a dusgrace to be a girl. I learned 
 a pretty little fancy dance and danced it 
 at an 'tainment for our school and wher- 
 ever I went after that, the boys would 
 jump up in the air and act very siUy and 
 
 85 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 say — "This is Mary, oh! mercy how she 
 dances! Tra-la-la!" I cried and told my 
 mamma, and she went out one day when 
 they mimicked me and said, '*You boys 
 oughta be pos'tively 'shamed acting just 
 hke little hoodlums. I shall report you to 
 your mothers." But that made it worse 
 'cause then they used to call "tell-tale" 
 after me. When I told my mamma, she 
 said — "Darling, don't mind them, they are 
 'corrigible." I don't know what that 
 means but it sounds like something aw- 
 fully naughty. Once we went to a picnic 
 and the boys took the ice cream freezer 
 and hid it and then ate all the ice cream 
 and put salt in the lemonade. I just 
 'spose boys is like the plagues of Egypt 
 in our Sunday School lesson. We've got 
 to have 'em, to make us re'lize the world 
 is a place where we have to conquer evil. 
 Our Sunday School teacher said that — not 
 about boys but about plagues ; but I guess 
 she was thinking of boys too. They are 
 always marking our desks with chalk and 
 making our auto horn "honk." Papa gets 
 furious and jumps up from the dinner 
 table, but it seems boys are awful swift 
 runners 'cause he never can catch them. 
 Papa says boys ought to be nailed up into 
 
 86 
 
What Mary Thinks of Boys 
 
 barrels until they're twenty, but they seem 
 to be around loose. Howard Earle next 
 door to us had a circus and they had a 
 goat for a horse, but the goat backed up 
 against the fence, and wouldn't go around 
 the ring like they wanted him to. They 
 charged one cent and five pins to get into 
 the circus, and some of us girls went, too, 
 tho' we were sort of 'fraid. Well, the goat 
 finally let loose and butted Howard all 
 over the circus, and he yelled and cried. 
 When I got in my own yard where I felt 
 safe, I hollered "Cry-Baby" and laughed 
 'cause Howard has teased me an awful lot. 
 The boys had the clothes line of the folks 
 in the top flat and they were playin' rope 
 steers with their collie dog for a cow; but 
 the janitor came out and said — "I'll tache 
 ye to be ropin' steers in the yard, ye imps 
 of Satan." And that broke up the circus. 
 After all, maybe boys are some use 
 'cause Howard Earle came up to our sum- 
 mer home one year with his mother. I 
 heard Mamma say to Papa she dreaded 
 to have him come, and Papa said — "Count 
 me out, I'll stay in town if you 'tain that 
 bandit and his mother." But it seems 
 Mamma had to ask Mrs. Earle 'cause she 
 had 'vited us to her home in the country 
 
 87 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 one year. Howard didn't do much 'cept 
 scare the neighbor's hens off their nests 
 and break their wind-mill, and lose the 
 oars from our boat, and let the cows in 
 the corn of the farmer down the road. 
 But when Mamma was just about crazy 
 then one day Howard did something good 
 and she forgave him everything, even tho' 
 she had to pay the neighbors a lot of 
 money just 'cause he visited us. You see 
 one day I went bathing in the lake and so 
 did Howard, and I couldn't swim, and I 
 got out where I couldn't touch my feet. 
 There was a hole that somehow had been 
 washed away, and Howard swam out and 
 saved me. Mamma hugged and kissed 
 him. He didn't like that much, but he 
 stood it 'cause she gave him some candy 
 and some money and called him a ^'little 
 hero," so I guess boys may be of some 
 use after all. 
 
 88 
 
FROM THE STREET CAR CON- 
 DUCTOR'S POINT OF VIEW 
 
 ^ B- ^ 
 
 Characters: 
 The Conductor, who sizes up the crowd. 
 Jerry, the Policeman, his friend who 
 
 gets free transportation. 
 The Passengers, just a mob of fares. 
 Scene — A city street car at any hour. 
 
 The Conductor, with a fortunate fund 
 of good humor J relieves his mind. 
 
 Step lively! All aboard! Hurry along! 
 We can't wait all day! Fares! Shure this 
 is a pay-as-ye-enter. Did ye think I was 
 sthandin' here as an ornymint? Here, here, 
 that transfer was good last wake but not 
 today. What's that? The conductor on 
 the other cair jist gave it to ye? Well, 
 he'll have to be shot for slapin' on duty. 
 He must be that old Rip Van Winkle 
 they talks about. Thim ancient transfers 
 won't work on this line. No, don't argue. 
 Other folks is behint ye. This transfer 
 is not from a cross town line, anyway. 
 Give me your money or I'll put ye off the 
 cair. Shure that come out of your pocket 
 as hard as a tooth from your jaw — ^that 
 
 89 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 money. Any time today, leddy. Stip 
 aside, plaze, let the other folks pay while 
 ye're lookin' over the contints of your bag. 
 What air ye sayin', Ma'am? Ye tould me 
 to let ye oif at Beecher Strate, well that 
 ain't a sthop. No we couldn't sthop there. 
 We ain't runnin' no accommodation 
 trains. Ye should think not? Well, no 
 use gettin' huffy. We works under 
 ortdhers. This ain't no private cair. 
 Ye'U have to walk back a couple of blocks. 
 Now don't take it out on me. Jaw the 
 company. All right, report me! Now 
 ye've gone by the nixt stop while ye were 
 fussin'. Oh, thim wimmin! It's good me 
 nerves is tough. Step inside. Plinty of 
 room in front. What's that? It's all 
 taken up at prisent? Don't be frish, young 
 feller. Ye cain't sthand outside here. 
 What air ye sayin', leddy? Why don't 
 I call the strates? Shure I do, ef ye'd 
 listen. I'll git a megaphone. This is just 
 a strate cair, not a rubber neck bus. 
 
 Hello, Jerry ! Shure it must be great to 
 be a polaceman and ride free. I wisht I 
 had yere job. I'd arrist all the boobs what 
 rides in cairs. Look at that old rube and 
 his wife. I s'pose it's his wife. Nobuddy 
 ilse would have her. The're laffin' at that 
 
 90 
 
The Street Car Conductor 
 
 old dame all dolled up like a young gurl 
 and she's makin' fun of thim to her 
 friends because they are from the coun- 
 try. Gorry! It's looky we cain't see 
 oursilves the way other folks sees us. 
 Some of us would die of lafRn' some times. 
 That auld bum in the corner is aslape. 
 I'll bet he won't wake up at his sthrate. 
 Yis, leddy. That kid is full fare. What? 
 He ain't over six. Six, what? Six feet? 
 He's about twilve years auld. Fare! 
 Fare! I can't wait all day. Shure go on 
 report me. It's the sthjde. Ivery one 
 does that. Why are we sthoppin' ? There's 
 a parade, Mum. It's rainin' ? Shure I see 
 that wid me own eyes. Why do they 
 parade in the rain? Ye'd bitter ask the 
 Committee on Arrangements. They 
 didn't make me the Chairman today. 
 What do ye say, leddy? Ye want to go 
 where ye're goin'. God knows, I do too. 
 Ye can't in the rain? Well, git a taxi. 
 Ye can't afford it? Now for Hivin's 
 sakes, in that case I don't see nothin' to 
 do but wait thin. What say, Sir? Parade? 
 Shure! Well, you ain't in a hurry? That's 
 good, for we may be waitin' some time. 
 What time is it? Tin o'clock? No, it's 
 twelve. Jerry, that old rube was only two 
 
 91 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 hours out of the way. He thought it was 
 tin o'clock. No wonder he want in no 
 hurry. Ye want to know how long it'll 
 be, Mum? I can't tell, Mum. That's de- 
 pindin' on the length of the parade. Ye 
 think ye'U git out. All right, I won't 
 sthop ye. That old dame must have had 
 a date by the hurry of 'er and the way 
 she was dolled up, Jerry. Shure it must 
 have been wid a blind mon considerin' the 
 face of 'er. All aboard! We're goin' 
 soon. Look how mad the auld dame looks 
 when we got stharted just as she got off. 
 Wait, leddy. Wait. You wid a baby. 
 I'll hilp ye git on the cair. Too hard gittin' 
 on wid a basket and a baby. That's all 
 right. That's all right. I've got four 
 kids of me own. 
 
 What's that ye're sayin'. Miss? Ye 
 forgot to ask for a transfer when ye paid 
 your fare? That's the rules. Well, I'll 
 give it ye this time but don't ye be for- 
 gittin'. She ain't a bad looker, is she, 
 Jerry? Well, be gorry, there has to be 
 some compensation for all the mutts that 
 passes in and out of me cair. How would 
 ye like me job, Jerry? Shure it's a gay 
 life, I don't think. Ding! Ding! 
 
 92 
 
THE EATER ^ 
 
 B- ^ B" 
 
 Next door to our house there is a boy 
 Who eats a drefFul lot. 
 It seems he never gets enough 
 Of food both cold and hot. 
 
 On Thanksgiving he stuffs and stuffs 
 With turkey and mince pie; 
 On Christmas too — then he gets sick- 
 And with pain he has to cry. 
 
 I said, ''Why do you stuff and stuff, 
 That always makes you ill?'\ 
 " 'Cause — A famine might come on 
 And I'm gonna get my fill.'' 
 
 He said, ''There was a famine once 
 I heard our teacher say; 
 So I'm just filling up myself 
 Before it comes this way." 
 
 93 
 
THE PEACH BLOSSOM PRIN- 
 CESS 
 
 B- ^ B- 
 
 Characters : 
 
 MiTSU^ called the Peach Blossom Prin- 
 cess. 
 
 Seiza^ her lover. 
 
 The American Girl Tourist^ who dotes 
 
 upon romance. 
 Scene — In Japan at ''The Tea House of 
 
 Happy Hours'' 
 
 O MiTSU^ tells her love story. 
 
 My name, Honorable Lady? It is O 
 Mitsu. That means "light," but Seiza 
 call me his Peach Blossom Princess. 
 Welcome, welcome, beautiful young lady 
 to stay at tea house while rest of your 
 exalt party go for Jinrikisha ride! You 
 weary and you like see me dance again? 
 
 1 am place on high — by your honorable 
 consideration — as high as is the top of our 
 worship mountain, Fuji Yama. I am 
 flatter — but the young man of estimable 
 face — do you weary of him also? He bow 
 at your feet with love. You wish him go 
 away for a time? I not understand the 
 ways of your people from across sea. 
 
 95 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 I, O Mitsu, weep for him, my Seiza — 
 you come from Unita State, lady fair 
 as the lily flower? You know my Seiza of 
 the place San Fran? Ah, how you say 
 that? San-Fran-cees-co, so! You know 
 him not? He the honorable young man 
 of O Mitsu's heart. He go to college 
 to school in Unita State — to school of 
 great mind. His august guardian Oki, of 
 the Thread Shop, like not geisha girl like 
 me. He say, we not marry; Seiza say yes. 
 And so we marry when honorable dear one 
 return for his O Mitsu, his Peach Blos- 
 som Princess, as he call me. He will 
 come for O Mitsu and we return and 
 keep shop in San Fran — shop of silk, of 
 pottery, of embroidery and gold fishes — 
 lilies too and many much more thing. I 
 say you like Lily flower. But no, you like 
 Chrysanthemum, grand — big — honorable 
 young lady. I call you O Kiku San — 
 that mean Chrysanthemum. You tall and 
 glowing like gorgeous flower. I sorry 
 you not here at Fete of Chrysanthemum. 
 It now cherry blossom time. Lovely? 
 Yes, but all happy but poor O Mitsu. I 
 so sad, yet I must dance and smile. Geisha 
 girl cannot weep. I wait and wait. I call 
 across the rice fields, "Come, my beloved 
 
 96 
 
The Peach Blossom Princess 
 
 Seiza, for your little Peach Blossom Prin- 
 cess." But only the little frogs answer 
 and Seiza comes not. The light has gone 
 from O Mitsu. I whisper to you my se- 
 cret, oh Lady of the Chrysanthemum. It 
 seem long time since we wandered beneath 
 the moon beams, me and my beloved. We 
 drift far through the lotus blooms in tiny 
 boat. Seiza say he adore O Mitsu. If 
 I want moon — he will reach for it with 
 long pole of bamboo, so I have my wish. 
 We wander where the sandalwood trees 
 breathe spicy odor. Seiza twine almond 
 bloom sometime in hair of his Peach 
 Blossom Princess. He say, "O Mitsu 
 have smile like a flower — like a lotus blos- 
 som courting favor. He say his Peach 
 Blossom Princess is beautiful to the tips 
 of her fairy finger-nails. When we part 
 he sing this love song: 
 "Oh flower hear me well, if thou hast a 
 
 soul — 
 When anyone sorrows as I am sorrowing 
 Why dost thou bloom?" 
 And he twined flowers in my hair. But 
 Seiza returns not and days are sad. When 
 temple bells are ringing, O Mitsu weep 
 and pray for safe return of her Seiza. 
 Shall I whisper secret to Honorable Miss 
 
 97 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 Chrysanthemum of Unita State? Here 
 is my sea shell. We pick it up on beach 
 and Seiza whisper into it: 
 
 "Seiza adores his Peach Blossom Prin- 
 cess. He will come again to claim his 
 own O Mitsu. Wait, beloved, wait! Seiza 
 will come back across the seas, blown by 
 the silver sails of love." 
 
 Listen! This is my secret. The secret 
 of my sea shell. Seiza's soul is there. Do 
 you hear him murmur, august, beautiful 
 lady? Now know you why I am sad. The 
 willows by the brook weep with O Mitsu, 
 yet the breeze whispers through the lemon 
 grove to O Mitsu of the Tea House of 
 Happy Hours that Seiza will come again. 
 Yet I falter, I lose hope, though I dance 
 and smile and sing. No ! I will hope my 
 honorable beloved will come for me. My 
 heart sings it ; the sea shell whispers it. 
 
 Behold! Oh exalted young lady from 
 across the sea, look below and in valley! 
 Who comes up steep mountain side to the 
 Tea House of Happy Hours? It is, it is 
 he! My Seiza! He has come back to me 
 — to fulfill glad message of the shell ! 
 
 Oh, my beloved, your Peach Blossom 
 Princess is waiting. Welcome home, oh 
 blessed one, welcome home! 
 
 98 
 
ONE MINUTE TO EAT 
 
 ^ B- ^ 
 Characters : 
 Sadie the Waitress^ full of good hu- 
 mored banter. 
 Bill, Her Sweetheart, with a grouch. 
 Lunch Counter Habitue^ who gobble 
 
 and get. 
 Scene — A quick-lunch room. 
 
 Sadie^ chins and serves. 
 
 Ham and — sunny side up! Coffee? 
 Want it black? Why didntchu say so? I 
 ain't no mind reader. We always puts 
 cream in unless you specify. What do I 
 mean, cream? There ain't no such animal? 
 Well, then, Mr. Funny, milk or chalk, if 
 you like it better. That all? Pie? Sure, 
 all kinds. Minsapricotpeachappleprune. 
 Don't want prune? You lived in a board- 
 in' house once? Well, prunes is riz, ain't 
 cheap no more — they're gettin' quite styl- 
 ish. Here's your check. Don't forget to 
 come again. Oh, quit kiddin' me ! I know 
 I'm a regular movie actress, but I ain't 
 got time to listen. What'U you have, mis- 
 ter? Soup? One bowl! That all? Dough- 
 nuts? Don't like them doughnuts — they're 
 
 99 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 too small? Well, they put holes in them. 
 I'll tell them to save the dough from the 
 middle for you next time. Say, for the 
 love of Mike, Yon Yonson, what did you 
 stoop down then for? To pick up some- 
 thing? Well, you like to got something. 
 You like to got some hot stuff down your 
 neck, me carryin' this soup. You are one 
 boob! 
 
 Liver and — on two! Stack of wheats! 
 Oh, yes, I've got you fellers sized up. I 
 know what you want as soon as I sees you. 
 You're the one minute stop-watch boys 
 all right. Rice pudding! Now you're all 
 fixed up. Yes, this is my busy day. No 
 chance to loaf on the job here. Hello, 
 Bill Hardy! YouVe got the usual grouch. 
 Now don't come chewin' the rag now 
 about my dancin' with other fellers last 
 night; if you don't want no eats get out, 
 and I'll see you after hours. You'll take 
 ham hocks and cabbage? Don't put vine- 
 gar on the cabbage. Bill, you are sour 
 enough already. Here comes his nobs the 
 joker, regular little Charlie Chaplin, al- 
 ways says the same thing. I have to make 
 believe to laugh because he's a friend of 
 the boss. He sure gives me a pain for the 
 funny stuff he tries to pull. But the boss 
 
 100 
 
One Minute to Eat 
 
 says he has the mazuma all right. Hello, 
 sure I'm your sister. Thought you'd 
 drop into the Blackstone for After-noon 
 Tea? Come on in, the water's fine. What's 
 that? The orchestry's too loud. I'll speak 
 to the Umpah and have him put on the 
 soft peddle. Hey in there, stop clatter- 
 ing dishes. It annoys Mr. Rockybilt 
 here. What would you like, lady? Two 
 cheese sandwidges to take out with you? 
 Two cheese on white to go! Say, Bill, that 
 dame is too proud to eat in here, she al- 
 ways takes her stuff outside. Hello, hap- 
 py days, Kittie! Ain't saw you for a 
 month of Sundays. Where've you been 
 hidin'? Oh, just buzzin' around? Well, 
 you ain't buzzed in here. Got a raise, 
 some class to you! I suppose you will take 
 strawberry shortcake on that. Look, 
 Kittie, here comes that old dame. She 
 always orders rolls and coffee. I don't 
 believe from the looks of her she ever saw 
 a square meal. Wisht I knew how to give 
 her one. Tell you what — you go set at 
 her table and get to talking to her and I'll 
 serve you a double order and pay my 
 share to you. See? Then you ask her to 
 have some of yours and help you out, as 
 you can't eat it all. Will you? You're the 
 
 101 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 goods, kid, all right! Go on over! Lamh 
 stew, hot rolls, mince pie! I'll bring the 
 order. Kit, and you do the rest, not for- 
 gettin' the old dame. Give her plenty. 
 Well, look who's here! Hank and Ethel! 
 Married? For Pete's sake! Spliced! Bill, 
 did you hear the weddin' march? Bill's 
 got his usual grouch after a dance. See 
 the glassy stare he gives me! I suppose 
 you folks want a regular wedding supper. 
 Oh, had your eats at the La Salle or the 
 Congress or some of the classy joints, eh? 
 Say, there's Tillie Adams hangin' around 
 outside. Call her in. Bill. She's goin' 
 to touch me, but you see she is outer luck. 
 What do you say, Bill? You don't want 
 me to associate with her? Too bad about 
 you! Since when did you have to pick 
 my friends. That skate left her high and 
 dry, and I'm goin' to stand by her, see? 
 Now I've got her eye. Hello, Tillie, come 
 in. Wait till I wait on some folks at the 
 table over there. Now, Tillie, you want 
 something to eat. Oh, yes, you do. I'll 
 treat. Oh, Bill says he'll do that. Don't 
 look very cheerful, does he? But as long 
 as he shows the coin, we should worry. 
 Here's a dollar. Slip it in your jeans. I 
 have to wait on customers. I'll put in 
 
 102 
 
One Minute to Eat 
 
 your order, but that old bum over there is 
 gettin' impatient. Oh, you married folks 
 decided to eat again, did you? Regular 
 little turtle doves! Some order you're 
 givin'. Hold on, you're too fast for me! 
 Well, I'm sure glad to see you. When 
 Bill's temper is sweeter (which it don't 
 look like it would be in a thousand years) 
 we may follow suit. Wait until I take that 
 guy's order over there. Oh, goodbye, Til- 
 lie. Come in again. So long! Good luck! 
 Xow I can talk a minute to you love birds 
 again. Where did you get that Georgette 
 Crepe dress, Ethel? You're some doll! 
 Look at the old dame over there with Kit. 
 She sure was hungry. I'm glad I thought 
 of that. I'll bet it is her first square 
 meal for some moons. Bullieve muh — she 
 needed that feed. JNIy fresh friend is 
 calling me. He's through talking with 
 the boss. Say, that fellow makes me 
 weary! What did you say. Bill? You've 
 got a good job now, and you wdsht I'd quit 
 mine and get married? Not till you col- 
 lect a little sugar in your system. You're 
 a good kid. Bill, but you sure are green- 
 eyed with jealousy. Maybe if you'll smile 
 I'll think it over. Anyway, they say the 
 
 103 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 first hundred years is the hardest. So long, 
 Bill, I'll see you tonight, and try to shake 
 the grouch before we meet again. 
 
 104 
 
A CHOP SUEY LOVE TALE 
 
 B- ^ ^ 
 Ching-a-ling-a Che Foo was a China Man 
 And he loved a pretty maid called Wee, 
 A charming little saffron girl, with quite 
 
 tiny feet, 
 And slanting eyes as black as black could 
 
 be. 2 
 
 Wee rode in a sedan chair, a gorgeous 
 
 chair of red. 
 Carried by some coolies strong and tall. 
 She often came to Chee Foo's shop to buy 
 
 — bright silken robes. 
 But that was not the reason — not at all. 
 
 3 
 
 For Chee Foo whispered words of love 
 
 into Wee's small ear, 
 Words that won her little China heart, 
 Until her wicked father, a Mandarin of 
 
 note. 
 Said that Wee and Ching-a-ling must 
 
 part. ^ 
 
 Ching was bastinadoed, whipped with 
 
 bamboo rods 
 And made to Chop Sticks in the Public 
 
 Square, 
 
 105 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 While the weeping maiden was fastened 
 
 in a tower, 
 With not a soul her solitude to share. 
 
 5 
 
 Gay love laughs at locksmiths, more than 
 
 ever now, 
 In this very scientific day. 
 Ching escaped within an airship — flew up 
 
 to the tower. 
 Sailing with his loved one far away. 
 
 6 
 
 Now Ching-a-ling-a Chee Foo and his 
 
 loving wife. 
 In America are running a Cafe, 
 In this land of freedom they are happy as 
 
 can be 
 Chopping Chop Suey all the day. 
 
 7 
 ''Ki yi, kee yee, koo, koo, wah wah, wikki 
 
 woo, 
 Okka, oka, oily oly, oo-ey,'' 
 Ching says to his dainty wife, translated 
 
 it must mean, 
 "How wonderful is love, dear, and Chop 
 
 Suey." 
 
 106 
 
CONVERTING JOHN THE 
 "BLAPTIST" 
 
 B- B- B" 
 
 Characters: 
 Mrs. Reformer^ a hit weary of the job. 
 Her Friend^ a listening caller. 
 The Chinaboy Convert, John the 
 
 ''Blaptist:' 
 Scene — A home. 
 
 Mrs. Reformer^ tells her troubles. 
 
 My dear, I am all worn out with this re- 
 form work. Really, I suppose it's a good 
 thing to try to convert the heathen, but 
 one never seems to get anywhere. Why 
 do we call them heathen? I think they are 
 too wise or else so stupid they seem wise, 
 which amounts to almost the same thing, 
 doesn't it? You know I used to teach at 
 the Chinese Sunday School and I taught 
 a Chinaman named John. Are all China- 
 men named John? That's queer, isn't it? 
 I never heard of one that wasn't called 
 John or maybe Charley. Well, anyhow, 
 wait until I ring for tea. Tea — Huldah. 
 Oh, it's such a relief to see that girl in- 
 stead of John! But I am getting ahead 
 of my story. John was the most docile 
 
 107 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 thing and as solemn as an image of 
 Buddha. When I told him all about the 
 Bible, he'd nod his head and say, "Velly 
 good," most patronizingly. You'd think 
 he knew all about it before, but I honestly 
 believe, my dear, he had not one iota of 
 an idea about the religious side of it. Just 
 between us, I'll tell you that I think he 
 only wanted to learn English. 
 
 Here's our tea. One lump? Two? 
 Lemon? Take one of these little cakes, 
 dear. That will do, Huldah. 
 
 Well, to go on with my story, Rob used 
 to joke, or, as he says, kid me about my 
 convert, and I always stoutly maintained 
 John understood, but I know better now. 
 I told him all about Jonah and the Whale, 
 and Noah and the flood, and Moses and 
 the bulrushes, and when I tried to review 
 what I had taught him, and asked him to 
 tell me my story, what do you think he 
 always said? 
 
 "Mosee fell out big boat Arkee into 
 Pacif ee Ocean and big flish eatee him up." 
 Nothing would change his story. Wasn't 
 that the limit? 
 
 I told him of John the Baptist and he 
 seemed, as Rob says (that isn't my slang) , 
 to fall for the name right away. After 
 
 108 
 
CoxvERTixG John the "Blaptist" 
 
 that he always called himself "John the 
 Blaptist." It sounded very sacrilegious 
 but nothing would change him, and when 
 I tried to explain he grew dense, as he in- 
 variably did when he did not want to com- 
 prehend. "Chinaboy no spik Inglis," was 
 his safeguard. 
 
 Have some tea, dear? And a cake — yes, 
 they are delicious. Huldah makes them. 
 The recipe? Surely; but mind you, Hul- 
 dah has a knack that is hard to beat, so do 
 not be disappointed if they are not just 
 like hers. 
 
 Oh, yes, I mustn't forget to finish about 
 John. He nearly finished me. You know 
 the verse about the publicans and sinners. 
 I was teaching him that lesson one election 
 time and he looked up and pointed to a 
 sign, with the suspicion of a ray of intel- 
 ligence on his face and nodded, ''Repub- 
 licans and sinners," and you could never 
 get him to change it, not but what the 
 names go together sometimes, but I sup- 
 pose there are Democrats and sinners too 
 as well. John came to Sunday School 
 with a black eye one Sunday. I was 
 amazed as he was such a peaceable crea- 
 ture, and asked him how in the world it 
 happened. He told me stolidly that a nice 
 
 109 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 Chlistian gentleman hit him with a stick. 
 A nice Chhstian gentleman! Imagine! I 
 always wondered if John really meant 
 way down in his queer oriental mind to be 
 sarcastic. Finally I took John home as a 
 cook. This must have been in a moment 
 of temporary insanity on my part or else 
 he hypnotized me. He walked so softly 
 that I never knew he was anywhere until 
 I looked up and saw him. It was posi- 
 tively spookish. Rob used to call him the 
 avenging conscience and the still small 
 voice, right to his face, thinking he did not 
 understand. I believe now he did and 
 got even in his own way. I will tell you 
 about it later. 
 
 One day when I had company someone 
 spilled some cream on the floor and I called 
 John to come and wipe it up. Would you 
 believe, dearie, after that, whenever I had 
 company, that stupid Chinaman always 
 came in with a pail of water to wipe up 
 the floor. I was almost distracted. We 
 finally had to let him go. 
 
 Rob always insisted I dismissed John 
 because he commented on my appearance. 
 Rob loves a joke on me. I was all dolled 
 up — there's Rob's slang again — dressed 
 up, I mean, to go to an at home one af ter- 
 
 110 
 
Converting John the "Blaptist" 
 
 noon, in a new gown and was feeling par- 
 ticularly fine, when John stopped me at 
 the door. "What matter wit you?" he 
 asked. I looked surprised and he contin- 
 ued, "When you dless go out, you look 
 like young girl slixteen — when work round 
 house you look like old woman slixty." 
 What do you think of such impertinence? 
 He never batted an eye and Rob fairly 
 howled. I could not see the joke my- 
 self. However, I got even with Rob, and 
 I think John did too, in this wise: 
 
 When babj^ had the whooping cough, 
 we burned that dreadfully smelly stuff in 
 his room and I explained to John that it 
 was to kill germs. 
 
 Rob kept missing his two for a half ci- 
 gars that he kept for company and choice 
 occasions, and one day he ran plump into 
 John the Blaptist smoking one compla- 
 cently in the basement. Rob flew into a 
 rage, when John calmly told him "He 
 smoke — ^killee germee whloopee cough.'' 
 The humor of the situation struck me, but 
 not Rob. It makes a difference who is 
 the butt of the joke, doesn't it, and he 
 fired John then and there. John did not 
 worry, nothing seemed to worry him — that 
 was his life philosophy. When he made a 
 
 111 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 mistake and you told him of his error, he 
 always calmly laid the blame at your own 
 door. "You forglet," "Allee samee me 
 good fella — you forglet/' and that ended 
 the matter. So ended my efforts to con- 
 vert John the Blaptist. 
 Do have some tea, dearie. 
 
 112 
 
TO HIM THAT OVERCOMETH 
 
 B- "5- B' 
 
 Characters: 
 The Evil One^ who speaks. 
 The Holy One^ who appears. 
 Scene — The world. 
 The Eyil One, boasts of his conquests. 
 
 I have a rendezvous with a pretty maid, 
 tender and star-eyed. She wants to see 
 life in the great city, to peer into forbid- 
 den places ; so she will meet me. She will 
 not know me, but I shall be there. She 
 will see only the dashing man about town, 
 who praises her beauty, her charm, and 
 hovers about her with courteous solici- 
 tude. He is the instrument through 
 whom I shall begin her downfall. She 
 will drink and laugh and dance, and pity 
 the straight-laced girl of the country 
 town. Down, down the scale she will go 
 until, a blear-eyed, haggard, hideous hag, 
 she will look into my face and know me — 
 cursing. Then shall I laugh, laugh loud 
 and long, at the finished product of my 
 endeavor. 
 
 I have a rendezvous with a man. He 
 has been losing money, gambling, carous- 
 
 113 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 ing and ''hitting the high places." He will 
 waver in despair and I shall whisper to 
 him how easy it will be to take a little of 
 his employer's money, a little here and a 
 little there, and he will yield. Yielding, 
 he will yield again until discovery comes, 
 when he will face the judge, the prison 
 cell. Then will he see me face to face, 
 and I shall laugh, a laugh that will be 
 echoed throughout all the halls of sin. 
 
 I have a rendezvous with a sharp- 
 tongued slattern, whose venomous tongue 
 rolls with slander and vituperation. She 
 is my good ally, the gossip, who mouths 
 unsavory morsels to the undoing of her 
 fellow creatures. I am always at her side, 
 whispering suspicion and contumely and 
 I shall own her soul, which is scarcely wor- 
 thy of my effort, she is so easily my prey. 
 
 I have a rendezvous with a man of 
 wealth, who is hoarding great bags of yel- 
 low gold out of the suffering of his fel- 
 low men. When he comes to the parting 
 of life's ways he will see me, and the great 
 bags of gold will bear him down to the 
 lowest pit of my domain. 
 
 I have a rendezvous with a lady^ — so 
 she styles herself— a lady who lies all 
 morning in a negligee, eating candy, read- 
 
 114 
 
To Him That Oyercometh 
 
 ing novels and kissing a dog. Bah! Some 
 things sicken me, even if I am the devil. 
 She has no children. She rides about in 
 her limousine, drinks, plays cards all af- 
 ternoon and dances half the night, while 
 little children of the slimis — children from 
 whom she shrinks in disgust — grow up 
 daily into criminals of her making, hers 
 and mine. I have a rendezvous with this 
 lady, but I do not think I shall keep it. 
 What's the use, so surely is she mine? 
 
 I have a rendezvous with a man who 
 believes I am a myth. He says there is 
 no God, no heaven, no hell, no devil to be 
 feared. Like the stupid ostrich, he thrusts 
 his head into the sand. He says there is 
 no danger because he can see none. With 
 all the great forces about him, the won- 
 ders and mysteries as yet unsolved, he is 
 blind. The sin of indifference will bring 
 him to my place of rendezvous and I shall 
 seize my own. 
 
 I have a rendezvous with all the weak 
 and faltering ones. But stay — who bars 
 my path? What great light bhnds mine 
 eyes? What wondrous voice like music 
 falls upon mine ears? 
 
 ^'Though their sins be as scarlet!'' 
 "To him that overcometh!" 
 
 115 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 My power is weakened; my steps falter; 
 there is a greater Force than the force of 
 evil. Sin must fall before the Holy One. 
 He forever holds the cross on high that 
 the eyes of all the world may see. 
 
 116 
 
WHEN WE WENT IN 
 
 B- ^ B- 
 You see 'twas the day we wuz goin' in, 
 For our first real taste of fight. 
 Reveille blew and 'twas rainin' hard 
 And 'twas still as black as night. 
 
 The boys came tumblin' down from the 
 
 loft 
 Grumblin' to beat the band. 
 Though some was crackin' a joke or two, 
 An' all had plenty o' sand. 
 
 Bonfires lighted the village streets 
 As we burned our old bed straw; 
 Men wuz hurryin' everywhere, 
 Wadin' 'round in the early thaw. 
 
 Wagons, motors, mule teams with heavy 
 
 loads. 
 Line after line of marchin' men. 
 With rifles, trench helmets, full packs and 
 
 gas masks. 
 We knew 'twas the real thing then. 
 
 On and on we marched mile after mile, 
 God ! them packs weighed half a ton ; 
 And my feet was burnin' like two red 
 
 coals 
 With the march not nearly done. 
 
 117 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 Some one started a song an' we sung for 
 
 awhile, 
 But the rain made us feel pretty glum, 
 So we just hiked along kinda cussin' inside 
 The weather was sure on the bum. 
 
 Rest a bit every hour, then hike on again ! 
 And poor little sawed-off Bill, 
 His feet wuz achin' to beat the band 
 But not a complaint did he spill. 
 
 His ankle was wrenched and he wuz short 
 
 to the ground. 
 Though otherwise hearty and strong; 
 A jolly second lieutenant was kiddin' us 
 
 all. 
 Just to help matters along. 
 
 Sawed-ofF dropped back, but he stayed 
 
 with the game, 
 Suff erin' the tortures of Hell, 
 Till all at once he got wobbly and white 
 And down by the roadside he fell. 
 
 That Second Lieutenant, a tall husky 
 
 chap. 
 Helped him up and shouldered his pack; 
 Bill, he pertested but got up and marched 
 Easier with a free back. 
 
 118 
 
When We Went In 
 
 On and on, on and on, sullen, silent and 
 
 worn. 
 Miles and miles an' skeree one word wuz 
 
 said, 
 A man could go mad with the solemn 
 
 tramp, tramp. 
 Of the boots of the man just ahead. 
 
 So we got in at last and then come the 
 
 time 
 When we went over the top with the rest. 
 Into Hell Fire — well I didn't get killed. 
 But I come from the fray kinda messed. 
 
 The Second Lieutenant, the tall husky 
 
 guy— 
 Him that carried poor Sawed-off Bill's 
 
 pack! 
 Dead out there in No Man's Land with 
 
 hundreds more. 
 With never a chance to come back. 
 
 Say ! I ain't no religionist, though I think 
 
 they's a God, 
 And I onc't heard a good Bible verse 
 'Bout bearin' the burdens of somebody 
 
 else. 
 An' it 'ud kinda lift off life's curse. 
 
 119 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 So maybe the Lord, if they is such a One, 
 Just opened up Heaven's gate wide. 
 And said to the Lieut, who wuz such a 
 
 good pal. 
 Come on, boy, you're welcome inside. 
 
 Note. — The poem is founded on a true 
 incident of the World War, as related by a 
 correspondent. 
 
 120 
 
WHO SAYS WOMAN'S PLACE IS 
 AT HOME? 
 
 ^ ^ B- 
 
 Characters : 
 Mrs. Hasbeen Richly^ seeking business 
 
 advice. 
 Mr. Bizziman^ an old friend of her late 
 
 husband. 
 Scene — Mr. Bizziman's office. 
 
 Mrs, Hasbeen Richly^ proceeds to do 
 the talking. 
 Good morning, Mr. Bizziman, I'm 
 afraid I'm a wee bit late. Oh, only half 
 an hour late? I'm so glad. I was afraid 
 it was more than that. I'm not used to 
 getting up so early. An eight o'clock 
 breakfast! Such an unearthly hour! I 
 never take anything but coiFee and rolls 
 for breakfast, generally — but this morn- 
 ing on account of getting up so early and 
 beginning my business career, I ate a ce- 
 real and some eggs — eggs are so high now 
 too — isn't it dreadful the high cost of liv- 
 ing? And then the cars took so long with 
 all the stops, and they were so smelly! 
 But I thought I might as well get used to 
 it — and not take a taxi. It is so dear of 
 
 121 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 you to try to help me out and teach me 
 business. You and poor Stewart were 
 such close friends. Stewart I call him 
 now. I used to say Stew, and really it 
 fitted him because I will admit he used 
 to imbibe a little once in a while. But 
 now that the poor dear boy's gone, it 
 sounds better to say Stewart. You know 
 I always thought you and Stewart re- 
 sembled each other — I mean in your looks, 
 not in your ways, for Stewart wasn't a 
 very good business man to leave me such 
 a small income. Goodness knows he ought 
 to have had more money because he was 
 forever kicking about my bills, and good 
 gracious, the poor thing worked hard 
 enough. He was never home more than 
 one night a week, slaving at that old office 
 until all hours, he said. I expect that's 
 one thing that carried him off. What's 
 that, you are sorry, but let's get to busi- 
 ness? My! How important that sounds! 
 Poor old Stew— {weeps) Stew-art« It's 
 hard to be alone in the world. I suppose 
 it will help me to forget. Think of my 
 going into business selling stocks — What? 
 I have so many friends I ought to make 
 good if I follow your instructions? Yes, 
 I think so, too. Oh, I've been repeating 
 
 122 
 
Who Says Woman's Place Is at Home? 
 
 over and over all the things you told me. 
 I called up Mrs. Readycash and told her 
 I'd call on her at 2 :00 this afternoon. You 
 know she's an old friend of ours. I was 
 awfully foxy about it. Didn't tell her 
 why. She broke an engagement to see 
 me. Wasn't it splendid of her? She has 
 oodles and oodles of money, and I know 
 she'll buy stocks or something just be- 
 cause I ask her. You don't know how 
 frightened I am when I think of talking 
 to any one. What? You wouldn't think 
 so? Oh! I mean talking business. It's hard 
 to be left alone in the world! (Weeps.) 
 No, I won't cry much. And if I didn't 
 need so much money, I could live on the 
 income poor dear Stew — I mean Stewart 
 — left; but with shoes costing $12 a pair 
 and everything, why I simply have to go 
 into business and earn some money, and 
 it was perfectly darling in you to teach 
 me. Let's see; if I sell $15 worth I get 
 one hundred dollars. Isn't that wonder- 
 ful? Xo wonder you people get rich. Oh, 
 isn't that it? It's the other way round? 
 Um — that's a littfe slow, I think. Now 
 let me see — I repeated everything over and 
 over that you told me, so I would remem- 
 ber and know just what you said for me 
 
 123 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 to say to people. I must say: "Now 
 these are the very latest styles in stocks, 
 I mean issues of stocks. They're liable 
 to be ever so much more a peck next week. 
 I mean a pound, or how is it? Stocks are 
 weighed or watered? Aren't they? Don't 
 they talk about watering stocks? I'll tell 
 them we used only filtered water. Oh, I 
 know how to talk — what did you say? 
 I thought you made an exclamation. 
 There's your 'phone bell. Certainly I'll 
 excuse you for a minute. Phones are 
 a nuisance, aren't they, even if they are 
 a convenience? That's a regular para- 
 phrase, isn't it? I mean a parachute — 
 no, a paradox, that's it. Oh, excuse me, 
 you can't hear over the 'phone when 
 I'm talking, can you? You'll go into the 
 inner office? All right. {After Mr. Bizzi- 
 MAN exits.) I guess I'll call someone up 
 to pass away the time and this is a free 
 'phone. Hello, Central — what — gas bag 
 in the next room? Central! Central! The 
 wires are crossed. {Calls.) Oh, Mr. Biz- 
 ziman, something is wrong with your 
 'phone ! Oh, I see the two phones are con- 
 nected ! Well, the gas man is trying to get 
 you. You have an appointment at eleven? 
 Well, I must go too. Do let me use your 
 
 124 
 
Who Says Woman's Place Is at Home? 
 
 'phone before I go. I try to take advan- 
 tage of every free 'phone. Thank you so 
 much. Hello — Bellevue 800 — Hello, is 
 this Dorothy? I am down town, dearie, 
 and I'm a business woman now, selling 
 yards of stocks. It's the most fascinating 
 thing. Makes one feel just like a man. 
 Women are in every field now, aren't 
 they? What? You've been trying to get 
 me all morning? Want me to go to lunch 
 and the theatre? Oh, I have a business 
 engagement at two. Want me to see the 
 Follies? Oh, my dear, I am dying to see 
 the Follies. I don't know what to say. 
 Mercy me! This business ties one up so. 
 Well, I don't know what to do. Do you 
 think, Mr. Bizziman, that a day or two 
 would make any difference with my cus- 
 tomers? What? Xo? Xor a month or 
 two either? Oh, thanks, it's so nice of you 
 to say that. I'll call Mrs. Readycash and 
 tell her I'll come some other day. Busi- 
 ness isn't so binding after all. Thank you 
 so much. That's such a relief to know 
 that. {Turns to ^ phone.) Yes, Dorothy, 
 I'll go and meet you early. It's the Spring 
 opening everywhere and they have the 
 loveliest new gowns. AYhat? Oh, I must 
 ring off. I'm in Mr. Bizziman's office and 
 
 125 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 he seems to be nervous. He went into the 
 next office and I can hear him walking 
 back and forth. Here he is at the door. 
 Goodbye, dearie. I'll meet you at 12 — 
 12:15? Well. Oh, 12:30? All right. 
 The northwest door of Field's by the per- 
 fumes. Yes— 12:30. Yes. The north- 
 west door — right by the perfumes. Yes. 
 All right. 12 :30. Goodbye. Oh ! Bring 
 me proofs of your new pictures. I want 
 to see them. 12:30. Yes. Be sure to be 
 prompt — because you know I'm a business 
 woman now — yes, dear, 12:30 — northwest 
 corner. Goodbye. I must go, Mr. Bizzi- 
 man — don't hurry? I'm sorry, but I really 
 must go. I'll run in every day or so and 
 let you know how I'm progressing, water- 
 ing the stock. That's a joke, isn't it? 
 About watering the stock? It sounds so 
 silly. Do explain it to me. You can't 
 now? Well, sometime, do. 
 
 It is darling in j^ou to help out the wife 
 of an old friend, Mr. Bizziman, just dar- 
 ling. Goodbye. {Closes door.) My, he's 
 a nervous man. I thought I heard him 
 swear. 
 
 126 
 
RED CHARLEY— O^^E CREDIT. 
 
 ^ ^ B- 
 
 Characters: 
 Red Charley^ the crook. 
 McGarigle, the officer. 
 Scene — Lincoln Park on a golden brown 
 
 October day. 
 
 Red Charley strolled about Lincoln 
 Park and saw it all, yet with unseeing 
 eyes. Long stretches of green grass, 
 trees faintly tinged with golden brown or 
 standing, shorn of many leaves, gaunt and 
 feathery against the sky, the rippling ar- 
 tificial lake, where ducks paddled aim- 
 lessly or gazed with wondering eye at 
 flocks of wilder things, flying in long lines 
 high above them, toward a far-off* south- 
 ern land ! The flowers had gone, their beds 
 like newly made graves, were covered with 
 black mold. Workmen raked the dead 
 leaves, piling them in heaps. An old 
 woman with a wintry, careworn face and 
 head tied in a woolen shawl sat on the stair- 
 way where bronze Lincoln stands, as 
 though she waited for the words of wisdom 
 he soon might cry again unto the world. 
 Boys came trooping for a practice game, 
 
 127 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 their school books thrown upon the ground. 
 Aline of blue the great lake stretched, tran- 
 quil beneath an Indian summer sun. A 
 blackened silhouette against the sky the 
 General sat his horse most gallantly in 
 these times of troublous peace. Nurses 
 wheeled their charges gossiping of life 
 above stairs, as they strolled about the 
 walks. There were no merry crowds of 
 children as in the torrid summer time, yet 
 the broad park bared her bosom calling 
 loudly in these brown October days. The 
 scattered few who answered to the call 
 were joyous. Three little girls had climbed 
 upon the statue of the bard of Avon. One 
 snuggled in his lap and the others clung 
 about his knees, as though defying all the 
 world to slander their beloved Shake- 
 speare with Baconian sneers. The pic- 
 ture was a charming one, that much Red 
 Charley seemed to sense although who the 
 gentleman had been in life he had not the 
 least idea. 
 
 ''Much pettin' deyll get outer dat old 
 iron Geezer," he said, lighting a cigarette 
 and sitting down upon a bench. 
 
 There was a bit of poetry in the soul 
 of Charles the red-haired, for he liked it 
 all without ever knowing why. The air 
 
 128 
 
Red-Charley — One Credit 
 
 was soft yet invigorating and "Red'' 
 lolled as one who had no cares. A gentle- 
 man of leisure he was in very truth. Work 
 and he were strangers, save the work that 
 followed in the wake of a jimmy and a 
 burglar's kit. His face adorned the rogues' 
 gallery and they had his finger-prints, for 
 he had grown up under the tutelage of the 
 slums and he had been an apt pupil. Just 
 now he was enjoying a vacation. He had 
 not been arrested for several months and 
 the park lured him this bright autumnal 
 day. 
 
 Automobiles went skimming by and 
 Red Charley wondered how many future 
 victims might be enjoying an outing all 
 unconscious of his proximity. 
 
 "Begorra, ef you ain't here under me 
 very nose, and I've been lookin' f er ye all 
 over town!" 
 
 And this was the end of a "perfect 
 day." 
 
 "Aw, what's eatin' ye, McGarigle. I 
 ain't done nuttin'." 
 
 "Come along wit me and don't get fresh 
 or I'll hand ye a crack wit me billy. Come 
 along quiet." 
 
 Then Red Charley and the policeman 
 
 129 
 
Jolly Monologues 
 
 waited at the corner for the patrol, with 
 the usual gallery of gaping onlookers. 
 
 The next morning he stood before the 
 Judge and then he remembered. A blus- 
 tering individual accused him of drawing 
 a gun upon him. Red Charley had quite 
 forgotten the circumstances. 
 
 ''Yer honor," he said, "it was like dis" 
 {when he had a chance to speak) "de dame 
 wot lives in de basement where I was 
 hangin' out den, her kid got scalted wit 
 hot starch an' he wuz yowlin' like a stack 
 of cats wit de pain, see? An' his mudder 
 runs after dis guy wot calls hissef a doc- 
 tor an' he wouldn't do nuttin' 'less she 
 give him de kale — de mon' in adwance, 
 see? An' de kid was screamin' an' de ole 
 lady beggin' 'cause she didn't have no kale, 
 her oF man havin' skipped out an' her 
 not havin' had a check from Rockybilt 
 lately, and I up an' pulls de gun on dis 
 sawbones an' makes him come across wit 
 de bandages an' fix up de kid's arm for 
 nuttin'. See?" 
 
 That was all Red Charley had a chance 
 to say, for he was hustled off to jail and 
 the pompous coward who had disgraced his 
 profession by refusing to help a child in 
 
 130 
 
Red-Charley — One Credit 
 
 pain because his mother had no money, 
 went away satisfied. 
 
 So "Red" sat again behind the bars. 
 He did not feel either bitter or resentful. 
 He was getting used to it and then he was 
 a crook and the majesty of the law must 
 be upheld. But somewhere high above, the 
 recording angel wrote in the great Book 
 of Deeds: "Red Charley — one credit." 
 
 ^ ^ o 
 FINIS 
 
 131 
 
Dances^Drills ^nd Story-Plays 
 
 By NINA B. LAMKIN 
 
 Director of Normal Course in Physical Education at North' 
 
 western School of Oratory and Physical 
 
 Education, Evanston, III, 
 
 FOURTEEN Folk Dances 
 of various countries, 
 suitable for schools, clubs, 
 churches, settlements, etc. 
 Twenty-six simple JEsthetic 
 Dances, as Dances of the 
 Seasons, Flower Dances, 
 Brownies, Fairies, Bluebirds, 
 etc. Twenty-four Drills for every day and 
 holidays, unusual, artistic and worth while. 
 Forty-one Rhythms and twelve Story-Plays to 
 be used with primary ages in every-day recrea- 
 tion, in dramatization and in entertainments. 
 There is something in this book to fit any occa- 
 sion where such material is desired. For Boy 
 Scouts, Camp Fire Girls, Gymnasium Work, 
 Play Festivals, Field Days, etc. Everything 
 fully described. Suggestive music named and 
 description of costumes given. Contains eight 
 original photographs, half-toned, of various 
 dances. 
 
 Beantlfnl cloth binding, lettering and 
 design in two colors, clear, attractive 
 type. Price, $1.25 
 
 T. S. Denison & Company, Pabiishers 
 
 623 S. Wabash Ave. CHICAGO 
 
T' 
 
 Merry Monologues 
 
 By MARY MONCURE PARKER 
 
 VHESE selections are wholly 
 original and sufficiently var- 
 ied in character and senti- 
 ment to enable the reader to make 
 up a well-rounded program in 
 which high comedy mingles with 
 farce and pathos in a manner suit- 
 able for all occasions. Nineteen 
 monologues and nine short poems 
 which are especially adapted to 
 that particular form of enter- 
 tainment called the pianologue, 
 viz., reading to music. 
 
 Some of the selections are new but most of them 
 are the pick from the author 's wide repertoire, which 
 she has used throughout this coimtry and in England. 
 They bear the stamp of enthusiastic publie approval 
 and are now first offered to the publie. 
 
 Contents: On the Street Car; The Renaissance 
 of the Kiss; Husbands Is Husbands; Oh, Friend of 
 Mine; George's First Sweetheart; Bobby and the 
 New Baby; Lucile Gets Ready for a Dance; 
 Mandy's Man and Safety First; Maggie McCarthy 
 Goes on a Diet; Mrs. Climber Doesn't Like Notori- 
 ety; Lucindy Jones Expects a Legacy; Grown Folks 
 Is so Awful Queer; At the Movies; The Gingie Boy; 
 Ode to a Manikin; Isaacstein's Busy Day; Like Pil- 
 grims to the Appointed Place; Mrs. Bargain 
 Counter Meets a Friend; Mother Mine; Maggie 
 McCarthy Has H^r Fortune Told; In Vaudeville; 
 Uncle Jim and the Liniment; The Funny Story; In 
 the Milliner Shop; Mrs. Trubble's Troubles; 
 George's Cousin Willie; When Lucindy Goes to 
 Town; A Question. 
 
 Beautiful cloth binding, lettering: and 
 design in ti^o colors, clear, attractive 
 type. Price, ^1.25 
 
 T. S. Denison & Goiapanyy Publishers 
 
 623 S. Wabash Ave. CHICAGO 
 
Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Nov. 2007 
 
 PreservationTechnologies 
 
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